I blog to avoid the internet.

Fifteen minutes tonight filling out permission slips and volunteer forms and her reading log - I feel so grown up!  There's never a moment I drop the responsibility, never a moment their care isn't a live current running underneath everything else happening in my brain, but sometimes, when I have a quiet moment to sit and really think, it blows my mind that I am a mother, responsible for the lives and well-being of two other entire humans.  What they eat, what they wear, when they bathe, how they play - I have a say in all of it.  Not just a say - I damn-near control it entirely.  It's crazy to me that someone let me have this much responsibility without checking to make sure I'm qualified in any way for this much power.  No Pressure.

G had her first parent/teacher conference today, and it lined up perfectly with C's follow-up pelvic ultrasound, so Jimi took the phone conference in the car with G in the backseat while C and I went inside for her appointment.  They were done with her so quickly, we were back to the car in time for the last part of the conversation.  Basically, she's awesome.  She's reading and writing at nearly a first grade level, which is awesome.  She's ahead of most of her class in math, but she needs to keep practicing on her counting (that jump from 29 to 30 fouls her up every time).  She's a little ray of sunshine, a joy to have in class, friendly and helpful to all of her peers.  I heard the part about how they had to move her to a new table because she was too social, and how they expect they'll have to move her again eventually when she gets social with this table too, and I grinned because, yep, that's my girl.

They told us not to expect C's results for a few days.  The technician took the pics, the radiologist "reads" them and sends results to our doc, then we should hear from our doc in a few days.  I want to hold a goshdang Kaizen event to get these people in line - can't we remove a step or two here and multitask to improve turnaround?  For gosh sakes.  Anytime you're in an ultrasound of any sort, you desperately just want to know, "Does everything look normal?"  She didn't halt the test and go get a doc for a second opinion or anything, so there's that, but when she was done, she did say that she needed to check with her doc and asked us to wait for just a moment.  I felt a small pit of dread drop itself into the center of my stomach, but she came back within a few minutes and said we were all set, good to go.  That doesn't answer any questions, though.  So we wait.  And keep sending out into the universe good vibes for no big deal.

My head is a mess, guys.  I'm so sad when I scroll through my social media pages - pictures of new babies and family gatherings sandwiched between horrid tales from sexual assault victims and memes joking about sexual assault survivors posted by men I previously believed to be Good Men.  I want to stay informed, but I've realized my desire to be informed is not so much keeping me abreast of current events so much as depressing the fuck out of me.  I can scroll for hours in twitter and facebook and Instagram, but I'm not gaining any new knowledge or enlightenment from it - I'm just following the crowd into the hole of chaos and awfulness.  I tried to step back last night; I drew myself a warm bath, threw in a bath bomb, turned on a YouTube meditation video to help with stress and anxiety, and tried to let it all go.  When my bath was over, I didn't feel any better, I felt lost and still so sad.  I asked Jimi if he would hold me; I just needed to lie in bed with his arms around me and feel safe.  He did, and I cried and cried until I couldn't breathe through my nose anymore.  I sobbed the big shaking sobs you cry when you're heartbroken, because I am heartbroken.

"I want to live in a world where everything is fair, where everyone is treated equally, where everyone has to follow the same rules."   Why is that too much to ask?

I am aghast at the state of our nation today.  I am appalled.  But I've been doing a little learning, and I'm learning that I shouldn't be all that shocked.  To paraphrase a post I saw somewhere by someone on some social media something:

The United States 

was formed by 

wealthy white supremacists 

to promote their interests and agenda.  

The system is working 

exactly as it was designed.  

In-fucking-deed.  

So yeah.  I'm having a hard time over here, but I'm taking steps to get better.  A social media hiatus between now and election night is on the agenda. I'm even avoiding some of my favorite podcasts, because they're political and informative and the facts they give stress me the fuck out.

Self care, right?  That should be the word of 2018.  It's the only way most of us will survive it.

It's Tuesday. Here's what I think:

I'm so damned impressed by these kids in Florida.  I hope they change the world.  I'm trying to convince Jimi we need to go to Washington DC in March.  I may just go by myself.

Arctic ice is melting. Russia totally fucked up our last election.  More people died because someone's feelings were hurt.  Are we great again?

So many complicated thoughts.  So many things to worry about.  My kids ate cupcakes at 8:30 tonight.  WTF?

But.  Mountain pose.  Pay attention to your breath.  Be in the moment.  Calm.  Steady.

It isn't all bad.  There's Sheli and Dot.  And Mom.  And Jimi and those sweet babies who love you so much.  And the puppy and the kitty.  Life is sweet and good.

And Sheli made sables and I brought some home.  I'm going to eat one now.  One of the ones with strawberry jam, because those are amazeballs.

The world is really fucking scary.  There are lots of bad things happening every day.  Remember to look for the helpers.

Dot moved her momma into her home tonight.  Her momma took a train all the way from Oregon to Chicago, then she and Dot's sister rented a car and drove down, but there were lots of roadblocks and hiccups along the way, so they arrived about 24 hours later than originally planned.  But there was Dot, with a smile and a hug, and a warm healthy dinner, and a houseful of beloved friends, to welcome her momma home.  She's a real helping helper.  It warms my heart to think of her selflessness in this - the work she put into making sure her mom's room was just right, the details she watched.  She's a good woman.  I hope her momma can feel the love tonight.

Geneva did not get into the school we wanted her to get into.  Knee jerk reaction from me is to look into private schools.  I went to my 20 year high school reunion this past weekend, and I had a conversation with an old classmate of mine who is a teacher now.  As I found myself in the middle of telling this woman that I think public schools aren't the best choice for my little angels, I realized I'm an asshole.  This woman paid thousands and thousands of dollars to go to school for years and years so she could make a barely-livable wage to have the privilege of working in a public school.  She's signed up to buy her own work supplies because her employer can't.  These days, she's signed up to be an actual human shield should some gun-wielding nut decide to shoot up her school.  And she does it happily, because teaching is what she loves.  And there I was, saying that wasn't enough.  What in the actual fuck, Natalie?

So.  Maybe we're going to try out this public school thing.  I won't lie, these kids in Florida give me great hope for our future.  They are starting a movement.  If the Russian trolls are against you, I'm with you.  And I'm thinking - if I can find the money for private school, why can't I find that same money to donate to my child's public school?  Why can't I help boost their resources, literally put my money where my mouth is?  Maybe I can talk to some people and get them to feel the same way. Maybe we can start a thing.  Maybe.

I went on a tear this weekend - I believe the issue of school shootings is absolutely a gun issue, BUT, if you don't, that's cool.  If it's an education thing, let's fund the shit out of our public schools and give teachers and counselors the tools they need to educate and support and guide our children.  If it's a mental health thing, let's fund health programs and make mental health services readily available for everyone.  If it's a parenting issue, let's fund family leave policies so parents can attend to the individual needs of their children without fear of losing their jobs and/or going bankrupt.

There has to be an answer.  If we are the greatest nation on Earth, we can find a way to stop these massacres.  Doing nothing is not an answer, and it's not okay.  I think we're seeing the beginning of a movement that will make something happen.  I have hope.

When Trump was elected, my Daddy told me, "The US has survived things far worse than Donald Trump."  True.  But he's still pretty fucking bad.  The indictments that came out this past weekend show that Russia was actively working to get him elected because they believe that was literally the best way they could hurt America.  Our sitting President was elected by people swayed by Russians trying to harm our country.  That's a pretty fucking big deal.

I'm waiting for the leaders to emerge - the ones who lead the charge of infuriated and outraged Americans who demand justice for our democracy.  Surely we have elected someone to a higher office who is up to this task?

Wednesday Night Whatever.

Everything in the news makes me heartsick and disgusted and scared.  Our collective apathy makes me feel weak and vulnerable. 

I try to remember that I am only responsible for, that I can only control, my actions - that I cannot take on the guilt of the bad people in the world.  I try to remind myself that what I have did not come from taking from the have-nots.  I want to do more, I should do more, to help those who have less, who need more, but some days it's a struggle just to get to the end of the day.  And then I feel terrible for not pushing a bit harder, as if my not making a bunch of sandwiches for homeless people is directly causing worldwide hunger to not be fixed already. 

Ugh.  The world is so ugly. 

This is why I stay home all the time.  It's safe in here.  It's full of funny happy people who love each other, even if they hit and scratch and bite sometimes, and yell, and cry and whine...still.  Way safer than your average public gathering these days.  Also, I'm always tired.  And taking the girls to other peoples' homes freaks me out because I'm afraid they're going to get on your nerves or break something or stain something.  And I still have stupid terrible mom guilt any time I leave them with Grandma because I feel like I'm imposing on my mom and abandoning my kids all at the same time, so it makes it hard to let loose and have a good time, ya know? 

This was supposed to be a Facebook post, not a blog entry.  Whatever. 

Kushner

When you read about Trump's Senior Advisor and Son-in-Law trying to set up a secret communication channel with Russia, ask yourself - "Do I think he would have done this of his own volition, without the knowledge and express permission of Trump?"

I know you can't convict on circumstantial evidence, but dammit people.  There is so much smoke, a fire is all but guaranteed.  And not some little tiny bonfire either - this is an all-out wildfire and our Democracy is what's burning. There's nothing partisan about this - these people are hiding treasonous acts, and the story is going to come out.  It's okay that you voted for him and put us in this terrible position - well, it's not, but we can't change the past now, can we? - but we have to come together as Americans and move forward with reason and rational thought.  You wouldn't accept this from any previous President, none of it.  This is not normal.  This is dangerous. 

I don't know what I want you to do other than admit that this man is a piece of shit and he's destroying our country bit by bit and needs to be replaced immediately.  We need a new election. 

My new addiction.

I spend too much time reading the internet.  Reading about things that don't directly impact me, or things that do, but they all have something in common - I can't do anything about any of it.  Well, not much, at least.  I'll meet with a group of women later today to bask in political conversation, in a place where we can yell and bitch and gnash our teeth and complain and cry and be aghast and angry and motivated, where it won't be a huge social faux paus to say things like "Who gives a shit how the soup is, our President is a Russian puppet!"  We'll talk about how scared we are and how small we feel, how helpless and impotent.  We'll talk about the things that scare us the most, the issues we feel need the most immediate attention - and then one of us will remind the rest that we ARE NOT ALONE.  That I may be one person, but when I join my voice with theirs, we become a chorus, and there are choirs practicing this particular song all over our country today, right now.  And we will feel less alone, and a little less afraid, a bit less weak, a smidge stronger.  And we will start to write.  We will each write a letter or a postcard to our representatives on each topic each woman identified as the one most important to her, and we will mail our choir song to the people whose job it is to listen to us sing...

And that makes me feel a little bit better.  It doesn't feel like enough, and it isn't, not by a long shot, but it is what I can do today, while I also do the other stuff, the real stuff, the stuff I should be concerned with, the stuff I was concerned with before the political took over my brain...you know, the real stuff.  Like loving my husband, loving my children.  Raising them to be good people, teaching them to give a fuck about other people.  Because that's what we do as parents, right?  We try to teach our kids to be good people, to be compassionate.  Be super smart and funny and awesome in every other way too, but from the get go, at the start, be a good person.  That one thing is the most important. 

I don't know how to balance.  I don't know how to stay woke and not be deeply depressed and sad and angry.  I don't know how to reconcile my love for my Trump-voting fellow humans at the same time I am vehemently hoping for the worst of his policies to have the worst impacts on his voters just as a big fat "WTF WERE YOU THINKING I TOLD YOU SO!"  I am angry at the people who voted for him.  I am angry at them for putting our country, our safety, our very freedom at risk.  I am so angry - and not just on my own behalf.  I am terrified for my children, and I am pissed at his voters for stealing a bright future from them.  See?  I can't balance. I'm all doom and gloom - as I see it, unless he's forced out of office quickly, and our Congress mostly replaced in 2018, we're fucked.  Who needs clean air and water, anyhow?  Who needs our rich history of welcoming immigrants with open arms?  Who needs a respected leader believed to be ethical and moral?  Who needs separation of church and state?  Who needs educated citizenry? 

I cannot compartmentalize, this shit leaches into my thoughts during every conversation.  I could easily turn every exchange into a lecture about current events.  I am not fun at parties anymore. 

Every day I tell myself, "I'm just not going to go down the rabbit hole today, I'm not going to Twitter or Facebook or Reddit..." but I do, and I am like a fucking junkie, getting hits/new tweets/statuses every time I pull that page down to refresh, getting more enraged and outraged and indignant and shocked with each new blow dealt by digging journalists or overreaching strategic advisors...

My dad told me a few days after the election, "The United States has survived the Revolution, the Civil War, the Great Depression...it has survived bigger things than Donald Trump."  Sometimes, for a few moments, I'm able to step out of the noise in my head and look at it from thirty thousand feet, and I can see that he's right, and it makes me feel better.  Sometimes I tell myself that I am a married white woman with a comfortable income living in a comfortable middle-class home, with plenty of food, access to affordable healthcare, with reliable transportation and two happy healthy little girls to raise - stay the fuck out of politics.  Why do I care?  Why can't I just bury my head in the sand like so many of my friends and not read the shit, not pay attention, pretend it isn't there?  It's not like I am actively working to change anything - I haven't been to any rallies or protests or community events.  I'm just reading shit on the internet and getting pissed off, occasionally releasing a little tension with a bitter tweet or facebook share.  WHY? 

When I'm driving alone, usually I'm trying to find the answers to all of these big issues we're facing - how do you convince people that insuring everyone is the only answer to our healthcare problems? How do we get people to stop being afraid of each other and realize we're all the same? How do we convert coal- and oil-industry workers into entrepreneurs in the renewable energy fields?  I'm asking myself how I can be part of the solution.  Sometimes the answer feels like the big obvious one - run for office if you want to make the laws.  That feels way too scary and hard and like something that couldn't possibly be something I could be successful at, though, so I keep digging and thinking and trying to come up with something, anything.   And then I remember that I can't even get a handle on my laundry situation, so I'm really wasting energy focusing on the wrong shit here. 

I got up at 4:30 this morning, on a Sunday, so I could sit alone in the dark with my cup of hot tea (can't grind coffee beans at 4:30 if you want everyone else to stay asleep) and read Twitter and WP and Reuters and NYT in the quiet stillness, without interruption.  I was going to sit here and bathe in the bad news, just splash all around in it.  I'm glad I came here instead.  I think this is probably better for my mental health.

I don't give a *&$#

I said to Maggie that 37 was going to be the year I stopped giving more weight to the opinions of others than I give to my own.  Well.  I think I said something more like, "I'm going to stop giving a fuck what people think."  Same difference. 

I decided to start practicing on New Year's Day 2017, figuring I'd get a 4-month head start.  It's hard to learn this particular skill, after a lifetime of being overly concerned that everyone around you at the very least isn't mad at you, and at best, is completely comfortable, well-fed, thirst-quenched, and content with all of your most recent actions and opinions.  That last bit there, the way I've lived my entire life, I inherited that shit honestly.  I think.  The women in my family hold opinions, but we don't ever want them to hurt anyone else's feelings.  My Mom, my Aunt Pam, my Cousin Stacy.  Maybe we're not all that way, maybe it's just us.  I don't think Granny was that way.  I remember Granny being more of a "That's just the way it is, whether you like it or not" sort of woman.  Like when she wouldn't let me win at Skip-Bo - "If I have the cards to play, Natalie, I'm going to play it, whether it helps you or not. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose."  Such a hard lesson to understand - the lesson of learning to just roll with it. 

I imagine there are about 3 people still seeing my Facebook updates. That's cool.  I can't help the soapbox I keep finding myself on.  I hold back as long as I can, and then I burst with a flurry of political rants and posts and shares...I just want people to love each other.  Stop being so fucking afraid of each other, realize we're all the same, we all want the same things, we're all fighting the same invisible battles...

We don't have to be afraid of each other.  It's bullshit for us to be afraid of our neighbors.  We are all full of the same nervousness, the same awkward fear of rejection.  My self consciousness is exactly the same as yours - we're on a level playing field, we are equal. 

I love you.  I want the best things for you.  You do you your way.  But I get to do me my way.  That's the deal.  We both want what's best for each other, but we each get to define that for ourselves. You don't limit me, I don't limit you.  (Basic "don't kill each other", "don't cheat one another", etc etc apply, of course.) 

This is our only future.  This is the only way forward.  This is the way for my family, what I teach my children.  Please teach yours the same? 

What were your resolutions?  How are you doing at sticking to them? 

The Revolution Begins At Dawn.

I am so tense.  Reading Facebook infuriates me these days.  Reading the news makes me want to break things. 

What is happening?

We need, right now, to identify the people we want to fill our Congressional seats two years from now.  We need to identify them, and we need to do everything we can to help them hone their message and get their name and their platform out into the world and we need to get them elected.  We have to start now. 

We're going to march, me and mine.  I don't know how I'll convince Jimi, but we are going to march against tyranny. Against oppression.

That sounds so grandiose, so dramatic.  But this is real actual life, right now.  I can't even believe this shit is happening. 

That's what I say every day when I read the news: I can't believe this shit is happening. 

I love everything. I'm scared.

Geneva told me I'm a good mom and that she loves playing with me. 

Cora asks for me when she wakes up a lot of mornings now, rather than daddy.  It's okay that daddy is still her favorite, but it's nice to be wanted, too. 

My husband is the best husband, and I don't know how anyone familys without a Jimi.  He's the glue, man.  He is everything.  Everything.

My mom and dad are always there when I call them - they keep the girls when they're sick or because we want to go out, they buy me tires because it's almost Christmas and they know it's not a convenient time for me to spend an unexpected $600, they love us unconditionally and always are there to listen or give advice. 

My friends...my friends are the best friends.  They think I'm awesome despite all the evidence I give them to the contrary.  They love me even though I'm just me. 

I love my job.  I'm good at it.  It's not my dream, but I work with great people, and we have fun while we're doing what we have to do every day to make our dreams happen. 

I have a safe place to live.  I have reliable transportation.  I have access to adequate, affordable healthcare.  Our dog is a good boy except when he isn't, but even that isn't SO bad, in perspective. 

My life is everything I've ever wanted.  I'm so full - of happy, of shame, of joy, of hope.  If I could get some sort of guarantee that it won't end in the next 46 years or so, I could live my day to day happy and without a care in the world...

I'm scared for everyone who is not me.

I don't say that with sarcasm or to be witty or tongue in cheek. 

I'm scared for parents of sick kids, parents of kids with learning challenges of all sorts.  I'm scared for single parents.  I'm scared for parents who don't have extended families, or who are far from home.  I'm scared for women and men who are underemployed, underinsured.  I'm scared for those of us living paycheck to paycheck, with outstanding loans on our only modes of transportation, living in areas where there is little or no public transit, little or no upward momentum...

I'm scared our President is going to make my 401k go away.  I'm scared I'll regret not doing better at food storage.  I'm scared those will be the least of my fears...

I'm scared.

I Love Women.

I'm so proud of the women in our nation and around the world who marched yesterday.

I wish I could've been in it. 
I was afraid, I admit.
I am scared of our new president and I was scared of what the marches and protests would become and I wanted to take my girls, to be part of this with them...but I was scared and I kept us home.
I tell myself it's because they're so small, they wouldn't have remembered anyhow...but that's bullshit, and I know it, and I won't pretend you wouldn't see through the excuse immediately. 
I can't stop reading links with pictures of protest signs. 
God I love women.
I'm so impressed with their strength and bravery and intelligence and their will...and I haven't even gotten started on the women I personally know and love! 
I feel buoyant today after seeing images from yesterday.
I feel hopeful. 
I'm not as scared.

Well, until I got to the article about twitler's media guy's press conference where he insisted the inauguration, arguably one of the least-attended in history, was in fact the most widely attended ever, which is an easily verifiable falsehood.  These fuckers remind me so hard of 1984...and then I'm scared again. 

WTFUSA?

I went to bed at 10 o'clock.  I felt sick, full of nervousness and fear.  I woke up several times throughout the night, but didn't peek at my phone until sometime after 3.  I don't think I actually went back to sleep after that. 

I had to be at work early - I had meetings with 4 customers today.  All of whom were positively giddy over the election results.  I sat in a room with three men while they laughingly discussed how their small children asked "Is she going to jail now?", and how they just hoped they held off on convicting her until after Obama is out of office, so he can't pardon her.  It took every ounce of my professionalism and self-restraint to not walk out of the room, or worse.   

I listened to yesterday's Moth podcast episode - do you listen to Moth podcasts?  You should.  This one was a story about a family's voting legacy - one that began with literacy tests.  I cried. 

I still feel like I need to just let it go and have a good cry.  I got myself going this morning by repeatedly reminding myself to not stress over things I cannot control, to focus on the immediate things in my life that I can do something about - like calming G down because she hates these white socks and wanted the pink socks.  I remind myself that I voted for them, for the ideas I have about the world I want them to grow up in.  I read Facebook and Instagram and most of you are hurting today in the same way I am; you're scared like me; you're worried what this all means. 

So, for now, I'm just going to keep on keeping on.  I'm going to teach my little girls to treat others as they want to be treated. I'm going to surround them with this amazing village of ours, full of brilliant and compassionate people who aren't scared.

I'm going to try to learn to be less scared, too. 

I can't believe how depressed I am over this shit.  I feel like someone died. 

I hope.  I hope.  I hope. 

Ugh.

I just want to take a nap and wake up when it's all over. So much nervous excitement! I woke up a few times throughout the night, excited and scared and nervous and anxious...all of the feels. Like that tweet said, Christmas Eve and the night before a life-endangering surgery.

I held my almost-2-year-old as I stood in line this morning to cast my ballot. We've been through three elections in this home, at this polling place, and we've never stood in line. We had to par...k outside the gates because the lot was full. I fought back the misty tears that threatened to spill over. Jimi held our 3 year old's hand. I thought of what this day is going to mean for them. More mist.

I filled in that bubble that wavered in and out of focus because of my emotional tear ducts, surrounded by the usual chaos of life with toddlers, urging Geneva not to shake the polling booths as I cast my ballot, trying to keep Cora from dive-bombing out of my arms onto the floor. This significant, historic moment, rolled up and mingled with all the normal day-to-day.

I voted for them. I voted for their future. Because, I gotta be honest, this election cycle has brought out a lot of feelings of guilt for this shit show we've brought them into. I'm hoping that tonight will remind me of the inherent good in the world; that most people genuinely do want to do what's best for their fellow human.

#ImWithHer

Just two hours ago.

I'm disgusted.  I hope I wake up and the tide has turned. 

I'm so scared.

Election Eve

It's almost over.  YAY! 

I have a feeling I'll drink a few tomorrow night.  Hopefully in celebration and not despair.  I'm meeting clients for breakfast Wednesday, so at least I'll be able to feed a hangover if necessary.  Though I don't think I will be able to take any gloating...

I hope we have a clear winner this time tomorrow.  I hope it doesn't drag on and on and on. 

I hope it's a motherfucking landslide.

I'm With Her. 

Forward, not backward. 

Love, not hate.

Hope, not fear.

Go Vote. 

Moratorium

I've decided to mostly stay away from Facebook for the next month, at least until after the election is over.  My feed has become a 24/7 blast of screaming election noise, and I can't take it.  I wake up in the middle of the night panicked at the idea that Donald Trump could be our next President, worried how I can convince everyone I know to not vote for him.  I am so disappointed with it all.  And you know, it's all based on where we get our news.  It's entirely possible in this country for two equally intelligent people to come to completely different conclusions based on which station they tune their radio to on their way to work in the mornings, which channel they're watching when the nightly news comes on.  And we surround ourselves with people who think like us, so we repeat the same stories to each other, making fiction into fact, or embellishing fact into fiction. 

Anyhow, Facebook moratorium.  Sort of.  Mostly.  For today, so far.  I turned off the notifications on my phone, but I didn't delete it.  So there's how you know I'm not completely committed here.  I can feel a difference already, though.  Seriously.  My mind is quieter, I'm not as anxious.  I'm legit scared about the potential outcomes of this election, but I can't bear to think about it anymore.  I'm practicing my serenity prayer, practicing the power of positive thinking, reminding myself that I cannot change the way things will be - that I only have one vote.  I do not have the emotional strength to try to change peoples' minds.  I do not want to have debates with people I respected up until we started this election cycle.  So I'm going to try really hard to avoid any mention of politics for the next few weeks.  I'm not going to think about what is hanging in the balance. I'm going to focus on my family and myself instead of rich people who don't give one single fuck about me.  I'm going to do the best I can each day to recognize and appreciate how awesome this life is, right this minute, and I'm not going to worry too much about the big looming questions of the future and what may be.

Tonight, for example, after dinner, instead of me sending the girls off to play while I got more and more angry at the internet and all of the dumb people on it, my phone stayed in my bag, and Cora and I took Finn for a walk around the block.  It was awesome - we chatted and ran and laughed.  She's getting so big so fast, and I'm missing so much of it just for the fact of having to work and be away from her most of the day 5 days a week; I really should try harder to not waste the little time I do have with them with my face buried in a screen, my blood pressure spiking over things I can't control. 

They started a new daycare this week, and I'm so glad and excited for it.  This one is so far above and beyond what we had; they have a curriculum! they have two teachers in every classroom! they have cameras recording constantly! they are organized!  In short, I love this new school. It's closer to my office, and so far seems to have adjusted our commute in a way that gets us home in much better time.  Or maybe that's just the shifted traffic pattern now that the bridges and roads are opening back up along the KY/IN border, but whatever. 

Life is good.  I need to remember that in the moment, and not just at the end of the day, after a beer or two, when I'm getting all sentimental and reflective.  Life is so so good.  And so short.  I should not sweat the small stuff.  It's all small stuff.  When did I get so uptight?  What's got me all wound up and bitchy?  Maybe I need to disconnect from everything for a while, see if I can get down to the fundamentals.  I'm sure there are journals and study guides out there that help you discover yourself, right?  I'm not going to spend my money on one, but I'd consider reading some information like that online for free. 

I'm starting to talk crazy talk.  I think maybe it's time for bed.  Sweet dreams.  :)

As a mother of daughters, to all mothers of sons:

As a mother of daughters, to all mothers of sons:

I respectfully ask that you please, please take this moment, in light of the most recent political news, to speak to your boys and young men about how to treat women.

Talk to them about how you grew up being told that you needed to watch what you wore so you wouldn't be assaulted.

Talk to them about how at every party you've ever been to, you had to remember to keep your drink with you, with your hand over it, and not to accept drinks from anyone, regardless of how well you knew them, so that you wouldn't be drugged and raped.

Talk to them about how you don't walk the dog or run alone before dawn or after dark without pepper spray or a weapon of some sort.

Talk to them about how you're always on guard in a room full of men, even in professional settings where you should feel safe.

Talk to them about how you've laughed at jokes that weren't funny because to speak out would've labeled you a trouble maker.

Talk to them about the times you were touched in ways that weren't okay, but you allowed it because you didn't feel safe saying no.

Please, tell your sons that it is never okay to grab a woman by the...anything. Tell them it's not okay to touch women, ever, unless they're being explicitly invited. Talk to them about how consent is absolutely necessary and required before each and every sexual act. Teach them that locker room banter describing sexual assault is disgusting. Teach them that a "boys will be boys" attitude assumes all men and boys are predators. Teach them that not all men are predators; teach them to not be predators. Teach them to respect women. Teach them to treat every woman they meet with the same respect they'd give you, or your mother, or your daughter.

Brock Turner's mom wishes she'd had an opportunity like this. Don't pass it up. You may think you've done a fabulous job with your young man, and you probably have, but talk to them about this anyhow. Make sure you've said the words that need to be said, not just implied them. Leave no doubt in his mind about what the expectations are. This is really important.

Please. Do this for my girls, for your daughters, for your mothers, for yourselves. Do this for your sons. This is really important.

Politics makes me sad. The world makes me sad.

I want to post something political, but I don't actually want to have a political conversation, I just want to convince everyone I know to not vote for one particular candidate, and we all know how super successful those facebook posts are, right?  So I won't.  I'm really terribly sick of this election; it is too scary to think too long about the potential outcomes.  I skim over the articles I really want to click on because I know it'll just depress me more and I can't control a bit of it so why should I even give it any space in my head?

******

That being said - you're not going to vote for Donald Trump, are you? 

I am a mother of daughters, two sweet little girls who I want to have every opportunity in this world I've brought them into.  Therefore, I cannot vote Republican.  It's a moral issue.  Republicans, the ones who make the laws, at least, do not empower women.  I will not vote for one, or for anyone who is pretending to be one. 

I believe in  science, from climate to reproduction - there are people who go to school for a long time to know a whole lot about that stuff.  Republicans, the ones who makes the laws, at least, ignore these people in favor of religion and the alter of the almighty dollars.  Therefore, I cannot vote Republican.  It's a moral issue.  

******

I said I don't want to talk politics, dammit. 

There is so much awfulness in the world.  Why do we allow ourselves to be inundated by it?

I'm going to practice keeping myself safe.  I think it's going to require stepping away from the internet. Facebook, specifically.  Maybe until the election is over? Maybe forever?  Maybe for just the next hour? 

I have to find a way to not worry about things I cannot control.  Syria.  Syrian refugees.  This fucking shitstorm election.  Cops killing brown people for being brown.  Homeless people.  Broke single mothers.  Rich hating the poor.  Men hating women.  Women hating women.  Me learning to hate people I used to respect because they're fucking sheep. 

I need to not give the awfulness space in my mind.  Andrea told me once, "If I can't do anything about it, I just do not give it any space in my thoughts."  I cannot for the life of me figure out how in the fuck that works in actual daily life, but I have to figure it out.  The sad seeps into everything.

I am at the top of my game - everything is going my way - and I'm not happy.  I don't think it's because I'm doing anything wrong, or because I'm lacking something.  I think it's all the noise.  I think it's just too much sad and terrible and tragic and awful, and it gets into my brain and I can't shake it.  I worry constantly about things I cannot control or fix or help, and I feel guilt and more worry because I cannot fix or help or control those things.  Maybe I need a therapist.  Hi, person reading my blog.  Welcome to my most recent therapy session.  Today I'm discussing my particular version of crazy. 

******

I just want to make the world a happier place.  A safer place.  I just want us to all take care of each other.  I don't understand why we're all so afraid of each other.  We're all fighting the same battles, trudging through the same trenches.  Why do we try to hold our neighbors down?  Don't we all rise together?   

I don't want this path we're on to be the legacy we're leaving for our children. 

That last sentence sounds trite, but I have never written anything with more truth behind it. 

Mandatory Sunday "Here's What's Up" Post

Getting up before 6 on a weekday is torturous and cruel - on a Sunday, it's called getting the most out of your weekend.  (And it totally justifies that 3-hour nap that's gonna come in the early afternoon.)

Finn got pepper-sprayed yesterday and it was completely due to stupid human mistakes.  I was sitting on the front porch with a book when Jimi and Finn joined me.  Jimi put Finn on his lead, but I saw the mailman coming up the opposite side of the street, and the mailman won't come into our yard when Finn's outside.  So I tried to get Finn to come into the house.  He wasn't done outside, though, and ran to Jimi (like a kid playing off his two parents, that dog is sometimes).  Jimi petted his head and looked at me as if I were being mean and said, "He doesn't want to go inside, Mommy."  Fine.  "But the mailman is coming, so hold onto his collar and I'll go get the mail."  I watched him hook a couple fingers under Finn's collar, sat down my book, and went down the porch steps and started across the yard to meet the mailman.  Halfway there, Finn darts past me, growling and barking and making haste for the poor mail carrier.  I yelled for my bad dog, and my eyes saw him stop running and crouch down as I heard Jimi yell "Man, don't spray him".  I hadn't noticed the mail carrier as he whipped the pepper-spray canister off his bag in a flash and gave Finn a face full, but I figured out what was happening and I at least had my wits about me enough to yell back, "He has to do what he can to protect himself, Jimi."  Oh, I was pissed.  "I thought you were holding onto him?!"  This I was saying as I grabbed the mail from the carrier, apologizing all over myself as he was trying to apologize for spraying my dog, assuring him I understood when he said, "I don't like to do it, but..."  "No no, I understand, and I'm SO sorry" (pleasedon'tcallanimalcontrolandtakemydogaway), with my hand hooked around Finn's collar as he shook his head from side to side and pawed at his face, which was covered in red speckles from where the spray had gotten him.  We made it up onto the porch, (Jimi saying, "he twisted and nearly broke my finger and I couldn't hold him anymore" and "He didn't have to spray him"), and I fumed as I held onto my twisting pup and hosed him down.  Jimi felt bad for hours, and normally I'm one to console and try to not lay blame, but I couldn't bring myself to say "It wasn't your fault" this time.   I would never say to him what I'll say to you, which is that it was completely his fault, but I did't make a lot of effort to make him feel better about the situation, either.  I sorta feel bad for placing blame at all, but dammit, this one wasn't on me, and could've been easily avoided.  And I keep thinking about how the mailman told all his friends last night over beers about the dog that he pepper-sprayed and the lady who was wearing footie pajamas at 2 o'clock in the afternoon on a Saturday.

Jimi told me yesterday he wants a recliner for his 40th birthday.  I had sorta just decided on either a treadmill or an elliptical or a new range or a new fridge, but he said if I'm going to spend money on him, he'd really like a nice recliner.  Typing that makes me think it sounds like an old man gift.  And then I remember, after all, he's turning 40.  Age ain't nothin' but a number, sure, but 40 seems like it should still be much farther off.  The last five years have FLOWN, yo.

I'm thinking of going downtown to the Occupy Louisville protests today.  A friend of mine is baking a turkey today to take to the group, as a show of support; her partner has apparently spent some part of every day with them.  I told her I'd call and maybe meet up with them -

This Occupy Movement may have gotten off to a slow and confused beginning, but there's something legitimate and lasting and real there.  I have always watched footage of the Civil Rights Movement with awe; the bravery of those few willing to stand up to so many in the name of What's Right.  I have always wondered if my generation would ever be passionate enough about anything to stand up and make a difference in a big way.  I've often wondered when American Citizens would realize that we are many controlled by a few who let us pretend we have a say.  I figured that once the word started getting out, big changes would come.  Fingers crossed.

I've got a two-day workweek to look forward to - I can't even be sad that it's Sunday, because Monday's not so bad when Tuesday is your Friday.  (I like that sentence a lot.)  Stacy and I have appointments starting at 10:45 on Wednesday for 75 minute facials and hour-long massages, then we'll have lunch and some sort of obscene dessert.  And then Thursday, of course, is the original Day of Many Dinners (at least two, and somehow men always manage to go back for seconds at each).  I won't shop on Friday - I can barely make myself go to the store on a normal weekday, you think I'd stay up all night to fight the crowds?  No effing way.  Besides, I'm more of a "finish shopping on Christmas Eve and give the gifts unwrapped and in the store bags" sort of girl, anyhow.

I'm reading The Hobbit; I read it at some point during my adolescence, but I was more into Stephen King back then, and so while I liked it, it wasn't really my sort of tale.  I really missed out back then because the writing is beautiful and vivid, and I can't help but picture myself reading this story to a child before bedtime - it's exactly the kind of story that should be read to a child.  I have the Lord of the Rings trilogy on deck, so my reading needs should be covered through the end of the year.

I can't believe the Holidays are here already.  Holy smokes, this year has flown.

If the world really was going to *poof* end on December 21, 2012, and we really only had 13 months left, how would you spend the next year?  What would you finally do that you've been putting off forever and ever?

I'm going to travel.  I'm going on a grand adventure some time in the next 13 months.  I'm going to see fabulous things and take beautiful pictures and have sex in crazy adventurous places.

Nothing like having goals.

Sunday musings

I'm wanting to beat up the TV again.  It's hard to sit here and think and try to remember what all I've done this week when Daffy Duck is screaming in my ear.  Except now Daffy has been replaced by Joan Rivers, and it's not an improvement.  Oh, and there's Larry the Cable Guy.  Okay, now there's a show about Border Collies.  Finn's part Border Collie, so this is okay, i guess.  Now i want to put him through agility training.  (We couldn't even make it through obedience classes, who am I kidding?)

The water problem was solved by a visit from our favorite plumber and a few turns of a pipe wrench.  It really was that simple, thank goodness.  (Of course, that was something we learned after Jimi spent 3 hours and an entire bottle of propane trying to torch the handle off, but whatevs.)  We've not yet addressed the water line on the fridge, but we'll get to that this week.  I'm still thrilled by the novelty of turning a knob and water coming out of the spigot.  The little things are huge, you know.

I was thrilled that Mississippi's proposed "personhood" amendment failed on Tuesday.  It would've made abortion completely illegal in Mississippi, and also would've banned contraceptive methods such as the IUD and certain forms of birth control pills.  Pregnancy threatening the life of the mother?  There's no choice or option - the pregnancy must be continued.  It surely would've been defeated in the Supreme Court had it somehow tragically passed, but I'm happy to see that the people of Mississippi, like those in Colorado before them, were able to recognize this attack on the reproductive rights of women and defeat it soundly.

My mouth/face has hurt all week, but (fingers crossed) I think it's over and all better now.  I guess I just really burned the fuck out of the roof of my mouth - I've never had something so long-lasting and painful result from a french bread pizza before.

It's so windy here today - I was finally able to turn off the TV, and I hear Granny's windchimes making beautiful music, accompanied by a hollow howling sound made when the wind whips across my front porch and through the cracks under my front door.  It's a creepy sound, that wind blowing.  It makes me think of dark and stormy nights, locked away in a cabin in the woods, where some madman is stalking and waiting...but it's 11:30 Sunday morning in the middle of the South End of Louisville Kentucky, and it's 60 degrees and overcast outside and the madmen don't hide and stalk, they're out there walking the streets with the rest of us.  Or we are them.

I applied for a credit card this week.  I don't know why I did it...if I had to guess, I'd say it was probably because of the whole "what if I need to go to the dentist and I don't have any money" thing.  I know the right thing to do is to have a savings account from which to draw those emergency funds.  I'm working on that.  Meanwhile, I will have this little dangerous piece of plastic.  This is a test, to see if 5 years of cash-only living and a few really painful lessons have taught me to live within my means and not spend money that isn't mine.  Wish me luck.

I think I blinked and all of a sudden it's the middle of November.  Thanksgiving is less than 2 weeks away; so's Stacy's birthday.  Her baby shower is the first weekend in December, then there's the company Christmas dinner, then Christmas and New Year, then the baby will be here - holy crap!  Time is flying!  I've gotta get on the ball - I'm taking Stacy to a day spa for her birthday for a massage and facial (it's her 30th, and I can't exactly treat her to a fifth of Patron, you know?), and I still have to find a place and make appointments.

Brother comes home on Tuesday.  He made it.  He will be home for the holidays, home for the first time in over a year.  Able to sleep in a dark quiet room that's not shared with 39 other men.  Able to eat real food, meals complete with fruits and vegetables that grew from the ground.  Able to come and go as he pleases, without requiring a pass or a "by your leave" from a guard or counselor.  I'm terrified for him.

I went to the local coffee shop yesterday for a fix and came away with three huge cupcakes, one for me, one for Jimi, and one for Steve.  They were all three different flavors, but all three had a squirt of whipped cream icing in the center.  This seems to be a recent trend in cupcakes, and it's sorta pissing me off.  Now, a year or so ago, my boss's wife brought in a six-pack of gourmet cupcakes from a bakery near them; one was a lemon, and inside was a wonderful squirt of lemon curd, all tangy and sweet.  The wedding cake cupcake had the whipped cream icing, with a surprise injection of strawberry glaze.  Those surprise fillings add a great flavor element and are welcome and completely acceptable.  The plain ol' whipped cream icing squirted into every single cake, though?  Come on.  If your cupcakes need that, you need to make better cupcakes.

Jimi's got a list a mile long of shit we're supposed to do today.  I don't want to do any of it.  Are you shocked?  I'm sure.  I want to sit here and do nothing.  Maybe take a nap.  Then do nothing some more.

I repotted the love tree and brought it into the house this week.  Well, I actually replanted it into the same pot, but it had a nasty lean to it, so I had to add some extra soil and make some adjustments for the odd angle.  As I dropped the root ball into the dirt-filled pot, the loose dirt blew up into my face - and my open eyes.  Wow, that sucked so bad.  I was blinded immediately; I stopped what i was doing, made my way to the front door, and once inside, I stripped off the clothes from my top half.  I walked straight across the living room and hall into the bathroom, where I flushed my eyes over and over for the next five minutes.  So. Much. Dirt.  Eventually they weren't so red anymore and the tears stopped, and I was able to go out and finish the job.  Fast forward to yesterday, when I'm talking to Jimi as he digs around in the shed where we keep the gardening stuff.  I was standing on a bag of dirt, just like the one I'd used to repot the love tree, and looked down and read "Important:  We strongly recommend the use of gloves when using this product." and "Not for container plants".  It's organic garden soil.  It's supposed to go in your flower beds.  It's a big ol' bag of shit, and I got it all in my face and mouth and nose and eyes.  While repotting my container plant.  Pretty good metaphor for the whole week, really.

Jimi and I are good, though.  We spent a couple hours a couple nights this week talking to each other - really talking, like looking at each other while we spoke and everything.  No distractions of television or computer, just us, the way we used to do all the time.  The sort of talk that reconnects you as a couple; the sort that's as therapeutic as good sex.  We're always here, but I'm always grateful when we're able to take the time and reaffirm that fact.  And then I feel guilty for doing my part in not making it happen more often.  But not too guilty, because that's just life, and I don't need one more thing to beat myself up about.

He picked me a rose from the bushes that line the White Castle drive-thru.  Then we made out like teenagers (the drive-thru line wasn't moving anyhow) and got our food and came home and I put the flower in a little tiny mason jar full of water next to the laptop.  A pretty good metaphor for our whole relationship, really.

I'm in a Sims phase.  I'm addicted to this Pets thing - I've adopted a unicorn and five cats and three dogs and some horses and birds and rats and snakes...it's awesome.  (When I say I want to do nothing, that's what I really mean - I want to play Sims Pets.)  I guess I'll go do that until he makes me do something else.

Happy Sunday!
 

Vote! Maybe you can cancel mine out!

Is it voting day where you are?  It is here in Kentucky.

Are you a voter?  Be a voter.  Voting is cool.  All the cool kids are doing it.  C'mon, be like the rest of us.

Happy Voting Day!

*sigh*

I'm not going to talk about religion or politics or Mormons or Christians or Occupy Wall Street or the Tea Party or stupid people.

I think we're all basically good people.  I think we just want to live our small little lives with as much happiness as possible.  We want to be able to eat when we're hungry, drink when we're thirsty, sleep when we're tired, laugh when we're happy, cry when we're sad, hug when we love, be spoken to with respect, be heard when we speak.  We want this for ourselves, for those we love, and for the stranger down the street.

Right?  We want the same for others that we want for ourselves, don't we?

This can't be some shit I made up in my head.

God is Guilt?

If there were no God, there would be no guilt. If we were truly the random and accidental result of natural processes, there would be no moral authority on our life, there would be no right and wrong. You could murder and pillage to your hearts content and nothing would condemn you. This is evolutionary principle, and while many endorse it in theory, no one can live with it in practice. It is an absurdity. Human beings are not mere animals, we are not amoral beings. We know this from God's Word, and we know this from the internal gnawing of our own soul. (Part of this article, which I found after I read this article, which was linked from this blog I read.  There's a good chance I've got a pretty strong opinion about those two articles.)


I don't know how I feel about God, I'm still coming to grips with it.

So, God is Guilt.  That's what that says, right?

I don't know if I believe in God.

I believe that murdering and pillaging would not make my heart content, but I don't think that has anything to do with God or my fear of feeling guilty or being judged and punished by Him.  I think I don't want to murder and pillage.  I don't want to steal.  I don't want to lie or cheat or do anything else hurtful to another person.

..not because I'm afraid of God's reaction, but because I don't want those things done to me.  I don't get enjoyment from the pain of others.  I think that I am in the majority when I say this.   I think most people, with or without the threat of everlasting damnation, will not kill or rape or hit or steal or lie.

Am I naive?  Is the institution of religion the only thing holding the masses at bay?  If Joel Osteen wasn't aiming for a spot a Jesus's right hand, would he be stabbing people who cut in front of him at Starbucks, and then encouraging others to follow suit?  Are most Christians blood-thirsty soul-suckers who would lie, cheat, and steal you blind in a New York minute if only that God fella wasn't watchin'...?

85% of the Senate is Christian (compared with 79.8% of the population) and 13% of the Senate is Jewish (compared with 1.7% of the population). ... no Senator falls under the category "No Religion/Atheist/Agnostic"—a category embodied by 16.1% of the U.S. population —although two are under the description "unspecified". (source)