Wednesday, July 28, 2010

A New Take on Believing

Brynna believes in ghosts. She's watched Ghost Hunters with me and my mom, heard us talk about it, and now she believes. Specifically, she believes that there is a ghost in a white nightgown with black hair all over her face in the girls' restroom at our community's oldest elementary school. She believes because a friend says she saw it.

Now, I certainly believe in ghosts. I have never had so much as a waiver in my belief of ghosts. And, I believe that children are more open to seeing them, so they often see what we, as adults cannot. I will not say that this kid didn't see a ghost. And because my Grandma went to school there, I know the building has been around a while. So, hauntings are possible there.

But, here's the thing: she's scared.

I told her that while I do believe in ghosts, I don't believe that they can hurt you. This is not entirely true, but close.

She believes in ghostly possession. And I swear, I never introduced her to this concept. I don't even watch horror movies with her anymore, so she hasn't gotten this from me. I have no idea where the belief in ghostly possession comes from, but she believes it.

She also believes that since there is a ghost in the school bathroom, there may be ghosts in every bathroom on the planet.

And for the first time, I'm wondering if perhaps I haven't done this wrong.

I've never told her that she shouldn't be scared of monsters because they don't exist or that ghosts aren't real or that fairies are just in your imagination. For one thing, I believe that you can't suck out the bad magic without sucking out the good magic too. But I also believe that all those things do exist. Okay, the real monsters in our world may be rapists and serial killers and the real fairies may be those friends who manage to always come through for you, but that doesn't make them any less real.

In my opinion, the world we live in is dismal enough without telling a five year old that magic doesn't exist.

On the other hand, maybe if I told her that ghosts weren't real, she might not believe me and still be a little less scared. I don't know. Maybe if I told her that not only were there no monsters under her bed, but no monsters anywhere, she might rest a little easier.

But maybe she would be that much quicker to rule out the existence of unicorns and mermaids, too.

On my fictional third hand, however, maybe that's alright. I think about all the times people have looked at me like my head was afire when I talked about supernatural issues. And I worry that at some point it will become a thing that most kids will have given up believing and Brynna won't.

Or maybe she will.

I mean, we don't always believe what our parents believe, right?

In any case, I think it's too late. She knows that I believe and telling her otherwise is just not going to work, but I just wonder. I wonder if it wouldn't have worked out better if I had pretended a little.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Bedtime Battle

It's come to my attention lately, that perhaps we have an unconventional approach to bedtime. And as someone who constantly feels like over-sharing, I thought I would do it here, rather than hijacking someone else's blog to expound on the virtues of "my way." Because, first and foremost, that is obnoxious. And secondly, well, I'm thinking about the whole transition thing.

I've been reading posts from a few people lately about the move to the big bed and I am considering that the time is drawing close for Maren. At this point in Brynna's life, we were already full-time in the big girl bed, but Maren is a different child and she's still coping with the crib. I can tell by the irritation in her screams and the way she's eyeing those crib walls, however, that our days are numbered.

When we moved Brynna to the big bed, it was with minimal drama. First of all, we left the crib up for a few days. We told her that if it didn't work, she'd go back to sleeping there. Simple. Direct. Threatening and comforting all at once. We never had to follow through, though, which is good, because I was really ready to be done with the crib.

Then began the establishing of rules and routine. Something that always requires a few tries in our house.

Here is our current bedtime routine. At bedtime, we give the bedtime reminders: brush your teeth, get on your jammas, etc. All of these are optional, so there's no nagging. As I said the other day, she almost always brushes her teeth. Jammas are about 50/50. Sometimes she wears them, sometimes she sleeps in her clothes, sometimes she takes off her clothes, then decides she doesn't feel like putting on jammas or she doesn't like any of the ones that are clean and she sleeps in her bathrobe. We don't care.

Then, we do stories. Brynna gets a story from each of us, if we are home. Mine is usually a chapter of a book, and The Husband's is usually a picture book. This can take anywhere between 20 minutes and an hour. Really. We try to keep it on the short side, but sometimes the stories just take longer than we planned. Then, we leave.

Now, none of this is probably striking you as abnormal. What's weird, I think, is our rules. Primarily, that we don't care if she goes to sleep. Here's the deal, when I was a kid, I couldn't sleep when the sun was out, it was just a thing for me. So, I would lie in bed with nothing to do, nothing going on and wait until the sun set. I considered that the most miserable thing about summer. Sometimes I may have fallen asleep and I don't remember, that's fine, sometimes I just laid there and laid there and laid there. (In all fairness, I'm not sure my mother ever forbade me reading in bed. I slept with the radio on and I think if I had read, she would have been fine. I was a natural-born rule follower. Somewhere down the line, I like to think I grew out of that. Then, I spend a few minutes cussing out the people who don't pull all the way over when emergency vehicles pass and I realize that I didn't. At all.)

What we endure affects our parenting, plain and simple.

So, in bed, Brynna may read, color, play with a doll or two or practice writing. She may not get out of bed (except for using the bathroom and procuring a dixie cup of water) and she may not turn on the TV. She sleeps with a lamp for a nightlight, so she can usually see well enough to color or read a board book with big letters.

The rule is that bedtime is the time that we go to bed. Since I can't force her to go to sleep, I don't force her to try to sleep. Sometimes, she calls for me and I go in there and she says she's trying to sleep and can't. My instructions are to pretend she's asleep, as that's what usually works for me. It seems to work for her, too, because I seldom hear from her again.

We have had the odd night where she's up until 10 or 11, just hanging in bed. These nights usually follow the odd day where she falls asleep on the couch or in the car and naps an hour or two. Most nights, she's sound asleep a half hour or so after we leave her.

Most kids, I think, given the freedom to make their own decisions and deal with the consequences, will make the right decision 90% of the time. The other 10% is just their way of testing consequences and boundaries.

Of course, I have an extremely limited test study here, in my one child over the past 3 or 4 years. And the next one may totally break my theories all to pieces. I always accept that all kids are different, so I'm just waiting.

Waiting for Maren to get out of bed all the time, climb the furniture and eat diaper cream. Waiting for school to totally screw up all our routine and rules with it's homework and ridiculously early start time. (Did school always start before roosters crowed? I swear I'm never going to make it out of bed at that early hour. My clothes will never match again.) Waiting for whatever to make us change everything. Because the one thing that never changes in our rules is that the rules are always subject to change.

Monday, July 26, 2010

What's In My Crochet Bag - Pattern Edition

I am very close to finishing one project and then I have a couple more to get out and then, I think, I am going to do some Christmas crafting. Because I am a glutton for punishment. Or something.

Anyway, in the meantime, I am collecting patterns like a madwoman. I don't know what's wrong with me, it seems like an addiction. The problem is that I am just collecting them, taking them home, stuffing them in one of 17 crochet bags and walking away. Which means, I think things like, "Hmm... Didn't I have a really nice pattern for a big floppy beret that would be so lovely in this soft grey colour? (Because in my mind I don't bother correcting my spelling grey and colour the "wrong" way.) And then I search around for a while, come up with nothing and start over from scratch.

I am talking mostly free patterns from the Internet. And yeah, a lot of them are from places where I can have project lists and save them as mine, like Ravelry (of course) and Lion Brand (whose pattern finder is downright addictive). But some don't and I can't really figure out what to do with those.

I have a big empty three-ring notebook at home. The idea was that I would hole punch them and file them in there. I would get tabs and sort them by project type. And maybe, when I'm really, really good and obviously lonely and bored, I would cross reference them all by yarn type. Possibly there would be color coding.

But I've not done anything like that. So, right now, I have a bunch of random patterns and an empty notebook.

It's not that I think my plan wouldn't work if I actually worked on it, it's just that I'm not really working on it right now. So, what do you do, internet? How do you keep all those patterns straight?

Do you only use stuff on certain sites so you don't have to kill trees and waste ink with printing? Or do you have a highly organized print system? Or do you only print and keep patterns you've actually used in the past and have worked out well? Let me know. My empty notebook is developing a complex and my patterns are threatening to overthrow the current regime. That's me!

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Five Things on Friday - Saturday Beatles Edition

Sorry about yesterday. I was sort of down in the dumps and the only subjects I could come up with were things like Five Historical Figures I'd Like to Have Drawn and Quartered or Five Famous Battle Sites I'd Like to Visit or Five Authors Who Committed Suicide Who I Loved. And none of that stuff seemed appropriate so I just skipped it.

But then, this morning I watched Across the Universe. Have you seen it? If not, I highly recommend it. It's a musical done entirely with Beatles songs. It's not about the Beatles, though, there's no mention of the Beatles. There's a Timothy Leary type and a Janis Joplin type and a Jimi Hendrix type, but mostly it's just the story of people trying to survive the '60's. It's weird and not the best movie ever, but I could watch it nonstop all the time because it's enthralling.

Anyway, while we were watching, they started singing "Hey Jude," and The Husband said, "This is my favorite Beatles song." And I said, "That's everyone's favorite Beatles song," because he woke me up at 9:00 and demanded that I get up and eat the breakfast he had cooked and that makes him sound really nice, but trust me, he was all cheery about it and I hate people being cheery right as I wake up. It's pure, unadulterated evil.

So, then I tried to think of what my favorite Beatles song is, and I couldn't. Because that's sort of like asking what my favorite book is, I have no freakin' idea because there is just too much to love.

So, I decided to have a top 5, except I'm not even sure I can do that, so I decided to have a random 5, which is really what Five Things is all about and now you're about caught up with my day. Except for the very exciting hour I spent sorting out all the mail that lands on the tea cart.

1. Eleanor Rigby - So melancholy.



2. Paperback Writer - And I wanna be a paperback writer!


3. Blackbird - Oh, my.


4. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds - I mean, really, it's almost like Hey, Jude, so many people love it.


5. Revolution Number 1 (and 9) - But just 1 here, because you can't really sing along to #9

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Forcing It

I am not a forceful parent. I don't necessarily think this is a bad thing, it's just the parenting style I have chosen.

Brynna has responsibilities and she knows that she is supposed to do those things. If she doesn't the consequence is punishment. I don't often choose to force her to do something. She takes the punishment, we go on, life is fine.

Most things that only affect her, she has free reign over. For instance, I remind her to brush her teeth, but since she started doing an okay job of it herself, I no longer pry her mouth open, shove a brush in and try to at least touch every tooth while she screams. Not worth it, in my opinion. Especially since she chooses to brush her teeth 95% of the time and has a perfect dental history.

There are a few exceptions to this non-forcing. I force her to brush her hair. Sometimes. I'll be honest, here, she really hates it, screams like a banshee the whole time and fights me tooth and nail, and so unless she looks like ferrets nested in her head the night before, I am just as likely to ignore the brush on the sink as make her sit down and start brushing. But, since she has only chosen to brush her hair a couple of times, mostly I force it.

I also force her to apologize. Because she hates apologizing worse than hair brushing, I think. And, of course, that doesn't only affect her.

Otherwise, what I try to do is give her choices and then make her live with the consequences. It's not as easy as it sounds, but my hope is that it will develop in her a clear sense that every choice carries a consequence, rather than a sense of don't let mom see.

This summer, though, I have been forcing her to read.

It started out innocently enough. We signed up for the summer reading program at our local library, because I'm that kind of mom and we've done it since she was two. I explained that this year was different, though, because this year she would be reading the books, not mommy. She chose 15 books as her goal, which I thought was more than reasonable. Way back at the beginning of the summer, that averaged out to 2 books a week throughout the program. Very doable I thought.

At the beginning of the summer, she was confident in her skills and excited to read. As the summer has waned, she has lost both confidence (swearing she can only read words she has read before and that she can't - CAN NOT sound anything out) and excitement (swearing that she doesn't really want to read ever).

At first, I tried to roll with it. Let her tell me when she wanted to read, let her choose the books, let her tell me what words she needed me to tell her, etc. As the summer has gone on, that's become me reading books to her one word at a time while she swears that she has no idea what "a" spells.

We've solved some of the problems, like me thinking we should do it at bedtime and her patiently explaining to me that she's too tired to concentrate then. Very reasonable, indeed. Now we do it as soon as we get home and that's helped some. I'm also trying to help her choose the books. Some of our books are deceptively short, but meant for parents to read to children, and therefore chock full of big vocabulary. It's actually better for us to pick a longer book with more manageable words, because she doesn't get frustrated as easily.

I've also made the rule that I refuse to, under any circumstances, tell her what a word is until she has at least attempted to sound it out. Yesterday, she looked at the word "Halloween" and said, "Ummm... Last night? What, I tried it?" So, I've had to change that to "make an honest attempt, actually using some of the letters in the actual word."

It's torture. The rule is that we don't turn on the TV until we've read a book, and last night I added dinner to the mix, because we were both so frustrated. I thought we'd never get to eat, but she finally finished reading Clifford Grows Up almost 40 minutes after she started.

We have four more books and eight more days. It's going to be a long week.

And I don't know if I'm doing the right thing.

I know that she needs to learn to read. I know that this year, she is going to have homework for the first time and she's going to have to learn that she has to do things that she doesn't want to do. I know that this is important. I think this is probably more important that brushing her teeth AND her hair, personally.

But, I want her to love to read. Like me. Like her dad. I want her to think about it with the longing that I spend most of my work day in, rather than an increasing sense of dread. And I feel like forcing her to do it, might just make her hate it.

The Husband pointed out to me last night that I am worrying about it too much. "It'll be what it is," he said. "It's okay if she hates to read, it's not okay if she can't read." He went on to explain that maybe I just have too many dogs in this race, "To you, having a kid who hates to read is like for a conservative pastor to have a gay son. You just can't line that up with your way of thinking." And, he's right. Not all kids love to read. And that's okay. I guess. I just don't really think it's at all okay and I'm not sure that saying it over and over again is going to get me there.

I can see how much she's lost over the summer in terms of skill and we've tried to do all those things you're supposed to do. She can be a good reader, if she'd only try. I just don't know how much forcing to do.

I hate asking for judgment on my parenting choices, because I'm not going to do what anyone tells me, I'm going to do what I want to do, what my heart tells me to do. All kids are different and mine is super-different.

But, what do you think about forcing your kids to do things? Do you do it? Do you try to never do it? What are the exceptions to the rule? How does it work in your house?

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Life Listing

It seems there's been much talk of life lists and bucket lists and that sort of thing on the blogospere, lately. I don't know why. Maybe because 2012 is quickly approaching and we all feel like we've got to get to it. Maybe because some corporate sponsor sponsored someone's life list. I really don't know. I take pride in not paying all that much attention, people.

Anyway, I got in a discussion the other day about how published life lists often turn into some self-validating ego stroking, I'm-sooo-original exercise and how annoying that is. Then I totally fell into that trap. I honestly don't think I am sooo original. I sort of assume that everyone is just like me and then gape, open-mouthed when I find out otherwise.

For instance, you shouldn't tell me that you don't find Jensen Ackles attractive, because despite the fact that the go-to example for most people is Brad Pitt or George Clooney, I secretly assume that everyone can at least recognize that Jenson is clearly the prettiest human on the planet (excluding my children, of course).

Which is why I find the entire exercise of the life list to be sort of pointless. Yeah, yeah, we all want to go to Alaska, finish a novel and learn to knit. So what? Why do we need to list that stuff?

On the other hand, I am often surprised that what I expect to be on peoples' list isn't there and a bunch of stuff about hot places like the Bahamas are. It's disturbing to my world view (in which, again, everyone wants what I want).

The other side to it, is that in the incomparable words of Anya, "I'm tired of the tour of pretty things I can't have." Sometimes, it's nice to dream, sometimes it's a depressing reminder of how far from your dreams you are. Lately, for me, it's been the second.

But, because today I feel like dreaming, I thought I'd throw a few life list items out there. This is not a complete list because I don't want to think too much about it. Just some stuff.

Life List

1. Go to freakin' Alaska - I feel like I've been dreaming about this and putting this off forever, but someday, I will get there. I may be 97, but I'm going.

2. Finish a novel - I don't even really care if it gets published (of course, that's only because it still isn't written), I just want to finish one.

3. Learn to knit - I'm very sadly collecting patterns.

4. Go to a con - Preferably Comic-Con, but I'm flexible. I just want to be surrounded by geeks who are unsurprised at my inner geekiness.

5. Write a scholarly paper about vampire lore - Or about the Stephen King's writing. Whichever.

6. Drive a boat - I know it doesn't sound all that exciting, but it also does sound really exciting.

7. Take the kids to Disney World and London - not on the same trip, obviously.

8. Enjoy gardening - Because it's not that I don't have time or the basic skills, just that I don't like doing it, so I don't ever do it. You should see my flower bed, and it's seven foot tall weeds.

9. Live debt free - I like to think I'm on my way to this, but I'll never get there with medical bills the way they are.

10. Crochet a bedspread - I have the necessary skills for this, but I am overwhelmed by how time consuming and detailed it would be, so I've never attempted it. I do have a pattern for a table cloth that I thought would be excellent practice, though...

So, that's ten, which makes me feel all even and stuff, so I'll stop for now. What's on your life list? Any of the same stuff as me? Anything bizarrely different?

*Imagine that the picture is me in Alaska. Also, it's making me feel better about the heat.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Second Child Syndrome


You know, I joke about SCS a lot. But it's like making fun of yourself. You only do it so someone else won't.
I am really terrible about it. I have probably 20 times as many photos of Brynna than Maren and she's only been here 4 more years. The pictures on my desk at work never get updated, so the picture of Maren... is the hospital picture. She's 20 months, now.

Brynna had professional shots taken at 3 months, 6 months, and 1 year. Maren had them at 6 months.

It's not just pictures either. I seem to never have a diaper with me. Part of that is because Brynna took a diaper bag to daycare, but Maren doesn't, so I don't ever have the leftovers, but still. Come on. How hard is it to put a diaper in your purse? Apparently, very.

A great deal of Maren's clothes are ruined, because I never, ever bother with bibs this time around. And okay, I don't need to hand them down, but it would be nice to consign some of those church dresses.

I am always losing Maren's shoes. I don't even understand how this is feasible.

The other night, The Husband asked me when we started doing bedtime stories for Brynna. After serious digging in my brain, I finally came up with about her first birthday. Did I mention that Maren is 20 months. That only makes me 8 months behind.

I really need to start thinking about moving her to her big girl bed, but I can't until I figure out where I'm going to get a desk and how I'm going to fit it in Brynna's room.

I can't even keep my mind on this post.

I know that I need to work at this.

But, frankly, the two kids thing is hard. I'm tired. I'm crazy. I've lost all semblance of memory. I don't know how to get organized to the point of getting a diaper in every bag I ever walk out of the house with. I don't remember how to glue the camera to my eye. This all makes me a little crazy, but I can't seem to break out of it.

So, who has help for me? Who can tell me tricks and tips they have for remembering little stuff, getting pictures taken, making things special for one kid without totally leaving the other one out, etc.

So far, Maren is happiest snuggling in my lap or playing with permanent markers and scissors, but I can't rely on that forever!

Monday, July 19, 2010

What's in My Crochet Bag - Scrap and Christmas Projects

This week, instead of a finished item, like I've been trying and failing to give you, I just want to talk about what I'm working on. I have quite the queue and I'm just gaining new projects without marking much off my list.

First of all, I've been sort of half-heartedly collecting projects to use up some of my scrap yarn. Someday, I hope to have a good yarn area of my house, perhaps in the basement, but only if I can de-damp it. In the meantime, though, all of my stash has to fit in the bottom of my closet and I am overflowing.

I have a handful of babies coming up and baby stuff is great for stash-busters, as long as you steer clear of afghans. Next week, I'll show you some baby stuff I've done.

I've also considered doing a scrapghan, but I don't really want one and that is so much work for a charity type of project.

My hat-making group has been on hiatus for the summer (which is weird to me, I actually have more time for it in the summer and also, a group makes me work) but we'll start back up soon, so I'll be able to construct some of that lovely scrapage into hats.

Also, I've started thinking a bit about Christmas. I'm really not much of a Christmas crafter. There are a couple of reasons for this: 1. It's not cheaper. I always think I'll save money and still manage to give great, personal thoughtful gifts if I make them and I always overspend on yarn. 2. There is just too much going on at that point in the year to rely on getting projects done on time.

But, with things the way they are, I'm really going to have to tighten the proverbial belt this Christmas season, and I know we just went over this, but I really think this may be the way to go. Again. We'll see. Yes, you too can watch me get sucked into the same vortex I get sucked into about once every three or four years.

I never seem to know what to make for people, though. Especially kids and men.

Please, use the comments today to tell me:
1. What do you do to whittle down your scrap stash?
2. What do you think about Christmas crafting in general? And do you have great gift ideas in the crafting department?

Friday, July 16, 2010

Five Things on Friday - Distracted Driving Edition

So, yesterday morning, I was watching the news while I slept, and they were talking about how yesterday was the first day ever of enforcing the new No Texting while Driving Law in the great state of Kentucky. I support this. Texting and driving is bad. Studies show it's worse than drunk driving. Although, I still side with the Mythbusters in that I can drop the damn phone, but I can't just stop being drunk, so I'm not sure it's a fair comparison.

Then when I was driving home I was trying to surf the internet on my phone to find the phone number for the water park where my kid left one shoe. I'm not even sure how one manages to leave one shoe at a water park, but I was working hard to track it down. It occurred to me that perhaps this was more dangerous than texting. I stopped and called 411. $2, sure. But on the other hand, no death and destruction. Plus, no ticket. I'm pretty sure they'd count it, after all.

This morning, I had a whole different distracted driving experience. Almost as soon as we get in the car in the morning, Maren takes off her shoes and crosses her legs in the carseat. Proof positive that my need to constantly have a leg under me is not a bad habit, but some sort of weird genetic imperative.

Anyway, we had Johnny Cougar on the radio and Maren was grooving to "Jack and Diane." She had her nightie on and her bare feet pulled up in the seat and was bobbing her head, dancing like a fool while momma sang a little ditty at the top of her lungs. It struck me as so beautiful and cute and silly and amazing and Kentucky all at once and I *had* to have a picture. I could have pulled over, but then she would have started trying to pose or take my camera away. So, in a stroke of absolute insanity, I started trying to photograph my daughter over my shoulder with my phone WHILE DRIVING.

Sometimes the insanity of these decisions doesn't strike me until a bit late. I'm good now. I'll never do it again. Lesson learned. Good thing no one (including piece of crap car) was injured.

In the meantime, it got me thinking about the things that I've done that are stupider than driving and texting. And, because I am totally looking to get arrested this weekend (please, no, officer, it's a blog, it's made up, I swear) (no, readers, really, it's aaaalllll true, I swear) and because I'm sure that some of you have never so much as taken your hands from ten and two, but some of you will make me look like driver of the year, I am going to share my worst distracted driving sins.

1. Grooming - I know people who do their make-up in the car. I may or may not be related to someone who may or may not have used to own a curling iron that plugged into your cigarette lighter. It's not like I do that. I just, sometimes, brush my hair in the car. While driving with my knees. I don't do it nearly as much as I used to. But it takes both hands to brush my hair because I have this wicked sensitive scalp, like a baby and I can't take hair brushing without holding my scalp to minimize pulling.

2. Dancing - Once, long ago, before the state let me drive, I was in a car with Suze and her dad. I may have mentioned this before. There was a long, sort of mocking monologue about people who sing/dance/talk to themselves in the car. I do all of these to a great degree, but I've never gotten over thinking, "Please, don't let Suze's dad see me do this." It's distressing. But I digress. Dancing in the car isn't usually that big of a deal. A little shoulder wiggle, a little head bob. But I have, on occasion had a carful of people who were all dancing together with enough oomph to make the car wiggle around on the road. Bad. I've mostly outgrown this. Mostly.

3. Reading - What can I say, sometimes you literally cannot seem to put a book down. I've been a lot better about this since the kids were born, because even I (the idiot who didn't figure out that photography and driving don't mix until my hand was clicking the stupid the button) know that this is terrible, terrible behavior. But, sometimes I cannot resist cracking the book open on the passenger seat at stoplights. Or bad traffic. Wow. There was once a wreck on the Interstate and I read like 100 pages in 4 miles.

4. Dining - Let's face it, there are just some foods that are better to nibble behind the wheel than others. For instance, fast food hamburgers - little mess, paper wrapper, one hand hold. Good to go. Taco salad - fork required, dressing dripping, cracking shell - bad plan. Through the years, I have mostly figured this out. When you are driving, it matters less what you want and more what you can handle. Knowing this has saved me a couple of wrecks and about half a head of lettuce down my bra. Let's just say I learned the hard way.

5. Ranting - Often the course of my conversations with myself will take a dramatic and violent turn. Often, I hold my temper in the company of people who are really driving me over the edge with nothing more than the promise to myself to say EVERYTHING that I want to say, only by myself and on the way home. On these occasions, my wit is sharp, my tongue is acid and if words would kill, the subject of my rage would be in a fridge in the morgue. Except that they can't hear me. This is good for me on many levels. I don't burn many bridges, I keep my falsely earned reputation as a "nice girl," and I vent my frustration and rage before the pressure builds to submarine proportions and I blow steam from my ears as my hair lights afire. The down side is that sometimes I become so intent on telling the person who isn't there what a face melting moron that they are, I kinda forget things like traffic laws. Especially speed limits. What can I say, it just feels better to yell at 70 than it does at 35.

Okay, your turn! Share. Repent. Laugh. We'll all assume that this is stuff you would never, never do anymore and that you have totally grown out of, shall we. As you are currently assuming about everything written above. Seriously. Occasional present tense is for dramatic purposes only!

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

What's In My Crochet Bag - Long Overdue Edition

Hey, yeah, remember that birthday present I was making for my mom. For her birthday. In May. Yeah, well, I just gave it to her this weekend. Hooray! Nothing like a mid-summer, nothing is special present to brighten your day. Especially when that present is a sweater that would have rocked in the Spring. Yeah.

So, just ignore the squinty-eyes and the furrowed brow. It was bright, ya'll.

Here we have a truly weird creation. The Simple Crochet Shrug from Lion Brand.

Loves and hates about this project:

Love: The design - I was so intrigued by this design, which seemed to make no sense whatsoever that I safety pinned a baby blanket together to make sure the theory was sound.

Hate: The pattern - The "pattern" is one stitch. Approximately 6,384 times. Booring. That's really what took me so long. It's an easy enough pattern, but I kept falling asleep every time I picked it up.

Love: Totally adaptable - For instance, I'll never do that stitch again. EVER. But, I can do it with any single stitch or small repeatable pattern. You could totally do it with cables. Chaining a few more in the beginning will make it longer and adding rows will make it looser and the sleeves longer. I think you would want to keep it proportional, but in theory you could easily make the pattern bigger or smaller. I am thinking of doing one in cream or white for a "throwover" for Brynna this fall.

Hate: Um... I mentioned how repetitive it was, right? Hmm... Well, that's it. Otherwise I pretty much loved it, but you should be warned that it was a BIG hate. A fiery sun kind of hate.

I've been sort of not doing much crochet for the past few weeks. Trying to make myself work on this. And it's been worth it, because I love how it turned out. I had intended it for mom to wear to D's graduation this spring and didn't make it. Not even close. But, next time, I'm making her something really stellar. With a metric ton of detail.

In the meantime, I have some fun projects going, so be prepared for more crochet goodness.

Monday, July 12, 2010

When (and If) I Grow Up

Last night I was composing this in my head, planning it for tomorrow, and then today, I received a writing challenge from Bloggy Moms:
{Childhood Ambitions} Write a blog post about your childhood dreams, wishes & ambitions. What did you dream of becoming? What did you sincerely think you would do with your life? Where are you know (sic) along that road? How do you feel about where you are?
And it seemed serendipitous. So, tomorrow, I have a new Crochet Bag for you, but today, I am talking about being a grown-up. (And it has nothing at all to do with forgetting my camera. I swear.)

When I was little, I was always sure of what I wanted to be when I grew up. Not like that "I've always wanted to be a doctor," kind of way. It changed constantly, but at any given moment, I was sure.

I wanted to be a fashion designer for a while. Which I can, now, in my tattered skirt, t-shirt and falling apart, but extremely comfy for high heels shoes, can only explain by a super cool toy called Fashion Plates, which allowed you do those fashion drawings that used to appear in the newspapers.

I wanted to be an interior designer; a dream that made much more sense in the grand scheme of my talents and appreciations. I'd much rather dress my house than myself.

I wanted to be a writer, a child psychologist, an FBI profiler. I am rather influenced by movies, (Silence of the Lambs is the explanation for the latter) and experienced brief periods of being sure I wanted to be a storm chaser, a car thief and a girl surfer.

The older I got, the more unsure I was of my career aspirations. By the time I graduated college, I had a long list of jobs I'd like to do for a while (roadie for a rock band, DJ, party planner, graphic designer) but nothing solid that I felt I'd like to do for my whole life.

What I thought I wanted was a job I could be passionate about. A job that I cared deeply about and would make the world a better place. Immediately out of college, I fell into a nonprofit that gave me just that. I loved the organization, the mission and the work. There was only one problem: I hated the people. I thought it would be okay. I could stand being miserable as long as I was doing good, I told myself.

Five years later, when I walked out those doors for the last time, I didn't care about passion or drive anymore, I wanted a job that I was good at. A job that I could change, improve, fix. With the help of my mentor (who brought me to my next place of employment) that was exactly what I did.

A year after that, I felt adrift. I was miserable again, up to my eyeballs in evenings and weekends and constant worry about mercurial CEO's. I had also fixed a great many things, enough things that I felt there was little left to be fixed that I could help with. I felt like my work there was done and now I was only existing to put out fires and be at the whim and whimsy of a man I had more and more trouble respecting every day.

At that point, I just wanted a job I could leave at 5. A job that didn't make me cry. A job that let me just do my job, keep my head down and get a paycheck.

Enter current small nonprofit organization.

I hate it.

Not that I hate my organization. I don't love it, but I don't hate it. It's not my mission. I don't feel any real passion for it and the work could probably be accomplished by a well trained monkey. Additionally, I get to leave at 5 and walk away from it all and I find that strangely... disconcerting. When you devote 40 hours of your week to something, it seems like it should warrant more than a passing thought when you aren't there.

I've talked in the past few months about my personality inventory addiction and my desire to take a new career path, my feeling of disenchantment and stagnation. What I haven't talked about is my dreams. I've daydreamed nearly obsessively for the last few months about Shakespeare and Hawthorne and Bronte.

Not re-reading them, but teaching them. I've thought about how I would compare Wuthering Heights to The Shining, in that both demonstrate a strong sense of setting as character and both demonstrate the impact that an unforgiving setting can have on a fragile character. I've thought about how I'd talk about MacBeth and the witches and discuss just how magical the witches really are. I've thought about Ms. Moore's lecture on the Spanish armada and the interrelatedness of history and literature.

I've imagined a spark. A single spark in a single eye of a single child who never thought they loved to read.

I can't explain the path I've taken over the last few months. It started with a bull-headed heroine (that's me!) who was convinced that I could never teach, that people wouldn't listen to me, that despite spending years dealing with nonprofit bureaucracy and politics, I could never deal with school systems. A girl who said "I don't want to be a teacher," over and over and over, until she believed it.

A girl who was shocked to hear a teenager tell her that she should have been an English teacher, while another teenager swore that she shouldn't because she'd be "too hard." A girl who read with tears in her eyes about the shockingly high drop-out rates in the country. A girl who has wanted nothing more than to share her love of reading and literature with a new generation for a long, long time. A girl who kept trying to come up with a way to teach, without teaching.

A girl who thought of all the great teachers she'd had and made a list of their qualities and realized, I can be those things. I can be supportive, encouraging. I care about books and I care about kids. I can see the talent hidden inside. I can do that.

There was an epiphany moment. But, honestly, I don't remember it. I just remember coming to the slow but sure conclusion that I need to do this.

I have spent the past few weeks trying to figure out what comes next. I'm afraid I'm doing everything out of order, but I'm trying to get it together. The next step on my to do list is the same as it was months ago, though, take the darn GRE.

I had a flash of hope in June that I could get this all done in time to start this fall, and while I am not ruling that out (everything happens so fast now!), I feel that maybe January is my back to school month.

I try to imagine what it will be like. I'm sure I'll cry. Some days will be hard, desperately hard. And I'll never be able to walk out the door and forget it for another 16 hours. Some days I'll fight. (Have I told you all about my little brother's abysmal senior English curriculum?) And some days I won't bother. Some days, I'll probably long for this boring office and this boring job. Some days, though, I hope that I get excited about what I'm teaching. And some days maybe I'll see that spark become a flame. Some days I'll work with some extracurricular group (oh, please, please, let me coach academic team) and I'll smile at these kids of whom I am almost as proud as my own. I'll call them my kids. I'll celebrate their successes and mourn their losses. I hope.

I hope that I am good at this. I hope that I am making the right choice. The tears in my eyes as I write this and the hope in my heart as I fill out forms and search for references tell me that it doesn't matter. For once, I am driven. I have to do this. No matter what happens in the end, I have to do this now.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Five Things on Friday - Rainy Day Edition

"It's raining, it's pouring, the roads are slippery and the car is slickery. Don't worry, Mama, it'll be okay..." This was the song Brynna was singing as I was inexplicably fishtailing my way down US25 this morning. Very unpleasant traveling.

Which got me to be thinking about all the things I'd rather be doing on a nice, cool, rainy day like today than fishtailing down US25.

So, here it is, Five Things I Love to Do on Rainy Days:

1. Good Book + Blanket + Window + Comfy Chair = Very happy Jessi. There is almost nothing better than sitting somewhere where you can hear the rain and reading. I have this lovely overstuffed armchair in my living room right by the window onto my deck. You can hear the rain particularly well there and I curl up with a couch blanket and read, read, read. You absolutely can't beat it.

2. Good movies and crochet. I can't stand to sit with my hands still for very long. My mom sometimes has to remind me of this fact, but I know it to be true. I love to watch a little movie marathon (or TV marathon, if it's good stuff) but it's better if I've got a project going. Preferably something soft with bright colors.

3. Shopping. I know that's strange, but from my years working in outlet mall retail, I learned one very important fact: there is no place on earth better for rain listening than one of those big, flat roofed, shopping Meccas. Especially thunderstorms. Yay.

4. Sit on the porch. Not on my porch. My porch is very small and it's almost impossible to not stand in the rain. And my deck is uncovered. But like my grandma's porch or my mom's porch - excellent. I love to watch the rain fall, listen to the rain fall and feel the mist off the rain falling. Even better is when a storm is rolling in and you can watch it race across the sky.

5. Sleep. Despite how much I love the rain and I love to enjoy the rain, it always makes me sleepy. And I never sleep as well on clear night as I do on rainy nights. The same is true for both of my kids. I'm not sure if it's genetics or luck or leading by example, but I was blessed with two midgets who can sleep through even the worst thunderstorm. Brynna woke up once in a thunderstorm, but it was only 9:00, so she'd only been asleep for a few minutes. Yes, we are storm sleepers. And I'd like a little rain nap right now.

So, what about you? What do you like to do in the rain? Or alternately, what would you rather be doing to enjoy whatever weather you're having today? Join in. It's fun, I promise.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Make Me Laugh - I Demand It

Okay, so yesterday, I was sick and spent the whole day in bed. Which wasn't as bad as it sounds. Since I've been sort of run ragged lately and just laying in bed and pretending that nothing needed doing because I had no other choice wasn't completely sucky. There was even a Doctor Who mini-marathon.

But today I am depressed. I am depressed because I'm back at work, because I am coming to face the fact that no matter how hard I try, I am probably not going to make it back to school this fall, because I am so broke that I was glad of being stuck in bed this morning because now my gas may last me through the week. It's not been a stellar day is what I'm saying.

And after writing and rejecting three really depressing, everything's-going-to-crap-and-maybe-I-just-should-have-stayed-in-bed posts, I'm done. I refuse to wallow in my own misery anymore. I refuse to be a victim of my own downward spiral. I shall rise above. At least for a while.

Therefore, I must task you, gentle reader - make me laugh. Please. Otherwise, I may not make it out from underneath the covers tomorrow.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

In Defense of Twilight

Okay, I'll admit it, I'm a Twilight mom.

I can't help it. I read the books before the hoopla and I found them just so addictive and compelling. And now, with the movies and the madness and "team-ing" I really want to be all superior, but I can't. So, much like my post last year in defense of Disney, I would like to address some of the things I love about Twilight.

Bella - She sucks. As a character, Bella is a mess. She's whiny and wishy-washy and totally smitten in a somewhat disturbing kind of way. She vacillates between being horribly weak-willed and being stubborn beyond all reality. She is, in fact, a typical teenage girl. And she is so vulnerable. I read her inner monologue with a mixture of cringing at the horror of it all (and by that I mean high school, not vampires) and a feeling of complete solidarity. No one wants to read a character like Bella, but once I started, I couldn't hardly stop. Bella is, well, Bella is real-ish. In a way that most heroines aren't. She is weak and strong, quick and slow, has good days and bad. She is the center of this book, in the way that you are the center of your own daydreams - foibles and all.

Vampire lore - I love vampire stories of all shapes and sizes and I adore picking up little bits and pieces of vampire lore from different sources. The sparkling thing is horrible. Just put that aside and ignore it. There are some great pieces of lore/mythos here. One thing that has always been interesting to me is siring. If a vampire sires everyone he bites, then why hasn't the world been overrun by vampires? If a blood exchange has to take place, a la Anne Rice et al, then why don't vampires just sire like mad in an attempt to overrun the world? Twilight has an interesting take that any vampire bite can sire a new vampire, but that the draining vampire has to stop before the subject dies, and that rarely happens hard because controlling the blood lust at that point is very difficult. Which I find a lovely way of dealing with it. Also, the powers being an amplification of natural human talents appeals to me. And yes, the sparkling is hard to get over what with it happening three or four times per movie, but every vampire story has its hurdles to jump.

Jacob/Emmett/Sam/Jasper/Charlie/Carlisle - Despite these books being all about the girliness and clearly being aimed at a female audience, some of the best characters are all men. I am all for strong female characters, but I think often in romances you have a cast of great females and the obvious romantic lead and perhaps a challenger for the romantic lead, but that's about it. Now don't get me wrong, I love me some Alice and Jane rocks and Victoria is so much more impressive as the bad guy than James. Emily is truly lovely (although marginalized greatly in the movies) and Rosalie is the girl you love to hate. But all the attention on Edward vs. Jacob ignores the fact that before the movies and the madness, everyone I talked to loved Emmett or Sam or Jasper or even Charlie. Well developed characters that you, as a reader, enjoy reading are always a plus and with such attention being paid to teenage love stories, it's good to have the grounding effect of more sensible characters. It also shows that each of these characters doesn't exist in a vacuum, they are a product of their families - those by birth, by choice and by culture.

The Sex Thing - I'll admit that I didn't want to read the "chaste teenager" series. Not because I don't want teenagers to be chaste, but because I have better things to deal with than being preached at about it. But I found the whole thing to be quite well done. Okay, they don't have sex until after they are married, and much is made of that by Edward. Who is "old fashioned," but also worried about hurting her (with his vampire super-strength). I didn't find it to be preachy at all. And the lack of sex doesn't make it any less sexy. Which I think is okay to tell young girls. That you can have these wonderfully sexy, romantic moments and no one has to get naked.

The Reading Thing - A few years ago, when Harry Potter was being much maligned, I lamented that anything that got that many people reading, rabid about reading in fact, should have to undergo such undeserved scrutiny. Would people attack it so if it were a movie or a TV series, I wondered. I feel the same way about Twilight. Girls, teenaged girls, who are not interested in books or literature or reading have gone to bookstores, gotten library cards, waited in line for the newest book and been met, at least by many, with a level of derision that is disturbing. If we, as a culture, want to encourage our youth to look up from their phones for a minute and bury their noses in a book, then shouldn't it be okay for them to read whatever tickles their fancy? I'm not saying that we should start teaching Twilight in high school, but for free reading, I just don't see the harm. I know some pretty snobby folks about books, but each and every one of them has a weakness: trashy romance, silly mysteries, *ahem* Aunt Dimity. Just because you desperately love one silly thing shouldn't damage your literary street cred. Reading and enjoying Twilight may kindle a love of reading for someone that grows to something much larger. Do we really want to look down on that?

All in all, I get it. I get why everyone who doesn't love it is bored with it. And I get why people don't get it. And I get why some people hate it. But in the grand scheme of things, I think that there are more insidious things to hate. I liken it to the Kindle. I can't stomach the Kindle. Because I love books. And I would hate to see the entire universe of books reduced to bytes and bits and streamed into a cold, hard plastic device. But I also embrace that Kindle may change reading for some. That in the grand scheme of things more people may become readers because of its existence.

You don't have to love Twilight to recognize that the insane gleam in that sixteen year old's eyes, is all over a book. And that is fabulous.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Five Things on Friday - Summer Songs Jukebox Edition

Five Things on Friday is a weekly list of five things. Subject to be determined by me, but feel free to make suggestions in the comments. I will list my five things and then open the comments up to you, my loyal followers, readers, fans, groupies, what have you. Please respond. Or else, I'll feel all alone in the Earth. It'll be bad. Really.

Today's post is an odd amalgam of my Five Things on Friday tradition and my mother's tradition of Jukebox Friday. Last week I was talking about Summer Music and I thought, wow, I really ought to go into more detail about this. Because summer music isn't something I can necessarily define. I know it when I hear it. I usually don't love the "big" song of the summer. "Macarena," anyone?

What I love is a song that makes me feel like free with the wind in my hair.

So, with no further ado... Five of my Favorite Summer Songs, Mama's Jukebox Style

"Santa Monica" by Everclear
I don't know if it's the SoCal thing or the beachy references, but this is forever in my heart as an all-time favorite. I love the bittersweet tone.

Free Fallin' by Tom Petty



I love a good driving song in the summer and there are no better driving songs than Tom Petty's driving songs. "Running Down a Dream" has got to be responsible for some speeding tickets. This one is a laid back driving song, though, a cruising song. A top down song if I had a top down kind of car.

"Wastin' Time" by Kid Rock


I can't explain my attachment to Kid Rock. It's certainly not normal. But every June, like clockwork, I can be found cruising somewhere with all the windows opened and either this or "Cowboy" rockin'. The kids have put a slight crimp in this, but, every once in a while, I will be without the girls, hair streamin' rollin the Fleetwood.

"Boys of Summer" by The Ataris


I am not easily won over by a cover. I ask a lot of a cover. It has to be in keeping with the spirit of the original. But it also has to add something to the mix. Something new that makes you look at the song in a different light. This particular cover of the Don Henley classic is a wee bit darker and a wee bit harder. What I love best is that Black Flag reference, though.

"Down on the Corner" by Creedence Clearwater Revival


I have no idea why, but I think of the entire catalog of CCR to be summer music. I picked this one because I like the happy ones and this is one of the few happy ones.

So...

What are your summer songs? Are there any of mine that you care to disagree with? Love? Hate? Etc? Please, do share.