yeah, so, hi there

Okay, the last post I wrote: I didn't mean that I was out of blogging. I just needed some rest. I have not felt very rested in the last few days, so not blogging obviously didn't help so much.

Well, then. November is almost over. Last night, I was thinking to myself (y'know, as opposed to thinking to someone else), "NaBlo? Really? Who was I kidding?" I probably could have done it if I had jumped right back in, but I just haven't had it in me this month. I have had a whole lot on my perpetual to-do list, but not a lot to share in this space. And, not a lot of energy to even get myself around to this space.

I'm working on all of that.

For the last few days, though, I've been trying to figure out how to reach a state of peace for more than a few minutes at a time. How do you do that? Really?

There has been lots of walking 'round these parts. Autumn is quickly fading and I know the next three weeks will rush right by, so I've been getting out into it as much as I can (and, I've been dragging the family with me).

Ah! I'm so scattered today. I'm writing to get myself back into the habit. And, as a way to find some peace. I'm writing to remind myself that in three-and-a-half weeks, I'll have a moment to breathe. A lot of moments. Ah, yes. That, I am looking forward to.

toxic love

I've got plenty of, well, crap swirling around in my head right now. I feel full of uncertainties and questions and also a lot of hurt for other people. I think, after a pretty rough patch a few weeks ago, a patch full of briars that threatened to hold onto my skin, I'm actually okay. I'm kind of exhausted, which makes it difficult to ponder too much about anything for an extended amount of time without falling asleep, but I really do think I'm okay. Or, at least, I'll be okay.

This does not stop the confusion and pain, though. Perhaps I'm just realizing that's part of life. I can feel that pain but not take it on as my own? I wonder if I'm capable of this, or if the pain is just waiting for me to allow myself to fall into old habits? As I said, it's only been a few weeks since the last low.

But, oh, the questions. Why do we hide so much of our pain from others? Is it because we are ashamed that we are allowing ourselves to endure this pain? I feel this way sometimes; I want to just tell people, "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," even when I'm not because I know I shouldn't allow myself to not be fine. But, is that always a choice? I want to say yes and no at the same time. Yes, I'm allowing myself to wallow and hurt. No, the hurt and fear are uninvited and don't intend to leave and I can't do anything about that.

I get why I don't hide my hurt with others, but do others hide their hurt away? Is it because they believe no one can help them? Because they feel they have to get through whatever it is alone? Because we're always supposed to look good on the outside no matter how screwed up everything seems when no one is looking too closely?

Sometimes I feel that facade is a lie. Not just a cover, a protection against unwelcome eyes, but a lie. Life isn't always easy and I think sometimes we can make it more difficult by hiding the difficulties. Does the hiding somehow extend the trouble and pain? I wonder. We spend so much time trying to bury what's wrong that we don't address it, put it out there in the world, let it go?

I have lots of questions, but no real, coherent answers.

So, because I am afraid to go back to the constant wall-building and darkness, pain and, well, more fear, I've asked for help. I've asked for help once before, at a time when not asking would have resulted in something I can't think about. This time around, I'm feeling like I'm rowing calmly on a somewhat placid lake, not like I'm hoping for a dinky little lifeboat as I clutch a railing on the Titanic.

So, I've asked for help. If I can offer help, I'm here. I probably don't have any good answers, but I can just be here and listen. And, I hope that helps.

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I didn't mean to ramble so much, to think through writing only to come to no conclusions, but there it is. I'm starting to question whether there's not some great celestial event or something that can explain the current turmoil I see around me. Because I can't explain it any other way, so it might be time to start blaming the stars or the alignment of the planets or something.

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On a much lighter note, as I try to skim the surface and not sink, I told Cardo that I may just be toxic, and then I couldn't get this song out of my head:



"Hexxus (Tim Curry) sings Toxic Love"

Ah, Tim Curry.

compare and contrast

[The following is another post I wrote long-ish ago and never got around to posting here. I was trying to figure out a rhythm in this space before I posted these writings. I think I've got it figured it, even if my practice has not been perfect.]

I wonder if it's human nature to make comparisons between people. There are times I feel it's all we do, but I think I'm incredibly sensitive and I have this inferiority complex coupled with a vicious streak of perfectionism (yes, it's fun here in my head).

But, really, right now, I'm thinking about this in terms of being a parent. It seems like, from the start, people are checking 'em out and sizing 'em up*. It's all about when our respective kids rolled over, started crawling, got teeth. How old was your kid when she started walking? How many words or signs did your kid know by the time he was a year old? My kid started talking in complete sentences when he was nine months old. Oh, really? Mine was already reading Tolstoy by then...when she wasn't composing concertos and starting the newest dada revolution.

Or something.

Actually, at first I felt like this was the tenor of a lot of conversations and I tried not to get sucked in, but I wasn't always successful. I can go on and on about how long it seemed to take Pic to finally start crawling. (How old was she? I can't even remember now. Eight months? Ten months? All I know for sure is that she started at some point and has long since moved on.)

I had a nice big freak-out around the time she was four. She wasn't reading picture books on her own by then. I couldn't sit her down with The Piggy in the Puddle and have her give a reading for us.

I've worked really hard to not feel any pressure when it comes to any of that anymore. I've tried to not put any pressure on any others either. I know that I probably still ask those questions -- Oh, is she starting to walk now? -- but I leave my responses to the more general 'oh' or 'uh-huh, well everyone learns/develops at his or her own pace, right?' variety. I really try.

But, back to what I was saying above: is it natural that we make these comparisons or am I so far entrenched in a system of constant evaluation/ranking/hierarchizing that to be without that feels wrong?

The questions I get about Pic now are along the lines of what she's learning and how much she knows. Is she learning? Does she know the requisite very-young-person stuff? Is she finished with kindergarten?

I find my reactions to these questions range from discomfort to amusement. I obsess so much about the reading thing for reasons I won't go into now, that I want to be able to answer that she's reading and comprehending and thinking critically about Hamlet by now. I mean, duh, of course, why wouldn't she be, right, with a mom who has deep roots in literature? I'm striving to keep all of that anxiety bottled up or scribbled in my own writing to keep it away from Pic, but it's not easy.

As far as the other questions, the questions about her grade level? I find those a bit amusing. We're not homeschoolers who are replicating school at home. We're unschoolers. Pic's never been in a grade. She's never been a part of the K-12 deal (although we always called daycare 'school' when she was going). She'd be in kindergarten had we sent her to more traditional schooling**. But, here's the thing: we didn't. We didn't send her off to school. She's not in any grade. If she stays home, she'll never be in any grade. I'll never be able to tell someone what grade she's in. I have no idea how she'll respond to this question when she starts getting it herself.

I know the whole concept freaks people out and I'll tell you, it freaks me out a bit, too. I was all about school when I was there. I'm kind of still all about it. I was good at school. It's one of the only things I've ever been really good at. I was good at the tasks and the tests and the worksheets and getting the right grades. I myself am learning how to exist outside of that. I'm not even really certain we can live completely outside of that as the career Pic has chosen for herself will require a college degree.

I'm waiting for someone to ask if Pic is happy or where her passions are instead of the more focused questions about content and grade-level of her learning. I think we're all so ensconced in the rhetoric of schooling that it takes a paradigm shift to be able to discuss learning outside of multiple-choice and essays and scantrons and report cards.

* I actually have a children's book named this. I haven't ever read the book and I have no idea where exactly it is right now, but really...

** I always find it strange to call public/private school 'traditional' because I feel homeschool was probably more the traditional schooling well before 'brick-and-mortar schools replaced them as the new traditional. I also don't like to always say 'brick-and-mortar' because then I like to mentally shorten that to 'b-&'m' schools and then I just start thinking 'bm' as in 'bowel movement' and, yes, I really do think about everything this much.

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11/3: Wow, it's been a whole bunch of weeks since I wrote that. I had almost forgotten about it. I wrote it probably somewhere near the beginning of the summer. I'd like to add a bit:

I was very obsessed with the topic for a while because I was hearing how another's child was doing so very well in the traditional school subjects. I felt like a 'And how's Pic doing?' was implied at the end of each statement. I have definitely calmed down over the last few months. Perhaps it has something to do with entering a new decade in my life and deciding that I need to shift so much of my life, to step back, to calm down, to find happiness in what I have.

At the time of the conversation I just (kind of) mentioned, I decided I was just going to say 'That's really great for [whoever]." I figured this would be a good, general response to these situations in which I was feeling uncomfortable, threatened even. I know that I need to remove myself from competitive situations if I want to accomplish much and feel good about myself. I mean, hello, I am creating competitive situations out of thin-freaking- air, so I definitely need to chill.

After using that standard response a couple of times, I started to really get behind it. Because I really do think it's great that your child is reading (I love reading) or that his child is flying through math or that her child picked up playing the piano like it what the child was born to do. I also think lots of things Pic does are great.

Rationally, I know that others aren't constantly challenging me to prove how fabulous my own child is. I know that I bring this all on myself. I also know that my own child is her very own person and I am not responsible for her accomplishments. I feel that I am responsible for trying to expose her to/guide her to/teach her what she is interested in.

Also, I now know how Pic would respond to someone asking what grade she's in. I'll write about it later, as I've written to much here...without even saying all that I wanted to say. I'll remind myself that I like to think through my writing and that this is definitely bloggy-type writing and that I'm swirling around too much in my head on this topic right now.

tired, but determined

I feel right about on the verge of having entirely too much to do. I also feel that I'm just not going to allow myself to melt down. I'm really sticking with this determination.

I think I have to realize that late August through the end of the year is always my busiest time. (Remind me of this when I say that late January through late May is my busiest time.) I think I'm right, though. Last year, when we joined our fabulous homeschooling group, we had a flurry of activity in these end-of-the-year months. Then? Not much going on group-wise. We started to pick back up with the nicer weather, for regular out-of-doors get-togetheres, but the group had shrunk. We're starting to grow again, and we've had a lot and we've got a lot scheduled. I know that, statistically or logically or whatever, I cannot say that things will slow way down come the new year, but I am thinking they will.

I've recently had to put off a project I've been looking forward to working on. I just can't get my head wrapped around* making it work for the others involved and myself. I don't often lament being a one-car family (I won't allow myself to), but, seriously, sharing one car is often inconvenient for me.

There's so much more I could be doing right now, and so much more I want to be doing right now, but I'm going to try to focus on what I am doing right now. It might seem to make sense to drop some things that don't benefit me in glarlingly obvious ways (paycheck-earning, socializing, ecc), but the activities I'm holding onto are like soul salve. So, I'll continue walking (I usually walk at least an hour a day)because it keeps me sane and I'll continue writing here because I like the habit. I would like to do one or two more things just for myself, but I can't seem to figure out if I should first add to my activities and let everything settle where it will or if I should smooth myself into a rhythm first and then add to it.

Perhaps I shouldn't overthink so much? Probably. Right now, though, I'm tired and I think I'll just close my eyes for a while and let my subconscious work on it as the rest of me rests.

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* What a weird image that is, no? Heads wrapped around things. Kind of freaky, actually.

dream journal

I actually own a fancy little journal in which I've recorded a dream or two. I think the last time I did so was at least a decade ago. I like to think about my dreams, but I start to forget details pretty quickly. I forget most of my dreams entirely pretty quickly after I wake up.

Some, though, stick with me. And, every once in a while, I wish that I actually record my dreams right after I wake up. But, geez, dreams are hard for me to capture. Mine aren't always so linear and don't always make so much sense, and I start to forget things as I try get it all down on paper.

Last night, I had one of those sticking dreams. Actually, I had several dreams. This, I remember. What the other dreams were about, I forget.

What I do remember: I dreamt that I was a teenager again, living with my parents. My dream-parents (who were the same as my actual parents), filed for bankruptcy and moved us out of our house, into a two-bedroom, one-bath, tiny apartment (let's see, at about the time I was dreaming about, there would have been something like five or six of us living in our house). For whatever, reason, it took me a while to realize that we had moved, that the apartment was our new home. I really started to freak out, though, when I asked my mom if 'they' (whoever was in charge of our money at this point) would let us go back to the house to get my books. My told me they wouldn't and I flipped out. I started screaming about not being able to leave my books, about needing to go rescue at least half of them, about not caring if someone else lived there now, I would burst in and get all of my books. I was having a hard time breathing.

That's what I remember. Now, I like to analyze my own dreams. I believe that I worry even in my sleep. I don't think that my dreams -- at least the ones I remember -- are symbolic of something totally different (books? that must mean I will soon swim the English Channel, and the like). I think this dream shows what I worry about (money) and what I value, perhaps a bit too much (books).

Also, I dream that I'm a teenager again a lot. A lot of people I know and knew show up in these dreams, which are overlaid with my current worries. Actually, I sometimes worry about teenage things in those dreams, too ("what the heck is my locker combination again? I'm going to be so late to class because I can't remember it!"). I don't even live in the present when I sleep.

running on fumes

So very exhausted.

Every time I think that I'm just about caught up, that I should be able to take a moment to stop, breathe and clean the pet hair from every single surface in my home, I realize that I am nowhere near finished with my obligations. And, at the same time that I'm silently cursing myself for repeatedly doing this, year after year, I am also thankful to have so much to do. I don't do well with too little. I also don't do well with self-imposed dealines. I need the pressure of those who aren't me.

But, I'm trying to shift that focus. As days seem to slip by with so many things left undone, I more and more want time for and with my own family. I'm trying to figure out if this is something I really want or if this is classic me who's all, "Hey grass over there, you certainly look greener than grass over here! Maybe I'll come over and check you out."

Okay, so much to contemplate right now, but absolutely no time for that contemplation to take place. Why is September melting away like a snow cone in Vegas in mid-August?

Twenty-four hours from now, I plan on being much less exhausted and much more coherent. Here's to that, at least.

screens and sleep, not the best of friends

We've been spending much less time in front of screens lately, especially in the evening. (In fact, I'm about to be signing off here shortly.) This has made getting to sleep at night somewhat easier, but it has made it much more difficult for me to visit this space. Especially because when I do enter the ether, I want to check out other people's blogs before I start working on my own.

So, I'll be slowly working on how to work visiting into this space into my daily rhythm. I am thinking that will mean much more writing by hand and transcribing (or whatever the typing equivalent of that is) later. For now, I'll be sharing little bits here and there, although I have a lot of thoughts for longer posts mulling in my head.

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A bit of conversation from the other night:

I was telling Pic that the backs of my knees hurt (reason: sunburn...ouch). She told me, "My legs hurt, too. It hurts my craps."

I asked her, ignoring that I had no idea what "it" was, "Your what?"

"My craps."

"What?"

"Craps."

Insert my thoughtful pause here. Pic points at her leg and asks, "What are these?"

"Oh! Your calves!"

Never a dull moment.

(un)inspired

I was surfing around here in the interweb, looking for some post inspiration when I saw that NaBlo's post topic for tomorrow is "How do you feel about endings?" Um, I'm pretty sure I've about covered that topic.

It's beginnings right now that I'm worrying about. Or, false starts. Or, pipe dreams. (Or something.) An ending usually implies a beginning following. And, yes, there is a "beginning" door I'll choose to go through in just a few short days. However, I've let myself build up my hopes for something that I'm not sure is going to come through. I'm working on thinking that either, yes, our plans will be realized, or, no, it's not the end of the world. (I've always had a flair for the very quiet, internal dramatic.)

In the meantime, I'll try to psych myself up with upbeat music and peppy thoughts. That oughta do it, no?


"Johnny Nash-I Can See Clearly Now"

on endings

Endings make me anxious. No matter how much I look forward to (certain) endings and count down the days, hours, minutes, the closer I get, the more real an ending seems, the more nervous I get about what will come next. Perhaps I shouldn't be like this. Perhaps I should be reveling in the moment (that's the current party line, yes? and it's even one I completely agree with, but it's one I have a difficult time living up to).

So, very soon, I'll reach an end of my latest venture. And, I've been looking forward to the possibilities that opens up, while I've been trying to let myself completely enjoy what it is I've been doing.

At the same time, I'm forgetting. Sometimes, I think this is part of how humans get through life. If we couldn't forget the stress and the pain, if those memories didn't fade allowing the awesome memories to shine, how and why would any of us get out of bed in the morning?

I've forgotten how stressed and close to my lowest-low I was just several months ago. I'm forgetting how little sleep I've allowed myself and how disconnected from my family I've let myself become over the last two-and-a-half months. While I'm not ever really comfortable with change, I'm actually pretty quick to adapt to it and then forget that anything different came before and that anything different might follow.

I think this is part of why Cardo loves having committed himself to sticking with me until one of us is no longer of this world. Really.

So, my goal for the upcoming months is to learn to be open to possibilities and to realize that there are possibilities. I might not like all of them, but they're there. I need to remember that my choices have led me where I am. I've chosen this. I'm big on stressing that right now with Pic -- talking to her about why we choose to spend our time and money the way we do, about why Cardo and I chose that these last eight months have gone the way they have, and so on.

So, right now, I'm going to choose to not freak out about three weeks from now and three months from now and three years from now (I could really go on), because there isn't much I can do about those days right now.

I'm also going to choose to work for the next two-and-a-half hours and then go home and not watch the Nancy Drew movie again.

self-revelation: lit edition

I had never really thought about what draws me in about the literature I like. Okay, so that might not be entirely true. I know why I like some of what I like, but I've recently learned something more about my literary tastes: I like good characters. And, yes, "good" is entirely subjective, but I like characters that have some life to them. Characters with personality. Characters I can get attached to. Characters who I want to visit book after book after book. (Why, yes, I did just finish reading the Kinsey Millhone series again. And, as I said, "good" is subjective, but I like the characters in Grafton's books.)

I am right now reading a book I really thought I'd enjoy immensely. I like retellings (different perspectives, updated settings, so on) and I'm trudging through one right now. It's a subject I like, too. Something nerdy, where I can pick out all the references I actually get. The audience, I would guess, is preteen, so that might be part of the problem. However, I've read lit for this age group before, and very recently, not just when I was a preteen, and enjoyed it. With this book, though, I feel like I'm only allowed to skim along the surface of a very shallow pond. I don't feel connected to the characters. I feel the books is completely plot-driven, as if the writer is ticking off items on a list of points he wants to hit. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with plot-driven texts, as opposed to character-driven texts (or, as opposed to whatever driving forces there might be), but I realize that it's not for me.

Give me quirky, real, deep characters and I'll happily read about them doing the most mundane tasks.

(I'll have to keep all of this in mind should I ever decide to try my hand at writing fiction.)

So, I'm taking book suggestions now, please. Actually, I'm always taking book suggestions. I'm not sure exactly why, as my list of "to-read"s is about a gazillion books long, but I'm always eager to add to the list. I thank you kindly in advance.

dream a little dream

It's funny to me how our family daydreaming shifts, and how my own daydreaming shifts.

So many years ago, I dreamt of Pic reaching school age and us dropping her off in her little classroom. Cardo and I do most of our dreaming together and I remember autumn days, walking through little neighborhoods, imagining Pic coming home from school with art projects, tales of new friends and reports of new favorite books.

I imagined visiting Pic's classroom: a low-ceilinged room with a row of windows and painted cinderblock walls. The bulletin boards would be covered in maps and pictures and written projects. There would be bookshelves full of well-loved, dog-eared books near the reading rug. Tiny desks would be stuffed with crayons, papers and pencils. A big cabinet would sit off to the side, and it would be full of paint pots, glue, safety scissors and construction paper. Cubbies would hold lunch boxes and thermoses, gloves and hats.

When we contemplated neighborhoods we might want to one day move to, we wondered whether the schools were any good (although, honestly, we never thought too much about that).

These visions no longer reflect what we want, though. Less than six months ago, we decided we weren't sending Pic off to school. It's taken a bit for us to grow into this decision, but I'm more comfortable with and excited about the decision every day.

Most of our ideas about what we want in a home remain, without the niggling concern about where nice, close schools are.

Now, instead, we daydream about a library in our home -- a room full of natural light and built-in bookcases. I'd like a space on one wall to display Pic's work (and, perhaps, my own). We dream of a warm hearth around which we can spend cozy evenings, reading, playing board games or watching movies together. Plenty more little dreams fill this imaginary space.

It's both scary and exciting to think about the options we have in deciding where our lives are going. Scary because I (let myself) become overwhelmed when I have too many options, when there seems to be a gaping maw of space in front of me rather than a clearly defined path.

In the meantime, we'll continue to walk down familiar local paths while our thoughts soar.

love and be loved*

"My Princess Boy"

I love that the mom in this story, Cheryl Kilodavis, ends the segment with talk of acceptance. I'm not a fan of the word tolerance, as in, "We should tolerate others [or, Others]." That word -- tolerance -- always makes me think of something we're disdaining, something we don't want in our presence, but something we're putting up with nonetheless.

I'm still not a huge fan of the terms "princess boy" and "tomboy," but I'm glad to see this discussion made public. I doubt it's easy for these parents and this community to work against what seems right (but what is only "right" because we, as a society, think that boys who dress in dresses are inherently broken or wrong). I am constantly reaffirming for Pic that people dress differently to express themselves differently. I'm pretty sure she's heard countless times, from me, that it's okay if a boy wants to wear a dress, too, because maybe he likes the way it looks on him, just the same as Pic loving the way her dresses look on her. I've always thought it was unfair for boys and men that they aren't "allowed" to wear dresses and make-up and high heels because that somehow makes them less male.

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* I somehow forgot to title this, so I threw something on there hours after I hit "publish post." Oops.

necessary simplicity

A couple of weeks ago, I set myself up for a ridiculously busy week. I hope that I have learned from it: next time around (next year?) plan better...duh. I made it through that week, but I was incredibly exhausted. All last week, I still felt like I was recovering. I just felt like I couldn't catch up. This week has had a much more promising start (let's hope that continues throughout the week, please).

I have needed a lot of simplicity in a lot of areas of my life because I've gone and overwhelmed myself in just enough ways. This morning, I woke up at a decent hour and then I closed my eyes again. The next time I looked at the clock, it was two hours later. Who knows how long Cardo and Pic had been up by then. I took my time making and eating breakfast (Pic requested cold cereal and I made myself cream of wheat, one of my ultimate comfort foods). Then, I started to get set up for the day. Pic wanted to go outside and play with her hula hoop. I've grown weary (already) of having to continuously tell her, "Mamma made an iffy decision a couple of months ago and you constantly have to wait, sorry," so we moved our operation outside. Well, first I got dressed at some late hour in the day. Pic got to hoop, run around in the grass and climb a tree. I got to read and prepare for the coming week. I even got to play with the hula hoop for a while.



When we returned home, we had a very, very simple dinner. Pic had cheese and grapes and I had mini bagels with cream cheese and tomatoes.



I needed this day to be full of this quiet and simplicity. And, I need many more days of listening to and responding to Pic's and my needs. And, I need to learn to work out some satisfactory balance in my life. And, I need to learn my limits and accept them (unless I really feel like pushing them).

And, I need sleep.

I hope you are finding peaceful, simple moments in your own lives. G'night.

silver linings and whatnot

I've had an exhausting beginning of the week, and I've got a few more days of little sleep and long hours (like so many others, yes, I know). At one point today, I was running from one building to another, laden with bags, puffing along. I hate to be so late that I'm running. Most of the time, I'm grateful to not be noticed at all, but I feel like I'm hard to miss when I'm inadvertently making such a spectacle of myself. I walked into my next commitment less than a minute before I was needed there. I despise being late. And, to me, moments before start time is tardiness. Worse? I arrived with a bladder that I'm sure had swollen to about nine times it's normal size. (Yesterday, I didn't hydrate myself enough, so today I overcompensated.)

I was unhappy with myself for not managing my time better and I let that set the tone for the rest of my afternoon. For the next few hours, after my sprint, which followed not nearly enough nourishing food (or, food, period), I felt my energy wane. By the time I headed home, I was practically asleep on my feet. Pic on the other hand was bouncing all over the place. I know both of those descriptions are pretty cliche, but both are so incredibly fitting.

She and I made it home and I immediately stripped off my slacks and blouse and donned an oversized t-shirt. I fed myself (Pic wasn't hungry). I started to relax, just a tiny bit. I sat down at the computer and opened my personal e-mail and found two pictures of Pic practicing yoga this morning. Cardo said he and Pic will be practicing a bit together tomorrow also.

So, yes, it's been a long and not-altogether-pleasant day, but any day that ends with this

belongs put into the "good" column.

It's days like this that make me realize both that I love what I do, the thing that takes me away from my home, and that I don't want to be so torn between the one and the other.

baking up some hostility

After I picked Pic up today, we were driving home and listening to NPR. As the ninth anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks approaches, the news media has given plenty of time to the story about Reverend Terry Jones's plan to burn copies of the Quran on Saturday, September 11. I was giving Pic a very broad summary of what happened nine years ago and of what is going on with Jones. She decided that Jones's plan "isn't very nice." A few minutes after we were discussing this ("Wait, can you tell me what the Quran is again?" she asked), we heard that Jones had called off his plan, which she decided was a "nice" thing. (Now, of course, there's more to the story even.)

Much later this evening, after we got home from our family park time and walk, Pic told Cardo, "Papi, on the radio today, we heard a story about a man who was going to bake some books, but he's not going to now."

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Just trying to condense the stories for her was difficult for me. There are times I want to shelter her from everything ugly in the world, but I know that's not possible. First off, I'm not perfect. There're times when I act like a jerk and get snappy and have to apologize to Pic or Cardo or others. Second, I want her to be informed and to have opinions on what is going on in the world. I do a lot of presenting stories to her and asking her what she thinks. I'd like to say that I present everything in a completely unbiased way, but I honestly think that's not possible. (I've given this a lot of thought over the years and I really don't believe that there's such thing as being completely objective in writing or speech. We bring an entire set of experiences with us to every situation.) I do try to present more than one viewpoint to her, but sometimes I'm not even good at that. Ah, well. Third, I listen to NPR often. I do a lot of reading, but I mainly read news to myself (I do a lot of reading aloud, just not news stories so much). Pic is with me often, which means that she often is at least exposed to what I'm listening to. I'm not sure how much she listens to what I listen to, but she's there.

For now, I appreciate how simply she sees the world. People are either nice or they should be nice. She believes that everyone is good, even if only deep down, and she loves everyone. I know these are signs she lives a good life and wants for nothing. For this, I am grateful. I'll figure out the rest as it comes.

down in the funk; or, ridiculous squabbling

I've been feeling in a definite funk lately. It's one of those major rethinking funks wherein I'm wondering if I'm satisfied with my choices (and, at the same time, feeling jerky for even wondering when my life is pretty freaking fantastic). As I told Cardo the other day, I sometimes wonder if I've done things in the wrong order somehow. But, really, whose order am I looking at? Why am I even worried about this? It's not as if there is some plan out there, writ large, dictating what we all do. Anyhow, if there was, knowing the way I do things, I'd deviate from that plan. So, what's my deal? Chissa?

And, when I'm feeling in this mood, I end up questioning how I'm contributing to this family. I actually start wondering if I am even contributing, which I know is ridiculous. I know it, but I forget. Then, Cardo and I devolve into arguing over who does less. Oh, geez. I can't wait for Pic to just assert, "Hey, guys, you're being ridiculous. Things rock. Stop whining."

I really think it's just too easy for me to fall into that old American dream trap (or, what seems to be the new American dream trap). More ridiculousness! Because working endless hours to buy a bunch of crap is definitely not what I want. I want time with my family. And, yes, I could always do with some more books. But I don't want brand new cars, flat screen plasma tvs, cable/satellite/whatever, fancy new phones, a fancy new house, ecc. I want what I have. So, what the crap? I don't know.

Thanks, Mighty Interweb, I think you've just allowed me to talk myself out of my utter silliness.

with honors

I kind of half-watched this earlier, as I was preparing for the upcoming week. (Yes, I know, when I try to do two or more things at once, I do none of them well.)


"What is the Constitution?" [from the movie With Honors]

This scene is probably always relevant, but it seems to me to be even more so right now when I have been hearing so many pleas to return to the original intentions of the founders of the US. To those who argue this, I have to ask, "Really?" Even if they argue that we return to the original document (because the use of "intentions" doesn't sit well with me), I have to wonder. And, yes, if I presented this monologue from With Honors, they'd probably have to ask me, "Really?" Yes.

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On a note way off to the side here, speaking of parking lots, until very recently I thought the song "Big Yellow Taxi," included the lyrics, "big paradise, put up a parking lot." I never really paid attention to the other lyrics. (And, for an even further confession, I had never heard Joni Mitchell sing the song until just now.)


"big yellow taxi - joni mitchell in concert 1970"

label-maker

I have this life-long love of language. I think about it, obsess about it, very, very often. I give probably entirely too much thought about words and phrases. Even when I seem to be just rambling, I'm concurrently analyzing everything I say, or storing it away for later analysis. And, because I have no real main, unifying topic for this here blog, I figure I might as well allow myself to wax on about terminology when I feel the urge.* So, here goes.

Back here, I said that I'd talk about the term "homeschooling." I keep using the term, but really only because I haven't wanted to reveal just how out on the edge I seem to be.** However, I think it's finally time for me to just write this post.

Yes, I identify us as homeschoolers, but more than that, I align us with unschoolers. We don't use a curriculum and we never have (and I don't intend to). There are times that I have directed what Pic is doing and I'm sure I'll find myself doing that in the future. It's difficult to completely diverge from my own experience, so this whole adventure will be a learning process. I am consciously trying to just go with what works for us and what we are interested in, though. I see no reason to set Pic down with a textbook or a worksheet unless she asks for such. And, please, before you roll your eyes, I actually used to ask for textbooks to read for pleasure. I recently bought myself a middle school math book from a rummage sale. I like to practice math problems. I like workbooks and textbooks. And, yes, I'm a total nerd. However, I don't know that Pic will be the same. I'm waiting to find that out.

I've heard a lot of talk and have read a lot of information on unschooling being child-led, but I am thinking more family-led. Yes, I am working to do my absolute very best in allowing Pic to choose what direction she'd like to go in her learning. I ask her what she is interested in learning about and she requests books on specific topics from the library. She chooses which movies she wants to watch and chooses many of her activities. We don't always do everything she wants, but if we don't follow her desires, we provide her with a reason why we're not going there. For example, Pic wanted to go swimming today, but it was really weirdly cold and windy and Cardo and I didn't want to hang out in the outdoor pool we have access to. We probably could have gone, even if only for a few minutes, and this is definitely an example of us not being too stellar, but we didn't just tell her, "No. Because we said so," and leave it at that. We told her why we didn't want to go and we asked her if she had any other ideas for what to do instead. We played for a good bit out at a park she chose, playing games she chose, after we visited the library where she choose books and a movie. I know this all probably comes across one of two ways. One: You might be thinking, "Duh. This is no revolutionary way to raise a child. Saying yes to things she'd like to do? You should have taken her swimming. What's wrong with you?" (Okay, I really hope you're not that harshly judgmental.) Two: "Why would you give your child so much power? The parents are in charge and kids have to do what the parents say. The end." (I also hope you're not this harshly judgmental.) Pic is a part of our family. Yes, she's younger and has less experiences than we do, but she's still a person. I don't see why we can't do and learn and explore with her. Whenever we want to tell her no about something, I want to have a good reason why. Often, on our walks, she'll ask if she can walk barefoot. Probably a year ago, we'd say no and leave it at that. Now, though, we tell her, "Okay. Please look out for glass [which we occasionally see] and let us know if you want to put your shoes back on." Nothing earth-shattering, but our lives are so much easier.

In fact, since we made the choice to not send Pic off to school, we all seem to be much more relaxed. When we're all together, most often, we have nothing to rush off to. We are able to spend leisurely time together. It's the "quality time" so many are often striving to fit into their days. We so enjoy our time together, hanging out at parks and walking/biking/rollerskating, that this really was one of the many reasons we decided to skip the normal school choice.

So, wow, I've said a lot and I haven't even really said what I wanted yet. ("Oh, no, I've said too much/I haven't said enough.") What did I want to say? We aren't just homeschoolers. We aren't just keeping Pic home from school and replicating the schoolroom at home. As I said, we aren't purchasing or otherwise acquiring a curriculum. So, we fit into the category of unschoolers. I am working on whole-life unschooling, but some of us (ahem) are a little more resistant to that. We'll work on it. But, here's the thing. No matter how much I love the idea of unschooling, I'm not the hugest fan of the term unschooling. I'm not exactly sure what it is, but I'm thinking several things. I don't like the negative connotation. I, for the most part, loved school. What I loved was the learning and the (very) few close friends I had. However, Pic can, and does, have all of that without the school building, without the taunting and peer pressure. (We'll see how those negative aspects of life pop up in Pic's life. I'm not looking forward to it.)

I recently saw the term "homelearning." I've probably seen it before, but it just struck me the other day. I really like the focus on learning there. What I'm really liking, though, is "life learning." [If you've been paying incredibly close attention, for whatever reason, you'll notice that I started using the tag "life learning" just before I announced our not-off-to-school plans.] Pic hasn't been formally schooled, yet she has learned plenty. She's been in daycare, but left before the kindergarten program started (she started at eighteen months and left when she was almost four-and-a-half). We had planned on her going to kindergarten, but, well, I started tuning into this whole world of (secular) homeschooling and unschooling. So, yes, we haven't started on the K-12 experience. And, yet, the other day, as we were counting out quarters for the bus, she told me, "We need sixteen. We have twelve, so we need four more." Just like that. She didn't even stop to think about it. I haven't taught her to subtract. I wasn't even helping her count the quarters. All I told her was that we needed sixteen. This was kind of the a-ha moment for me. Although I've heard it many times, that people can and do learn from life, I was seeing it in action. It was a small moment, but potent.

Okay. That was long, but it's late and I'm awake, so I'm rambling. In case you couldn't tell, I think through writing. It is through writing that I often come to understanding. So, Great Interweb, thank you for providing this space for me to spew my thoughts. And, thank you for providing for me oh-so-many resources and community members for this next great adventure.

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* Just an example or two. In this sentence, I had first typed "since" instead of "because." I changed it because I've heard that "since" should only be used to indicate a passage of time. For example: Since I was three, I've been determined to teach. Also, I typed "theme" instead of "topic," but, well, "theme," in literature, implies not only a subject, but a statement or judgment about that subject. For example: subject/topic: love; theme: love is a many-splendored thing. And, yes, oh geez, I could just live in my head.

** Also, the term "homeschooling" is convenient and familiar.

on my islandness

Yes, I know that "islandness" is not a word. Just go with it.

It is very often that I say something and then continue to think about it days, weeks, months (or, even years) afterward. You'd be amazed. Or, just really, really sad.

A couple of posts ago, I wrote something about being an island or on an island, but that's really kind of silly. I have been thinking about this more and more lately. It just so happens that, at the moment, the more conservative members of the group are more vocal, which probably leads to those who are not like-minded being a bit more quiet. They might feel there isn't a place for their voice. In the meantime, I'm feeling that I have to be the somewhat neutral party in the room, but I hope our discussions can be a bit more balanced in the coming months.

So, that's what's been on my mind lately.

tales out of high school

In twelfth grade, I, along with all the other seniors at my high school, took American Government. I have a few particularly strong memories from that class. It taught me to carry as much as possible in my pockets when I fly (y'know, in case the plane splashes down into the ocean and I need a snack or a magnifying glass). I was reminded yet again that my being good at school is kind of embarrassing and that I'm not comfortable sharing this nerdiness with classmates. And, I learned, that I was one of very few liberals I knew.

We did an activity -- I can't even remember what it was now -- to figure out if we fly left or right. Out of a class of 20+, there were a whopping two of us, myself and one of my very best friends ever, who leaned liberal. (I'm not sure if this friend still identifies herself with us left-wingers or not and I'm okay with not knowing.) I was surprised then, because it was the first time I knew this information about our group. You'd think I'd be over this kind of shock by now, especially considering where I live, but, well, I guess I'm not.

Earlier today, I was reminded just how conservative we trend around these parts. In order to demonstrate the idea of context when writing, I brought up (very briefly, and not at all in-depth), the proposed Islamic cultural center that is causing so much hullabaloo, y'know, the "ground zero mosque" (and, yes, I used air-quotes). Why is it such a big deal?, I asked. Why do we care so much? Because the context for this debate is this post-9/11 US we live in. When I asked where others were learning about this topic, the most-oft quoted source was Fox News. The conversation was as predictable as would be a homeschooling conversation around the blogs I frequent. O, how ensconced we are in our comfy little enclaves. And, O, how alone I felt, on my own little island of bleeding-heart liberalism. Ah, well. We'll broaden one another's minds, yes? Yes, we will. I actually very much appreciate hearing perspectives that are different than my own. I love to learn and I love to hear others' (preferably respectful) thoughts.

Now that all of us in these conversations I'm being wonderfully vague about are out of high school, I hope our conversations will be fruitful and mind-opening. Here's to moving on and growing up.