Even though Margaret Wise Brown wrote both Goodnight Moon and Runaway Bunny, I have completely different feelings regarding each book.
Specifically, I adore Goodnight Moon and can nearly lull myself to sleep reading it, but then I get to Runaway Bunny and am just a little bit creeped out. I just can't get on board the mother's commitment in Runaway Bunny.
But goodnight to the comb, and brush, and bowl full of mush?
Zzzzzz....
I need to know how you stand on this very important issue.
(poll)
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We're busy packing and probably won't have Internet for a couple days, but before I unplug our magic Internet box, I have this week's silly survey.
Even though I should be too busy packing and studying and grading papers and living daily life to even think about going on vacation, turns out I sneaked in a little bit of time this week to look at airline tickets to Orlando.
Don't tell Sydney, be we're thinking that a trip to Disney World is in the works. The land of princesses awaits us. Woo hoo.
And sure, it's Saturday, and you're busy doing chores and all that great stuff, but if you could transport yourself to the vacation spot of your choice, where would it be?
(poll)
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See, the thing is I'm not always very good at this parenting thing. Somedays I get it right, but then somedays....oh, somedays I just don't get it right at all.
Like last night, as I hunched over the computer screen and played back the entire day in my mind's not-quite-so-reliable eye. I saw a day that had left my parenting skills beaten and kicked to the curb. Harried. Exasperated. Wit's end. Frenzied. A touch of the crazies. I was there. I'm going out on a limb here and saying that we've all been there.
Believe me, at the end of the day there was no melancholy to be seen. No blues. No pinks. No greens. Maybe a little bit of red. Mostly it was just, "I have failed to parent my child into kindness. I have failed to convince her to sit at the table. Woe is me." Additionally, "I have failed to keep page-books from out of her mighty grasp and therefore am slowly but surely collecting a library of books held together with tape and staples." Melodramatic, much? Indeed.
So I typed it all out. And mourned the failure of my parenting skills.
But there you were, helping me out, letting me know that perhaps all was not lost with my sweet not-yet-2-year-old child. In fact, as you mentioned repeatedly, I would do well to see this as a stage, a phase, a moment in time that she would undoubtedly grow out of. (And dear Jules, if you're reading this when you're all grown up and not hitting people anymore, know that I love you to the moon and back even as you laughed and poked me in the eye.) Me, with my "I don't want to enable her or give her an excuse for bad behavior" attitude, but failing to recognize that, oh that's right, kids grow up.
Hey, did you know?
Kids grow up.
Pauline reminded me of that when I read her comment. By the way, I had Pauline as a high school student for four years, and even though she dodged out of AP English (I will not forget, Po, no never), she was an amazing person who hardly ever hit people, and probably never in the face. And now she's all grown up with a job, and husband, and a house. Just think. She was two years old once too, and then she grew up into a good person.
And I have every day, for years and years, to teach my girls to be like Pauline--to be girls who don't hit or push other people, with their fists, or their stuff, or their words. I get to help them learn to be kind and loving people, which, oddly enough, is a mentality they don't always come by naturally.
So thank you, for being here, for leaving comments, for the conversations today that I had in living rooms and kitchens, for even not leaving comments but just coming back to see how this all works out. It's why I write, why I creaturebug, why I love this little place. Because you set me straight and remind me that I'm not in this alone.
I'm growing up too. Little by little.
***
Now you know what I would miss if I didn't do all of...this. Tell me what you would miss, even if you don't keep a blog but just read them. What would you miss if it was gone? (*Update: I took Devon's advice and revised one of the categories.*)
(poll)
I know that according to last Saturday's poll, Wednesday is nobody's favorite, but it still turned out to be a good day, didn't it?
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Saturdays are nice, aren't they? I like them because we get to be all together as a family. I'm reunited with the girls after being away from them on Fridays; Jason is reunited with the girls after three days of being away from them. Yay for reunions!
I suppose I'd have to say that Saturdays are my favorite day. As long as I don't get in the rut of saving every chore imaginable for Saturdays, they tend to turn out as a solid family day. Added bonus: we have no obligations for Saturdays. No meetings, no soccer games, no place we have to be by a certain time. Always good.
If I had to pick a favorite weekday, I'd pick Mondays. Even though Jason heads back to school on Mondays, it's a day when the girls and I have no pre-planned activities. A whole day without thinking, "I have to be here at a certain time" is a treat. I don't know about you, but sometimes the chore of getting in the car is more difficult than it ought to be.
I put it to you, gentle readers. Of all seven days of the week, which is your favorite?
(poll)
Happy Saturday!
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This past week alone I've had a discussion with my brother and s-i-l about the election, listened to some interesting stories on NPR about the election, even dissected part of the rhetoric from last night's debate (ala this Slate article) in my class today. Couple that with 29% of you asking for some deep thoughts from me, I thought I'd share a little bit of the political discourse rumbling through my mind. Of course, I'm not sharing everything because after I wrote an honest, forthcoming post and read it to Jason, he said, "Are you sure about this? You don't do well with mean people." So. You'll have to settle for a shorter, less revealing post. That's how this sensitive, thin-skinned momma rolls.
I have purposefully stayed out of the political discussion because my views don't fit neatly into any political party. I am pro-life, pro-gun control, pro-environment. I don't believe the words "under God" should be removed from the Pledge of Allegiance, or that Roe v. Wade should be overturned. I don't think that minimum wage should be a living wage, or that Oregon's classrooms should be English language-only. Embryonic stem-cell research isn't a gray area for me; capital punishment is. I am a registered Republican, although of the things that define me, it is far down on the list. I am, generally speaking, a conservative.
Continue reading "Political Parties...and not the kind with balloons" »
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This quote from Better, one of my favorite books from this past summer, has been rolling around in my head since last June.
"The hardest question for anyone who takes responsibility for what he or she does is, What if I turn out to be average?...I could tell myself, Someone's got to be average. If the bell curve is a fact, then so is the reality that most doctors are going to be average. There is no shame in being one of them, right?
"Except, of course, there is. What is troubling is not just being average but settling for it. Everyone knows that averageness is, for most of us, our fate. And in certain matters--looks, money, tennis--we would do well to accept this. But in your surgeon, your child's pediatrician, your police department, your local high school? When the stakes are our lives and lives of our children, we want no one to settle for average." (italics mine)
Worth pondering.
*
I have a political post in the works, and as part of my research, I have a little question for you (also, if you haven't voted in the presidential poll, do that too):
(poll)
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A bit of bloggitty navel gazing this lovely Saturday afternoon. Not that I'm easily bossed around, but I'm just randomly interested in your responses. And now I need to get back to watching A Bug's Life.
(poll)
Happy Saturday!
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I'm curious...
...because I remember people being genuinely surprised at the outcome of the election in 2004. Especially here in Oregon--where our election results traditionally are blue rather than red--I distinctly recall overhearing conversations where people were floored that the rest of the county didn't vote the same way our grand state had.
It's human nature, I suppose, to always believe you are on the winning side. Certainly no one wants to be on the losing side, but sometimes we are aware of what the odds might be. The chances of our successes, of our failures...sometimes we have premonitions of how it will all turn out. Sometimes we really have no idea.
Back in 2004, I wasn't really that surprised at the outcome.
Here in 2008, If the polling data is accurate as to who is leading the election right now, I suspect I won't be surprised this time either.
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I thrive on organization. My file cabinet keeps track of all important documents, bills, notices, articles, maps, memberships, directions, and warranties. We have containers for craft supplies, bins for wrapping papers, buckets for crayons, baskets for coloring books. Drawers are labeled, files marked, photos boxed. Everything has a place, and if I can't find a place for it, then it must be thrown away, recycled, donated.
Or lost.
Since we moved, my system of organization doesn't exist anymore, and now I can't find anything. It's not just the stuff we boxed up. Obviously, I know there are things that we'll find when we unpack in a year (like library books I've now had to buy). It's that I don't know where things go, and so I put it somewhere--in some spot, in some bag, on some shelf--and then *poof* it's lost.
Sydney's red leotard.
The Music Man DVD.
Hair clips.
Sippy cups.
Money. Personal checks. Banking statements. All vanished into the ether of our existence. The reason is simple. It's because our stuff is scattered all over the Pacific Northwest. It could be in our apartment, at the farm house, at my parents' house, at my brother's house, at Jason's parents' house. It could be in the car, at school, in the truck, in the golf cart. We are in all these places during the week, always spending the night in at least two homes during the week (last week I stayed in three different beds).
Simple explanation or not, it's still maddening. No matter how hard I try to keep things in one spot--refusing to allow the girls to take their sippy cups up to the farm, making sure we keep certain pairs of shoes in the apartment--ultimately, my brain fails me. I forget my own rules and find thing where they don't belong, like last night when I reached into the cupboard for a sippy cup and found one, only it was full of juice, spoiled and sour. I reached for another one, and discovered it too was full of sour juice.
Bread by the pots and pans. Shoes next to the tv remotes. Bills absent-mindedly thrown away. Fortunately for me, all our bills are paid automatically so I don't have to worry about that responsibility.
It would be funny, except that it's costing us money to replace necessary lost/misplaced items. It's also exacting a sharp toll on me physically. I'm always running into things, dropping things, breaking things. I've even started stuttering, which I do find a little bit comical. My peripheral vision tricks me into seeing things, so I put all my senses on high alert when I'm driving so that I can safely get from here to there.
My poor brain. And my poor stubbed toes.
Only nine more months until all our stuff is under one roof. *long sigh*
This is how it feels to lose your mind, one red leotard at a time.
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Stressed out? Dead slugs under your couch? Another political phone call?
What snack do you indulge in to bring some sweet relief?
Without fail, I reach for a Snickers bar. Something about the peanuts and the chocolate and the notion that it gives me energy.
I've been eating a lot of Snickers bars lately.
PS: As Jen pointed out, there really ought to be an "all of the above" choice. Sorry. You only get one choice...just like on November 4th. Heh.
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Even though the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act of 2008 (aka: The Bailout) passed today, Wall Street apparently didn't rejoice that much. Not a happy Friday for them.
And considering I found out today that the apartment we were hoping to move into was rented to someone else (our application was 2nd in line), it was not a happy Friday for me either. I'm not sure if I cried more tears than those Wall Street investors did, but it's possible. At the end of the day, we've both changed into our jammies and headed to bed.
Ah, such is life. We'll find another apartment eventually. Hopefully.
As for Wall Street, I don't know what I hope for them. I'm definitely hoping that the CEOs of the companies that are getting bailed out don't end up with nice compensation packages, but I'm not betting on it.
Unlike them, who seemed to have bet a great deal and are just now realizing the catastrophe of their risky behavior.
Other than our 403(B) retirement fund taking a big hit, we haven't lost much in the credit crisis. Thankfully the bank that we are using for our construction loan is doing just fine. No troubles for them mean no troubles for us. It's still uncertain times though. I can't quite figure out if this bailout is really going to help. Certainly, on a psychological level (which is largely what keeps our banking system working anyway) it's helpful, but beyond that...well...it could just be that not only are we going to lose, but we're going to lose big (an interesting link here for an article from Slate).
What say you, my fellow Americans?
Right now, the answer is probably "maybe," but either way, $700 billion is a lot of money. Thankfully, my faith is not built on financial institutions, and my hope doesn't rely on investors. Good thing too.
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...I'm feeling a little lighter today. All your encouragement, people? Thank you. Thank you for the sweet words, the banner votes (I'm so glad at least one person voted for the presidential candidate option), the inspiring quotes. Sometimes just the act of sharing can make things seem better. What is it about honesty that always feels good?
And honestly, Thursday nights make me feel good too because it features some of my favorite people. It's all well and good that the Vice Presidential candidates are debating tonight, but for as much as they matter to the real world, I shallowly admit I'd rather be spending the evening with Jim and Pam. Gosh, I think I might even pick Dwight Schrute over Ms. Palin and Mr. Biden. No offense.
How about you? Is Andy Bernard hanging out in your living room? Or Kenneth? Dear, sweet Kenneth.
"Andy Bernard does not lose contests. He wins them. Or he quits them. Because they're unfair."
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Last week, as I was reading to Jason what I had written about our slug-adventures, I started laughing. The whole of the story seemed so ridiculous, and something about the slug both humored and mortified me. I laughed until I cried, and then somewhere in the midst of the laughing, I started sobbing. Are you laughing or are you crying? Jason asked. I don't know, I sobbed. Both.
That's where I am. Caught in the middle of emotions I can't seem to sort out.
I have found myself once again in the grip of depression, no doubt because living in two cities means I can't seem to figure out any method of organization to life. I forget where I've put things; I stop talking in the middle of conversations because I don't know what I'm saying; I make photocopies of assignments, and then turn around and make the photocopies again having forgotten that I already did that. Normally, I'm not absent-minded, so my descent into mental chaos is discouraging for me.
It's nothing new, of course. Depression and I aren't strangers. Yet, when I found myself facing this old acquaintance, I didn't initially recognize it. We sit next to each other, trying to remember again how to start this conversation. Unfamiliar. Uncomfortable. Unknown. I'll be fine, of course. It's just hard right now.
And, particularly this time of year, it's hard not having any leafs of my own.
Our old familiar leafy tree is still there, at our old familiar house, where someone new is looking out the window and watching them fall. This year, there is no banner of the girls sitting the pile of leafs. And for a dozen different reasons that makes me cry. Tonight I put a new banner up, but it's not a leafy wonder. It's blue. We are similar that way, the banner and I.
It's kind of a lonely looking banner, definitely reflective of my creative emotion these days. Maybe it's too sad. Maybe that's okay. I need some reassurances here, and have thusly constructed a poll that will both reassure and amuse me. I'm not being flippant; I'm being honest. There is more to this relationship I have with depression, but it's too dark to write about. So...reassurance and amusement. That's pretty much what I need right now. And also for someone to give me a written inventory of where all our belongings are. That'd be helpful too.
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It's 2 hours before October begins, which means it's a month before November. Which means next month people start going crazy with NaBloPoMo. I admit I've succumbed to the craziness for the last couple years. But not this year. No sirree. I'm not posting every day in November because last year I realized that it's. not. fun. I swore to stay far, far away from NaBloPoMo. Maybe I wouldn't even post at all in November. Oh yeah. That'd show 'em.
Whoever 'em may be.
But then, those clever minds behind NaBloPoMo started doing monthly themes. People were posting every day, all year long. My mind spins just thinking about that.
I got October's theme in my inbox the other day, and oh, I just couldn't pass it up. The theme? Vote.
Vote.
I don't know how they came up with that theme...seems so random. Hee hoo haw. My deadpan is hysterical.
There's no way I'm actually writing about politics all month long, but creating polls and finding out a little about all of you? Now, that sounds fun. I can do that every day, and hopefully we'll all have fun and learn a little bit about each other in the process. It's the kind of voting that I like doing because there are no long term consequences. It's cotton candy voting. In fact, maybe I'll even do a poll about cotton candy. Who knows. I'm open to suggestions.
Of course, I figured we better kick off this month with a political poll that's the inspiration behind all these daily posts. Maybe I'll write more about where I stand politically, but eh...I don't know. I'm pretty insecure about discussing politics. I get the feeling that some people unsubscribe blogs from their reading list based on political preferences. That sort of pressure is terrible on my complexion.
Nevertheless, I'm still really interested in how you all are voting on that fateful day in November. Come on. You know you want to tell me. Updated correction: Yes, I realize now that I spelled Sarah Palin's name incorrectly. Please consider it a late-night gaffe, rather than a political statement. Meh.
PS: I don't think the polls show up in your feed readers, so you have to click on over to make your voice be heard. Or your mouse-click be seen. Whatever.
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