'Muricans need to travel abroad...

I think every American needs to be forced to travel abroad immediately upon graduating high school.  See the world. Figure out that we are NOT the center of the universe and there are vastly more beautiful and complex cultures out there. Traveling in my late teens was the best thing I've ever done....it gives you a unique worldview that is absolutely unattainable from watching a video of Rick Steves walking through some Italian village....go through the village yourself.  Ask for a loaf of bread...in Italian.

Try and figure out how to pay for something in lira in Romania.  Spend a day in Switzerland eating nothing but chocolate in various forms. Order a drink, say it wrong, and sheepishly drink it anyway.  Eat a salmon in a restaurant right on a dock in Scotland...where the fish was just caught that day. Oh yeah, when you're in Scotland, don't act like a wuss- eat the haggis...you'll be glad you did. Buy a street kid in a third-world country a pastry from the nearest bakery and watch a tow-headed 8 year old walk away with your heart and a fist full of chocolate croissant crumbs.

Eat with the locals. Eat in their homes. Don't question what it is, just enjoy and be grateful. Attend a wedding, the entire village following an open horse-cart carrying a blushing bride as it winds its way through the small streets. Don't be led by fear...walk with the locals as they tread through a labyrinth of armed soldiers to simply attend church, and then watch as those soldiers slam the door to the church and threaten elderly women with beatings if they don't leave. Take it in. Think of going to church in America. Take it in and think.

Turn a street corner in Zurich and let the Alps unfurl in front of you and positively take the strength from your knees. Wade through the sky-high sunflowers in fields across southern Romania, many planted there, according to locals, as an act of defiance against communism post-revolution.
 Look how happy we are....we've got ten acres of sunflowers.

Walk among the stones of Stonehenge. Stand where Roman gladiators stood. Swim in the Danube River, laughing and playing soccer on the beach with local gypsies, until the men with machine guns come and chase you away. Crawl in caves beside glistening waterfalls. Hike on trails that curve among the highest mountains and end in the clouds.

Pray in a Greek Orthodox church. Pray in a Jewish temple. Pray in a mosque. Pray in the biggest cathedrals in the world and pray at small roadside stops for monks.  Pray as you walk down dusty roads that used to be herding trails for shepherds. Pray as you see orphaned children living in the ruins of bombed out buildings, and when your fever breaks 104 and you're shuddering deliriously in the cheap, mismatched sheets of a motel in a place called Turnu Margurele and a local priest presses his withered hands on your stomach and prays aloud in a language you don't realize, in your fevered, painful stupor, is Latin...and then you awake, fever broken....pray the most fervent prayer of gratitude and humility.

[Don't drink the water abroad unless you're positive you can.]

Talk with locals. Let them play their music for you...it will be one of the best moments of your life. Watch them dance, and join in.  If you are invited for dinner, and as you walk up and see a large wooden table set up outside with various lanterns and torches set up, flowers strung up in the trees, you stop, take a moment to pause and remember this, because it will be forever etched into the soul of who you are.  You'll be there until the wee hours of the morning, eating, drinking, dancing, singing, laughing, and you will never forget it. Make sure of it.

Learn. Listen to stories of war. Listen to jokes. Tell them your stories and your jokes. Contribute to the cross-pollination of culture.

Do all of this, and then come back to America and TRY to have the same mindset you had before.  You can't.

When to let go.

So after a full day of work, going home to change, eating a quick dinner and grabbing the dog, and running around getting all the kids, we made it to Grayson's baseball game this evening.

This baseball season has been tough, with me having to work many evenings that Grayson has practice. As a result, his Papa has been picking him up from the bus stop and taking him to practice.  I told him once my schedule changes, I'll be able to take him, but he keeps insisting it's no problem.

Tonight during the game, at which his Papa is a coach, I spent my time about equally watching Grayson and watching his Papa, and slowly realizing that I just hadn't been getting it.

It wasn't about me. Yes, of course, I'm going to support Grayson and go to his games, but this is way, way more important to his Papa.  His face was alive, lit up, smiling, yelling, cheering, slapping Grayson on the back and patting his helmet before he went up to bat. He needs this way more than I do.

I can't imagine raising a boy, being as involved and as loving as his Papa is, only to lose that child. I've never seen him so happy and alive as he was today at the game- at home, his face grows long and tired, sitting in his den surrounded by photos of Lee.

Who am I to step between him and Grayson in this rite of passage for boys- playing Little League with their dads (or in this case, Papa)? This isn't my place. Grayson doesn't need me there like he needs his Papa there. I simply can't fill that role. Nor should I.

The baseball field happened to be just around the corner from the cemetery, so I swung by, dusted the grass clippings off Lee's stone, righted the flower vase that lay on its side, and thought about it.  One of the hardest things about being a parent is knowing when to back off. I'm a mom and I'm really good at hugs, snuggling, discipline, reading together, making him eat his vegetables and not tell lies....but his Papa is really good at telling him when to swing, when to get under the ball, when to run...how to play baseball. And I have to be OK with that.

PTSD claims another...

A young man (I guess I can still call people my age "young"), fellow alum of AJHS, succumbed to  PTSD. I struggle to comprehend his pain and my soul weeps to think of it.

I don't have words right now, so I'll turn to a piece of writing by those much greater than I: Walt Whitman with his "Adieu to a Soldier".  I hope my readers take these words in with a state of meditative reception, contemplation, and levity.

God rest your soul, Will, and those of all the young soldiers whose most private of battles couldn't be won.

Please consider supporting organizations like Stop Soldier Suicide , Returning Veterans Project, and The Soldiers Project and help heal our warriors who can't heal themselves.  And always, always, reach out to the soldiers, sailors, marines, airmen, and veterans in your life, check on them, encourage them, listen to them, and be a part of the solution.

~m

Adieu to a Soldier ~ Walt Whitman
ADIEU, O soldier!
You of the rude campaigning, (which we shared,)
The rapid march, the life of the camp,
The hot contention of opposing fronts--the long manoeuver,
Red battles with their slaughter,--the stimulus--the strong, terrific
game,
Spell of all brave and manly hearts--the trains of Time through you,
and like of you, all fill'd,
With war, and war's expression.

Adieu, dear comrade!
Your mission is fulfill'd--but I, more warlike,
Myself, and this contentious soul of mine, 10
Still on our own campaigning bound,
Through untried roads, with ambushes, opponents lined,
Through many a sharp defeat and many a crisis--often baffled,
Here marching, ever marching on, a war fight out--aye here,
To fiercer, weightier battles give expression. 

I leveled up...

...to coin a video game phrase.

I've been approved to write for examiner.com, which is one of the best and most linked-to freelance media sources today. This means potential article views in the tens of thousands.

I am honored, thrilled, elated, excited beyond words, humbled, and extraordinarily grateful.

To celebrate, I'm making brownies.  Because...well, that's how I roll.

Tomorrow I write. For tonight...WE FEAST ON CHOCOLATE CAKE-LIKE CONFECTIONS AND WATCH FUNNY SHIT ON YOUTUBE!!!

Thank you.
~m

Little boys viewing porn...

Recently I heard the extraordinarily disturbing fact that most boys are first viewing porn at nine years old.

My jaw dropped.

My son is eight. I'm not ready for that shit. And neither, may I add, is he. Not even close.

What disturbed me the most is the fact that these boys' parents are allowing availability of such material. Your kid may or may not still believe in Santa (mine does...he's got two younger siblings..I can't afford to have him blowing the cover)..what on earth makes you think he's ready for porn?? If there are any dads reading, I've heard from a guy or two that this is a "high-five" moment- catching your son watching porn for the first time. I think even you would agree it would be better for this moment to occur when the kid's in high school, right?  Can you high-fve your son for watching porn and then drop him off at elementary school the next day?  Seriously?

I could make this a very, very loooong blog post by enumerating the various psychological reasons it's very unhealthy for such young minds to view porn, but you can read those studies, etc. here, here, and here.

I think we (as a society) need to address the issue. When I recall the best sexual encounters of my life, they are ones that occurred within the bounds of a good relationship. The element of trust, respect, intense emotional intimacy manifesting in physical intimacy, those all made for way better sex than a ten minute fling. Maybe that's a female thing, but from the studies that have been coming out more and more recently, it's not. Men also experience better sex within a relationship (whether or not they admit it around their friends or only during an anonymous survey).  And on that note: when was the last time your greatest sexual encounter looked anything like a porn? Mine don't.

I'll tell you now: if a man treated me, touched me, and/or talked to me the way the men talk to women in porn, I'd be out of that bed and out of that house so fast his dumb ass wouldn't know what was happening. Sex isn't about degrading, dehumanizing, violence (however subdued), it's about mutual attraction and respect of boundaries for a mutually pleasant experience. So if your kid grows up watching this shit and then treats his first girlfriend that way, it's going to go one of two ways:
1. she will walk, nay, probably run away from him and tell all of her friends what a skeezy perv he is.





2. she will allow such an experience to begin to define and shape her sexual experiences, leading to a lifetime of frustrating, humiliating sexual encounters trying to reach unattainable, inhuman goals of "sexual gratification" for men.
Wow. Wouldn't you be a proud papa. Your kid's either a skeezy perv or training a future stripper. Sweet.

Use some common sense, parents. There is absolutely, positively, unequivocally no reason for an 8, 9, 10, 11 year old to have private access to a computer with internet access.  Put that shit in the living room and watch what they're doing on the internet.  If you don't have time for that, you don't have time to be a parent and you should probably send your kids to join the circus or some shit because you damn sure aren't doing your job. Put parental blocks on your computer and actually check that shit from time to time to make sure they're not bypassing it. Again, too time consuming?  Shut the fuck up and be a parent.  I am honestly shocked and appalled that any parent would not monitor their child's internet use, but apparently it's happening a lot.

Another thing- be honest.  The first time your son (or daughter) approaches you and asks what a dick, nuts, tits, etc. are, be honest, use scientific terms (trust me, we've approached the use of the word "testicles" in my house already), don't laugh, but don't act like you're talking about nuclear physics, either. Don't make it a super-serious conversation as that might stress them out, make them uncomfortable, and they'll quit coming to ask you because they don't want to get a lecture every time.  If you're cooking, keep cooking. If you're reading the paper, look up for a sec, say, "That's the word for breasts, and it's probably better all around, if you don't want to offend someone, to just say breasts," and go back to reading your paper. It's life, it's nature, and they need to know, but they don't need a sit-down lecture every single time.  The "sex talk" is a one-time, sit-down, 'grab a Coke cause it's gonna be a while', conversation where you lay it all out on the table. Until then, only answer what they ask and nothing more.

Don't be this dad...

Don't shame your kid. Curiosity is normal. But don't high-five your 8 year old for finding YouPorn, either...shut that shit down.  Tell him in no uncertain terms that such material is grossly inappropriate for his age and he will not be viewing it in your house. (This is called, in old-school-parenting lingo, Putting Your Foot Down....it's OK, you can do it- your precious baby boy will still love you.) If you care about your son, the material he puts in his brain and the way it quite literally affects his brain development, and about the health of his future relationships (as in, you want him to bring home a decent girl and not a string of emotionally damaged women who will wreak havoc on his life), then you do this for him.

Get your 9 year olds off the computer and out in the yard with baseballs, people. Come on. Our generation has fucked a lot up, but we have the power to produce a new generation that's more evolved, wiser, healthier, and better prepared to handle the world. We grew up when the internet was a new thing and we (along with our parents) were just figuring out the limits, rules, guidelines for navigating the information superhighway.  Well now we know.  Use your knowledge, your power, and your love for your child to make wiser decisions than those before us. Evolve.

~m

Why would that be in a fashion ad?

So anyone who knows me for pretty much any length of time knows that I'm a pretty vocal feminist.  I realize the topic is divisive and uncomfortable, which is where my social skills come into play when I ruin an otherwise pleasant banter around a fire-pit or other gathering of friends by not being able to keep my mouth shut when someone mentions something or says something that I recognize as misogynistic, or perhaps just ignorant.

Whoops.

A few things I just won't tolerate in my presence (and usually means I don't hang out with that person ever again): hate speech, towards any group, and women-bashing speech.  So many men, particularly older ones, feel that it's perfectly OK to make fun of a woman- her appearance, her intelligence, her job performance, etc.- in the company of others, including other women.  What the hell? Beyond the respect from one human being to another, you could even pull from the antiquated notions of chivalry and bite your tongue. Or you could just be a decent person and not degrade someone else in front of others.

Yet what's a girl to do when she turns on the TV (which I don't do any more), flips open a magazine, skims the ads in the borders of her browser, drives past billboards, and sees some of the most offensive messages to and about women?

"Oh, you're overreacting....crazy feminist." you say. Take a look at these ads....do they make you feel comfortable? Or make you want to buy these products?

                 **

Chime in...comment, message, email, etc.

**Credit to Scott Lukas at www.genderads.com

The Hell of American Daycare

I read this article about the current condition of American childcare for working moms, and I've been saying this for years: until we fix this, women can't achieve true equality in the workplace in America. You can't be expected to go to work and perform with total concentration while your child is in a sub-par daycare.

People have asked me if I'm done having more kids.  That question totally depends on the future of my career. If I held a position where I could afford a quality daycare, then I totally wouldn't be opposed to having more kids- I love kids, I'm a good mom, and I like the idea of expanding my family. But as it stands now, there's no way I could afford quality care for an infant (you're talking $200+ a week for dependable infant care).

I won't go into the bad experiences I had with childcare over a cumulative twelve years (four years of pre-school childcare for each child) for my children.  Sometimes it was ridiculous- I literally had to decide between going to work that day and leaving my child in what I knew to be a questionable situation (home daycares? Never. Again.).  My oldest son actually came to work in the morning with me and would sit and play board games, play with cards, draw, or play chess with a friend of mine while I was baking the pastries and opening up the coffee shop I worked for and he waited for his ride to school.  Thank GOD the owner was cool with it and a very supportive boss to a working mom.  I think he was probably the last supportive boss I had, come to think of it.

I thought my worries were nearly over since two of my children are in elementary school, but my current management team has assured me otherwise. Three times my kids' school nurse had to call me this year: two for Callie and one for Grayson, both times they had a fever and could not remain at school, so I had to leave work to go pick them up.  I got written up for leaving work early. Wow.

That's what you get for being a single mom working at a corporate "big box" store. I combed the employee handbook with a fine-tooth comb...there are exactly zero protections for employees having to leave work to pick up a sick child. To qualify for protection under the FMLA, the illness has to be a "long-term" one and you must apply for those protections/benefits at least a month in advance [How does that request go? "In one month, I shall find out my child has cancer and I must leave to take care of him/her." Seriously?].  So there are basically no protections against a single parent getting fired for essentially being...a single parent (who else is going to pick up your sick kid? No daycare is going to pick him up either, if he's got a fever. Grandparents at work?  Aunts and uncles all at work?  Guess what....I've got to go pick him up.)

It's not just single parents, either. In this economy, most families need to be dual income to make ends meet. However, I know families in which one spouse stayed home simply because the cost of putting their children in dependable childcare would have been more than that party would bring home in his or her paycheck.

We've seen time and time again that countries and organizations that provide childcare have higher productivity rates and more successful employees than those who do not.  How do we not get this as a nation?  Even if the government doesn't provide childcare or childcare subsidies, the massive corporations should provide childcare facilities for their employees.  You put in a childcare center with a few staff, you make a minimal investment (in the grand scheme of your corporate spending), and you would more than get that money back in lost hours from employees who have to call out due to childcare issues. Not to mention, those employees would be happier and more at ease knowing their children are nearby and are safe, thus increasing the productivity when they are at work.  It's really a no-brainer.  But hell, considering most of the companies are cutting hours to avoid having to pay medical costs under new healthcare regulations, who really expects them to act as if they have any sort of moral compass?

So read the article (there's a pretty horrifying story...be warned), and if you don't have kids, try to imagine what your life would be like if you did. Working at night? Never again. Working overtime? Probably not- most daycares won't put up with it. Having a flexible schedule to be available to your company whenever?  Nope. You'll be a hassle and a burden to your employer and, if anything like my current situation, they'll try to make your working life so difficult that you leave so they can hire a kid with a wide-open schedule to replace you.  That's the reality of it.

Thank you, friends.

I've got to send out some thanks to some friends of mine who are good enough friends to give me a cyber slap in the face when I'm freaking out and snap me back to reality.

Yesterday was just a climax of a lot of emotions (as evidenced in my blog post). All these national tragedies happening at just enough of a regular interval to keep us (or me) somewhat scared, and then the potential shooter potentially being at my kids' school...potentially.  As it all turned out, he was armed and was in the area, but the police acted with such swift and sure determination, in conjunction with the school district (who immediately executed a lock-down and shooter "drill"), that the entire terrifying situation was quelled in about two hours, from the time of the initial tip to the arrest.  That's fairly amazing, and a testament to the procedures in place and the professionalism of our local resources.

The staff at the school, while they admitted they were scared as they too hid in "closets and bathrooms" during the shooter "drill" [apparently, normally during a drill, staff members such as janitors and secretaries don't typically participate], were extraordinarily calm, professional, and empathetic as frantic parents began to arrive at the school. They handled all of our crazy asses with patience, especially the parents who were screaming through the phone lines (audible to the entire office area).



It was terrifying, especially that first few moments after receiving that email. Positively terrifying.  Grayson is eight years old, the same age as the boy killed in the Boston bombing and the same age as countless other young people killed every year by car accident, cancer, fatal accidents, drowning, etc. Every day I release him into the world, onto a bus, into a school, to a friend's house, and one day (Lord help any of you who know me on that day) into a car that he's driving.

And that's only one child. One day I'll have to release Callie on a date.
With a boy. Sheesh.

But you, my good, good friends, have the love for me to snap me out of my terror-induced panic and get me back to reality.  Life is going to happen. There is no way I can protect my children against all the dangers the world presents.  I could home school them, and we could all be killed by a drunk driver on the way to the supermarket.  I could move up into the mountains and our lovely, eco-friendly, off-the-grid cabin could catch fire.  Those Final Destination movies kind of hit it right on the nose...you can't escape it.

The only other logical alternative is to enjoy every single second you do have.  Sometimes, it may be more important to lay on the floor with your kids and play with Legos than fold that basket of laundry.  That can wait for after they go to bed.  Sometimes, when they're slurping their spaghetti and flinging sauce all over their faces, it's best just to laugh and enjoy their silly, raucous giggles around a table that one day will fall silent. Take a walk and accept the dandelions they pick for you and put them in your hair. Dance with them in a public park like no one's looking.  So if, on the horrible, tragic, unthinkable chance that something happens to one of them, you'll have the happiest, most glowing memories possible.

Thank you, friends.

Interrupted by a local school shooter...

I've tried not to engage in much discussion about the tragedy in Boston because I simply feel I don't have the words.  I'm weary of the dialogue, frankly.

I went through this the very first time 17 years ago when I was in Atlanta with a church group at the Olympics when a bomb went off just a few blocks away.  I was terrified and, at 14 years old, had no clue what was happening. Time passed and the memories faded.

And then, three years later, a group of misunderstood, bullied teens went rampage on their high school in Columbine, CO, slaying their classmates and then ending their own lives.  We held vigil at my little country school, the principle sounding weary and worn as he announced that no more rifles in the gun racks in the back of your trucks...drop 'em off at home if you were early morning hunting and then going to school. We held drills, looked at one another, confused, in anti-bullying assemblies (in a school with little to no bullying...we were all of relatively the same socio-economic status, very small school, very close-knit), and began peering out at this world with a hint of fear.

Just a scant year and a half later, some crazy jihadist blew a hole the size of a building in the side of one of our "impenetrable" Navy ships. I had just gotten back from visiting New York City with my parents and eating hoagies in the shadow of the twin towers of the World Trade Center, where we took pictures and craned our necks back as far as we could to squint against the sun at her height.

And then that was gone, and with it, the lives of thousands of innocent Americans.

It's a systematic process of being broken, but being performed on an entire nation. After you punch someone in the gut over and over, eventually they give up.

I can't do the same old dialogue, frankly.  I, like many of my peers, joined the military after this late-adolescent period of fear and intimidation, to try to make a difference.  To do the right thing. To make the world a better place, somehow. To stop the bad guys from hurting us. Now all we have is a generation of bitter, jaded, broken (sometimes physically) men and women who are sick of it all.  We sacrificed so much, some much, much more than others, and what difference did it make?

***Wow, I was in the middle of writing this when I got an email alert from the kids' school that there was a shooter in the district and they were on lock-down.  I grabbed John up and drove like a maniac to their school (which was not the school in question, thank goodness).  When I drove up, vans, SUVs, and sedans were parked all over the driveway, some askew, some still running, as wild-haired moms in sweats dashed up to the front door.  Not just moms...a BMW screeched up and a suited man who looked like a banker jumped from the car before it was fully in park. Concern for kids transcends all social classes. A resource officer, a psychologist, sent from the school district was rushing from the parking lot towards us, half-jogging, briefcase under his arm and ID card on a lanyard around his neck, hurrying to comfort the panicking parents milling about the front door.  The school secretary, principle, and school nurse, all of whom were anxiously manning the front desk, knew nothing except that it wasn't at their school.

To their credit, the York PD and Clover School District handled this with astounding speed, proficiency, and professionalism, curbing any potential danger and apprehending the shooter before any damage was done. The implementation of the "shooter" plan was flawless, as far as I could tell.  Resource officers being sent to all schools, both to calm parents and staff and assist in dealing with the children,  is a very cool part of the plan.

However, the fact remains that THERE WAS A FRIGGIN SHOOTER IN MY CHILDREN'S SCHOOL DISTRICT.

To be honest, it's looking more and more attractive to get a piece of land up in the mountains, home school the kids, and get away from this society of threats, shooting, violence, and fear.

To any who have any advice, comment, email, etc.
~m

juxtaposition of national tragedy and personal loss

Today has been horrific.

I think that goes without saying.

Twelve and a half years ago, I puked in the alley behind the pizza joint where I worked as towers crumbled and my innocent, naive life evaporated in clouds of dust and swirling paper shreds hundreds of miles away.

Today, I puked in the bathroom of the home where I try to shield and protect my children from harm and yet the ugly, nasty world is only getting uglier and nastier.  I served four years in our military, and I'm not one step closer to protecting my children against random acts of terror.

And on top of this national ugliness, this disgusting show of intimidation, my boyfriend finds out he lost a good friend (unrelated incident), and to hear the hurt and raw pain in his voice...it was too much.  I lost the stomach that had been queasy since 3:22 when I got the news alert in an email to my phone from ABC News.

I guess being a sensitive soul and then adding to it the love of being a mother and wanting desperately to protect my children, not only from something like this happening to them but from the very knowledge that such evil exists, I physiologically experience sickness when this stuff happens.

Horror at random, senseless murder.  Fear at the lack of knowledge, lack of control, lack of comprehension. Frustration at knowing we can no longer trust any news source to truly give us the straight story.  Terror at knowing that while the chances of this happening to your loved one are beyond minuscule, that chance still exists because somewhere out there, there are parents of a dead child from Columbine High School, a widow of a banking executive from 9/11, and on and on and on.

So when I think I'm at my peak of emotional tension, Chris calls and I heard his voice and it just shot straight through me, because I've been there.  We've all been there, unless you're so insanely lucky you've never had to bury a friend or loved one. Not just sadness, but frustration tinged in despair. Being slammed in the face with our own mortality and finding ourselves lacking in the ability, the words, to deal and to help others deal.

I'm sick....physically, emotionally, and now just plain sick of all the political rhetoric flying around Facebook and the internet right now.  I can't process any more.

Let's all find something, some meaning, some strength, some hope, from today, in any way possible, please. I can't cope if we don't.

Always in peace, love, and pride,
~m

Boys asks out girl. Girl says no. Boy tries to kill girl.

Read this story this morning on a 15 year old boy attacking, beating, and choking a 14 year old girl when she  turned down his advances.

Now...OK, what the holy hell?  Fifteen years old? And a girl of fourteen?  I had my first crush and my first kiss when I was fourteen. I cannot imagine being violently attacked by a boy my own age at that time in my life. I just can't wrap my head around it.

I admit, I always go this route of blaming the parents. I do. Guilty.  But at fifteen, much of your character development is owed to two sources: your parents and school.  Typically, schools are good to enforce the word "no".  If your teacher says no and you flip out, you get sent to the principle, get detention, ISS, or OSS.  There is an immediate and tangible consequence.  With many, many parents (more and more, from my viewpoint as a parent), "no" is an optional word in the home.  If you say "no" and your toddler flips out and you allow it, and by allowing the behavior I mean give in and give them what they want, you're not helping your child. And you're basically producing a brat who is one day going to be a six-foot-tall, 200 pound man who can't take the word "no".  Gee....thanks.

It's very, very hard to be a parent.  No one ever claims it's easy, particularly with an insistent toddler who will ask the same thing over and over and over and you want, you really, really want to just say "yes" so she or he will stop begging.  Yet any parent worth their salt knows that sometimes you have to stand firm, that allowing your dear one to eat Sweet Tarts at 7 am before being dropped off at preschool would probably result in a phone call from an extremely pissed off preschool teacher at 10 am when your child is going berserk all over the classroom and refusing to settle down.

The word "no" is a very real part of life, and just like your child needs to learn to pee and poop on his own, how to tie his own shoes, how to eventually wash his own clothes, cook for himself, balance his own checkbook, so he must learn, and as early as possible, how to deal with the word "no" and how to process rejection.  As a parent, you're a coach in this whole process, and if you want to shirk your duties, the rest of us will eventually want to punch you.  Just sayin'.

I'm not saying I'm perfect nor are my children.  In a very crowded public park on Saturday, my dear five year old, who elected to skip his nap that day (much against my advisement), finally reached his breaking point and positively screamed at me in front of dozens of onlookers (all because I wanted to hold his hand so he would stop teetering on the edge of the rock wall by the pond that was about to give him an algae-and-bacteria bath). But I stopped walking, stared at him, and didn't keep moving, didn't back down, until he stopped acting like a lunatic, got with the program, and got away from the pond.  I also threatened (and I back up my threats...they are not empty and the kids know it) to take away his Wii.  I didn't give in and allow him to jump in a filthy pond because his 5 yr-old mind thought it was a good idea.  No!

It was embarrassing, and I'm sure there was some self-righteous mom looking on thinking, "Oh my gosh, what an awful mom." So perhaps, this 15 year old boy's mom is out there, horrified at what her son has done....yet 15 year olds don't get to attack others because they didn't take a nap.  By fifteen, you should pretty much be in control of your faculties.  You should have a fairly decent grasp on anger management and appropriate boundaries.  And, of course, there's always the possibility this kid has some kind of mental illness/behavioral issue, but then again, that should be recognized/diagnosed/treated by that age. But since nothing like that is mentioned in the article, I'm fairly certain this kid just doesn't comprehend the word "NO".

I have customers who come in Starbucks all the time, and their kids (young...like 3-8 yrs old) start whining the second they walk in, and these parents make me sick...."Well, what do you want honey?  You want a frappuccino?  OK, OK, no, don't fuss like that. Don't whine baby...we're almost there. There's a lady ahead of us, honey...oh, ok, I'll push her out of the way like a roller derby girl to order you a 600 calorie, sugar-and-caffeine-laden drink that's vastly inappropriate for your age so you'll stop whining."  Seriously.  OK, they don't go all roller-derby, but damn near it...all to appease their sniveling kid and give them caffeine (facepalm) instead of telling them to shut up and no, they're not getting a coffee drink that's not appropriate for their age and no, they don't hold the purse strings and so no,  they're not getting a $4 frappuccino, and no, whining and screaming louder and louder won't result in a cake pop......but they don't.  They give in. Except one time...a grandmother told her 2-3 year old granddaughter to hush her mouth, she wasn't getting anything because she didn't ask nicely, and when she began screaming, she turned right around, got out of line, took the little girl to the bathroom, came back with a red-faced and subdued child, got back in line, ordered her own coffee, and the chastised girl didn't speak a word.  I mentally high-fived the grandmother, because sometimes, as a parent, you have to lose your place in line.  Hang up the phone. Stop grocery shopping.  Stop walking in the park. You have to stop what you're doing (ahhhh, the kicker for one of the most selfish generations of parents ever) and parent your child.  It also means respecting your child's needs enough to know better than to plan a trip to the store during your child's nap-time and expecting them to behave.

All the parents out there, practice with me. Raise your tongue to the roof of your mouth and say, "nnnnnnnnn" and then lower your tongue, round out the lips, and push it out.."oooooooo". Quickly now! "No!"  Three times in a row! "No, no, no!"

It's OK to say no.  It's one of the best lessons you can teach your child...how to deal with NO.

Who's scared of failure? EVERYONE!

This weekend I finally gathered the courage to share my book outline (over three months since beginning to scribble it out) with my closest friends and the boyfriend.  This was a big hurdle.

I could only wish to look this suave with writer's block...

Writers are a lot of things...we're neurotic, we're typically just slightly crazy, and we both detest sharing unfinished work and crave feedback on finished works.  So we want no eyes on it before it's done and once it's done, we demand the whole world look at it right then and give us feedback, preferably 99% positive with super cheerful, barely-there constructive criticism (or, God forbid, a harsh critic and spend the next three hours in the bathroom crying and fixing makeup....for real).

Yet I'm aware that harsh critics are what I need before even beginning to release any major piece of writing, especially criticism from my closest friends who will be more gentle than strangers.  So just the step of sharing my outline was scary...I was convinced that (a) the plot was too complex and they would say, "Whoa, whoa, this is insane..too much going on. No one will read this." and (b) that the story itself isn't compelling or interesting enough (which simply isn't true...I find myself fascinated to see how these characters' lives will play out).

Considering all of that, it was a pleasant surprise that all of them found the story very interesting, compelling enough that each time I discussed (three separate times), an intense discussion began on potential conclusions, inquiries on details of the characters, and a general sense of 'Wow, go write this now...I want to read this book.' They said that.  Two separate friends at two separate times.  How cool is that?!

Right now, I'm finishing up the outline and the conclusion of the conflict and plan on starting to pound this book out towards the end of May and then dig in over the summer and get as much done as possible before the kids all return from their respective family vacations. This is, of course, a first draft and will need much sculpting, but the plan is to get most of this out of my head and onto paper.

So, dear friends, I have a favor to ask of you. If you see me wandering around some coffeehouses this summer, dirty, with tangled hair and a vacant stare, please order me a shot of espresso (or a PBR, if after 5 pm) and direct me back to my computer.  I may take up smoking again...I may move a hammock out onto my balcony with a desk for my laptop so I can write and sleep and live outdoors. I may not smell great. You guys push me through it, and for God's sake be nice to me....you can bring out the blades when I ask you to 'read and edit'. Please and thank you.

Namaste,
~m

Friday VLOG....

It's a new videooooooo....MAKE ME LAUGH!



Oh, and it's Friday, so there's THIS:

 

Personal Goals....

So I feel like I've been treading water a little bit, so they say (and I do it...it works) that putting your goals in writing helps you achieve them.

Well I'm going to put them in writing out there on the interwebs so you guys, my real-and-cyber friends, can harass me and shove me into completing them.  Please and thanks!

1) Have a real job by July.  June is ideal.  By "real job", either working in my ideal field, nonprofit, or swallowing my pride and taking one of the bajillion "receptionist" jobs here in corporate Charlotte (something 40 regularly-scheduled hours, anyway). I've been fighting the latter tooth and nail but it may just have to be a reality, until a nonprofit opportunity comes open, anyway. While I am a complete minimalist and am fine living hand to mouth, my kids' needs and wants are growing exponentially every day, it seems. Now there's baseball...theater...a violin? I need better employment to give them better opportunities, or to at least fully equip the opportunities they currently have.

2) Start pushing out chapters on my book.  Outline is almost done. Need to start fleshing it out and maybe even reaching out to publishing houses.  Either way, by July, I need to have at least the concrete outline and at least the first 3-5 chapters on paper.  I'm so terrified of failure that I'm terrified to start. That's no good.


3) Rock climbing.  Be doing it. There were so many places on my hike yesterday where, if I were properly trained and with a good belay, I would have thrown a rope over right then and there.  Too many cool rocks to climb on this planet, and too many wide, boring trails to avoid them. I don't want to take the safe route...I want to take the road less traveled.

That's me, at peak of Crowder's Mountain, wanting to scale down that big rock..

Curried chickpeas. Yum.

4) Fully ethical eating, all the time. I've been cheating here and there (thanks in part to my fully carnivorous boyfriend...OK, OK, I won't blame him...my will has been weak in the face of Havarti cheeses and shrimp and grits).  No more cheating.  I go back for another cholesterol check in a few months...I need those numbers down, even lower than this last visit (apparently [I'm adopted, so I don't know my medical history], I may be genetically predisposed to higher cholesterol). The sodium and chemicals have a pretty immediate impact on my health, from what I can tell...since cheating, I feel kind of crummy. Gotta bring it on back to Veganville.

I think that's good...no need to cram too much into just a few months.  My stress level has been fluctuating lately, too, and that's not good.  High stress is what got my health all screwed up a couple of years ago and part of the reason I moved, changed lifestyles, etc., so I have got to keep a handle on my stress.  A couple of days ago, I literally, physiologically felt my anxiety rise up and through some yoga & meditation and talking it out with the person involved was able to avoid a full-blown anxiety attack and to level it out without much harm being done.  So I'm trying not to stress too much about these pretty large goals looming in the very-near future.

Words of encouragement are always welcome! :)
~m

Rejecting "Traditional" Marriage...

So I read this article on same sex marriage threatening "traditional" marriage, and I agree completely!

I've done the "traditional" marriage thing.  I've had the husband who expected me to clean, cook, do 100% of the household work, raise the children, and all of this was regardless of my employment status (so even when I had a full-time job, I was expected to maintain the home and work, while he was only expected to work).

Never. Again.

I will never again enter into a cohabitation situation with a partner where we are not equals, in every way, shape, and form.  I don't mind working; in fact, I like supporting myself, I enjoy having my own career, and I find it fulfilling.  Therefore, if we are both gone during the day, don't expect me to come home, make a full dinner, clean up from said dinner, clean the home, wash the laundry, and tend to the kids while you watch TV with your feet up.

Can't stress enough....Never. Again.

Men now should be more evolved than that. It's only common sense, really, to recognize that if both parties are working, both parties should share the home work load equally.  That's one of the responsibilities of being in a relationship as well, and if you don't want that responsibility, stay a bachelor and live in your own filth (because it only logically follows that if you don't want to clean when in a relationship, you didn't clean before one, therefore your home must be pretty filthy). Women aren't there to provide cleaning services when in a relationship.

So, no, "traditional" marriage values don't really work for me, either.  I'm not submitting to any man, for any reason, period, and I'm pretty appalled that the words "submit" and "authority" are even still used in reference to the man/wife relationship (this just opens the doorway for abusive situations- obviously there are men who will abuse such authority and inflict mental, emotional, and physical pain upon their wives simply because she was taught to "submit").  So call me a radical feminist...I don't care.

All women should expect equal treatment at this point in our societal evolution.  We pay the same for our education, we should demand equal pay, equal respect, and equal opportunities in the workplace, and equality in personal relationships and in the home should be a given.  I refuse to even date any man who is not at least this evolved- I've wasted enough time of my life fighting patriarchal men.  People should be partners in a relationship- encouraging one another's success, sharing the familial responsibilities equally (bills, cleaning, maintenance, etc), and then sharing the joys of life equally (not one party going to play golf while the other is doing laundry and cleaning the house), as well as challenging one another, realistically keeping one another in check, and supporting and facilitating one another's goals and dreams.
                                                 
With all that being said, yes, I can totally see how "traditionalists" can't wrap their heads around two women (being so frail and incapable of caring for themselves, ya know) or two men (both being strong, independent providers) can happily live together.  That does threaten traditional values, but then again, I guess so would my strong, independent relationship with my chosen partner... you know, the one who encourages my career, encourages my independence, does his own damn laundry, has his own successful career, and is capable of dating an independent woman without it threatening his manhood (in fact, I think he really digs it).


The use of the word "traditional" carries with it a comfortable, homey connotation, when in reality, these are ties keeping us bound to a by-gone era, one many women (and men) have fought tirelessly to eradicate.  For many, "traditional values" hurt: they cause people to abuse one another in a frustrating attempt to control another human being...men controlling their wives, parents controlling their gay children, ministers controlling their congregations, politicians controlling constituents [in policies some,and maybe most, of those constituents would never agree to], and they cause rifts, deep rifts, in our society.  Families torn apart, divorce, children disowned by their parents, parishioners leaving churches and wandering without spiritual leaders, angry and rebellious constituents who feel betrayed by their government.....all because of these so-called "traditional" values.  Time to move on, people.  Evolve.  It's high time for a new age of post-traditional values that actually work for our time.

The day Garth Stein wrote back...

Garth Stein

A few years ago I read the book The Art of Racing in the Rain.  Amazing book, insightful, well-written (obviously- it became a bestseller), and bore a really striking resemblance to a particular time in my life.  It made me cry, actually, and books don't typically do that.

So, for the first time ever, I looked up the author's email address and emailed him, letting him know how much his book touched me.  I forgot about it within a few days, honestly, and went about my life when out of nowhere, about a month later, I have an email from Garth Stein sitting in my inbox.

Oh. My. God.  A NYT best selling author wrote me back.

So we exchanged a few emails, basic stuff, but it absolutely blew my mind that he actually wrote back.  I thought when you sent those emails out into the blue yonder, they stayed there.  I think great authors take on celebrity status so much that we think they're inaccessible and wouldn't bother talking to us nobodies once their books start flying off the shelves, but I've noticed since then that many of the books I read actually have the author's email address printed right there at the bottom of the bio (Christopher Moore, for example).

So that's my challenge to you....find your favorite book (OK, the author has to still be alive...I know one of my smart-ass friends will bring that up), find the email, and write your author.  Let them know you enjoyed it.  As much as their works may sell, which is proving that people are enjoying it by buying so many copies, I'm sure many authors just don't hear personal connections about their writing and writers are the most codependent people ever...we need TONS of validation.

Do it!
~m

Garth Stein's site...check him out : www.garthstein.com

Melissa's Rules for Raising Amazing Children.

I just read this article on 21 ways to raise a feminist child and I love it!

So, I've got three kids and as I'm going through the list, I'm thinking...yep, yep, yep...that's about right, so I'm proud of my efforts to be a progressive parent.

My kids have grown up in an intentionally exposed environment.  When I worked at an AIDS agency, they frequently visited my office.  They also visited our attached LGBT center and made friends with a few transgender employees there, who were and are dear friends of mine.  Sometimes my children would ask, "Is that a man or a lady?" And I'd simply answer, as if answering what color the sky was right then.  No need to freak out or act weird, because those are non-verbal cues that your child will pick up on and proceed to think they need to freak out.

Now, after a few years of being in an open home, my kids ask questions like (when visiting my friends' Katelynn and Brooke's house), "Are you two wives?" and I let them answer.  I love that my children now understand and accept that there are more household types than one man/one woman.  I also love that they are curious, inquisitive, and not scared to voice their questions.

My kids have been to protests with me, and I always explain what's going on (in as appropriate a way as possible..Callie went with me to a protest in Richmond...no,  she didn't get an in-depth description of abortion.  What she got was a day where she saw thousands of women gathering to speak to their government in a civilized, respectful manner, where nothing but women (and a scant few boyfriends/husbands) took up signs, banners, armbands, and stood up for themselves and all women.  She kept her little armband emblazoned with "My Body, My Choice" in turquoise puffy paint, and it stays in her jewelry box with her other prized possessions.

So here begins what is, quite obviously, a shameless showing-off of my kids, but a list of what I've prioritized when raising them. The reason I've included pics is not only to show off my beautiful children, but to prove that I practice what I preach...I'm not making this shit up.

 Grayson is now 8, into musical theater and basketball, who is apt to dancing his way across the court and pretending to shoot free-throws on stage during rehearsals. He can read at a level two grades higher and has a crack mind, when it comes to logically destroying any parental argument ("Because I said so", etc).

Callie is 6, a self-affirmed vegan and artist, if given the preference would only wear Chuck Taylors (preferably black) for two years now, and has a real problem with cleanliness. She's my mirror image...absolutely the most "like me" of all of our kids: questions authority, stands up for herself yet deeply hurts privately when someone is mean (and she confides in me, which is so humbling), and may one day live in my basement while she figures herself out.

John is 5, wants to be a doctor yet has the cunning wit of a budding comedian/actor.  His curiosity and love are boundless, and he has spent the most time out of all of the kids (basically his whole life) deeply entrenched in the LGBT and activist communities and it has given him a deep and passionate empathy for others and a sparkling love of life, every day.  He's the least likely to complain, in any situation (including myself).  He rolls with the punches and has endless optimism.

So here are the rules with which I have raised my children to be the amazing people they are.  I'm not saying I'm perfect, but I am saying I'm doing a damn good job given what astounding people my kids are becoming.

#1) Above all else, love. Love, love, love.  We, as a family, are each others' best friends.  At the end of the day, after friends come and go, boyfriends/girlfriends break our hearts, for all of our lives, we have one another.  Be our best best friends.  Love and nurture your relationship with your family. Truly be best friends, and absolutely shower your children with love because one day they'll be gone and you can't give them a hug whenever you want.

 

#2) Love and respect animals.  We've had many pets...old dogs who have now crossed the bridge, puppies that are still frolicking, turtles, hermit crabs, you name it.  Teaching children to care for animals instills empathy, a gentleness of nature, and unconditional love like nothing other.





#3) Love reading. Love education. Love school. You get nowhere in life, no matter how big your dreams and ambition, without a solid education.  Read together. Make school a fun experience, not a dreaded end-of-summer-bummer.  Let your kids see you read. Don't wait until after they're in bed...read, all the time, in front of them so they see it's a viable and fun activity for adults, too.  Turn off the TV, throw a bunch of books in the living room floor, and have family reading time. Encourage older siblings to read to younger ones.  They love that...they eat it up. Encourage them to read above their level...read the paper, magazines, etc.
 




#4) Love Nature. No planet...no life. No nature...no life. Make sure your kids are out in nature, enjoying it, but also understanding how important it is to respect it and treat the earth well.  Volunteer to pick up trash together. Recycle, garden, hike, get out and enjoy nature as often as possible.




















#5) Love and respect ART. In all forms. Painting, writing, singing, dancing....enjoy art.  Take your kids to art museums (and don't giggle or act weird at the nudes). Take them to live art demonstrations. Give them easels, paints, paper, typewriters, instruments, whatever they need to flourish in the arts.  Growing the right side of the brain is just as important as growing the left.
 

#6) Maybe this should be first....LOVE YOURSELF. LOVE UNIQUENESS.  Love and adore your children's quirks and teach them to do the same.  We are all so gloriously different...let them be as weird, funny, goofy, as they want and never EVER, EVER try to stifle that and put them in some social-conforming box. Never crush a kids' spirit like that. If they're a boy and want long hair, let them. If they want to paint their nails, let them. If they typically behave as goofy as early-career Jim Carrey, let them.  If they want to pick out Rubix-cube sneaks for the first day of school, oh my God, how rad is that?  If they want to sing and dance on the sidewalk in the rain in front of rush hour traffic, OH MY GOD LET THEM.  Let them rise their faces to the sun, eyes closed, absorbing everything. Let your children live their lives to the fullest, because when they are adults, society may tamp down on that.  Let them be as free as possible for as long as possible.

#7) No gender rules.  If a boy wants to paint his nails, play with dolls, grow his hair, let him. If a girl wants to pay ball, get dirty in the yard, and not wear dresses, let her.  Why on earth would you not?  How would you like it if you hated wearing corduroy (as I do) and some asshole made you wear corduroy every single day?  What a horrible way to live!  Don't press gender roles on your kids...let their spirits develop naturally.  Society, school, and friends will be along soon enough to press gender assignments on your kids, but hopefully they'll be strong enough from an early childhood without those pressures to be secure in who they naturally are without the pink or blue airbrushing of society.

#8) Get them involved in politics.  Yeah, I'm serious.  They need to be informed on how their democracy works.  Use age-appropriate language, of course (don't go talking at a six year old about sequester....duh), but take them along to political events (and yes, this includes protests and rallies, provided they are peaceful, safe places for kids).  Kids need to see democracy in action. (By the way, John is wearing his Michael Jackson glove in this picture...the one he wore for a month straight after watching "This Is It" and learning every move.  They can totally express their individuality while supporting politics...LOL.)

#9) Embrace exposure to all walks of life. Now, I don't have a lot of pictures of this because I didn't want to take pictures of my kids in the LGBT Center or in my office as I felt like that looked (at the time) like a photo op.  When I worked at the AIDS agency and the LGBT center, my kids dropped by about 2-3 times a week. They would sit and talk, hang out, while I finished up, made copies, etc.  My home is an open environment...I have friends over all the time, and many times those friends are gay, transgender, bi, whatever.  The thing is, my kids don't know that, they just know that they are cool people.

This picture is from a community work-day where we freshened up the paint in the LGBT Center.  Grayson was playing chess with Julian, who Grayson will probably never realize is anywhere on the LGBT spectrum. Julian is an attorney, that's what stuck in his mind, as it should. Teach your kids to love people, not their labels or what box they fit in.  This is advice a lot of adults should heed, as well.

#10) Embrace responsibility.  Nobody gets a free ride in life.  You have to work.  Teach them early...chores are a mom's best friend.  You have absolutely no obligation, once they can walk and comprehend basic instruction, to pick up after them.  Teach them to take care of their own space, clean up their own messes, and take care of common spaces as a team. Trust me, their future roommates and partners will thank you.
My reward system worked great, and now we don't even have this poster anymore but the kids remember their basic chores.  Sometimes, if we're doing something extra like spring cleaning, I'll work out a system, "OK, I'll give you each five bucks to pitch in on your closet, pack up these summer clothes, and put everything away."  They get five bucks, I get a check on my cleaning list. Win/win.




So there it is....my rules, which I've learned all by experience and taking many, many wrong turns, to raising amazing kids.  And if you doubt it, give me a call and you can come hang out with some of the coolest kids you'll ever met and see for yourself.
~m