"That's SO Unfair" and Other Comments on My Parenting

"God, Mom!! That is SO unfair." Probably leaves one of my children's mouths at least once a week.

It's never the same thing, it's always different.--

"He got more honey in his oatmeal!"

"She got to walk the dogs for longer!"
"She got to go to friends house and we had to clean!"
"He got to walk to the library by himself!"

And all of these are either prefaced with, or end with "That is SO unfair!"

And sometimes I am quiet and sometimes I shake my head and sometimes, I turn and say, "That is what is unfair? Really? Someone gets something different than you and it is unfair? I don't think so!" 

It is frustrating and yet, I wonder where it comes from. What is unfair? Everyone has a different experience - even within the same events- heck, food even tastes different to different people. Where is the unfair quality there?

If you want everything to be perfect and just the way you want it all the time then life is most definitely unfair. But that's not what it's about and I wonder where they get it.

I explore my own feelings then for any trace of "poor me" and "so unfair" in my own attitudes and discover that, actually, I have a little bit of it myself. 

"Why didn't we get that opportunity?" 

"Why don't I have that?"

"Why don't we get to go away for the weekend?"

All of these are the grown up version of "TISU" (That Is So Unfair) - as I will hereon refer to it. I am not always happy and complacent with my own lot and perhaps what I vocalized and considered harmless little complaints or frustrations were taken further into my children than I thought.

Perhaps, they have led to this idea that we should all get what we are due and we are all due something amazing and phenomenal- all the time. And even more worrisome- that the amazing and phenomenal in every moment is lost in the idea that the here and now is not amazing and phenomenal unless there is something extra happening- how's that for confusing?

Recently, my girls were out and about with friends and when they came home they discovered that their brother was getting another sleepover. Even though they had been out and about and had smiles when they left- and when they returned- from their lovely day with friends, they turned on me in unison and said, "WHAT!? He gets another sleepover? Well, that means we get ice cream or a movie then."
My husband and I laughed and then clamped our mouths shut as my middle daughter glared at me.

"Mom, we didn't have that much fun with friends today and he gets a sleepover so we should have ice cream or a movie otherwise it isn't fair."

We shook our heads and tried for the umpteenth time to explain this to them and hoped that maybe this time it would click and they wouldn't have that look of victimized disillusionment.

"It is fair. He gets something you don't and you get something he doesn't- it has always been, it will always be. You don't get more. He doesn't get more. You get different things. Be happy. He is older. You are younger. He gets different things. We don't have to make any of that up to you. You don't deserve something bigger and better. Just be happy with what you have."

And that last part, well, that is a noble goal.

"Do the Girls Like Purple?" and Other Surprises That Await Me

I think there may be a tad bit of excitement from the family that awaits us at our new home.

I frequently receive phone calls with leading and strange questions these days, things like:

"Do the girls like purple- a light kind of purple?"

To which, caught off guard, I answer, "Uh, um, yeah- yes. They do." 

And the response on the other end is. "Ok. Bye."

Click.

Then, later on, the phone will ring again and I will hear, "What is the measurement for that front room?"

To which I will scramble for the paper with those numbers on it and answer only to hear-

"Thanks. Goodbye."

Uh. Okay.

Or- my favorite, "What do you think of a cow?"

To which I can only answer, "There's no barn!"

And wonder whether a large purple cow will be living in the front room. It's like Mad Libs come to life- I'm just helping my family insert words into those blank spaces.

I love good surprises- I put the "good" part in there because when I when I got the call about the basic brake service and check from my friendly reliable local mechanic, the surprise was that the rear calibers were broken, the drums needed to be replaced and there was something else wrong that I can't remember. That's not the kind of surprise that gets me all smiley like a five year old on Christmas.

So, these leading questions that hint of bigger, lovely and exciting things to come from my beloved family who I have missed so much- well, they are very welcome.

But when it come to surprises I find that there are some lovely people in my life who object. They wake up in the middle of the night worried about things hinted at. If presented with this hinting that I have received, they might be constantly needled by it. One recently said, "Oh god, I would totally stress- I would actually lose sleep about it because my mind can't let that stuff go. I'd be thinking what does that mean? Over and over and over."

Isn't it funny? There are those who love it and those who don't. The children love surprises - well, usually. The eldest is a little hesitant about most these days and he keeps hoping those surprises will be things like an Xbox (as you may recall from this post).

So, if we arrive at this big old house to find a purple cow in the front room, mooing a greeting to us when we open the door, I'm going to laugh and cry and name her "Nelly" so that I can say, "Woah there Nelly" when I milk her for our morning sherbet. (What?! What else would come from a purple cow?)--And then I will head outside to go on my morning ride with the family unicorn.

Sausage is My Favorite Vegetable and Other Reasons I'm a Bad Vegetarian

Diet is like religion, everyone has a specific preference and they hold fast to those ideals and sometimes, you might want to think twice before challenging someone on it. I wouldn't be surprised if it could be a catalyst for war. I'm not talking about the supply of food kind of catalyst- everyone has to eat- but the different ways that people eat and their choice of diet- omnivore, dairy free, gluten free, vegetarian, vegan, fruitarian, raw and, yes, breatharian.
I have been most of these- except breatharian, which I have heard tell of but never really looked into. I was wheat free in high school for health issues and was vegetarian on and off for years. I was vegan for a while and was raw for a while and of course dairy free quite a bit-- And then there was the time I was fruitarian.

I've had milking goats and had fresh milk and cheese daily- and had chickens and ducks and had fresh eggs. I've never butchered my animals and I abhor cruelty to animals and yet- I eat meat.
People are often surprised that I do- many think I am vegetarian and it wouldn't be for lack of trying. I literally spent years eating different ways to find what fit my criteria of having energy, not breaking out in rashes and no stomach aches.
Years.
Seriously.
I had tests done -of all kinds, mind you- and what I found was that I can't eat soy, I am gluten intolerant and dairy tends to upset my stomach even though super sharp cheddar is a food of the gods, in my humble opinion.

So, it was begrudgingly that I tried one last way of eating. I really didn't want to eat meat but without fail, I was exhausted and lacked luster- even with every uber healthy vegan and veggie friend leading me along with advice and recipes- while they beamed and glowed in the light of their choices. I didn't beam, I lagged and no matter what I researched and consumed, nothing helped- until I ate meat again and shazam! I was glowing and full of energy. Just like that I was rejected from vegetarian lifestyle.
Of course, it helped that I love sausage, specifically breakfast sausage- to a ridiculous degree. I'm not kidding. I never "cheated" as a vegetarian or vegan but nothing replaced that particular flavor for me- nothing. What can I say? It's a foodgasm.
Food is such a touchy subject and it never fails to amaze me how we can become so dogmatic and indignant about another person's choices on how they choose to eat. Though I understand that your diet is your own personal choice, I can't help but think of the families I saw huddled in tiny shacks in Soweto in Johannesburg, South Africa and think, "I doubt they shamed their neighbors for eating a certain way."

I am no saint here, when I was vegan I had to fight the urge not to preach and judge but I did fight it. I realized that though my smaller half wanted to get up on the soap box and preach, the bigger part of me wanted to respect the choices of others and tell the little part of me to shut the hell up and stop being a judgmental idiot. So I did. Now, I just take a breath and hope that there is understanding in the hearts around me and make sure that I don't judge anyone else- while I slip an extra package of sausage in among the fruit and veggies and quinoa in my cart and eye the New York Cheddar while wiping the drool off my chin.
But diets aside, when my children get picky and turn their nose up, I've actually heard myself say, "There are starving children in Africa and many other places, now eat your food." and they give me the stink eye, stare at their food like it will rear up and attack and then eat it- making sure to gag occasionally for effect.

It's then that I tell them how we, as a species, used to feast on certain days- holidays and holy days and otherwise it was stew and porridge and you ate for the pure sustinance of it- not because it tasted good.
Now, we eat for pleasure and we expect to feast at every meal and we pass that on to our children. I tell them how much I like to feast but how it is important to remember what the food is actually for.
How many times do parents in our culture hear how gross a particular food is? And how often is it catered to? What are we afraid will happen if the children don't like the way something tastes? What is the purpose of the food we eat and how often are we grateful that we have a choice in what passes through our lips and into our bellies? I don't know how often I am consciously grateful for the bounty of food around me and that means I need a reality check.
I think about this when my children push their food around their plates and complain about the different parts of the healthy food infront of them- And then I turn around to start washing the dishes and let them take the time they need to scrape their plates clean and fill their bellies. 

Things You Find When You Move

I've found so many things as I packed up boxes but the ones that stopped me in my tracks were the writings I had stashed in far too many boxes (no organization there!) in the eaves. Among them was this essay written when I was about seventeen or eighteen. I sat down to read it and was surprised by the philosophies I had. The first paragraph got me thinking:

Freedom: What Is The Pathway?

The American Heritage Dictionary describes freedom as "The condition of being free of restraints." Free is described as being "at liberty: not bound or constrained." Both of these definitions grasp only an outline of the actual meaning of the word. This is because each person has his or her own meaning for it, because freedom is an individual concept, in this essay, as author, I will be issuing my idea of it.

Humans can be divided into mind/spirit and body. To free ourselves of our body would be to free ourselves of the vessel in which our mind and spirit resides. Many people believe that this is freedom and some suggest that this means that death is the ultimate path to freedom.

I argue and state that, though without a body there is a sort of freedom, we are not restrained by purely physical forces and influences (i.e. our bodies and their limitations). So, death would only be a small form of freedom.

We are more restrained mentally and spiritually than physically. Our ideas are the lock on, as well as the key to, freedom.

It got me thinking about how I used to feel so much more empowered than I do today. Not that I am particularly unempowered but that I am not as enthusiastic about what will happen next and my ability to help create it. That anticipating- and the feeling that I could make things happen- sort of lagged. What a sad thing to find.
I remember that feeling of freshness every morning when I woke up, that "Wow- what will today hold?" and I was bursting with the excitement of it- even with my first child and then years went by and more children came and instead of jumping on board and finding adventures, I lapsed into a sort of lull in the enthusiasm department. I grew resentful of my lot, which, of course, I have the power to change. But I sort of lost my belief that I could change it. So, I sat there and whittled away the days mourning the lack of adventure, where, once, I would have gone looking for it. Something simple, like a walk on a lovely trail or trip to a river or the ocean. Or- playing a fun game with enthusiasm and laughter. Even the simple things, held so little enthusiasm and I chalked it up to "This is adulthood, isn't it?"- and was so disappointed.

There would be those moments when I got it back, but there weren't ever enough of those. Then I made this shift, answering this call back home and things began to shift in my mind as well. Then, while packing up for this huge new adventure, I find myself reading something I wrote so many years ago about how limited we make ourselves through our mental and spiritual states and I think "Woah! I didn't really get wiser in that department as I got older. Hm, time to revisit my youth and grab up some of that enthusiasm and embrace the lack of cynicism."
So, I read it and read it (and edited it in my mind and wanted to take a red pen to some of it- but I didn't) and then I thought about the power that we all hold in ourselves and how often that goes untapped. I thought of all the people who drive forward with their dreams and manifest them. Then I thought of what I had manifested and what I want to manifest and suddenly it wasn't so hard to believe that I could do it.
Sometimes a little check in like that can remind us of what we knew in the beginning but may have lost, or forgotten, along the way.

Oh- The Baseboards Are Up, We Must Be Moving

A dear friend once told me that when she came home and saw the baseboards were up in the house, she would turn to her parents and say, "We're moving again?"
That was the finishing touch, the one thing that said, "It's complete."
I know that feeling- though not as a child. Right now, all those things we meant to do but never did- all those things we started and never finished, those are getting done.

As I paint and paint and my husband fixes and mends and builds, I realize how spectacular the house will be- and then we will move. And not into just any house- we will move into a house that is in far worse shape and far larger than any house we have ever had. This is an undertaking that has me shaking in my boots with a mixture of anticipation to get colors up on the walls and anticipation of the long hours of hard work to get those same colors up- as well as the myriad of other projects waiting for me.

As we live out of duffle bags and pack up the last of our dishes, I look around at the home we have created these past years. I can see the place where my daughter stood at two for a photo shot or where my son still a little boy, pogo sticked his way down the street. So many memories made here and so many waiting to be made and I try so hard to find the balance between the two. I tend to glorify the past and I don't want to glorify, but honor, remember and move forward. Such a challenge at times.
So, the baseboards are up, the closet that was never painted is painted, the little odds and ends in the kitchen are finished and painted, the walls are patched and painted where they took a hit over the years and every thing is looking cheerfully redone.
I know that when the next people come in, this amazing little home will be happy to receive them and make them feel at home and for that, I am so grateful.

Why Is There a Wooden Stake in My Kitchen?

You know how- when you move- how you pack up all the stuff you won't need in the next couple weeks but leave out the stuff you will need? And then it's time to take care of those things you left out and instead of being "Kitchen" and "Living Room" it becomes two dishes, a pair of socks, a book, someone's long underwear and a toothbrush? This goes completely against my innate need for organization- not that you could tell I have this innate need if you saw my house half the time- but we won't go there.
I may go completely insane before this is said and done as I pick up the random toy, spoon, special drawing or painting.
"I already packed that box." and "When I said bring me all your toys, I really meant all  your toys. Now this one has to go into a random box." Keeps coming out of my mouth.

It's not the children's fault- if I am so affected by the chaos of my environment, it's amazing they haven't reverted all the way back into primates with an added crazed gleam in their eyes. They check out- taking dogs for walks and hitting the library at least every other day and often every day. And then I discover the stash of thirty-plus library books in their rooms, on the table in the kitchen, on randoms shelves and we have to talk about the importance of having some form of order in the house and how I could use help instead of finding children reading in various nooks and crannies.
I finally was so frustrated yesterday that I took it out on the actual boxes with a big, fat, stinky-could-get-you-high marker. In big block letters I wrote "RANDOM SHIT BOX". The whole time I was thinking "Take that, you random crap I have to take- and that- and that!"
You see, I have purged pretty thoroughly and in the beginning there was a release and excitement around it and now, I am so tired I have developed some strange form of packing ADD and no longer is it exciting, it's confusing. I walk into the kitchen to get to work in there and something takes me into the living room (most likely putting something away) and I get distracted by the living room and on and on until the whole day is gone and some more things are packed or headed to Goodwill but not one room is really done, if you know what I mean.

This makes me realize that I have control issues around yet another part of life- my surroundings. In my warped reality, the house is neatly packed with pretty labels that read "Kitchen" and then a full list of every item in the box- or- better yet--- a-- wait for it--- color photo catalog pamphlet of what items are in each box. Can you say "control freak"??

Instead, I fit things into boxes and mark them "RANDOM SHIT BOX" and then put contents on the sides like "Slippers", "dumbbells", "Shut-Box board", "kid art" & "natural medicine guide"-- because none of that went into the original boxes when we did the first two phases of packing up.
The strangest part of all this- with living out of a gym/duffle bag and having very few belongings, is that life is simpler. There isn't this chronic race to maintain belongings and there is a feeling of freedom and it makes me wonder how many more things may end up donated once I get to my new home. But with limited truck space, I sincerely hope we can hone it down before we leave.....

Gee, Thanks for Making Me a Social Outcast, Mom!

It was in the middle of my quest for duffle bags at Goodwill that I was informed that I had reached the lowest of the low as far as mother status goes.
My son, all six feet of him, presented me with an Xbox, "Mom, I will spend my own money. Can I buy this?"
When I answered him with a firm, "We've talked about this, you know where I stand on it. No."-
He began to argue with me about how I didn't understand and finished off with a searing, "You are making me an outcast of our society. You know that, don't you?"
"What?" I said, trying desperately not to crack up and piss him off further.
"You won't let me do cool things like play video games all day and watch movies all night. You won't let me own my own game station.- For birthdays and Christmas I get things like clothing and toys and books while my friends get iPods and laptops and Xboxes and green screens with camera equipment."
I did laugh then-
"Woah- you know one person who got green screen and camera equipment and that is way cool but you haven't shown the least bit of interest in that before yesterday so you can't even go there. Bring that up when you are way into photography and filming and we'll talk."
"Yeah, but you don't give me the cool stuff."
"Uh huh." I answered neutrally.

And then I thought about it. Nothing cool, huh? Well, let me think about this for a second: I made most of his toys along with his father until he was about 10, we took him to Renaissance fairs at least once a year, camped with him, gave him his favorite books, took/take him regularly to friends' houses and let him get movies about once a week- oh and he has his own little camera that is pretty cool and after homeschooling for a year and letting him explore his own learning, I don't see how he has much to complain about- then again, he's a teenager and a melancholic so he'll find something anyway.
So I said, "I'm going to have to disagree with you on that one. The answer is still no."
To which he responded, "Tell me WHY I can't have these things- WHY??!!"
"If I answer you, you have to listen this time. I'm not debating, I'm going to answer you honestly with my opinion and reasons and I don't want to be interrupted or argued with. Period. I'm the parent. Do you understand?"
"Fine." He said and I began.

I explained to him how these things that make us experience life in a passive way are literally changing our brain structure. I explained how I notice from my own parental experiments how when we didn't have any screen time, the whole family was more engaged and happy- fewer arguments, not a single mention of being bored (well not after the first week)- and how I felt that it was important to remember that life didn't- and doesn't- happen on or in front of a screen. I then said that I love movies and I am a big fan of Tetris (I know, weird) and that I understand completely the lure of the screen. I also explained that this aside, I felt that experiencing life and playing a game of Scrabble with your family as opposed to online with a computer was a fuller and more lively experience.
I finished off with the explanation that when I read about professors reporting that their students request being able to text each other in class to discuss topics for class instead of face to face in a group, that our society has a serious issue with screens. Seriously.
It's all about the balance- we do watch movies, we're no strangers to YouTube and we have played video games sans the game station-- and I am doing my best.
He was quiet. "I think this sucks, Mom." He said.
"I know but I think you'll thank me in about 10 years."
"I doubt it." He answered.

Well, at his age, that's the answer you generally get. Adolescence is rough and moving away from everyone and feeling the need to fit in even before you arrive at your new destination, is understandable. What if he doesn't know the newest video game because his annoying mom hasn't let him play it? What if he's never seen a particular movie because that same unmentionable mom won't let him see it? And what if, he has to spend his days reading, writing, drawing and playing in the river and fishing? What on earth would happen then?
I hope he'll make peace with me about this some day but until then I'm making a cape that reads "Maker of the Social Outcast"- and I'm wearing it-- with tights.