The Hat

When the hat comes out, I know something good is on the horizon. I remember when Mom bought this hat for herself –  50th birthday -  Pea Island, NC. 

Pea Island was the day we saw our first roseate spoonbills. Well, maybe we had seen these birds before, before we knew how cool they were. But, probably not. My childhood didn’t have much opportunity for travel from Ohio (I remember 2 long car trips – once to Florida to visit my grandparents and once to Cape Hatteras  – - when I was 6. Mom loved Cape Hatteras so much – it became her dream destination).

Mom worked hard, single parented, didn’t have money, opted for freebie local vacations – we call them staycations now. But a few things changed when we kids were all grown up. She got to a few places. And, on our own, we often got there with her. Cape Hatteras & Pea Island was her dream 50th. We had that dream (feeling that crush of loss and mourning in my chest and thinking, THANK YOU GOD for Pea Island time).

I lost my mom way too soon  - but so much of my life as her daughter comes rushing into my sight when I pull out her hat. And, so much of the path of my own life too.

And so, when I’m traveling I wear “the hat”. My head gets burned in the sun. The wind blows. My hair gets dirty, sandy, limp, a hot mess. I wear Mom’s hat. It protects. As she did. If you’ve seen pictures of me traveling, chances are you’ve seen me wearing this hat. (I’ll spare you the photo journal – and yes, in some of the photos I’m wearing both the hat and the binocular harness – SCORE!).

When I get out this hat, I know good things are about to happen. I love traveling more than anything else; more than driving a new car, more than having a closet full of clothes or shoes, more than gems or jewels (seriously, does anyone like gems and jewels?), more than a daily coffee purchase, more than shopping, more than buying a fancy juicer (but omigod I want a juicer!),  more than eating out, more than paying the biggies college tuitions…get the idea? Life with Mr. Sillypants and Blueberry (I married so young the first time; when y’all who are my age-mates were having your fun, I was breastfeeding non stop for way too many years to count!) is a good life. I am so grateful. And, I am grateful  for the hat, and all it taught me about “today.” (I miss you Mom). Today, the hat is in the luggage. Today, I am humbled by the good and hard work of Mr. Sillypants so that I can take out the hat.

We’ll be off the grid for a week – leaving the home to our ragtag entourage of 20 somethings with a full ‘fridge and reminders to let the dog out.  (OK, not really off the grid. I exaggerate. There will be FB updates, because what would the biggies do if they couldn’t see their baby bro on FB?) .

Ciao!

(crap, as I just finished this I remembered how close I am to 50….wowzers)

Why it matters

There are so many motivations for why I do what I do. Some motivations are clearer than others. My life as mother has had 4 amazing and astounding sources of inspiration – my beloved children. And when I am asked why Ethiopia? My motivation is clear. It’s for him. It’s because I love him like crazycakes. It’s because when he looks at me and asks me those questions that biggies ask (and they do!), I will, with great humility, recall with him the course of our lives since we were entrusted to care for him.

He will know that he is ALL that. And more. Love is this.

On becoming…

If you know me, you know I’m engaged in a life long process of ‘becoming.’  I guess that’s not interesting news – you’re all on the path too. One big piece of my personal work has involved crafting a life that makes sense; deliberate and purposeful integration  of my life occupies a lot of my brain space (and I don’t have that much!).   I am sometimes woefully short of my goals – or find that my goals don’t make sense when bundled together – or discover that I’m simply grabbing something that really isn’t hitched to my heart and soul.

The offers for ‘becoming’ stalk the landscape of my days; different schooling, try yoga, be a vegetarian, sell my belongings and simplify, activate as an activist, grow vegetables, weed my garden, spend more time with my kids, learn how to run a non-profit, read more and read better, write a new high school human rights curriculum, run or bike daily, bird in solitude, travel more, strike inertia with a hot poker…or simply, take the dog for a walk! Gads. I search constantly for feeling content, feeling fulfilled, feeling complete. I’m grateful for my full cup of mothering – for a perfectly imperfect family – for the spaces of deliberation and the means to tackle opportunities OR create them. I have that piece pretty well managed, but it doesn’t complete ME. Family *is* the one thing that feels like my forever sweetness, but I still have this nagging nagging nagging empty space. What the heck is it?

<I feel self absorbed putting this into words, but here it is, ugly with whiney privilege>

I sit here with 2 days a week that are unencumbered and with personal and familial permission to attend to my ‘becoming’. I’m a bit paralyzed. I’m on family leave this year from teaching high school. I had hoped to teach part time, but when that didn’t work out with my school, I asked for family leave to tend to the continuing attachment work that is important for sweet Blue (and oh my gosh we’re having really great days!). Yet,  I’m not sure how to proceed on the 2 days that Blueberry is in morning preschool  followed by afternoon play-time with his little Ethiopian pals. Truly. 2 days. Holy cow I’m woefully unprepared for this. I don’t remember how to pay attention to myself (did I ever? I mean, in a positive way?) without oodles of background noise and demands.  AND I don’t know how to attend to my ‘becoming’ in such open space.  ”Pick me, Pick me!” yell my competing interests (some of them not interesting at all, like the laundry!) I fear I will wallow in indecision and spend it doing the oh so uninteresting laundry and cleaning up of  chaos that is always  sometimes our home. Staying in the comfort of ‘mindless doing’ is my specialty – -

Yeah, so I had better get my head around what’s next….because this really could be exciting. And I need to do it – just do it – without apology or excuse. I just have to give myself over to “it”, to the ‘becoming’.  How to do that…how to do that….and how to figure out what the heck it is!

Epiphyte is the coolest word I learned

Quito, EcuadorNapo Wildlife Center – Rainforest, EcuadorIsinlivi, EcuadorMindo, Ecuador

Bellavista Lodge, outside of Mindo – off the Old Quito Highway

The “I’ll Try Club”

I have a long standing parenting philosophy that’s in need of ramping up on account of where we are with Blueberry. He’s 3, and he’s got some new experiences both in the bag and on his horizon. First, I’ll describe  the philosophy, then I’ll demonstrate how this club works – you might want to join too!

The “I’ll Try” club is a super special club for first timers – you know, for anything (except things illegal,  immoral, or  mean-spirited). The club has 1 rule; you only have to try. I have found it is a super good way to keep expectations right sized and to communicate expectations to my children in ways that meets them right where they are but pushes them to extend boundaries for new experiences. Um, like swimming class (see below).

The thing is, Blueberry needs right sized expectations. He’s a careful observer. And, any setting that is chaotic, loud, noisy, and the least bit unpredictable creates the most intensive ‘velcro’ experience – - – although his predecessor sister, Twinkletoes, might always take the cake on toddler velcro when in public and mighty independence when in private. (Now that I think of it, this must be a club for the brilliant and amazing). Not only does Blueberry meld into my lap/arms/body without a chance of separation, but he typically sinks right into ‘no’, ‘never again’, ‘I don’t like this’ ad nauseum IF I push him to engage beyond a tiny step, positive strategy. Otherwise, not fun. Not fun for him. Not fun for me. Not fun for anyone large and in charge. So, we use the “I’ll Try Club”. It works.

Here is how —

We have some swim lessons this summer. Then we have the start of 2 morning a week preschool this fall. While I can’t budge on the preschool plan (I’ll take him, he’ll go, I’ll leave him. He’ll survive sort of thing), I can warm him up with a very positive swim school experience. He knows we are going to swim class at special swim school time – a time when Moms and Dads don’t get to be in the pool and have fun and when all sorts of special pool toys come out (noodles and boats and barbells and floating mats!). The “I’ll Try Club” awards 3 skittles for kind, cooperative, and helpful preparation for swim school – awarded in the car, of course. I’m not typically a food enticer/rewarder, but for this sort of stuff, YOU BETCHA! Then, we go to swim class with an “I’ll try” attitude. Blueberry knows that at the end of class, when we are all done and wrapped up, he will get another sugar dose three Skittles for being a good member of the “I’ll Try Club.” In Blue’s case, HE has identified “I’ll try” right now to involve getting there, sitting on the edge with me and watching the class while practicing careful listening. His ‘try’ certainly does not include being in the swim class – and frankly, he might not get there by the end of these 2 weeks.I don’t engage with him much during class (he is sitting on my lap – that’s his comfort zone for right now), and he isn’t allowed to wander off and play or leave the area during lessons. I make simple observations like, “Oh, look, your classmates are putting their listening ears in the water – I wonder if they hear fish?” and “Look at Brett <teacher>, he’s pretending to drive a car in the water!” Blueberry has responded pleasantly. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t pull back, doesn’t smack talk  complain. He might say things like, “I’m NOT swimming!” But, generally I don’t argue, and I don’t make a big deal about MY notion of what his participation should look like – nor do I set a timeline for that. I might say, “you’re doing a good job with I’ll try. I wonder when you’ll try something new?” Indeed, it works for us. Today, day 3 of swim lessons, he waded into the pool to do some toy clean up when he saw some school toys floating.He was excited to pick up a noodle, get his feet wet, and grab some boats that were floating away. He even got close enough to his class for his teacher to check in with him. As soon as Brett said his name, my boy turned on his heel and made a bee line for me, but he wasn’t out of sorts. He was ok.

<———–We avoid this. It’s not that I think it’s not ok for him to cry. Rather, I try to encourage measured growth that comes out of my son’s own sense of …… rhythm. Sometimes that rhythm can induce crying. It doesn’t always have to feel so hugely distressing to grow and stretch.

The “I’ll Try Club” has workded great for us – my biggies are lifetime members. Little one is a member now too! Let’s all have a round of Skittles!

(Did I mention it helps me right size MY expectations too – which keeps the lid on my own feelings of frustration and disappointment. Yeah, so I don’t kick back and yak on my cell phone during my kid’s swim lessons…rough life).

Day in Pictures – so I can hang with the cool kids again

6:15 a.m. Blueberry awakes. Y’all now know we have hideous 1980′s stylin’ glass doors on our closets. It’s a good ting Blue’s head is blocking the photographer. He’s awake and ready to roll. 

7:15 a.m.  A quick hug from biggest sister and COLLEGE GRADUATE – a special sweetness that will be available in big daily doses until sweet Songbird leaves for Ecuador on June 1. She’ll be gone all summer – cry! But not time for relaxing – this is a work day.

8:15 a.m. a little bit of play before we drive across town where Blueberry will spend his day while I teach. Blue is staying with a new sitter for a bit while our babysitting friends welcome baby girl Sunshine to the family. Cards are our morning play before heading to work - Songbird bought these at the dollar store and I have to say they were a welcome change of pace from our ‘normal’ game of trains and/or cars. However, some things stay the same; in this case I am still mommy Raccoon and  he is still little boy raccoon. We squeek and grunt a lot. That’s good – the coffee isn’t totally on board yet.

9:15 In my classroom – the bell rings at 9:27. I have just enough time to turn on my computer, review my plans for the day, grab the study guides for Tuesday’s exam in the copy room, and ready, set, go: India’s Sizzling Economy.

10:15 Movie time – Morgen Spurlock’s 30 Days series – this one about outsourcing to India. When the students are watching the movie, I check in a paragraph that was due – logging them in as “ING: In, not graded.” I also rework some questions for the test they are taking on Tuesday.

11:15 I eat my lunch in my room today. I have a PILE of hotmail to read and some pressing quick notes to send. Usually I eat with my colleagues, but today I’m doing some personal work – - I’m anticipating being busy all weekend with Songbird’s college graduation events.  My 24 minute ‘duty free lunch’ wasn’t all that productive, however. I spent most of my time thinking about how fierce I look in this newspaper article. Really, do I always have such a severe look on my face (although the ‘real paper’ version is the only one with a pic of me )? Thank goodness we hid all the laundry and shoved all the sh*# on the counters into a closet before the photagrapher arrived.

12:15 Repeat last class I taught. Spurlock rocks. Hey, why is that kid talking during the movie? Love this class – they are the bomb.

1:15 until about 2:30 Teach some more.  Make copy of test for Tuesday.  Admire the online version of the Injera article a few more times. Hope it isn’t raining outside. Lament I don’t have a single damn window in my classroom. File some papers and think about prepping the next unit on Islam. Head out to pick up Blueberry at 2:45.

4:15 Transitions can be hard for us after daycare. I only work part time, so we keep the transitions limited. But, we’re still working on ‘reentry.’ Today, because it is cold and raining, we don’t go to Waffles lacrosse game. I’m disappointed, we wanted to watch Waffles crash into other lacrosse players on the field. Instead, we come home and cuddle on the couch, add a plate of jelly toast, a glass of water, and a few strawberries to tide Blue over until dinner. Can’t. Come. Soon. Enough. He smells worse than puppy - I put him in the bath after his snack. How come your kids smell like puppy and my kid smells like poop?

5:15 SUPER cool action shot of a VERY busy boy “reading” his Richard Scary BusyTown book – and he’s moving  – he’s exhausted and bouncing off the walls with a book that is about 8 feet long when it is totally unfolded. First it’s a book. Then it is some sort of prop for a construction game. Then it starts being hurdled around like a weapon. Then I hear the garage door open and I sing under my breath…TGIF, Daddy’s home!

6:15 Preparing dinner. Late. We need to eat before 6:30 for our best sanity. We rarely do. Easy Peasey dinner tonight – roasted cauliflower, some sort of premade chicken chipotle pepper meatball, gorgeous CSA spinach cooked in leftover pasta with lots of garlic and salt. Yum. Oh, that little box of pink next to the cauliflower - pink himalayan salt. J insisted I should never make roasted cauliflower without it. She made sure to get me some. I was skeptical. I was wrong (now THAT doesn’t often happen – hehehehe) Da bomb.

 7:15 Twinkletoes waits for me to give her a lift downtown for a potluck meeting. She’s now a JUNIOR in college. She’s on break for the summer – but working on a complicated genetic mapping project. She even got a very presitigious Hilldale Scholarship for the work this summer. She’s doing cool stuff. On our drive downtown we talk about her hope to do her spring semester at U of Capetown, South Africa. I get excited. She does too. I drop her off at the wrong spot, swing a few streets over to pick up Clementine (aka the Child Whisperer and her boyfriend), and then pop on back to find her wandering the neighborhood with a plate of brownies in her hand. Clem and I snap a picture, laugh, and drive away.

8:15 I arrive home and Blueberry is fast asleep. He still gets this every single nigt and HE LOVES it! Ssshhhhhhhh. I’m happy. My Friday night buck has loaded a  – - movie.  Saving Grace. Waffles flies in and out the door looking for his concert ticket for CAKE that he’s sure is in the house. He’s 18. He’s going to college in the fall. He’s going to Colorado to go to college. Every time I see him I get a little choked up because I’m going to miss him like crazy cakes.

 9:15 I drink one and sprawl out on the couch. The movie is adorable. I want to visit the place where it was filmed. Where was it filmed? (ETA – I looked it up, the movie was filmed in  villages of Boscastle and Port Isaac in Cornwall).

10:15 Twinkletoes arrives home via public transportation and she and Clementine cuddle up in a rocking chair. Both of them. At one time. Long gone are those days for me. There isn’t room on the couch. I’m stretched from one end to the other and I’m not moving. I’m too tired to finish this post. Goodnight

P.S. all pics from my iPhone. Made it easy.

A Merry Multitude

It’s Christmas eve and it was bound to happen – my smiles turned to tears, an outburst, emotional meltdown, a few self pitying words, an understanding audience (oh thank goodness), and then a return to normal. No. Better than normal.

It is sometimes a tough time of year. Ask your friendly ‘clinician’ about holiday meltdowns….I’m no exception. This week (this VERY week) holds two deep losses for me. It seems these two losses have really become more than two – s0mehow multiplying over time.  Somehow deepening. I won’t detail the ‘why’ and ‘who’ and ‘what’s up’ here. It’s enough to say I’m holding the loss, holding the love, heeding the gentle and loving support of my family. And really, I think it’s ok to give 1/2 hour of my day over to a little mourning in exchange for the catharsis of being a family – for being the parts of family that are deep and abiding and constant. I’ve worked hard to shape what I have here in my home, and for the depths of home. Today, the depths were necessary for some grieving. And, for the purpose of moving into fuller merriment.

In the spirit of “the spirit” , this is what moving forward looks like today for our merry multitude:

Twinkletoes, Clementine and Blueberry have been busy all day making holiday cookies. Cookies include my fondly (re)named”Mexican Wedding Balls” – they always make me think of my mom since they were part of her cookie tradition. In typical family style, Twinkletoes is our baker. Her sous chef is Clementine. And the junior sous is certainly Blueberry. Snickerdoodles, sugar cookies, and chocolate brittle are on the cooking menu too. Blueberry is totally enjoying wearing his apron and cooking alongside the cooking duo…now trio.   

 

Mr. SillyPants, who worked this morning, is now home and is preparing to play the organ at church tonight. In anticipation, he’s practicing on the piano (his lovely Steinway) and pulling music left and right out of his music files. I imagine there is some wrapping to be done, too. Plenty of time We’ll all be at church at 10:30, save 1. 1 will have to stay home with the wee one, and we’ve agreed the dog isn’t up to the task.

Speaking of wrapping…. in the tradition of my family, all of the gifts from Santa arrive wrapped in red and green tissue. Nothing fancy – just names written by the ‘elves’ in a variety of styles.  On the other hand, the biggies have been busy, excitedly wrapping their contributions to tomorrow’s gift giving. It turns out Waffle’s is a particularly fine gift wrapper. I, on the other hand, am a lame wrapper. My mom was the best wrapper EVER – she made the gift wrap a true part of the gift. Sorry to disappoint – hard as I try, I turn out wrapped gifts that make wrapping look like a necessary evil. The kids tell me that I’ve turned out a few birthday cakes that have that look, too. They’re right.

Speaking of Waffles, he and Clementine were sent on an errand to collect our Eve dinner. We opted to do something new this year and ordered sushi rolls for dinner from our favorite downtown restaurant. Twinkletoes and I are wondering how in the world a little food pick-up has lasted nearly 2 hours (OK, they did get a ‘tip’ in the form of coffee money – Clementine’s favorite fair trade coffeehouse is near the sushi restaurant).  We all complimented Waffle’s ‘murse’ as he walked out the door. Style 101. In about 1/2 hour we’re going to be digging in and enjoying our favorite food! It’s a GREAT break from the tradition of making our holiday eve dinner – and judging from this morning’s meltdown, it was a wise plan.

I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Songbird and her sidekick, Futball. They ran some ‘craft shop’ errands earlier today and then hustled downstairs with glue guns, art supplies, sharpies, gift wrap, and tape. I think there is a production going on in the hinterlands of our home. I said production! Not REproduction! (I am a mom to young adults – this is not a taboo subject around here!).

Finally, I have spent the afternoon reading my mind numbing, mind pleasing novel. I’m nearly done and I have to say that I’ve enjoyed it very much. It’s been entertaining and relaxing – and that’s TOPS on my holiday wish list. I can say that I’m most excited about having a whole week of R&R with my family over the next week. We plan on doing some ice-skating, some XC skiing, and a whole lot of reading and game playing. We are all in need of spoiling and indulging, so I hope that we are successful in giving each other a good bit of TLC this week.

P.S. It’s past our dinner plan hour and the dynamic duo are still MIA. We think they might have absconded with the sushi and headed to Central America. Go figure. (And if you read the last post about the Beast, they might have slipped from the car seats right into the road on their way home).

P.S.S. Did I mention that Blueberry has been in DRY underwear ALL day long? We might be there – we just might.

Our Clan’s Canaan

Our tree is fun. Down home rockin’ fun. We have a silly tradition we started when we moved into this house; the kids find the biggest, roundest, most over-the-top tree they can find and then hope we say yes. And, they spend the HOURS we search for a tree playing, rough housing, snapping pictures, tumbling on the ground, and quite literally frolicking in the snow. It’s holiday cheer wrapped up in family lovin’….amazeballs fun. (And there aren’t many of these deliberate expressions of headin’ out for this kind of ritual fun – so I totally dig this tradition). Cathedral ceilings help with the mission of impossibly huge trees.

It’s a sweet tradition, and it’s one that started when Mr. SillyPants and I bought this house together for our family.   This year’s tree came early – because this year’s tree needs Flower to enjoy her for as long as she can.  Flower leaves us just before Christmas - so we’re doing it all a little early this year. We’ve never gotten a tree on Thanksgiving weekend – but this year we took advantage of the clan’s presence and picked a big ’ole Canaan at our favorite tree farm. We missed the snow play, but we made up for it with extra doses of silly running around and picture taking. I think it might have been a bonus for Blueberry to be able to run around – snow will probably still be a challenge for his under 3 legs this year. So – total thumbs up on this timing! And, double thumbs up on the tree.

A word about the tree farm: I always cry as we arrive. We are very loyal to this farm because they were so good to my mom. Our family retells the story of Mom’s last Christmas every year as we pull in the driveway. We repeat the details:  mom always came with us – she asked for a tree topper that last (unknown to us) holiday – they took her name and number and said they’d call if they had one – we all thought they were being polite – the surprise we felt when they called Mom - Mom’s call to me because the snow was pouring from the sky and she wanted some help getting to the farm and hauling the tree topper -  Waffles (who was a mere boy, but also Grandma’s sweetie) volunteered to help Grandma and did all the hauling and lifting of the tree topper for his beloved Grandma – Grandma loved her tree and was so proud to host a CA family and WI family holiday, the very one where Mr. SillyPants met her, my sister’s family, and my kids – a year later when we arrived without Mom we shared our story of loss and Ms. Tree Farm cried along, having just lost her best friend to cancer as well.  I cry at this place, and my kids and Mr. SillyPants feel it with me with tears and memories. It’s always good. It’s always rich. We bring Mom along in our hearts.

Speaking of Moms….this picture is for our Hungarian family (Flower’s family). Flower’s mommy made this ornament for our family in 1997. It is handmade. Mr. SillyPants and the kids pulled it out and handed it to Flower. Caught off guard, I wept huge unanticipated tears. Flower and I embraced. We remember. Love remembers.

Frolicking next – promise.

Tonka Tantrum

Mr. SillyPants and I were party shopping at Costco – picking up some wine and a few other party items for our big bash (more in another post – after I’m done with this pissed off post) when we hit the kid aisle. He wanted to show me some of Blue’s favorite things at Costco (yes, it’s a weekly stop’n'shop; can’t beat the price on organic milk and cream for our coffee). One item was a sorta cool “Diego” crane set.  Blue doesn’t watch much TV, so the Diego piece, featuring ”Diego”,  wouldn’t be a ringer for him. But he likes tools/mechanic/things for pretend play and construction.

Next to the Diego crane set were hundreds of Tonka toy vehicles – hundreds, I tell you. Cool sirens, lifting ladders, rotating helicopter blades, and an accompanying action figure for each themed vehicle.  HOLD ON! You know what? EVERY SINGLE ACTION FIGURE WAS WHITE. And come to think of it, EVERY SINGLE ACTION FIGURE WAS MALE.

WHITE MEN – - I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU!

You know where I’m going with this, right? And you have the good sense not to tell me “you’re making a mountain out of a mole hill”, right? Because, yeah, I’m not overreacting. And I’m not in the mood for, “you’re being PC” or “it’s not like it’s intentional or something like that” or “kids don’t see color so young.” If that’s where you are – you’ve got some learnin’ to do – and I’m gonna ask you to go and do it…NOW.

What the hell is wrong with our toy makers? I greedily looked at these $20 machines, figuring they’d be a HUGE hit with my boy – and we could call it a holiday. But no, instead, the delight in the bargain Costco moment was RUINED by yet another example of the underepresentation of people of color EVERY FUCKIN WHERE. I told you this was a Tonka Tantrum, right? I get to cuss.

Here’s the thing – I’ve already raised 3 kids. I have raised 3 pretty awesome, connected, tuned-in kids. They are kids who grew up with lots of cultural exposure, lots of gender bending opportunities, and with pretty ‘aware’ parents; we kept lots of different types of literature in the house, had all kinds of dolls, avoided a lot of junk culture, had friends in neighborhoods all over the city, blah blah blah etc, etc, etc….I’m a cultural anthropologist for crying out loud. I’m in a constant state of cultural critique.  I kept a pretty keen eye on raising white kids with an awareness of privilege and power and with  an interest in social justice and racial justice. I’ve been a parent for 22 years – I’ve made this sort of work important.  I’ve had ‘tantrums’ before. But not like this. Nope. Not at every single freakin’ turn. It sucks for our family. It sucks even more for our son.

Let me tell you, looking for the image of my beautiful brown hued boy in the world really  brings it. Blue brings it home. BIG time. I’m not intending for him to be my personal ‘object lesson’ – and I know the the dangers of presenting that phenomenon; as in – ‘white mom gets racial injustice when she becomes parent to black son’. And yet,as my friend wrote this morning, “this is the messy business of inequality.”

I don’t have any perfectly constructed words – I’m having a freakin’ TANTRUM.

 Tonka, my kid and ALL OF OUR BLACK KIDS need to see themselves in our toys. I’m pissed. I am mightily pissed that I am NOT seeing his perfect little face looking back at us on our well stocked toy shelves, in our magazines, on our televisions shows, in our literature, in the histories our schools teach…..

I know y’all know what I’m talking about.  It’s worth caring about.  I’m joining the voices of families of color and their allies who have been arguing for so long – ’til they are breathless with effort while still suffocated by elite white privilege. This is worth caring about for all of our children. Every single one of them. 

NOT end of rant…I’m certain. 

What are you finding on the shelves out there?

The Hurricane

I’ve gotten so many ‘comments’ on Blue’s photo on FB – I decided to throw it up here. Really, this needs a post on parenting a little body full of energy. We’re in it and THICK.

Lots of strategizing going one, some questioning (adoption related stuff – amped up behaviors – attachment significant?), a little refocusing, and mostly just buckling down with consistency and structure. To be honest, I’m just struggling to keep it cool. Today (well, and a few other days before this, I admit) I wanted to play it hard and stern – but I know from experience that my version of ‘hard and stern’ is not a good parenting strategy.  I don’t think it works for me – I prefer “yes” parenting to “no” parenting.  And, I know how to use the “I mean business” voice, but I don’t want that voice to become so common or ordinary that it becomes MY mothering voice. That isn’t to say I didn’t (or don’t) test the waters, but gosh going off “the plan” with time out this and time out that and “NO!” always feels TERRIBLE! There are other ways (calm and consistent would be my preference) to work the room with Blue. I’d like to save “NO!” for “Stop – he’s about to touch a hot stove!” I’m needing a little perspective here, so I can move forward with a little lift in my step.

Truth? I’m exhausted. Flat out…worn out.  My age and his status as only child most certainly play into the scene. Work and some other worries/preoccupations add grist to the mill. I think I need to make some changes to do a better job parenting Blue through this moment (yeah, because I do believe that this is one moment, to be replaced by another…and I’ll look back and wonder why the “h-e-double hockey sticks” I was all messed up about this moment? I’m a seasoned enough parent to get this intellectually, but not a seasoned enough person to have it all roll off my back right now).

Some of this stuff comes with the move from the crib to his big boy bed.  Whose great idea was that anyway? (It was mine – full disclosure). I *think* we have a little of  the ”Advance” – - “Regress” dynamic going on.  Sweet Fairy Godmother mentioned, “Oh, so he’s going to have to learn some self regulation – that’s new!” Hmmmm. Yes. (Put that in brain and HOLD!) The potty has been a focus of interest too – mostly his interest – so there’s another place to advance/regress. I have noticed increasing requests for his bottle during ‘not bottle’ times (like in the middle of the day, or after breakfast). Clues – - he’s working something out. This is NOT the time to check out myself.

The thing is, I feel like I’m losing ground. Today I felt defeated by his intensity and his persistence (in throwing, hitting, objecting, redirecting, avoiding, derailing…you get the idea?). OK, well he wasn’t biting and kicking and yelling icky things at me…but we might have gotten there, or we might get there tomorrow.  Wait, I just thought about it…yes, he was hitting me. He took a stamp pad and whacked my arm with it. I think he yanked cushions off the couch and threw them on me too. In the midst of these events, I’m feeling like I’m losing my grip, not really feeling like I’m digging in and staying the course.

I’m putting together some strategies/reminders:

1. More plans on days we’re home solo – because being home is not enough for his budding little social self. I think, too, we need more faces that mirror his own reflection. I’m going to be more diligent about that. I need to find places where he and I can interact in more social environments (I mean to say, good stimulating time for the two of us that is fun and also satisfies his own social curiosities – it’s not that he’s a super social guy, but he does like to witness the world).

2. Coffee at 3:00 every day – skim latte is my preference. It WILL help with my energy. I need some help. Sad. True.

3. Some additional consequences for certain behaviors; objects that get thrown around the house just for the ‘fun of it’ will get put up and away for their own ‘time out’ (he’s not throwing things at me/us – he’s just tossing them around – - testing?).

4. I’m not a huge fan of time out, so we’ll work a little harder at “work it out” solutions. I don’t like the punative piece of time out – but I have to develop a stronger routine for “work it out” or “take a break” moments. And seriously, if anyone needs a time out, it’s ME. (We had a funny ‘work it out’ moment at the apple orchard; he refused to let anyone but me pull the wagon and he refused to walk. Finally we did a work it out plan and he got out of the wagon to walk for a bit <the plan was calm and positive>. He looked at me and said, “OK mom, now you can pull that wagon for a couple of years all by yourself.” Nice plan, Blue!).

5. IF he is going to be giving up his nap, I need some happy/quiet alternatives so I can lay on the couch/my bed/the floor/near his train table and get some easy shut-eye for 20 minutes. I’m not sure what he’ll do ‘solo’ and happily – but a rest time in his room has got to get in the picture, because I can’t go all day without my own little nap deprived melt-down.

6. Add to my list? Thank you.

7. Oh yeah, isn’t my littlest kid AMAZING? Really, verve – he’s got it!!!!