Shower Revelations

I do some of my best thinking in the shower. This stems from years of having this be the only spot in the house where I could be alone. They will come into the bathroom but not the shower. It is quiet and calming, and most days they leave me alone now. Water soothes all sorts of ills and as my mind relaxes new ideas emerge,

Water saved me regularly when the kiddos were small. Most frantic days could be smoothed out with the addition of water. A bucket to paint on the sidewalk, a kiddie pool in the back yard, a day at the water park, an afternoon bath that lasts till dinnertime. Something about water puts smiles back on faces, brings an end to fighting, and refreshes the body as well as the soul, all at the same time. So I shouldn't be surprised that shower time offers more than cleansing.

My most recent revelation involves my twin girls. Twins do not have normal sibling relationships, if you have siblings and then have twins you can easily see the differences very early in the twins lives. These children are linked in a most intimate fashion, the need to please Mama, when young, is overshadowed by the need to please your twin. Joint permission is a given, you say yes to one, they assume both have permission. They support, admire, share, encourage, nurture, correct, defend, the list is endless, each other all the time. So why are my twin girls daily ready to throw their best friend out the window?

I got it, in the shower, my answer. Adolescence is a time when a child has the job of separating from her parents and establishing herself as a young adult, this means developing self awareness, setting personal life goals, standing ultimately on your own two feet. Normally this involves some struggles in the parent child relationship as the child pushes for independence and autonomy and the parent relinquishes control over the child. Well, remember that atypical twin relationship...that's it, that's why they are trying to kill one another, they don't have to push us their parents away, they are moving away from each other.

And they are in anguish, a twin is someone who you require in your life, but you also know you can't really have them like you did in the past. Yet this is someone who knows your soul, who knows your most intimate secrets, who has shared your life since before you were born. They want to be free and independent but letting go is almost impossible, the turmoil is evident in our house. But at least I have a plan. We are working to assist them on the road to alone, by encouraging individual activities, and pointing out those successes, healing the hurts they inflict on each other, reassuring them that their twin will always be an important person in their life, someone they can lean on even when they don't live in the same house or state or even country.

Hopefully the struggles will taper off as confidence grows. In the mean time at least I have an inkling as to the root of the daily frustrations and can better negotiate the minefield these twins have created.

Ignorance is Bliss

This too shall pass. That has to be my mantra.

Adolescence is rearing it's obstinate head, in stereo, in my home. At times it seems a battle to the death is our only option. It is so difficult to remain the adult amid the hailstorm. Yet I know that there is hope, as I have survived this once before. Somehow, 13 stormed through and the delightful 17 year old who now resides where I live makes me forget that war zone. Could it be that this is another "childbirth" experience?

You remember, or do you, the day your darling was born? Both the birth days of my daughters are shrouded in fog. There are fragments of the day, waffles for breakfast, walking hospital hallways, a dark quiet room, a brightly lit OR, I think there was some pushing... Then all is clear again a tiny kitten cry and a baby whisked to intensive care, or second time around two babies to hold and nurse and snuggle until they insisted I move to another room. The moments most available for recall all have babies outside of me.

This must be a protection device to insure the survival of our species, the entire childbirth experience is almost forgotten as you hold your new born. This insures we will do it all again. I am beginning to believe that surviving the rearing of offspring through puberty is a similar experience. Of course you have had years to bond with the child, this too helps in their ultimate survival, but if one truly remembered it all I am not sure you would keep future children. Your own need for preservation would force you to sell to the first interested buyer, and may be even be willing to offer monies to cart them away. As a group we might have even come up with institutions to house the unruly lot and let them take on each other instead of keeping them individually.

But nature sees fit to protect us, and when my 17 year old apologized for past sins as a 13 year old I struggled to remember anything that merited an apology or forgiveness. My brain has tucked those memories into corners so obscure that they fail to register. Just like my first airplane ride. I remember being so excited at 16 I was flying to Washington DC with my youth group for a national convention, and chatting with my dad and mentioned it was my first flight. "No it isn't" he said.
Yes it is, I've never flown before," I responded.
"Don't you remember flying home from grandpa's funeral? You were 9 or so..." He went on to explain it was a very rough flight we apparently flew through a tornado on the way home.

Now I have total recall of the events leading up to said flight. My grandfather had a heart attack and died while visiting my family in Oklahoma, their home was in Minnesota. So my father, brother, grandmother, and I all traveled together by car back to Minnesota for the funeral. I even remember the funeral procession to the burial and playing with all the buttons in the back of the limousine. Thinking about it, I realized that we had driven my grandparent's car on that road trip and had to have gotten home somehow, but try as I might there are no available memories. No airport, no flight, no nothing. According to my father it was one of the worst flights he ever experienced, my brother was sick for most of the trip. The old brain pulls a fast one hiding all.

Good thing for the 13 year olds.

Tomorrow is the triathlon, a second annual for the family. Only two participants this year as last year and daddy is very excited. He gets a little goofy when he is excited. It is fun to watch. There is clearly joy in his heart when people he cares about do absurd athletic events with him. Years ago I watched the same thing happen when I started doing weekend distance rides on my bike. These events didn't even require we ride together. I would do 33 miles and he would do 50, we started the route together and at some point the real distance riders veered off, we would part and would have to search each other out at the end of the ride. The first time I completed a 33 mile route and we reconnected by the car, it was like having a friendly puppy at your heels, bumping, nipping, playful and no matter how annoying you would still find yourself smiling at the antics. Tennis too brought on some of this euphoria, a silly giddiness, that prompted sweaty kisses as we switched ends of the court. It is not just doing things together, but they must involve athletics.

A week ago my eldest said "Daddy is really excited about the triathlon." I try not to "Duh" my daughters but was sorely tempted in this case. "Yes," I said. "he really enjoys doing these kinds of activities with family."
"No," she said. "You don't understand, he is really excited and acting kinda goofy."
"Yes, he is, just get use to it, it is part of something bigger than both of us so just enjoy"

My children are driving me nuts, "Has the cast list come out yet?" a question posed at least daily, and sometimes thrice daily, and I have absolutely no control over said cast list. So why do they continue to ask me? "Because she sends it to your e-mail." is the regular answer to that question but one would think that they would realize I gain nothing from hiding the release of the cast list and would not do this, so they will know as soon as I know, unless they are not home. Then it is possible I would momentarily forget to pass along this precious knowledge but it would not be for more than an hour or two.

Why the anxiety? I don't know I have children that must worry about something, this is foreign to me, I can enjoy life and exist for days in a bliss filled state of happiness actually pushing worry out of the way on purpose. But my daughters cannot, the seem to need to fret all the time. Even when things are going remarkably well, they will actually seek out things to worry over. Like after a beautiful day at the beach with friends, one of the girls corners me and asks to talk, this is code for I am worried about something and need to discuss it. Some minor event during our time at the beach will be front and center taking the polish off the day. I try. I try to remind that this isn't really all that important and didn't you really have a good time today? But it is as futile as shoveling during a blizzard, we must moan, and whine, and rehash the slights, and wounds, and mishaps or my day would not be complete.

This is not something I will ever miss.

A Letter to My Daughter

Dearest,

You ask me so often WHY I love you and I feel so helpless in trying to express how much you mean to me and to my life. I know you will never understand fully unless you have a child of your own, but it is Kenyon times 1000. I wish I could wave a magic wand and it would let you feel even for a moment the depth of my love for you so you would no longer need to ask, you would just know.

We have watched you grow from the earliest days there are photos and journals that recorded the minutia. Daddy secretly called the hospital to get the test results and knew you were on the way before even I did, and he got to tell me and we both cried. That was one of the first happiest days of my life. Eight months later was another, you came into the world backwards, and blue and were whisked away before I even got a look. We held our breaths until we heard this little cry and thought then we couldn’t possibly love you more than at that moment, but we do because it keeps growing.

Each day provides opportunity for parental bonds to get stronger, to get to know this “person becoming” who now shares your life. And what a person you have become. More than I could have imagined, as a parent you would like to take credit for all the wonderful, but mostly it’s just you. We are so proud of the young woman you have grown into. Your work at school, your jobs, your college safari, all demonstrate a responsible, mature forward thinking person that leaves her peers in the dust. But more important than the endless creativity, artistic flair, and word mastery is the heart that beats at the center of all that passion and promise. It is that heart filled with genuine concern and caring that shines through even when it’s immediate surroundings seem bleak and dark, we are connected by that heart.

You have yours and I gave you mine 18 years ago, that is how I know exactly how beautiful you truly are. Allowing one’s heart to romp about unprotected isn’t always easy, there are the bumps and bruises of childhood and the rending of adolescence, but on the whole you have taken great care of mine and I feel safe knowing a bit of me is always with you. In exchange for the hazards I get a peek at what makes up the core of you, there is a light there that warms me, consoles me, fills me with hope for you. You make me a better person, by all that you are.

As we face the future together, a great abyss at this moment, know that you are more than I could ever have hoped for in a daughter, I am honored to be your mom. Know too that doubt and faith go hand in hand, during those darkest times, I am there with you and Christ is with me, if you don’t see that, it’s ok, you don’t have to, I have faith enough for both of us.

I Love You, forever and always no matter what,

Mom

Procrastination, again

The fall schedule looms manic, how did that happen? Today I am avoiding the calendar. I am suppose to be filling all the little boxes with all the events to which we are already committed. It scares me. I am hoping to be pleasantly surprised when I finish to discover that in no way have I overloaded things it was just my imagination running a muck and the schedule is eminently workable.

I hope. I really believe at this point it is only my schedule that is out of control and this will change after a week of concentrated class preparation. I am teaching three classes this fall, including two new ones, instead of just one and new classes always require more upfront work than I remember. My oldest is in charge of her own schedule and she has done a much better job this fall than I have. The younger two won't be over booked, because they keep trying to skate on the academics, which makes for no extra-curriculars, makes me a bit sad but I refuse to fight as it's ineffective. So onward to class prep and a lowered heart rate.

Two weeks wasn't enough.

So, I was really good at posting for the first two days. But things got busy - like really, really busy. We were up from 7am to midnight pretty much every day (give or take on a few people - I know many of the guys were up later, but most of us girls got a decent amount of sleep... most of the time).

So, first I'll give you a picture spam, followed by a word spam.

I'm fantastically good at both, so prepare yourselves.

There are some artsy photos in here. This is one of them. Deal. This is one of my poems from the workshop, the one I actually read on the night I got to read. It's part of the "image explosion" prompt where we had to take a line from the poem "Don't Write History as Poetry" by Mahmoud Darwish, and use it as the first line of our poem. So those poems were taped on the board originating from the poem itself.

They're kind of out of order because I'm too lazy to reorganize them. Sorry! This was from the last day. We had sidewalk chalk and got to write messages on the wall outside our dorm. So many inside jokes, so this probably means nothing to you, but that's okay.

This was Pierce Dining Hall, where we ate three times a day. Breakfast was fro 7:30-8:30, lunch 12-1, dinner 5-6. You had to be there. Or you died.

One of the RA activities one afternoon was working with the inkpress they have at the Kenyon Review office. It's super cool - if you ever get a chance to use one, they're super cool. But super messy! This is one of my best friend's hands after using the press.

Another of the walls in our classroom. These are our "found poems," where we cut out phrases from magazines and created them into a poem. That was one of my favorite prompts. CRAFTY STUFF.

This was a sign on the third floor of the girl's side of the dorm. Who knows why.

THE DASTARDLY HILL. To get to the athletic center, you have to go down this HUGE hill. Whoever built the center obviously did not think about placement too much. Because after you work out, to get back to the dorm, you have to climb all the way back up the hill after you're all nice and tired, and just showered... so annoying. It's a huge hill, especially for us flat midwestern folks who don't even have lumps in the road.

This is Middle Path, the main artery of Kenyon College. It's actually really cool, because the whole campus is centered around the path. It's gravel all the way up and down, and at this section, these twinkle lights light up every night. We had to walk this way back to the dorm every night. So beautiful.

Another artsy photo - this time from the inkpress day. This is the ink you use for the press. Yup.

This is in the great hall in Pierce, where we ate at every meal. The stained glass is really cool - the whole hall literally looks like the Hogwarts Great Hall. NO. JOKE.

Another photo of Middle Path.

Oh, there's a graveyard on campus, for whatever random reason. One of the first nights, two of my friends and I went and wrote in the graveyard for about forty-five minutes. It was pretty cool!

Artsy ice photo. Deal.

This is Ascension, where everyone had classes every day. I miss it so much.

All right, now you've got some fun photos (*cough stop bugging me mom cough*).

It was the best two weeks I've ever had in my life, and I can't explain to you how hard it is to come back to a normal life with two jobs that you really don't like every day. It's such a shock - to have been doing something you love every day, to be with people you love every day, to come back and realize you may never see those people again, and you're stuck doing all of this stuff you really don't want to do after you've seen how fantastic life can be.

It sucks.

The people are a whole post in themselves. They're the most fantastic people I've ever met (no offense to my friends here) but it's totally different to be surrounded only by people who are exactly the same as you are - who like the same things, who love the same things, who understand your quirks and accept you. I've never felt more accepted in my life; and I'm not really in an environment normally where I'm not "accepted," so I can't even imagine what it's like for the people who go to school and really don't feel like they fit in.

It was an amazing experience. I've finally found friends who understand me and most of my life - they've seen me, and it's such a confidence-booster to see that they like me for who I am and not for who I pretend to be around them.

The problem is, they're all across the country, and in some instances, the globe. That sucks too.

Everything about it was perfect, and I know everyone wants to just go back and stay there forever, writing and writing with the same people, living in an environment where all you have to do is do what you love.

Man, just writing about it is making me emotional. The last day was the saddest day of my life. I don't cry in public very easily, and I didn't think I was going to cry that day, but all of a sudden as one of the shuttles was leaving, the floodgates opened. I've never cried like that in front of other people in my life. But everyone was crying, so it's okay. But it's hard, because part of me definitely understood that I may never see those same people again - and almost for sure we'd never all be like that together again.

But thank God for technology. If this had been ten years ago, even, it wouldn't have been as easy to stay in contact. We have Skype, cell phones, facebook, blogs, email... the list goes on. I've gained at least 50 new friends on facebook, and many contacts in my phone. Reunions are already being planned. I'm seeing two of my friends from the workshop at Christmastime because we discovered we're all going to be in Vermont at the same time. Technology is fantastic.

Well, in short, it was amazing, it's hard adjusting back to home life, I miss everyone and everything.

The end.

Fall Obligations

Must learn how to post photos and links to keep this from becoming even less interesting. The weeks of summer have flown, and fall is racing forward and I am not ready. I like the peacefulness of summer the unhurried days and sitting by a pool with certain regularity. But I now have to plan for fall.

We have begun some art and begun the religion, but not a whole lot more. Butterflies and gardens are fading and they have asked for more history and french? Math is set and language arts at least I know what we will be doing for that. Chemistry did also emerge this summer and will resume as our instructor's other obligations dissipate. History co-op will resume this fall on Fridays, but I think we will also cover early modern times on our own as well. Theatre and Tae kwon do will take care of themselves. Book clubs continue in September, OH I need to pick a title for the first meeting, now.

I am also looking at creating classes that involve sewing, and maybe recycling, and maybe some crafts, and can you tell the ideas are still floundering? I have to appeal to a wide age range, offer substantive learning opportunities, with minimal supplies, and all in one hour. This is really stretching the creative brain. I plan to hit the bookstores this weekend as I know there are sources there. The library failed me yesterday, nothing of interest on the shelves and not much that was missing or checked out. I did not have time to check the kids department so I may have missed something but the adult section was dismal. These classes need to be pulled together with syllabus and cost by next week.

All while we travel out of town for a birthday party... Enough with the musings must get to work.

No pictures... don't yell at me!

I haven't taken any. I feel like I should have by now, but I don't want to look like some strange Gambier/Kenyon tourist who whips out her camera at every opprotune or non-opprotune moment. It hasn't seemed appropriate, I guess.

First day of classes today - it's more tiring than it sounds. Even though you're just sitting in a classroom for five hours and writing, it's exhausting. And hunger-inducing. I think I've eaten more today than I have in the past week.

Okay, I have to talk about the food. I know there's people here who have to "adjust" to it or whatever, but it is really good. I was not expecting it to have this much variety or amazingness. The area to get your food is shining and clean - six or seven stations with different foods like "desserts," "deli," "international," "comfort," etc.

It's so easy to understand the freshman fifteen now. Man.

But really. For breakfast, they had eggs and cereal and delicious pancakes and hash browns and bagels and toast and peanut butter (the peanut butter has its own station at every meal, Lord knows why) and every type of juice imaginable plus milk and chocolate milk and oh my goodness it was like a feast.

Plus we ate in the "great hall." Our program director referred to it as the "Gryffindor hall" because literally, and I am so not joking, it looks like the Hogwarts great hall. I swear I'll take a picture sometime this week because I feel like I'm in Hogwarts with my delicious food.

In workshops it was kind of introductory. I like my group, and there are a couple girls who I've already *bonded* with almost immediately. I won't judge anyone yet, so I'm not complaining. Yet. But there are a couple people who made me ask myself, "why are you guys here?" But I think they may just have a bit of trouble opening up - so we'll see how the workshops work out.

I'm excited for day two.

Quotes of the day:
"Don't make the self-depricating writers angry with your hotness."
"I see you guys go into the bookstore and grab ice cream. That is not water. Drink WATER. Learn the difference."

Arrived.

I am here.

Gambier, Ohio.

It's about as small town as you'd think Gambier, Ohio would be. Basically, the campus is the town. No one's in danger of leaving campus. Trust me.

The people are fabulous - my roommate is awesome, she likes photography and writing as well, so that's something we can *bond* over.

It was interesting to introduce ourselves - I got to know a lot of people because everyone's all over the place and interjecting themselves into the conversation. You get to know the people in your dorm and people who you've walked around with a lot, and I'm excited to start classes tomorrow so I'll get to know more people there.

The day has been exhausting - I didn't get much sleep last night or in the car, and then when we got here, it was pretty much a go-go-go day. We had a tour of the campus, dinner, then met our program directors/RAs/instructors and introduced ourselves to the entire camp by saying our names, where we were from, and one word to describe the trip.

You could definitely tell some people were trying to impress - there were some words I didn't know at all. Ah, well, it's a time to learn, right?

The campus is beautiful - the dorms are bleary, but it's only two weeks. I hope I'll be outside or in some of the pretty buildings a lot of the time. The dining hall is FANTASTIC. There's a modern section and then part where it literally looks like the Hogwarts Great Hall. And it's amazing.

I'll see if I have time to take pictures tomorrow - from what it sounds like, it's going to be a busy two weeks. We already have homework.

I'm back... again...

I swear, I still want a blog. Time just gets away from me, you know? One day, it's the beginning of June and I have an entire list of things that I just know I'm going to get done over the summer, and the next minute... it's July 14th and I'm leaving in two days.

I realize this blog is kind of turning into a rant spot for my mother, which is fine, because I'd much rather she rant at a computer than at us (love you, mommy!). But I do want to keep going, and I'll try and do a better job at posting.

I'm going to try and use the blog as a journal for the writing camp I'm going on for the next two weeks - most people who read this blog know where I'm going, but just for the sake of ease I'll explain.

I was accepted to The Kenyon Review Young Writers' Workshop. It's a highly selective, intensive two-week writing camp held at Kenyon College for high-school-aged young adults who love to write. I applied last year but got wait-listed, and this year I was accepted (with a full-ride scholarship to boot!). Kenyon's been called "the Harvard of creative writing" so I'm pretty excited to go. The camp consists of 3 classes a day - each an hour and a half long, so five hours of writing per day (it consists of about 50 hours of in-class time over the two weeks, plus there's homework and readings to do. Yes, it's more than most college courses. It's intense. And I'm super excited.) We live on campus, and all the facilities are open to us - gym, track, swimming pool, etc. We live in dorms with roommates, so it's basically like two weeks of college. But just writing.

It's going to be awesome.

So anyway, I leave on Sunday and I'm *hoping* to use the blog as kind of a journal to keep fam and friends updated while I'm away. If I have time, I'll post pictures, but since I can't do lengthy posts on Facebook, I'll be doing it here.

Summer has been intense. I've been working full time (generally 50-60 hours a week) with two (basically three) jobs. I've been outside all the time, since both jobs are lifeguarding, so it's safe to say I'm a little sick of being outside (how often do you hear that?). I cannot wait for these two weeks off to relax, have fun, and actually wear clothing that doesn't involve a swimsuit underneath.





I'll try and post more often. Seriously.

My Country My Choice

Tomorrow marks our nation's birthday and what did they play at church in honor of this holiday weekend? "This is My Song," what a cop out!! The pages surrounding this communist trash included "America the Beautiful" " Star Spangled Banner" and "My Country 'Tis of Thee" one of those beautiful hymns could not have been chosen, please for just one day can we be proud of our great nation? I am sorry that so many feel we need to apologize for what we have but I am too far down on the economic chain to feel anything but grateful for the country in which I live. We have enough, and "Enough is as good as a feast" per Mary Poppins. I don't believe that being proud of my nation is putting other countries down, just expressing a personal opinion which is allowed in this country. I don't believe that patriotism equals arrogance either. Any more than when I was in junior high and high school and supported my school's athletic endeavors. I didn't hate those other schools or the young people that attended them, I wasn't snubbing or bashing, often I was actually scoping out the hot guys, but we had school spirit and let them know it. We shook hands when the battles were over and congratulated winners.

I truly believe I live in the greatest country on earth, especially for women, and all this greatness didn't come free. We need to honor our heritage and those that fought to gain and protect our freedoms not make excuses for what we have. We should offer it to others willing to pay the price. They may choose to join or go their separate ways, but I do not have to be ashamed because I was blessed to be born here and choose to remain.

No, it is not a perfect country, we daily make mistakes and our freedoms are threatened just as often by ignorant do-gooders. Yet, even those times when I am sad for my nation because of poorly made choices, when I wish that life were more fair, I still believe this is the greatest nation on earth.


O beautiful for heroes proved
In liberating strife.
Who more than self their country loved
And mercy more than life!
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness
And every gain divine!

Katharine Lee Bates

Summer School

Summer has arrived! Well not the temperature but the end of most scheduled activities. Although we continue to "school" during the summer most folks in our circles of friends do not and most classes in which my children participate end until next fall. We would be class-less except I started a sewing class of my own (teaching) that runs through the end of June, and Tae Kwon Do will continue for the first time through the summer. So we should have time for the pool and hopefully some home improvement projects.

As for summer school the twins and I will begin a Confirmation prep book and we will start a history text together. Of course they still have math and language arts, those are the never ending subjects in this house, and the garden is planted, just a bit late, but that will serve as science during the next couple of months. I will also begin more sewing with one of the girls who has shown an interest, and furniture refinishing with another.

My eldest has just really moved beyond homeschooling, she will be a full time student at our local community college this fall and currently holds two summer jobs which won't leave much time for summer home learning but will provide cash and lessons of their own. She will technically be a high school senior next year and this fall we will begin the college application process. I have no doubts of her ability to get into the college of her choice but we are praying for substantial financial aid to make that same college truly possible. Summer for her also brings a two week writing camp at Kenyon College in Ohio the last two weeks of July, maybe she will blog about that!

Resolutions are moving slowly, I am not yet ready to add a new one as I know I would be setting myself up for failure but reading did bring some closure to novels. One is particular "Guitar Boy" by M. J. Auch was a charming read. There are not enough boy stories out there, and I am growing tired of fantasy in the youth market, but this is about a boy and a contemporary story.

The young protagonist Travis, is thrown out of his house by his father, just fourteen with less than $10 in his pocket and some anger issues he's instructed to find his way in the world. His mother has been hospitalized with a major head injury after a tragic accident, which leaves the family leaderless as his father grieves. Travis has guardian angels that keep him safe but not without some unfortunate twists and turns along the way that keep the story believable. You get to learn about guitar making, Appalachian folk music, head trauma recovery, and small town generosity. Worth adding to your library queue.

Scattered Stories

Well obviously if my latest resolution was to be more diligent in my blogging, I failed. Fortunately that wasn't my first resolution, but has to be a later one at some point. I find blogging a struggle as I can't imagine that anyone really wants to read about the daily happenings in my life. Events are either too mundane and I feel the need to embellish which seems just stupid, or they are all together too personal to spread all over the internet and endanger the relationships in my house. What remains after the removal of boring and traumatic just won't fill a daily post, so until I figure out how to babble more regularly, I will just continue to write as the spirit moves me.

I am in the midst of 7 different books but have reached the end of none, and of the seven one holds the promise of endorsement. Seven books!!!! you say. Is it any wonder one of my daughters has a touch of the ADHA stuff. I find when a book begins to slow down or my interest wanes a touch (wandering) my solution is to pick up another book and start reading. I also keep and read books by location, one in the car on audio, sometimes two, one at the bookstore, sometimes two or three, a couple on the Nook, and another hard copy of something at home. Therefore I never get bored with reading but do sometimes get stuck with seven titles and not an end in sight. I also sometimes forget a book for quite some time and a conversation will come up about the book, usually someone extolling the virtues of the book I failed to finish, and they inspire me to pick it up again, or merely remind me to get it back in the rotation.

Reading also interferes with blogging. You have to make a choice about where you spend your daily minutes and reading is way easier and more relaxing than writing so guess what I choose. I convince myself that I am setting an example for my dyslexic daughters by modeling good reading habits. This rationalization is necessary to remove the guilt of neglected household chores, and create excuses for doing that which I enjoy too much.
There are worse habits!

Resolutions?

Once again it is time for new years resolutions. "It is May," you say "isn't that a little too late for resolutions. Well after lent and an Easter filled weekend, I am feeling forgiven and feeling the urge to try again to get things right. What this will look like is still beyond my ken, but I can see bits and pieces (boulders and mountains is more accurate) that need improving so we are going to try the old one step at a time theory.

One at a time I think too, if I commit only to one new discipline, I am only accountable for that one. If I happen to do a couple of other improvements along the way those won't be official ones so if I flub, no need for guilt and if they succeed well I will be that much farther along when they become official. This is a good ploy for the perfectionist, as guilt and self destructive tendencies are almost impossible to avoid. Even after years of setting aside those bad tapes, when you least expect it one will start running in your brain. This is a battle I was pretty sure I had won, so to be occasionally blindsided unnerves me a bit.

I was once hoping for a nice quiet week to begin the life makeover, but have decided this will never happen and the only way to move forward is to jump in amid the chaos. I have come to realize that it isn't going to slow down, and waiting is really just a delay tactic. Come on in the water's fine.

The Perks

The problem with homeschooling is the children aren't the only ones on the learning track. My children's theatre group regularly puts together shows for which I contribute costume expertise. The shows often require historically accurate pieces and guess who is responsible for knowing what works and what doesn't. So I spend research time and for the most part my children only benefit by looking good, and it is my brain that is filled with historical fashion trivia.

I guess the math is just relearning, except for matrices, which turned out to be just totally unnecessary and I don't understand why they were included and totally understand why I never had to learn them in the first place, why would anyone do anything that way? Science just messes up the kitchen, and creates opportunity for more mommy work. But once again as the messes are exploding I have to be the one to explain concepts I haven't thought about in years and end up taking a child to the omniscient Google and tracking down the needed information, that old concept is new again in my brain. Of course went you do this with 5 year olds, a mere two years later you will mention said concept and they will deny any knowlege on the subject. How come I remember?

Communication, it's a Fragile Thing

You may certainly be whatever you want to be and I fully expect you to pursue a passion in your career choice, even if it is journalism and photography. I would like you to be happy. Daddies on the other hand have a different agenda and they think differently, they do not mean to dash hopes and dreams or to make your life miserable but they do worry about the pratical things. Daddies want to know that you will be taken care of, that you will be safe and have all the nice things you need and don't need to make life comfortable. So they hope and encourage and praise safe majors in college, accounting, business, MARKETING, medicine, etc. It is just because they are afraid for you and find letting go almost impossible. When you finish college they want a nice safe job waiting for you so they don't have to worry, and certain majors are more likely to offer those safe jobs. But no major truely gaurantees a job, or happiness, or success. Daddies know that too.

So chase those dreams and create a life for yourself filled with passions, we, yes both of us, will support you all the way in any way we can, because ultimately we all want the same thing. We know as well that you have an outstanding head on your shoulders and a heart that searches for truth. You are not and have never been a frivolous child, you are a classic first born, responsible mature and driven to be first and best. We don't need to be hard on you, you do that for us. Just know that you are truely loved and whatever you choose that is best for you will be just perfect for us.

If Daddy rolls his eyes and makes snarky comments it is just a special daddy way of saying "I am worried and want the best for you and it scares me that you are growing up so fast and I don't know how I can possibly take care of you for the rest of your life unless I lock you in a closet and I don't really know how to respond when I feel so helpless." So just remember that when it seems he doesn't understand or is belittling your choices, it is really just because he cares.

There are many of these special daddy daughter communication techniques that will come to light as you grow older and become a better observer in the meantime I will continue to act as interpreter. Don't hesitate to ask for regular translations.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Everyone gets asked that question. When you're little, you think you can be anything, so you say it: a princess, a doctor, a horseback rider, an artist, a model. We grow out of that mindset as we get older - we are taught you can't be anything you want. You want to be a princess? Yeah right! Grow up - what are the chances you're going to find a royal family to marry into? You're not smart enough to be a doctor. You won't make any money riding horses. You're not talented enough to be an artist. Not tall or skinny enough to be a model.

"You're not good enough."

It's rarely explicitly said, but there's too many instances when children are snubbed because, for some reason, they're "not good enough." Not talented enough, not smart enough, not going to make any money, nothing is good enough.

So we're taught to go to school and study something realistic. Something you can live off of. Something that will make enough money. So kids go to school and they study math and science because that's what is realistic. That's what will "secure them a job."

That's what they'll do for the rest of their lives, and in many cases, they'll hate it. Sure, there's some people who are math and science geeks and they like doing those things. Well, more power to them. That's what schools like to see. They like to see kids excelling in science and math, and even sports and reading. But you know what's waaaaaaaay down on the list?

Art. Drama. Creative writing. Poetry. Shakespeare. Sculpting. Photography. Music.

I'm not a math person. I never have, never will be. I have a friend who is, and we just disagree on how easy/fun math is. My brain just doesn't work like hers does. It doesn't like to process numbers and formulas. There is no emotion in math or science. It's all mindless. It's memorization. There is nothing that you can channel yourself into, because everything is the same. There is one answer for everything, one way to solve the problem, and there's the answer.

Okay, some people like that about math. They like how "simple" it is. But I don't. I hate it. I like the ability to express myself - to put my own spin on the stories that are already out there, to dance, to take pictures. That's how my brain works.

My dad's been obsessed with lectures from the Ted conference recently, and he and I watched one video that Ken Robinson presented on how schools kill creativity. It's actually very interesting, and definitely worth a watch.

I've definitely been sucked into the idea that the world doesn't want people like me. "Photographers? Writers? Musicians? What are we going to do with you? You won't make any money - you'll be a starving artist in the gutter". Well, okay, thanks for your confidence in my abilities.

When I first started thinking about college, I wanted to be a psychiatrist. Well, first off, I wanted to be an author because of the freedom I would have with my work schedule. But then I kept hearing things like, "that's a bad major. Don't do that." "You'll never make any money." "What are you going to do with that degree?" So I was like, okay, fine. I like talking to people. I like finding out how people's brains work. Psychiatry. Yeah. I'll do that. But then I had to go to medical school for that. Now, I knew myself well enough to know that there was no way I was going to enjoy medical school all that much. Sure, maybe parts of it, but that was too much. Studying, work, years, everything. Just too much. So I thought, okay, what about psychology? I'll be a clinical psychologist. I'll have my own practice. But then I realized that clinical psychology required lots of sciency things. I supposed I could handle that, but did I want to...? No, not really. So I was like, I'll still major in psychology, but I'll major in something else too. Psychology's reliable, flexible, realistic. I could use it in almost any job. But then people kept saying things like "psychology majors are a dime a dozen," "psychology's for people who don't know what they want to do."

Okay, then.

All of the other "realistic" majors I didn't want to do. I didn't want to pay thousands of dollars a year for going to college to get a degree in something I was going to hate for the rest of my life. That just wasn't worth it! So I hung on to the psychology idea, ignoring the "everyone's a psych major" comments, and tried to figure out what I was going to do with my second major. Something I liked. Creative writing? Yeah, I'd do that! But that's not realistic. What was I going to do with a creative writing major?

Well, I'd write. That's something I really love to do.

I think everyone loses sight of the real point of college. It's about getting an education. It's about preparing you for the "real world." And most importantly, it's really about discovering what you want to do. I don't want to work in an office building for the rest of my life, stuck in a cubicle analyzing numbers. If I'm going to do it for 25+ years, it better be something I really like to do. So at this point, I've decided I don't care what's realistic and practical. Throwing that out the door. I'm going to college in a year and a half, and that seems really close. I'm still formulating exactly what I want to major in, but I know it's gotta be something I really like, but can still use. I'm not going to go to college and pay more than I can afford for an education to just take classes I hate. I'm going to do something I want. I won't care if I'm a starving artist if I love what I'm doing.

So photography and journalism. (Possibly marketing and creative writing, too. I'm bad with decisions.) That's where I am right now. Even as I announced this decision at the dinner table last night, my dad's first comment was "good luck with that."

I want to do what I want. I want to do what I love. I want to be who I am, not who the system wants me to be.

"Okay for Now"

I have found a new favorite book. I got my hands on an ARC for Gary Schmidt's newest. Mr Schmidt wowed me with the The Wednesday Wars and this is being touted as a sequel. Don't worry if you haven't read The Wednesday Wars, but you should, Okay for Now is a stand alone title where the main character had just a walk on part in the first novel. Historical fiction set in the late 60's where the range of topics seems almost overwhelming but somehow are woven seamlessly together. Vietnam, space exploration, science, drawing, dyslexia, baseball, Audubon, theatre, child abuse, friendship and first love, horseshoes, criminal activity, cancer, alcholism, and things as mundane as life in junior high, delivering groceries, sipping cold Cokes on hot summer days, and small town America at it's finest.

I love Doug Sweiteck. This is one amazingly resiliant kid, with a snarky mouth and a heart of gold. He is the youngest of three brothers and sensitive to a fault. His oldest brother Lucas was apparently something of a hellion who ends up in Vietnam where he loses his legs and almost his sight. Lucas' return sets the stage for all sorts of changes in the family. Christopher whose name we learn only late it the book, is another juvenile deliquent in the works or so we think in the beginning. The father of the story is an alcoholic bully who doesn't deserve the amazing sons he sired. Mom is an abuse victim and an enabler, who you love as Doug does, but you wish she was just that much stronger so she could save herself and her sons.

From page to page you ride an emotional roller coaster, laugh out loud momemts are quickly followed by heartbreaking cruelty, and inspirational hope. Mr Schmidt creates characters that are very real and great mixtures of good and evil. I was sure the PE Coach was on my hate list forever, but you come to understand why he is the way he is and along with Doug give him a second chance he doesn't deserve, and this isn't the only character you are forced to change your mind about. There are also folks filled with compassion who lift Doug up when he can't do it alone.

Doug learned from his father that when things are going really well that just means disaster is about to strike, over and over in his life this prophecy is fullfilled, but somehow even when things are at their worst Doug pushes on finding hope and new ways to make things whole. And Doug's father learns some lessons of his own, this part of the story struggles with being credible, we would all wish for the happy ending and I love that so many kid books give them to us but from the adult perspective dad's turnaround is a bit hard to believe and amazingly fast without therapy. You can certainly talk yourself into it, Lucas' return and courage inspire dad to show the same bravery. I did, happily suppending reality and accepting for Doug a new and better life. 'Tis time well spent reading this one.

PS I LOVE that the Five Little Peppers make a guest appearance.

OMPIYFPIPSAWM

It happens every year, we get two phone calls regarding the Father/Daughter dance and how blatantly unfair it is to call the event a Father/Daughter Dance, because there are some people who don't have a father. My brother suggested an alternative name for the event so as not to offend anyone "Older Male Positive Influence/Younger Female Positively Influenced Physical Social Activity with Music" or OMPIYFPIPSAWM for short. It could work. But it misses the point entirely.

Every young women's first date should be with someone who believes she is truly a gift from God. Who better than her father, one of his jobs is to teach her what to expect from a man and to demonstrate how a woman should be treated. This is the perfect venue for that lesson. There is also an obligation on the part of a male parent to be the earthly example. We pray a prayer that Jesus taught us "The Our Father" why did He give us that? What are we suppose to understand about our heavenly Father, and what image does He expect us to draw from. I wager it is our own earthly daddies who are meant to point us in that heavenly direction, to help us understand just how much He cares.

There is a single mom who's daughter attends every year, and even she said to me as she dropped off her donation this year, it's really about the dads and how special they are. She understands, she knows what a hole the absence of a father leaves in a home. A hole that can be filled by only One. She also has a wonderful daddy.

I feel I am surround by men haters they belittle the need for dads, the need for men. Someone implied the other day that only a female deacon could possibly understand and cure the problem of the priest shortage. I disagree, but that would be another rant. We need to respect the male position in the family and as mothers help dads in those areas, like communication with teen daughters or creating shared experiences, where they sometimes struggle.

We see the impact daily of households headed only by women in our country, we need strong men in positions of leadership in our homes and churches to lead the way for young men. And IMHO this is a job that woman cannot perform. We see it in junior highs boys, there is a loss of respect for the female parent, for female teachers. This is a critical time for the male parent to step up and be the one to primarily discipline the young man or men in his household, also the time to insist that the female parent be respected and treated with courtesy, honor. A dad does this by example and insistance, but if dad is gone this learning can become a challenge for the female parent, finding a male mentor can help facilitate the lesson. All parenting can be challenging that is why we should do it in pairs.

So let's hear it for dads, and not be afraid to use the term father.

I feel a rant coming on, why you ask, all because of the OMPIYFPIPSAWM. It will have to wait till it is safer to rant. Later.

New books

I have just recently finished a few teen tomes and found them satisfying. "Sorta like a Rock Star" by Matthew Quick was a fun over the holiday read. I found the main character impossibly hope filled in the beginning maybe because I am surrounded by such pessimists in my current life, I just couldn't believe anyone living such a life could be so happy and helpful and 17 all at the same time. But by the end of the story I was cheering this young woman on in her quest to save her puppy and in the process her life. An interesting exploration of faith and God also takes place, could be a good discussion book for the girls.

Next I read " I Now Pronounce You Someone Else", really I have a few pages left, but it was another one that I see as a good discussion book for the young ladies. The main character here falls in love, she is also determined to remain a virgin till her wedding, Her virginity isn't the issue here, that is just a personal decision of the young lady and doesn't even have religious roots. The falling in love and what to do about it when you are only a junior in high school is where the conflict lies. I love that she makes wise decisions, listens to friends who care, and realizes how big a step marriage is for a high school student. This is definitely a girl book, filled with romance and heart warming moments. The family relationships add to the topics for discussion, what makes a family, what happens when one becomes broken, and can they ever be fixed? Join Bronwen as she journeys through some tumultuous times.

A recent Alex award recipient "The Room" by Donoghue would also make a great book club read. A young lady is kidnapped at 19 and has lived for 7 years in a 12x12 room with her 5 year old son, held hostage by her captor. A daring escape and the repercussions lead to major character changes and not always what you would hope for or expect. The story is told through the eyes of the young son and his perspective colors yours. I found myself being angry at some of the adults but upon review of their actions found them similar to what I might have done in the same situation. Ma, is your hero while in captivity but she becomes a new and unknown person with the advent of freedom, and her focus shifts so quickly from her son to the outside that I was left wondering if it was the same person. Yet upon considering all that took place, and her goals and the success of those goals, she would need to change her focus pretty dramatically, and quickly. What kept her alive, and sane was her son, she no longer had to fight that battle, just learn to live with the memories.

...So little time...

Do I Out Myself?

I have been asked to give a talk at my church, a 20 minute talk. For starters 20 minutes is a very long time, secondly I am not sure they really want to know my opinion and they might possibly kick me out. Another quandary.

The church I regularly attend is often off in left field in practices and beliefs. While being open and welcoming it occasionally fails in the integrity to our faith principles category. This has been a constant struggle and I am not the only closet conservative in the parish. A number of us actually teach the children weekly, seeing ourselves as preserving the true faith in the generations to come. We have actually considered leaving our parish on more than one occasion, as we live close to at least two other churches that would fill the bill, but we haven't. And now someone has asked me to talk about "What the Roman Catholic Church Means to Us as Women" well, what it means more specifically to me.

There are many answers to this but I guarantee they will not match the reasons of even a few in my audience and many will be appalled. So do I speak my mind, and possibly make life uncomfortable enough that we will have to move on? As open and welcoming as they appear, some are not very welcoming when it comes to those who wish to uphold the teachings of Rome. Hospitality of the warmest sort is reserved for those who condone and hold in esteem a gay lifestyle, who insist that women be admitted to the priesthood, who believe that abortion is truly a woman's choice, who think the problem with a shortage of priests will be improved by allowing priests to marry, who really think men are incapable of running anything and women always do it better, and think the atrocity of pedophilia is a by product of the church's insistence on chastity. If they only knew...It would be back to my Memphis days, Wednesday nights when all the Baptists are out witnessing to everyone at Burger King.

It didn't take long to find out how to rid yourself of the salvation onslaught. And the approach was unavoidable, these folks are truly on a mission, and would speak to everyone in the building before they would leave. You have to admire that kind of passion. As you are just getting ready to sample your flame-broiled selection someone slides into the seat next to you "Have you been saved" is their opening line. "I'm Catholic" became my standard response. This is like a garlic necklace to vampires, the unsuspecting Baptist backs away slowly with the parting response "We'll pray for you." People would be backing away at church like I had the plague.

So I am praying, and waiting and wondering, but still don't know if speaking up will serve any good purpose. And may just bring an end to my clandestine endeavors to save our youth.

Transitions

It was the discussion topic last night at our homeschool parent meeting, transitions. That combined with the new year makes for whirlwind thoughts in my brain. Time for change or just time to improve, or maybe a little of both. My eldest is already in transition, taking college courses, for her last two years of high school, the younger girls just stuck in junior high but we should be gearing up for those high school years. I would like for them to also begin college courses in their junior years so I can avoid teaching calculus and lab sciences. It would effectively end my homeschool hands on time a full year earlier than anticipated. Nice, except I don't know what I want to do with my life.

Lounging at home is out of the question, we will have three in college, which means gainful employment must be in my future. Retirement a distant dream in a fragile bubble. So life in the next few years will be filled with transitions. Scary precipices requiring leaps of faith too often for complacency. What's a mother to do? It is amazing to me how much teenagers still need a mother at home. While they all transition there are frequent explosions, hours of angst, and soulful apologies, that shake a home to the core. So until they are all safely out of the house I feel I must remain in my current unpaid position. It would be nice to find something to do now and smoothly and effortlessly transition to full time when the younger two head off to college. This would avoid transition trauma for me, and make life a little calmer in the intervening years. Eighteen months before I need the brainstorm from which emerges the idea of the century. That and the lottery will keep me from transition trauma.