The Children Are Trying to Kill Me: Volume 17, Never Let Them See You Sweat, Never, Ever Leave the House

When Anna was tiny and Henry was 2.5 yrs old I made a pact with myself never to leave my house with them because it was terrible when I left the house. Terrible. I couldn't manage all the screaming and unpredictable mayhem and it left me jumpy and miserable. We ordered in. A lot. 

Over time, over the past 2+ years, I've forgotten my vows and we've ventured to restaurants, parks, stores, museums, and even on an airplane or two for distant destinations. 

But not no mo'.

Lately, we're back to leaving the house with both of them being like a flaming pile of shit. You're not sure why it's happening. It's gross and scary and confusing. And, their misbehavior, like a big flaming pile of shit, can't be ignored, but you also can't fix it without causing quite a messy scene. 

Not leaving the house ever again is just a self-preservation move. Obviously my children are trying to kill me, and it seems it's twice as fast when we're out in public with strangers than it is at home, so the way I look at it, leaving the basement is literally cutting my life expectancy in half. 

Nope. Forget it. Never again. We are now basement-dwellers. We'll get pale(r) and weird(er) but at least I won't be a hysterical sloppy mess, dead at 50.  

Besides, everyone knows that the most fun, great things to do outside the house as an adult are the LEAST FUN, WORSE things to do with children; going out to eat, going to a movie, sitting quietly in a coffee shop, lying in a hammock, relaxing on the beach, talking with friends, and day drinking. With children, that list looks like: food fight, annoying and embarrassing strangers, burns from spilled coffee, bloody nose from falling out of hammock, drowning in the ocean, not hearing anything your friends say ever because your siren children are going off, and your children embarrassing you by asking everyone, always if there is ALCOHOL in whatever drink they're being offered because their mom clearly does too much day drinking. 

Today, for example. We went on, what would have been, a perfect date. If just Robb and I had gone blueberry picking and to check out a new restaurant, it would have been: 

1. Fun, invigorating!

2. Delightful conversation

3. Productive

4. Healthy

5. Peaceful

6. Great food!

With the monsters, it went like this: 

1. Lost child in bushes

2. Child tried to kill a baby bird

3. Children ate all the good berries, threw only the tiny green ones in our buckets

4. Lost other child in bushes

5. Heat stroke

6. Whining (mine, theirs)

7. Restaurant had cute antique little porcelain salt & pepper shakers on table--> broke cute antique little salt & pepper shaker on table in evasive maneuver

8. Pepper everywhere. 

9. Whining (mine, theirs)

10. Child, about male patron 2' away from us at next table, DO YOU THINK THAT GUY IS LOKI? (Repeat question x 40 times)

11. Child chokes on enormous bite of food/plastic/whatever, once it's been spewed out with horking sounds aplenty, mimics us, yelling 'SPIT IT OUT RIGHT NOW' (Repeated x 40 times)

12. Child, pointing at female companion of male patron 2' away from us at next table, 'THAT GIRL'S SISTER IS DEAD.' (Repeated x 40 times)....what the what, Wednesday Addams??

13. Food was good, I guess. I don't know, it tasted like fear. 

14. Overtip, drive away, can never come back without a total surgical face change. 

15. Back home, parents stare at each other, twitching and swatting at hallucinations and vow never, ever, ever to leave the house ever again. 

I'm not joking. Who's joking?

Who's She Gonna Call? Ghostbusters (2016)

'MOMMY, YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL....AND SMART.' 

This came from Anna tonight. It was incredibly sweet and cool. Blew me away. Minded my boggle. She may have been flopping around the bed trying to avoid sleep, grasping for compliment straws, but still. 

I've never known how much to talk about her appearance. Some influences tell me that I shouldn't at all, but on the other hand, I want her to know that I think she is beautiful because she's going to be trying to figure out where she stacks, and I want my positive vote cast in the mix...also, it can't be avoided that she recognized that physical appeal has value. She notices characters in movies who are 'BEAUTIFUL' and has already realized it's a positive, enviable thing. But I always trip over every physical compliment with "...and smart, and funny, and cool and goofy and heroic and compassionate..." People in the grocery store who say, "oh, isn't she pretty" often get, "and smart, too!" from me as I bolt away before they touch her shiny, shiny hair with their stranger fingers. 

Apparently she's picked up on my methods.

But, so, the real big news here is that she's going to have grown up knowing that it's GREAT for girls to be smart, that her mom was smart, that she's smart. That it's expected. I think even as recently as...right now...girls are led to believe that being smart isn't a priority? Or isn't cool? Isn't achievable? Be charming, be coy, be pretty, be sexy, be exotic, be erotic, be cute, be fun, be beautiful...but smart? Meh. 

I would argue that "funny" is another prize quality that isn't often awarded to girls/women. In the bowels of history, and as recently as...right now, people have furiously wailed that women shouldn't be allowed to be funny. 

(Side note, they aren't called "women," they're called "girls." Do you ever notice that? Listen for it. Just the other day, in the comedy, "50 First Dates," I noticed that Adam Sandler's character said, "You're the girl of my dreams...and it seems like I'm the man of yours." It's not as creepy as it sounds, it's not a Woody Allen thing, these two adults are the same age, it's just that that's how our language situates men and women in hierarchy. Come on now). 

Anyway. Right. So, the 30-50 year old "girls" starring in the new Ghostbusters (2016) movie right now (Kristen Wiig, Leslie Jones, Melissa McCarthy, Kate McKinnon) have caused quite a stir because they made a sequel in a comedy series about ghosts and this time, the 4 people who made up the sciency ghost busting team were female instead of male. The whole country shit its collective pants. (These are really big pants, bigger every year since we have a nation-wide obesity problem and there's just so much shit).  

So, here's my reaction, after seeing Ghostbusters (2016): 

1. These are the best comic actors in the business, so it's with ALL due respect that they would be cast in a reboot/sequel of a well-respected comedy franchise. I don't see why having female instead of male leads has to be making a point or challenging anyone's affinity for the first two movies? Surprisingly, these ghost chasing scientist goofballs acted like...ghost chasing scientist goofballs....no matter what genitalia lies beneath the jumpsuits. Slimer was not subdued by breast milk or anything, OK?

2.All the people who are like "who's this genius, Kate McKinnon? She's a marvel! Where did she come from?" are stupid for not having been watching SNL all these years, since she's been a genius marvel on there since 20-damn-12 and it's your own dumb fault for not watching SNL. There, I said it. It had to be said. 

3. The original movies are so great because it combines big, broad, wacky, sometimes startling set pieces and CGI stuff, with quiet, genuinely excellent writing- great dialogue from well developed characters in believable relationships with each other, delivered by stellar actors. So...they did all that again. It had the same feel EXACTLY as the originals down to the camera making sweet, sweet love with New York City. The leads all made the funny asides and observations believable and humorous, and also rocked the shit out of the action shots. 

4. I had the biggest, goofiest grin on my face the whole movie because, well, because I love Ghostbusters movie and this is another great one. And also because it was funny women being fantastic in a movie that they were told they shouldn't make because women shouldn't be allowed to be funny. And mostly because it meant I'm allowed to be funny. I should be cracking jokes and writing stories about funny, brilliant women. People do want to read/watch them. Oh, Lordie, that's a big deal. I want this for me, I want this for my daughter. 

5. Don't read the internet. It's so, so dumb and mean. Watch this movie instead!

   Kristen Wiig, being a hero to this generation of Ghostbusters. 

Having heroes who look like you matters. In books, movies, TV, there's impact in how you think people like you are portrayed in these media. This is why there's so much need to diversify parts for race and sex in TV and movies, right? 

I want my daughter to see funny, smart, heroic people like her. This year we have not one but TWO kickass female leads in the addition to the Star Wars film franchise, and now, FOUR BAMF females in the new addition to Ghostbusters. Anna will grow up with these movies as standard. These women, who are powerful, brilliant and funny, whose friendships are tight as they empower each other, whose functions and successes in these films have nothing to do with men, who are good employers and leaders and innovators who stand up for what they believe in...and who go ahead and save Manhattan....these will be her action stars, her comedians, her heroes. Women like her. 

Pretty cool. 

Black Lives Don't Matter. Still.

I don't know why this has been so hard for me to write. I feel horrified and angry and sympathetic and shameful. Maybe it's the shame. Shame always shuts people up. 

It's also that voicing these feelings might make some people feel upset, hurt and blamed. There's a great deal of shame and blame going on right now in this country. 

So. Black men murdered by police. Again. 

These particular murders have evoked especially righteous rage and country-wide protesting because there were cell phone videos showing how totally innocent of crime the two victims were. One of the men was shot while being pulled over for a minor traffic violation, with his girlfriend next to him and HIS FOUR-YEAR OLD CHILD BEHIND HIM IN THE BACKSEAT. I can't even begin to imagine that trauma and loss. It makes me want to throw up, what that kid has experienced and will now forever own.

It should be that these murders are nationally mourned and that we rush to prevent them from ever happening again. But, no. There's disagreement and fighting, shame and blame. The country is divided. It's broken, it's pulled apart. 

It's always been this way, but now we can more clearly see the fracture. 

No sooner do the details of these murders come out then people are defending our police and scrambling to find ways to show that these crimes are not what they seem, are not deadly symptoms of a chronic racism. 

We don't want to reckon with this and we're threatened by this insight. These were clearly murders of innocent people by our appointed protectors, but we are afraid of that. It's not just that people are afraid that other police officers will be retaliated against. That is legitimate. It has happened already at least once. It's not just that we're all scared of what it might mean that police have such deadly, impulsive, authority. 

It's that we're afraid to confront the reality of how dangerous it is to be African American, how negatively this country views African Americans. Police represent government, which represents all of us, we're afraid to admit that they/we pulled the trigger because these men were black. 

In the past few years, the movement #blacklivesmatter has created awareness that we are allowing African Americans to be murdered and imprisoned because their lives don't have as much value to our society as white lives. 

We have to be reminded that black lives matter...or we have to be taught that in the first place. We have to chant that black lives matter because we're not acting like they do. We've never really acted like they do in this country.

We've always criminalized being black. If I had to guess, I would say it started by us white people bringing innocent Africans over on ships as our prisoners a few hundred years ago.

Examine the current prison population, examine the justice system, examine the law enforcement practices. We've stigmatized African Americans as a threat, so we lock them up and keep them down and kill them. We've proven black lives don't matter in this country.

I want to say that these cops are horrible, awful anomalies and that's why they shot innocent men. But what if these appalling choices they made were just their biases playing out? They had an impression of the situation in front of them, of the threat, of their risk and they acted.  They thought these innocent people seemed guilty...but why?  

Because we've decided black lives are guilty. Black lives are threatening. Black lives are dangerous. Black lives don't matter. 

But, African Americans are not who society has decided they are. They are not the stigma we hang around their necks.

Just because you're in shackles doesn't make you a criminal. Just because you're treated inhumanely doesn't make you an animal. Just because you're beaten down and silenced doesn't make you weak or mean you have nothing to say. Just because you don't have options doesn't make you a bad decision-maker. 

But we have to recognize the stigma. We have to peel it off the truth. 

So, to me, there are two big things here. One, we can't have our people killed by our protectors! That's not how it works here where we're free! We're the country that people from places controlled by military dictatorships run to! Refugees come here to hide from police who attack without question or conviction. Our protectors are held to ethical standards and can't just wield their power over the citizens without consequence. This is much of what makes our country special and desirable.

And two, supposedly, this country is not divided by sect and everyone is bound and defended by the same laws. But it's not happening. The enforcers of those laws are obligated to protect all citizens' rights, and promote access to justice and safety for everyone...on paper. In practice, that restraint and civility is still extended to some, but not all of our citizens. Not in equal parts to African Americans. Only those (white) citizens who are considered less threatening and who seem worthy of protection, get them.

It's obviously not just law enforcement that is biased against African Americans.  All the ways that African Americans are marginalized and abused and mistrusted by our systems (justice, law enforcement, health, housing, financial, educational, public services, etc) reflects this lasting terrible impression that black lives don't matter. Other weapons are used against them every day. The police just happen to be carrying guns instead of refusing jobs or promotions or access to healthcare or real estate as you and I might be doing with our stigmatized beliefs in our own positions.

So what do we do about this? My gut says we listen and promote Afrian Americans into leadership roles so they can tell us what it's like to be black in this country, and work on fixing it. Outside of that, what can I do about it? It's huge and it's scary and intimidating to try to fix such a chronic, painful, hateful situation. I'm looking for suggestions. All I know is I don't just sit on it feeling shameful and embarrassed and like this is not my fight. 

I start by acknowledging my own racism, my biases, the stigmas I've attached to black lives. I know I make assumptions, I've been fed them my whole life, how can I not? I judge and doubt. I fear those who I've been told are frightening. 

I'm racist. It's a dirty word, but there it is. If I don't figure out the ways I've bought the stigma against African Americans, I can't fix it inside me. I don't carry a gun, but I carry a medical license. I have to acknowledge my assumptions so I don't make poor medical decisions based on the stigmas I hold. I certainly could hurt people in my ignorance and bias. My patients need me to know that their black lives matter, to me.

School teachers, lawyers, law makers, business owners, friends, colleages, voters, I think we all need to check our premises, our impressions of African Americans and see how we might not be acting like black lives matters. We talk about institutional racism...institutions are made up of a bunch of individuals. We, individually, can change the narrative on black lives, in order to eventually change the systems. 

It's scary to write on this subject because...well, it's scary to admit I'm part of the systems that are failing and hurting people. Also, I'm white. I might be getting it wrong. I might be so utterly clueless that I've made wrong, dumb conclusions. Someone please help teach me if I'm off the mark.

Also, again, insecurity about writing on such a difficult subject. Is there any point to all these words, words, words? Is there any use to trying to express any of this? I don't know...but I do think words...they matter. What words will a rookie cop hear around the precinct when discussing African American citizens? If they're negative, will those words in his head impact his finger on the trigger? I think they could. 

We need to agree first that we as a country are operating like black lives don't matter. Then we need to fix it, individually and system-wide. 

#blacklivesmatter

 

The Days of Summer and Childhood are Long, but the Seasons are Short

I was part of an online momming community for a while called something like the Longest/Shortest Time. I quit it because the moms on it are like me, terribly neurotic. It didn't intend to be judgmental, but still it stressed me out to read about all the creative things women across the world had found to freak out about that I'd been neglecting. 

It seems that every single thing in my house is choking hazard poison and that my kids' brains turn to brain confetti if they watch more than 7 minutes of TV. Also, I'm probably not documenting my kids' poops adequately. I'm most definitely poisoning my kids by giving them both Slurpees 3 days in a row this weekend, as a reward for Henry learning to ride his bike(!!) He probably should be getting some broccoli or a vocabulary test as a prize, instead. 

So, my insecurities got the best of me and I left that group, but I loved the name. It referenced the fact that each day as a parent can seem interminable, but overall, the time of our kids' childhoods goes by in a flash.  

I'm regularly reminded of the flash part by people in the current grandparent generation. Every single time I see my neighbor, she says things like "it goes so fast," and "cherish it! They'll be grown before you know it!" I know she's right, and she's probably telling me in code to put my damned phone down and play with my kids, but I think it's difficult (and unnecessary) to cherish our kids ever single second. 

Some days are long and stressful and I need some me time that is child-cherish-free, and sometimes the little animals aren't doing very cherish-able things. I AIM to always make my kids feel like they are the God's beautiful creatures and I'm #blessed to know them, but it's hard to treat every precious moment like it's their last before they get kidnapped by goblins and swept into the underworld to serve the goblin king. Sometimes I have to do laundry. Or ignore them so I can blog about them. Or whatever. Sometimes they can, and should, play by themselves. 

I do spend plenty of time memorizing their now faces and appreciating who they are today. I've been observing Anna lately and have concluded that 2 year-olds are actually the perfect humans. 

Hear me out. From our perspective, they're hard to deal with...but for they themselves, they have no self-doubt, no guilt or worry or fear, or the other distracting, eroding emotions we older folks feel. They are so direct and self-actualized. It's the last time you can be a total sociopath and no one is alarmed by you. There's something so nice and simple about demanding what you want, fighting like hell for it, and not caring about anyone else's interests...plus you still have cute fat cheeks and a tiny squeaky voice, so people don't bounce you out on your butt. 

Of course, it's also an exciting time of growth. She's developing ego and those more complex feelings. We witness her processing things and adding to her brain bank in front of us. Now, instead of always screaming like a tea kettle at Henry when he's up in her grill, she says, 'YOU'RE MAKING ME FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE' or 'TOO MUCH. TOO MUCH.' It's important to me that they both can identify/express that feeling.

So, she's gathering the language to express her thoughts and feelings. She almost resembles a person now, but she's still mostly a little id monster. Just now, we were pretending to pet an invisible kitten and she was cuddling and petting it until she said 'I'M GOING TO BREAK ITS EARS. I BROKE THEM.'  Insert scared cat emoji here. 

The last few weeks, we've been teaching Henry to ride a bike. This is a good example of how certain moments seem to crawl by, but are actually speeding over life's time map. 

He got a two-wheeler bike for his birthday in early June. He's been riding a balance bike for years, and we were under the impression that he'd have no problems just jumping on a pedal bike and going. It wasn't that easy, he fell a few times and he got nervous. He said he HATED IT and WOULD NEVER RIDE A BIKE AGAIN. 

So we adults played bad cop/bad cop and forced him to try a few laps in front of our house every night for the past week. It is painful and exhausting to hunch over, chasing a tiny bike in 90 degree heat, with the rider complaining and shrieking in fear and frustration. Robb and I would rotate every lap or two out of our own frustration/fatigue (teaching a kid to ride a bike, reason #612 it's easiest to have 2 adults per child and the single parents deserve all our love). 

Then, out of the blue, he got it. He just took off and did it. And keeps doing it. When asked how he figured it out, he said, I JUST THREW MY SCARED TO THE SIDE AND PUT MY BRAVE IN FRONT OF ME.

Wow. Alright then. All this time, he had to do it himself, he had to fix his fear/brave positioning, and then he could do it. Now he says, WHENEVER YOU ASK ME IF I WANT TO RIDE BIKES, I'M GOING TO SAY, 'OF COURSE!' 

So, those afternoons of forcing him to try were really long and painful, but it was only 1 week of our lives, and now he has this bike riding skill for the rest of his. And now, YOU KNOW WHAT MY FAVORITE THING TO DO IS? RIDE MY BIKE. 

Learning to sit, crawl, walk, run, ride a bike, read, go to the bathroom in a place that flushes, learning how to express and control emotions, learning how to discern between good risks and bad....it seems like it takes forever, but then, boom! They're doing it. The days are long but the lessons and phases fly by. 

So now when baby boomers remind me to cherish my kids, I think I'll answer that I'm trying, but I'm looking forward to all their phases, from now through adulthood. My hanging onto their precious moments won't stop them from growing up. I wouldn't want to. They're teaching themselves all kinds of things every day. Like how to put their scared aside and put their brave up front.