Open

You guys.  The internet has been driving me NUTS since last Friday.  But it’s been my fault.  I purposefully go on comments of controversial postings and read AAALLLL the opinions, most especially the ones I don’t agree with. WHY DO I DO THAT? It’s not like I enjoy feeling antagonized.  I don’t.  I lived through all my kids' twos and threes.  I definitely know that I don't enjoy antagonization.

The truth is, I do it because I have this nosey side of me that is really interested in humanity, even when it’s despicable. 

Do you want to know how I got that way? 

It started in college at Sonoma State. I was in the Hutchins School of Liberal Studies.  It was a school within a school with a lot of soon-to-be-teachers in the program, as the purpose was to “learn to learn”.  It was a completely new experience for me. No more sitting in the back of a lecture hall, hiding. In this program, I had to use my voice, which I initially hated, because like I said, back then my MO in class was to quietly do my work and always, always, find a larger person to sit and hide behind.  In this program, there was no choice- you participated or you failed. Honestly, this was never something I would have chosen for myself, but because I was transferring from another school, my counselor had said, “Oh, you want to be a teacher.  Well, this is the program most of our teachers graduate from.” So, plop.  That’s how I landed in Hutchins.  

Every class was small, no more than 13 students.  We sat around a circular table and would seminar. That meant that every week we showed up to class with our professor as facilitator, prepared to discuss the ideas and concepts from whichever book or books we had been assigned that week.  Sounds totally hippy dippy, right? That was the reputation the school had on the larger campus.  Other students scorned it as a cop-out from doing the typical “lecture/ note taking/exam” course of study.  I can tell you for sure, that the workload was more intense than the other student’s- more reading, WAY more writing, and much more critical thinking and analyzing than memorizing stuff for a test.

Despite hating it, I soon became sort of enthralled with the seminar process.  It took me a while to get used to the fact that the goal wasn’t to be right, but to be open. The people who were the most unsuccessful in seminar were the ones who monopolized the conversation or acted like their word was the final say on the subject, and let me tell you, their behavior made it all the easier to discount their opinions because of that. The people who were respected were the people who listened as much as they spoke and used their classmates’ perspectives to either shape or change their own.  Those were the students I tried to emulate, and when it became apparent that people saw my opinion as valuable to the discussion, I became even more motivated to bring thoughtful, provocative discourse to the class. 

Alas, hippy dippy couldn’t last forever, and we all know that college is usually an ideological place that has nothing to do with the real world. On breaks, I would go home and try to have the same kind of discussion we were having in class with my dad, and instead he’d get angry and call me a bleeding heart liberal and I’d be all “BUT THAT’S NOT HOW YOU SEMINAR!” and we’d get mad at each other and stomp off to opposite sides of the house. There, I would stew about his stubbornness and for the first time (but far from the last time) face the fact that most people aren’t interested in taking the time to have a deep, thoughtful, respectful conversation about the differences in their opinions. Or, at the very least, they’re just not willing to change them.

But this week, especialIy, I wish so badly that they were.  

When I’m reading through all these comments regarding the SCOTUS decision,I’m looking for the other perspectives because I’ve been trained to look at all sides. I want to sit down with these people and talk, respectfully, but then I look at the comments again and I think, “Oh God. No I don’t.”, because it’s plain that it’d be the kind of conversation that would make me want to jump off a cliff, or eat glass, or spoon out my eyes, or I don’t know-whatever you can think of that’s equally gruesome.  There are too many different opinions, too many people with their minds made up. If all the comments across all the internet were one big seminar, y’all, there would be an uneven balance of people monopolizing the conversation and acting like their way is the only way. I see Christian friends being called bigots, when I know how much their faith means to them, and I see how they are confused about how to live according to The Word in today’s society.  And I see my gay friends and those who support them fed up with being told that they are less than, not good enough, and not equal by the laws of a faith that is not even theirs (and actually, just to be clear, I do have some gay Christian friends, so it is their faith too).  There is not a lot of listening, not a lot of love in action.  And that’s on BOTH sides.

Two hundred thousand years of humanity, people.  You’d think we’d have figured out by now that drawing lines in the sand and yelling across the sides about who’s right doesn’t get us anywhere productive.  If this decision from last Friday bothers you, or if you’re angry at Christians for their beIiefs, I ask you to please get off the internet and go find someone to have a conversation with, and make sure it’s someone with a different perspective than you. The internet is not a place for these discussions.  These conversations belong face to face, with a person, with their eyes, with their body language, where you can see their emotions.  Not behind a screen where you can be insensitive with little accountability. 

There are people out there who are saying that it's impossible to have mutual respect if you also have different beliefs, but I think that’s wrong.  They’re not exclusive from each other, it just takes more work.  It takes opening up and softening.  PLEASE, LET GO of being right and work on being open. The law has passed, it is done, and what is left for us now is to find a way to be better humans together under the decision.  

What I've Been Doing

I mean to post every week, but last week doesn't count because I was doing this:

Camping.

There's this fantasy I have in my head that I'm on a game show, and I get to choose which type of vacation I want; one that is the nomadic style camping trip that we always do, or one in which I stay in one place for a full week at a luxury resort hotel.  All I have to do is ring a bell on a tray near the kind of trip I want.  I'd slam the bell for the luxury resort so hard that it'd fall through the floor.

However, camping is kind of Matt's religion and it is one of the few times I really get to see him relax.  Plus, it's not something we have to save for over half a year, like, say... Hawaii.  Therefore, a camping I will go.

This year was a bit different because it was the first year that we were dropping J off for camp. His brother and sister have been going away to this camp for years, and before last fall, J was excited for his turn to come.  However, because J is J and because since babyhood he's exhibited his belief that life should mostly be hard, he changed his mind after we paid the non-refundable deposit. He spent the next six months riddled with anxiety over it, sometimes crying himself to sleep and repeatedly telling us that we didn't love him because we were forcing him to go to camp.

I almost just ate the deposit and gave in to him. Of the four, he's my kid that I worry about the most. It'd have been easier to keep him with me than to send him off and worry about whatever forces may cross his path at camp. He has allergies, he's not as mature as PG and 9 were when they first went, nor is he as outgoing. I had to keep reminding myself that one of my parenting philosophies is to never let my personal fears keep my kids from having experiences that are good for them.  I think that's getting to be a lost art in these days of helicopter parenting.

Thankfully, sticking to our guns turned out to be okay. His sister and brother amped up their "camp is fun" campaign by repeatedly regaling him with stories about how much fun they had in the past.  By the time we dropped him off, he was feeling better about the situation.  In fact, he didn't want to hug us goodbye because all of his cabin mates were there and watching.  (The kid across from him had a sound-effect machine with 32 sounds that he was really enthusiastic about, and all I can say is, sitting on a cactus would be more pleasurable than being in charge of eight boys in that particular age group for six whole days.  God bless that counselor. I hope he survived.)

And then there was one.

If any of you other parents of multiple children haven't had a chance to spend some extended one-on-one time with each kid, I highly recommend it.  It's kind of amazing how different kids are without their siblings around. (I think science has mentioned that fact once or twice before.)

We had fun.  We camped in Sequoia for two nights at Stony Creek.  You want to know what I learned about stony creeks? It's not a good idea to climb around them in flip flops because you may fall on your ass.  Twice.

This picture commemorates the last time I did NOT have pain in my rear or my wrists. 

You also make look up from falling to see your husband reaching in his back pocket for his phone-not to call 911 (which you aren't entirely sure shouldn't be done)- but to take a picture of your humiliation. To his credit, he put his phone back when he saw I was hurting, so that redeems him.
A bit.

A very tiny bit.

After Sequoia we headed to Lake Cachuma, and stopped at Madonna Inn on the way. If you haven't been to Madonna Inn, it's a huge hotel tucked in at the backside of the Hearst property in San Luis Obispo.  When I was a kid, I thought it was the height of fanciness, but now the decor just looks to me like a weird marriage of Swiss Chalet and Las Vegas Tacky. Still fun to visit though, if for nothing but old time's sake.  

This is not an exaggeration.  The dining room seriously looks like this.  

The next day was the best day of the entire trip, with the exception of a small blunder in the morning:   Roo and I were in a chocolate shop in Solvang when she asked if we could buy some marzipan.  I told her "Honey, you don't want that. I put it in your Easter Basket one year and you didn't like it." Right away, the lady behind the counter looked at me with an expression that said, "You stupid, stupid woman." and I was like, "What's her problem?" But then Lily looked at me very solemnly and asked "Who put it in my Easter Basket?" and that's when I realized my mistake.

Soooooo, that cat is out of the bag.

We stopped for lunch at Cold Springs Tavern.  This was an old stagecoach stop with buildings dating back more than a hundred years.  Even in the middle of the week there was a wait, but the food was worth it.  While I was waiting, I overheard this kid tell his dad, "You know what I liked about that place? It was really dark.  I like dark spaces."  I wondered to myself whether that was a kid I'd want to get to know better or stay far away from.

After lunch, we headed to Santa Barbara where we toured the Mission, sat on the beach for a few hours, and then ended the day with a bowl of clam chowder on the wharf.
It was perfect.

And now I get a few weeks to enjoy the comforts of civilization before we head out and do it all again, this time through Utah.  I'll try to get some decent posts in between now and then.... you know, the kind that don't ramble and that do actually have a point and purpose.  Maybe all that fresh air messed up my creative thought.  Or, maybe it was the campfire smoke.  Or the vast amounts of Cheez-Its I consumed.  All I'm saying is that I'm tired. And I'm sorry.  I'll do better next time.

Have a good night!

Hello, Goodbye

I'm dedicating this post to my friend, Tina, who always read my posts, always had a kind word in the comments, and who will be missed by myself and many others. Rest in Peace, sweet lady.  



Today was a sad day. I woke up to a text letting me know that a mom-friend of mine had passed away last night from a brain tumor. She left behind a young daughter, and while I wasn't close to her, my friends and I have been supporting her since her diagnosis.  I'm sad that she lost her battle, because I know how badly she wanted to win it.  I tell you, I am so sick of cancer. Brain cancer, especially.

Then another friend of mine, with two sweet, sweet girls that my kids adore, texted that they will be moving out of state this summer.  I'm going to miss them.  I also had my last session with a client who I started working with when he was in fourth grade. He just finished his junior year and is on his own now, so we said farewell. And then, to top it all off, I was to take Roo to a goodbye party for a family who we've done two years of soccer and three years of preschool with.  They're moving out of state too. (Does everyone in their thirties and forties experience high volume of their friends moving, or is it just the desert? I really want to know.)

The whole theme of the day was goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.  All on one day, thank you Universe! It started weighing on me as I was getting ready for the party.  Everyone leaving was going to a better place and was happy about it (with the exception of my friend with cancer, who I'm sure would have rather stayed with her daughter), but I wasn't feeling happy. I was feeling weepy and heavy-hearted. I started worrying about my demeanor at the party- Roo was coming with me, so I couldn't walk in already a mess- I had to put on a cheerful face for her. Plus, my damn hormones are working against me this week (although I hate blaming my irrational feelings on hormones. It makes me feel so irrational.)

So, as it was, I was struggling to keep my thoughts positive and be happy, happy, happy when Roo walked in carrying the card she had made for her friend who was moving.  She opened it up to show me what it said inside:

Oh, the sweetness. It kills me.

The Kindergarten scrawl.  The message.  The picture of them in matching dresses, carrying purses, for God's sake.  Sweet Jesus on a bicycle. It was too much for my fragile state.

Choking back sobs, I threw my sunglasses on my face to hide my red eyes and towed Roo to the car, where we drove to the party.  When we got there, I did this stupid thing where I accidentally transposed the numbers on the address and knocked on the wrong door.  We waited forever, and right when I started walking away, the door opened and a nice lady pointed us in the right direction. I just brushed it off, but Roo embarrasses easily and followed behind, giving me abashed looks from beneath her eyelashes.

This time we knocked on the right door, but again, it took a long time to open.  When it did, my friend, the one throwing the party for the departing family, opened it with a lovely smile and said, "Hi! How are you? You've got the wrong day."

To which I answered, "No, I don't." Because besides being overly-emotional and weepy, I am apparently also arrogant.  I'm wrong? No surely, you, the hostess, the organizer, the PERSON WHO LIVES HERE, is wrong.

And bless her heart, she just smiled and said, "No, it's next month. July 6th. But come on in."

Then she let us into her home while I fumbled around my phone to pull up the date, still intending to show her she was wrong.  I found the text, and there it was, Monday JULY 6th.  So, I have some bad news for you. If you're my friend, we're going to have to find another way for us to communicate addresses, dates....basically anything with numbers.  Evidence shows that the traditional way of passing this type of information to me is ineffective.  We should try Braille, maybe?

Roo followed me back to the car, and if she was abashed last time, by now she was just kind of disgusted. Her look said "Lady, just WHAT is your major malfunction, because we knocked on two doors, and there wasn't a party behind either of them!"

She may never look at me as an authority figure ever again.

Here's the reason I'm telling you all this: when we got back in the car, I was thinking a lot of things. I was thinking that it was good that I had another month before I had to say goodbye to this family. I was thinking how nice my friend was for not calling me out on my crazy on her doorstep.  I was wondering how Roo felt, seeing her mom make not one, but two, embarrassing screw ups.  And, I also was thinking that I wanted to talk to you guys again, here on the blog.

I always think of writing here, but in the past four months I just haven't. It's nothing more complicated or simpler than that. I haven't, but I think of it all the time.  Today I needed this space to explain myself, and sure I could've written a short status on FB: "Feeling super sad today. Saying goodbye to too many friends!" But besides being slightly obscure- and I've come to detest obscure Facebook status'- it's kind of begging for attention. I know at least a few of my friends would respond with condolences and support, and while there is nothing wrong with that- I always appreciate it- it's not what I need. Condolences should go to Tina's family and friends, they are the ones who need them.  My friends are happy about their moves, and after I get over myself, I'll be happy for them too. In fact, that's already happened. As for my client, I know I made a difference with him, and that's all I need. But it's nice to have space (976 words worth, and counting) to tell the longer story. I missed this space. It's nice to come back to it.

And I thank you, for visiting it.

Have a good night.