The Voices in my Head

Hey there!  Hope you all have eased nicely into summer.  Not to brag, but I think I may have had the easiest transition of anybody out there.  Matt took off on his annual Father's Day Camping Trip and I stayed behind.  As in, he took the kids and I stayed behind.

By myself.

Like, I didn't have to share the house with anyone. Or take care of anyone other than the dog. I didn't have to cook for anyone.  And while I didn't have to clean, I'll let you in on a little secret: I did it anyway.  Oh yeah, baby.  I cleaned.  Mama deep cleaned.  She deep cleaned goooooood.  She deep cleaned so good and-here's the best part-it stayed clean.  The house actually STAYED CLEAN FOR FIVE WHOLE DAYS.

I know.

I know!

Anyway.  Enough reliving the glory days.  They're all home now and the house once again looks like 4 kids and a dog live here.  It was great while it lasted.

So, officially, there are two reasons I stayed behind:
1)AYSO had one last registration for Roo, who will be playing soccer next year
2) I had some tutoring sessions scheduled.

The unofficial reason I stayed behind was:
1) I didn't really want to go
2)                                               

There is no number two.  I just didn't really want to go.

Listen, I am getting too old for this camping crap. And if we're really being honest, Matt and the kids probably have a better time when I'm not there.  As the official Family Funsucker, I make them do lame things like wash their hands and use hot water to clean the dishes.  So I don't think my presence was missed.  Besides, it's not like I'm of much help when I'm there.

See?  That's me "helping" last year.

Anyway, I didn't just get on here to brag about my five days o'solitude.  In fact, I want to confess something to you about those five days.  Something that took my by complete surprise.

I felt guilty.

It wasn't the kind of guilt where I felt like I was actually doing something wrong.  It was more of the kind of guilt where I worried what people would think.  I found myself justifying ridiculous judgements that buzzed around my mind all day like annoying little gnats.  Who was I to think I deserved five whole days to myself?  How dare I stick Matt with all the kids for such a long period of time? What if something happened to them and I wasn't there?  How could I let PG go to a camp where neither one of us knew anything about the people who would be taking care of her? (Did I mention that part?  Part of the trip was taking PG up for her second year at Hume Lake Wagon Train Camp.)

Isn't that nuts?

Ten years of Matt happily taking whichever kids were old enough off into the wilderness (and loving it enough to repeat it every year), and suddenly I was listening to my insecurities about whether that was okay.  Ten years of 9 going to Hume and having a blast- not to mention the fact that my mother in law, sister, cousins, and friends had also gone to the same camp and have had nothing but positive experiences- and now I was wondering if I was being irresponsible by letting PG go.

What's even crazier is that no one- NO ONE- had ever accused me directly of any of the above judgements, but here I was accusing myself.  Where did all this come from?

Well.  Obviously most of it is my own personal insecurities.  But those had to start from somewhere, so what was it?

I was pondering all this when my friend called.  She's pregnant for the first time and was calling me with a kid question.  (Also because she knows that I like to feel like an authority on stuff.  She remembers the bossy side of me from our growing up years and I love her for paying homage to it.)  She started the conversation with "I'd like your opinion on something because apparently people online are very opinionated-"

"Oh."  I interrupted, while nodding sagely. "Vaccinations?"

"No. Actually-"

"Breastfeeding then."

"No," she said. "Crib bumpers."

Crib bumpers? People are getting hot under the collar about crib bumpers.  Oh, my head.

And that's when I got it.  Those stupid voices of judgement that had been ruining my good time were judgements I'd heard from other people about other things.  None of them were directed at me but I'd gotten so used to living with the constant barrage of opinions that surrounds the world of parenting, that I'd internalized some of them.

Well, good.  That knowledge at least made it easier to throw those thoughts away.

Beyond that however, I had another realization.  The last few months I've made a conscience effort to live kinder and more graciously.  With this new epiphany, I realized that when I judge someone or something out loud- even when the things I'm judging aren't present- my words and actions plant themselves in other people's ears, like little worms.  And there they can feed off of other people's insecurities.  That's a really negative thing to throw out there into the world.

So I wrapped up the conversation with my friend.  (Yes, crib bumpers are fun when you're decorating your first nursery.  No, you are most likely not putting your child into harm's way by using them those first few immobile months.  Take them out when he starts rolling around, or sooner if you feel the need.  Yep, you're okay, I'm okay, we're all okay.  Yay!)

Then I enjoyed the rest of my time alone.

I visited a friend in L.A.

I read a really great book.

I had a wine party at the house with another friend.

I baked bread and took it over to my grandparents.

I hung out with my friend's girls when I needed a kid fix.

And through it all, my house stayed clean.





P.S.- And to go back to the crib bumpers for a sec- can we just stop it people?  Please.  Just stop it.

Because His Imagination Can Still Go There

Horrible, but effective, use of guilt to get things done:

Me:  J, if I have to tell you one more time to go and brush your teeth, my head will literally explode.

J:  It wouldn't LITERALLY explode, mom.  (eye roll)

I establish very strong eye contact and then say:
"How is it that  you so sure about that?  What if it did?  What if the very next time I say the words 'Go. Brush. Your. Teeth', my head popped off and exploded all over this room?  You would be without a mother.  Motherless.  No one to tuck you in and make you food and watch Adventure Time with you.  Is that what you want?"

He shrugs and I say:

"Go ahead.  I dare you to make me say it one more time."

We stare each other down for a solid 5 seconds before he turns and wordlessly walks into the bathroom.

This morning's score: mom 1, kids 0.

Summer Reading List for My People

Happy two-days-left-of-school everyone!  For those of you who were out before Memorial Day- tell me, is life as sweet as it seems over there in the land of logic and reasoning?  What's it like living in the boundaries of a district which recognizes that forcing people to go to school in June is like sitting through the credits after a movie is over?  Maybe there's a good little tidbit at the end, but mostly you're just passing time.      

And for those of you who aren't out for another week or two, read this blog post from Jen Hatmaker if you haven't already.  It went viral last week, and with good reason.  Apparently a lot of people can relate, including me.  In fact, it was on my mind these last two nights as PG's teacher is still assigning homework- and not just any homework.  Long Division homework.  Do you know what causes more drama than long division?  Nothing.  Nothing causes more drama than long division.  Not even fractions.  Please pray for me, PG, and the innocent box of #No. 2 pencils whose erasers are being worn down to flat little nubs and whose long, sleek yellow bodies are being dented and chipped by rough treatment from frustrated hands.   Mainly mine.

Anyway.

I felt like writing tonight, but didn't really have a topic to write about.  Then I remembered a conversation that I had with 9 last week after he came home from taking the SAT.  I had asked him what the essay prompt was and he said it was something like "Should universities teach pop culture?".  He argued for the case, and while it sounded like he wrote a pretty solid essay, I had to stop listening to him after he told me that one of his pieces of evidence was that "people don't really read books anymore."

Uhhhh, what?  People don't read books anymore?  I'm really hoping that was teenage naiveté. In fact, looking back I'm pretty sure he meant that people don't get information from books anymore.  That would be true.  But if you're my people in my world, you still read books.  Lovely, lovely books- with  bendy spines, and dusty smells, and.... words.

I love books, and I prefer reading them in person (and by that I mean in paper form) than electronically- although truthfully I'll take my stories anyway I can get them. So I thought, since it's summer, I'd give you a list of some of the best books I've read this year.  It's a short list, since I haven't had a lot of extra time to read.  Hopefully that changes this summer.   If you have any recommendations, I'd love it if you'd leave them for me in the comments.

Alright.  Here we go.

Number 1-  Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn.

This is probably the most memorable one I've read all year.  I had brought it with me on vacation last August and meant for it to last me all week.  Instead, I ended up reading the entire thing in the car on the 8 hour drive up to San Francisco.  I couldn't stop.  The whole thing was like a bag of kettle chips (you all remember how much I love my kettle chips).  The characters were deliciously flawed, and all their flaws wove right into the twisted plot in the most compelling way.  Clear your schedule if you read this one.  Not much will get done until you're finished.

Number 2- One Thousand White Women, by Jim Fergus

I liked this one because it is a fiction historical novel that very well could have been true.  The premise of the story is that President Grant, in an attempt to peacefully integrate settlers and natives in the mid 1800's, grants a request from a Cheyenne Indian Tribe to appoint a group of women "volunteers" to travel west and marry  into the Cheyenne tribe.  (In fact, in 1854, a group of Cheyenne Indians did propose to President Grant that he send them a group of white women so they may be permitted to intermarry and teach the natives the "ways of the white man", while also having mixed race babies that would ultimately unite the two cultures).
In reality, the proposal was turned down. However, in this novel, the President publicly rejects the proposal, but secretly fills the tribe's request by seeking volunteers from insane asylums.  The main character, May Dodd, is probably one of the best written female characters of any book I've ever read.  I was astonished that it was a man that authored her female perspective into existence.  And as you might expect, the story that follows is heart breaking, yet so well written that I felt haunted by it for weeks.

Number 3- 11-22-63, by Stephen King
I have to start this by saying that 15 years ago or so, I was reading Needful Things before bed and whatever it was that I read before I put the book down and fell asleep gave me such a bad nightmare than I woke up and vomited.
I seriously vomited.... and then I never picked up another Stephen King book again- until a few months ago.  A friend recommended this, so despite my reservations I cautiously started in on the first few chapters.  After that, it was easy.  I kept going, and 11-22-63 turned out to be the best time travel story I've read since The Time Traveller's Wife.  
The main character, Jake Epping, starts off his time traveling adventures to save a friend from a horrid small town crime that takes place in the 50's.  However, as the title hints, he  soon realizes he can make bigger changes on a global level. The rub is that the longer he stays back in time, the more his ties to the future become tangled. Before he knows it he has a much larger conundrum on his hands than he ever bargained for.  It was a delicious read, and you'll be happy to hear, not once did it make me throw up.

Number 4- The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Okay, so I didn't read this one for the first time this year.  Like most of you, I read Gatsby for the first time back in tenth grade English.  I liked it okay then, but all the symbolism forced upon me by my (probably) well-intentioned teacher got in the way of the whole point of the novel: what it was that made Gatsby great.  Who cares about the green light at the end of the dock, or the giant eyes of Dr. T.J Eckleburg when you have a character who can love someone so wholeheartedly and (in my opinion) foolishly as Gatsby?  Now that I know considerably more about love than I did at age 15, in rereading the book, the character of Gatsby fully broke my heart:  The way he schemed to be close to Daisy, his anxiety at seeing her again for the first time at Nick's, how he took the blame when she ran over Myrtle, how he still had hope and waited under her window until early morning after she went back to Tom.  It killed me.  That poor, poor man.
You know, Nick is really the only likable character in the whole book, but that doesn't stop this from being one of my favorite stories of all time.  It's romantic and hopeful and tragic- and it doesn't hurt that Leo DiCaprio's face is now what I picture while reading this beautiful novel.

Number 5- Wild About Books, by Judy Sierra and Skippy Jon Jones, by Judy Schachner
I'm having trouble thinking of another adult book, and 4 seems like a weird number upon which to stop a list.  So,  I'm including two read alouds here.  These truly are the two best children's books I've read all year.
The first, Wild About Books, was given to me by my friend Alisha.  She said she just thought of me when she read it.  Isn't that sweet?  I'm hoping it doens't mean that I remind her of a bunch of unruly book-loving animals, cause that's kind of what this book is about.  A librarian drives a bookmobile into a zoo and introduces the animals to books.  You know how Pixar movies, while geared towards the kids, usually have little subtle nuances for adults so they don't get bored? That's this book.  The rhymes are intelligent and hilarious, including this haiku written by a walking stick:

A cannibal twig

Silently devours a leaf-

Eating, not eaten. 

(In case you're interested, the scorpion's review of haiku claimed it pretentious.  Ha!)

The other book, Skippy Jon Jones, is just fun and imaginative.  It's about a kitten who thinks he's a chihuahua and has to hide in his closet to have adventures away from his mama. Cute story, cute characters but mostly, I just like that this book gave me cause to walk around my hourse reciting this :

My name is Skippito Friskito.

I fear not a single bandito.

My manners are mellow, 

I'm sweet like the Jell-O, 

I get the job done, yes indeed-o. 

So that's it.  For those of you who are my people, happy reading!  And for those of you who are not, well, you wouldn't have made it this far anyway.  Just being here makes you my people by default.  Lucky you.


Also, a few years ago I wrote a list of my all time favorite books.  If you're interested in seeing that, you can click this link here.  That list has more or less stayed the same.

Have a good night.