Monsters in the Closet

When you are a little kid goblins and ghosts come readily in your sleep. They represent the childhood fears lurking everywhere. Separation anxiety and darkness conjure up all kinds of scary thoughts that manifest into monsters. Growing up and becoming more aware of fiction versus reality helps the monsters fade into the woodwork. Nightlights are turned off and monster spray is discarded.

But...

Growing up even more and becoming a parent brings back a lot of fear. At night the thoughts of bullying or disease wake you in the dark with a start. Tears of what if fill your eyes and catch in your throat. Monsters take a different form but are no less scary. What if my child doesn't have friends? What if my child can't learn to ride a bike or drive a car? Why is she squinting? Why is she sleepwalking? Being a parent is scary. Sometimes like a nightmare.

But...

Fear is necessary when you love someone the way you love your child. Worry is the nature of the monster. You want the best. You want complete happiness. You accept the fear for them so they can focus on the important things. The things that make childhood memories. Birthday parties and sleepover. Cookies after school and laughter in the dark.

Annoyance: The Fabric of My Life

I am just an average girl going through life trying to grin and bear all the every day irritations that pop up. Mostly I just bite my lip and tuck the annoyance away in a sound proof cell in my head. Sometimes though the file just gets too full and everything just pours out. That is the point where I can not continue to be nice (even if it is in a rude way). That is the point where I want to scream. Must relieve the pressure....these are some things that irritate the life out of me:

First grade math that is so hard I have to actually spend time thinking about it.

Salespeople who pounce like hungry lions...drool and all.

Girl drama...can't we all just get along?

Pink eye(s)

Business travel lasting more then three days especially when sick kids are involved.

Food critics who don't cook.

Cleanliness critics that have maids.

Facebook depression.

Political calls from the other side that refuse to take a polite no for an answer and continue to call back until overt rude becomes the only response.

Silly Bands. They clog the vacuum AND the garbage disposal.

Socks. Finding matching socks for three children and myself is surely going to drive me insane.

Mulch. On the floor. On the couch. In the sink. In my bed.

Closet Car Texters. Don't admonish me for texting at a red light or checking Facebook in the parking lot. YOU do it too....don't pretend.

Allergies. Sinus pressure. Snot. Itchy eyes. Yuck.

ANNOYING.

Cultivating the Fairy Garden

From the minute I could listen my dad told my sister and brother and I stories. We would sit on his lap and hear about the little people that lived in the backyard or about where Mr. Rogers went when he left his show to go home. As we got older we would get a chance to add to the story. The more outlandish the better. We would take turns adding details and giggling at the shape the story would take. We grew up with rules but there was always room for imagination. We were encouraged to express ourselves. I loved having a license to push the limits of reality. It made me grow into someone with lots of layers and the ability to draw humor from peculiar places. It made me more empathetic and more sympathetic. Imagination helps provide meaning to experience and understanding to knowledge. So much of what we experience in life begins with imaginary play. It is almost like a dress rehearsal.

When I had children of my own cultivating imagination was right up there on the list somewhere between learning to walk and potty training. What I didn't realize is that my kids came with built in unique fantastic imaginations all there own. I didn't need to inspire them to love to pretend or spin fabulous tales. They came to me with that ability.

The older I get the more I become embroiled in the rules and laws that govern everything we do. It seems easier to just stay on the well worn path that everyone seems to be content following. Then I see my girls playing in their fairy town in the backyard or dressing up as doctors or brides and I remember. I remember how important it is to pretend and create. How important it is to step into the shoes of someone else and experience something new. Sometimes it is important to bypass the cookie cutter behavior. Sometimes it is important to remember that rules in imagination are non existent.

Quirks are Cute.

Recently I was cornered by a couple of friends and pronounced weird for all my oddities. I prefer to think of it as quirky. It sounds so much cooler. I am choosing to take it as a compliment. I am not humdrum or ordinary or boring. Regardless of what you call it they are right. Absolutely. I am weird. But aren't we all? I mean each of us is like a snowflake. Different and beautiful with our own set of strange. I thought I would share a few of my best quirks. I bet I am not the only one.

* I freak out over having drop in guests. My house is just not a drop in house. I don't just have hors d'oeuvres ready to serve and fresh hand towels ready to hang.

* Public displays of affection are not my friend. I don't enjoy hugs or kisses. I don't like proclamations of love. Don't really like tears either.

* I hate surprises of all kinds. They make me want to scream. I like to know what is coming. Presents, parties, life in general.

*I can't stand fish. To eat or really to look at...they stink and taste gross. But weirdly enough I love the ocean...

*When I read books I skip words and even sentences. I get the gist of the story but sometimes I miss details. No wonder I read at warp speed.

* I love pretty, expensive jewelry. I have a ton of it. I never wear it.

* I sleep in the fetal position on my right side. Knees pulled up to chest. Can't stand sleeping with anyone touching me.

*I don't drink milk or look at it. Seeing someone else drink it makes me gag.

* I am musically challenged. I never really listen closely enough to hear the words. Instead I make up lyrics.

* I can't draw a straight line to save my life or cut one for that matter.

* I am way to literal for math.

* I name inanimate objects.

OK I shared. How about you? What makes you you?

Chatter From the Sidelines

Anyone who knows me knows that I am happy to sit back and watch. I would rather not participate. I like my comfy chair and my warm and safe place off to the side. I let others take the lead and I just watch and follow. I don't like to ruffle feathers. I am a people pleaser and people are usually more pleased when they are right. Lately though I have been thinking about standing up. I am thinking about leaving warm and comfortable for the unknown. The future depends on it. My child's future.

I am over the education system ignoring anyone who isn't making the grade. Anyone who might need extra support or specialized education. Throwing anyone who doesn't score above the national average on the tests under the bus. I don't think they know best. As a matter of fact I think educators need a crash course in individualizing education. Every kid deserves to be treated as an individual not a test score. Every single child. No pretending. No wool proverbially pulled over eyes. No empathetic nods and fictional stories to even the playing field. Nope. I can not be pushed back into my chair and given popcorn to shut me up.

If it sounds like my panties are in a bunch that is probably because they are. I am so tired of being told that this is just the way things are done. WHY is this the way they are done if they are not working?? Time is wasted, years are wasted. I vote for the schools every time. I support public education. I want to believe in our school systems and trust that they are able to follow through on their promises. At the moment I don't buy it. I have questions and I want them answered. I want to ruffle some feathers and I want to rock the boat.

Humble Pizza Pie

I think about where I came from all the time. I seem to look over my shoulder more then I look ahead. Actually I think looking back helps me get a grip on the future. Somehow involving our past in our present seems imperative to remaining humble.

When I was a little kid I remember lots of things. I remember my flowered wallpaper and I remember my bicycle with the banana seat. I remember our old green VW bus and I remember the pizza. We used to save money by making homemade pizza with hot dog cut up on it instead of pepperoni. I loved that pizza. It reminds me of my Dad and Friday nights. To this day he will still make me that pizza on occasion. I am sure it isn't as wonderful tasting as conventional pizza but it is wonderful none the less. Even more importantly it is something that helps me remember that memories and love don't come from money and pepperoni.

No matter what ladder I am climbing or how far away I go I won't forget those days. They shaped me and prepared me to make the choices I make every day. Choices for myself and decisions about raising my own children. I want them to have the same anchor of humility. To remember the ones that matter and not the things. I need them to remember that sometimes we have to go more then half way to meet the needs and wants of others.

Lately I notice so many people are forgetting where they came from. Forgetting the people that were there when...that made those memories and supported their dreams. It is like they are standing on a podium looking out over their adoring fans but can only see blank faces...one the same as the next. They are unable to see the real important people in the crowd. Family and friends that remember when.

Popularity is Not Something You Do in Your Spare Time

Its funny how things stay the same year after year in the world of popularity. I noticed it last year when my oldest was in 5th grade and even more this year with the whole middle school crowd. It is so easy to see the girls that are the self appointed heads of the "social committee". The girls who put themselves in the spotlight and want to not only be seen but also followed by all. The ones that are the first to date an older guy and the first to taste a beer and the first to tell everyone about it. The girls that can make you feel like you belong in the corner red faced and blubbering because you aren't them. Being popular is like treading water, to get to the top you have to push everyone else down. Who is teaching these kids to be such proficient swimmers?? Their parents of course....

Don't get me wrong being popular isn't an easy job. It is all consuming to have to put forth that kind of effort. Those years of middle and high school are topsy turvy and almost an out of body experience. and not just for the kids feeling ostracized....like any war, it's damaging even to the winners. Sometimes though what might seem like the winner ends up being the one that falls flat on their face. Being all that to that many people can't last forever. Most times these kids peak in high school and hit a slippery slope down with nothing to look forward too. They have already experienced so many things on fast forward that when real life hits they are bored. They figure out that the friends they thought they had latched on to them to climb the social ladder. They realize that the boy that they thought loved them for forever just used them as a trophy. After graduation all bets are off.

Yet as I look at the parent's of the kids that I would consider the popular ones I see that the circle continues. The parents are what their kids will be in 35 years. Still high and mighty but now maybe a little sad.

AND yes (before someone points this out) a close runner up for the title of this post is: Yep I Am Bitter