The Good Book

I love Facebook. I really do. I know there are criticisms:

• "It’s a time-suck"
• "It’s for stupid little bumper sticker sayings"
• "Why can't we write handwritten notes to one another anymore?"
• "What about actual face-to-face time?"
• "People need to get their heads up from the screen!"
• "Nobody cares what you had for dinner!"
• "Try actually living your life."

I get it. It is a time suck and I can't remember the last time I wrote a handwritten note to someone (though I still love doing that).

But I actually like knowing what people are eating for dinner and the stupid little bumper sticker sayings, memes, often make me think.

I promise I am actually living my life and with six little ones and a husband who craves my constant attention, I assure you I get more face time than any single person needs in a lifetime.

And Facebook still makes me happy.

Facebook lets me efficiently stay in touch and up to date with people I care about (regardless of how far away they may physically be), it allows me to collect varied thoughts and opinions from a group more diverse than I would otherwise be able to connect with daily, and it allows me to have a voice about every little thing I am thinking. If you know me, you know how important this last one is for me. I find it mildly painful to keep my thoughts to myself.

I know not everyone is as live-out-loud as I am and that most people value this thing they like to call privacy - but I have no need to keep anything to myself and Facebook is a benign way for me be a kind of life exhibitionist. As it turns out, it is not as important for people to hear what I am saying as it is for me to simply say it. This works for me and my exhibitionist ways, and it also works for the voyeurs and the introverts. I know lots of people who think deeply and have sharp, thoughtful observations and humor, but could never imagine jumping into a conversation and sharing them. Facebook is perfect for them. They use this medium to let their brilliance show without having to have face time, which actually does not work for everyone, The idea of face time commentary for some is enough to make their armpits turn into fountains and their stomachs feel like they have eaten at Taco Bell [Editor’s note: Mmmmm. Taco Bell]. Being a loud and energetic talker means I often miss the softer spoken among us - status updates allow me to be a good listener and I am simply giddy about the Facebook opportunity to get into the heads of these more gentle voices. Happy. Juicy.

There is another aspect of Facebook, the good book, that makes us better people. When we respond in a written manner we do so mindfully. Even if we quickly type the first thing that pops into our head, we have the moment to reread before clicking send, the moment to think of those on our friend list and think about being respectful to them – a moment of deliberate communication. There is a beauty in taking our time that is not always found when we are speak to one another. This is especially important with heavy topics - gun control, gay marriage, abortion, the elections, food politics - really in most things presenting a thoughtful, considerate response is a way to open minds, promote empathy, and just understand one another a bit more. There is a meme (remember that word from above?) that reads: "Oh, your post on Facebook totally changed my mind! - said no one, ever" -  DISLIKE. Simply not true. The good book has made me think and provided important information about my friends I otherwise may never have received. 

The Book is about connecting, and I think that is a good thing. When we see posts about toys we had as kids, or funny quips about things we all experience we smile and think of the poster fondly. When there is tragedy we mourn or cry out in anger together - or maybe just cry together in a virtual sharing circle. I just can't buy into the notion that the Good Book is estranging us from one another - I think the opposite is true. It confirms we are not alone.

As I write this I am waiting for a plane and I have just learned of the death of my favorite aunt. I loved this woman and she helped raise me. I am all alone in an airport and I really want a hug. Luckily, I stop just short of crazy long enough to ask for a hug from a stranger. I get one. So I have done the next best thing. I posted on Facebook. I said she died and I shared my sweet memories of her. Hugs came flowing in the form of comments from friends who knew her and mourn her and others who have never met her and maybe barely know me, but grieve for me as they have come to know me through my posts, or maybe just comment because we all know some form of grief and we all know that a reach out feels good.  Either way - I feel better.

Some people resent Facebook. They say it is a false representation of who we are - that on Facebook we put our best foot forward and create an image of who we want to be and not who we really are. But…. so what? Really - so what? I would love for people to walk the talk and live in the light of all the inspirational quotes they post, but if the closest they get is outlining who they want to be, I will take it! Enough practice at putting your best foot forward and expressing your ideal self just may make you start to believe in your posts and maybe even act on them. If you can't walk the talk, at least keep talking - or posting, practicing and attracting the positive. Better than never thinking about it.

Although my husband/editor finds it frustrating at best when I give him only part of my attention when my head is behind my screen and I am catching up with my people - I think the Good Book does more good than harm. It lets us witness each other's lives, it lets us know each other's minds, and it lets us live in one another's hearts. And - let's be honest, it gives us something to do in the bathroom.

Hey School: Maybe It Is Your Fault

Regular readers of this blog may know I have a 10-year-old daughter named Boo, and that she is part sweet, loving, empathetic joy -  and part evil genius. I wouldn't dare quantify these parts as the prospect scares me a little. Suffice it to say, she is not your average bear. What she is most certainly not, in any way, is a kiss-ass. She sometimes encounters them though, and the results are never in Boo's favor. One such incident occurred yesterday with a girl I will just refer to as Nellie Olsen. I found out about the incident from Boo’s teacher in a phone call. In that phone call the teacher told me she has never experienced behavior like Boo's (join the club). Here is the letter I wrote in response:

Dear School and Teacher people,
I  am writing about a conversation I had earlier with Ms.Teacher concerning an incident yesterday in class. I was told Boo had disiplinary action taken against her for an incident with another student, Nellie.

Ms. Teacher told me Boo was making an annoying noise with her water bottle and Nellie repeatedly asked her to stop. Boo did not stop. Next Nellie physically grabbed the water bottle from Boo. Boo then swung her arm and her lunchbox at Nellie. As I understand it, no contact was made.

There were several things that concerned me about this incident, the obvious one being Boo's agression and her negative attitude as it was described to me by Ms.Teacher, but there was more. 

I was told that Nellie "did everything right" in asking Boo to stop. I agree that using her words was a proper course of action for Nellie to take, but the fact that she said this several times, within her teacher's earshot, is keeping with a trend in Nellie's behavior to subtly instigate Boo while outwardly meeting all behavioral expectations. Word on the street is that she "likes getting Boo in trouble". This does not surprise me as Boo's response to provocation is usually dramatic and therefore she is a desirable target. I find that girls of this age who have high status with teachers provoke girls who have lower-status with teachers to elevate their own position with both the teachers and other students. I wonder if this may be the case here. 

Ms. Teacher also told me she understood Nellie's physical response of grabbing the bottle because she would have done the same. This may be true, but Ms.Teacher was the teacher in this situation, Nellie was not. There was no response to Nellie's physical reaction, only to Boo's. Ms. Teacher also told me she had 24 students to control so Nellie took it upon herself to take the water bottle away because Nellie understands her teacher was otherwise occupied. I am concerned about this subversive promotion of Nellie to assistant teacher and I fear that when high status kids are given this power it often serves to make others in the class feel less powerful. This can often lead to frustration, and in this case lashing out.
In no way am I justifying Boo's egregious response and I am doing everything I can at home to keep her in a place of calm and reason, but I would very much like us to consider this problem from all perspectives.
Boo has exhibited an uncharacteristic slide in behavior and performance at school in the last few months and I have been asked several times if there is anything going on at home. The answer is no, not really. Her home is a loving one and she feels honored and powerful here. I wonder if she feels the same at school. She has shown signs of exhaustion and indifference in her school setting. I have taken her to her doctor to make sure there is no physical reason for this; there is not. Her signs of depression seem to be limited to school. So I would like to volley the question back and ask, is there something going on at school? Bullying? Social manipulation? Teasing? Favoritism?
Either way, I think we can agree that this is a child who is not having the best school life she can have and I would like to hear your thoughts on how we can change that. I would like to request a meeting of Boo's teachers, guidance counselor, and any other support people who may be useful to help put together a plan for Boo's success at school.
I would like to thank you all so much for all you do, and I look forward to working together to help Boo come through this difficult time and help her know she is valued,
- Penis Mom

(I like to confuse them a bit).

Here is the thing: I am now going on about 12 years of parent/teacher conferences where I hear things like "Well, he certainly marches to the beat of a different drummer, doesn't he?" and "I have never met a young child like this one." and "She is very opinionated, I don't understand how she comes off quite so strong." OK, I get it. I have unusual, strong-willed, pain in the ass little weirdos - but they are my weirdos and I don't want to believe I am the only one who can appreciate them. I would love for school to be a place where their differences are honored - but I have yet to seen little evidence of that. Instead, I get a lot of judgment and accusation about how I can not control my kids. I usually don't bother explaining that my main goal in parenting has never been to control my kids, because we are clearly on such different pages that the most I can hope for is a truce. My real concern here is that schools seem to think if a kid falls anywhere outside of a very narrow trajectory of normal and well behaved, parents are to blame.

What? Parents are to blame? Interesting. Interesting, and potentially very effective because parents will take that shit on like crazy. We take it on because we just know if we tried harder, were more consistent, got up earlier to make super food/kelp smoothies for them in the morning, ordered that My Baby Can Read crap when they were little, enrolled them in more classes, introduced them to different languages, and were just better role models, or stayed at home instead of working, then they would not be having these problems in school. Maybe that is all true - but maybe something else is true as well.

Maybe teachers and schools are only seeing value in a small percentage of students and everything else is seen in a negative light. A self-advocating child is seen as challenging or aggressive. Introspection is seen as withdrawn, imaginative thinking is seen as day dreaming, and leaders are bossy. I get it. If you have a classroom of 24 kids it is much easier to have them all be the rule abiding, straight line walking, homework crunching Nellie Olsens with blind allegiance to the teacher. But, when that doesn't happen and kids behave in (gasp) unexpected ways, maybe it makes sense for the school to ask itself what they are doing to meet the needs of the student before calling parents to ask them how many ways they have fucked up today.

Schools don't know what to do with kids like Boo. And by the time they reach middle school kids like Boo start hearing that message loud and clear. So what do you do when you are part of a system that doesn't tolerate you, much less celebrate you? All too often our square little pegs just say screw it - Nellie can have school, it is made for her anyway.

And what do parents do when they get calls from school saying that their kid is "in trouble" and "has problems"? All too often, they believe them and begin a spiral of frustration and guilt. This doesn't work for anyone.

Maybe it is time for teachers, schools, all of us really - to start making more flexible holes for our little square pegs. More than that, start honoring all kinds of pegs -what the hell, why not?

Ironically, my next daughter will start school next year and she is shaping up to be quite the teacher's pet herself.

I honestly don't know how to handle it. [Editor’s note: I got this one]

Roller Girl, part 2

Last September I started Roller Derby (see Roller Girl, part 1). Here’s an update on Penis Mom on Wheels. 

It is hard.

Roller Derby is really hard physically, emotionally, and spiritually. You are playing mother-fucking football on skates, people! You know how they talk about Fred Astaire and say "Yes, but Ginger Rogers did it all backwards and in heels"? It is like that. You are can bring nothing less then everything you’ve got to the rink, or you will be destroyed and most likely wounded.

So, Derby is all that, but for me there is also something more. Derby is by far the hardest thing mentally I have ever done. It does not come naturally to me - at all. I have to fight for every tiny bit of progress. Fight, I tell you. This is a little strange for me because most things come very easily to me. I am pretty smart and great at faking it, so I have never really worked all that hard for anything. I am the girl who got good grades by doing her homework on the bus, broke 700 English without studying for the SATs, and generally got all the jobs I applied for. I can even convincingly follow dance choreography on the first try, making it look like I’ve been practicing for weeks. My husband hates that it takes me only five minutes to prepare for a ten-minute comedy bit while he sweats bullets for hours to do the same. Hard work has never been a requirement. Until now.

Derby kicks my ass every time, still.

Because I am used to mastering new things in a short time, Derby regularly embarrasses the hell out of me. Plodding along while others flit by is tough and makes me feel so inhibited, I hold back even more. My lack of confidence is my biggest obstacle in Derby and I know in my head that once I get over that, I will make great strides. However, my head has not notified my feet of this dynamic.  

But, against my better judgment I am continuing to make a fool of myself in derby and plan on staying with it until asked to leave or until I break something very important. [Editor’s note: Or until you retire a Derby All-Star!]

I was recently interviewed by Grace magazine about derby and I will include my responses here to give some additional insight on my decisions to spend a portion of my life squatting.

What attracted you to roller derby? Derby had me at fishnets and booty shorts. What can I say? It is sexy, bold, and kick-ass, just like me. Derby is a fringe sport, for those who like to change the way people think about things. It is full of women who follow their own voice and dare to be strong and assertive in a world that doesn't always honor that in women. I like the gender bending, misfit quality of a sport that empowers the weaker sex (please note the dripping sarcasm in the use of that term). These are women who live derby. They take the penguin plunge, do the warrior dash, and embrace all things powerful and cheeky. How does anyone not want to be a derby girl?     How did you find out about it? I learned about derby just like every other smart girl growing up in the 70s and 80s - Jim Croche’s Roller Derby Queen. I found out about the Shoreline league because my friend, Nduce N Agony (Duce) had joined and ultimately made it through sheer persistence and determination. She was (and continues to be) an inspiration because when she started she could barely stand on skates, and now she is a total powerhouse. There is hope for us all.     What are the most challenging aspects of roller derby? Most rewarding? It is maybe the most challenging thing I have ever done. It is hard -- really hard, and physically demanding. It hurts. You fall, you get bruises, your chiropractor hates/loves you, and for me, the hardest part is in finding the courage to leave it all out there on the rink. This is really not a group of women you want to disappoint - so I am tentative about taking risks. It is a mental challenge as well as a physical one. The most rewarding thing is being part of something bigger than yourself. It is being a living example that strength, power, skill, and courage all look great on a woman.   What do you wish more people understood about the sport? I wish people understood the sport itself so they could get more from watching it - it is an incredible spectacle.   Describe your proudest moment so far. Last night I did a mother-fucking turn-around toe stop for the first time - in the lobby of a hotel! ;-)     Does your involvement with this sport influence or affect other areas of your life? How? Hells yeah - it influences everything. Staying with something when it is hard and when you suck at it does more for you than any formal education. There is no such thing as phoning it in. You have to show up, you have to sweat, you have to fall, and you have to work your hardest. I really want to do that in all areas of my life. In derby, when you fall you must get up within three seconds. I want to be able to do that for every life obstacle I encounter.   Any advice for someone who’s thinking about checking it out? Fishnets and booty shorts. You know you want to.   Can you share a few details about your life, like what you do during normal business hours, etc? I am a writer with 7 kids, a dog, and a high-maintenance husband [Editor’s note: What?] who is also my editor and training to be a Derby ref. In my spare time I like drinking and dancing and karaoke and being awesome.

 

 

Now kids, I just need to choose a name. Any suggestions?

• Auntie Climax
• Alpha Kitty
• Penis Mom
• JingleBoobs McHitsalot
• Mt. Crushmore
• Wallace and Vomit
• Tanya Hide
• Destroy McClure
• Moxie Crush
• MILF Crusher
• Angelina Slaughterina
• Crush Hour
• Sexypig Bangerelli
• Wizard of Owz
• Like Slaughter for Chocolate
• Curious Gouge
• Titty McFlashalot
• Cruella DeDrill
• She-teed Fa-Quad
• Tenacious DDs

I don't know people - you tell me. Leave your suggestions in the comment box below.

On being fat

There seems to be a dichotomy that exists when we talk about weight, You are either on the side of "Fat Acceptance" and you think that we should embrace all body types without judgement, or you are on the side of "Get off your ass, lazy fatty - you suck!" I would like to suggest a middle ground here, a middle ground located in healthlandia - where judgements on weight are based on how your body functions best and not how many ribs we can see.

Accepting obesity is unwise. I wish someone told me at a young age that life is easier when you are in good shape. It is true. As someone who has a family history of extreme obesity, any talk of making healthier choices was simply met with a loving, but misguided "She is fine - leave her alone." Not fine. It is not fine to carry so much body weight that you put yourself at risk for hypertension and diabetes. Not fine to be on the dark side of your healthy weight. Not fine to feel so self conscious that you can't have quality intimate relationships. Not fine to be so fat that your body can not function properly and you are prone to knee injuries, back injuries, and so many other ailments effecting your joints, cardiovascular health, digestive system - really, just everything.

Not fine.

On the other hand, we have dangerously reached the conclusion that the thinner you are, the better. Also unwise. Although every woman and girl I know is painfully aware of the top part of the healthy weight range scale, it seems like none of us are aware that there is a bottom number on the healthy weight range scale and that going below it is a risk - not a goal. Most fashion models have BMI numbers that are below what is considered healthy - and we ignore this fact and choose to idolize them instead. Unwise. 

It is, however, fine to be a different shape than the person sitting next to you. In fact, anything else does not make any sense. Of course we are different shapes. I am not a thin girl. I am just not. And it has taken me 40 years to realize it -but for me, being a size 12 is being in good shape. Could I lose weight and make my body so thin that my head looks like a giant lollipop, I could. But I have low blood pressure, I am strong, flexible, and capable of serious cardio, so I am probably not going to. 

I gained about 10 lbs over the holidays and I am not happy about it. My clothes still fit, just not the same as before. My editor/husband is most upset by this because of the lingerie embargo happening in my house. (Editor's note: I am confused - come on woman! Put some lingerie on, give a man a break! You look great! Lingerie is stretchy for a reason. Slap some lace on that 10 extra pounds!!!!) He can not tell the difference between October Karen in lingerie and January Karen in lingerie. (Editor's note: I really can't.) But I can, and that is really all that matters. I am making steps to stay in the healthy range.  Healthy - not sample size, not gaunt and anemic, not so thin I loose my boobs - just back to a range where I am not increasing my risk for joint pain and disease. 

(This is me pre-lingerie embargo). 
Editor's note: Stay away from my wife

It is really very simple. Love yourself enough to take care of yourself. Love yourself enough to feed yourself well.  Love yourself enough to move your body. And, most importantly, love yourself enough to dismiss fashion magazine images and opinions about beauty that don't work for you. Obesity is a problem, but you don't have to make it your problem. Thin obsession is a problem - but you don't have to make it your problem. 

Christmas Mourning

Tonight is Christmas eve and I am getting ready for the most magical of days when all my little chicks climb out of bed and come downstairs to discover burlap bags with jingle bells left by Santa, open stockings and gifts, and happily play with their new toys while Dad and I make a big breakfast for all. It will be lovely, it will be magical – and yet my heart is so heavy I can barely stop crying.

Ten days ago a gunman took his own life and the lives of 26 others at an elementary school in Connecticut and there are 18 beautiful children who will not be waking up tomorrow morning with their families. I have lived through other tragedies, and they have saddened me - “I can’t even imagine…” I have said.

But this, this I can imagine. I can imagine being a parent, a child, or one of the teachers who may have felt powerless to protect the small children in their care.

When tragedy strikes, we can always come up with reasons why it would never happen to us.

“Hit by a car? That is why I always hold my son’s hand in a parking lot. I never let go.”

“Drug addiction? So sad. I am sure her parents never talked to her about drugs - I have talked to my kids.”

“Well, with all those children something like this was bound to happen. That is why I stuck to a sensible two kids.”

I get it. The desire to rationalize and distance yourself from heartbreak. Believe me when I tell you I wish I could distance myself from this, but how can I?

“I would never live in a Connecticut town.”

“I would never send my children to school.”

Well I do both – and there is no distance.

I love my kids, I spend time with them, I talk to them, play with them, laugh with them and I appreciate the bejesus out of them every moment of every day. Just like I’m sure the parents who lost their children 10 days ago did.

It is so hard to accept that some times you can do everything right and everything can still go so terribly, terribly wrong.

There was a time when I thought that with enough love, patience, and understanding I could protect my children from all harm. There was a time when I thought I could keep them safe with my pure, fierce love. That time ended ten days ago when I realized there is no distance.

So, through tears, I have tried to imagine how to cope. I came up with a three step plan for moving forward in strength:

1. Accept

Accept without hesitation whatever may come.

2. Appreciate

Live in gratitude for every moment.

3. Forgive

Forgive instantly whoever or whatever has created a new reality for you and let go of anger that will damage you.

That is my way to come to terms with this tragedy that has brought me to my knees, and I hope it brings you some peace as well. But, still – never let go of their hands in a parking lot.

Tidings of comfort and joy on this and all days. Sending my love to all of you. Thanks for taking the time to be here.

No Words

I am sad.

Really sad. Twenty eight dead. Twenty children, six adults, a shooter and his mom.

This happened so close to home for me. Not only because my kids go to a Connecticut school. Not only because I have small and vulnerable children, but because this loss happened to young children, and that hits me especially hard.

The loss belongs to everyone. The loss belongs to all of us who inhabit a world where we are one inexplicable act away from deep agony. The loss belongs to all of us who live in a world where ultra violence is the only path some people can see. This loss belongs to anyone who has ever loved, because if you have loved deeply - you fear this loss.

No words.

No explanation. No action. No logic. No vigil. No symbol.

No thought we can think can make sense of this; no action we can take can change the events that have happened.

We try to attribute meaning to events that don’t make sense. Some might say it is because we have taken God out of the schools, or because we are making gay marriage and pot legal, that this is the wrath we deserve. Some will say we need gun control or better mental health care. Many will blame the shooter's parents, perhaps going so far as to say his mother deserved to die.

If we are being our best, most compassionate selves we might wait for another day to push our own agendas. We may not be able to prevent this kind of thing, but we can chose not to add to the hate. We can chose to be an instrument of light and peace. And we can chose to forgive.

You can rally around a cause, and you may change the world - but you may not mend your broken heart.

 

Sometimes tragedy strikes hard and there is nothing anyone can do about it.

 

In explaining this to children, we may want to remember that they will ask us what they need to know.

 

They will ask, and you will answer. Have an open, honest heart.

 

When I am in need of guidance, I always look to Jim Henson. I recall the episode of Sesame Street where Big Bird tries to make sense of Mr. Hooper's death. Big Bird is lost, sad and confused and he asks the question we all ask: “Why?” The adults all look at each other, each one feeling the weight and poignancy of the moment, and finally Big Bird is told:

“Because.”

And sometimes, there simply is not anything more to say.

 

I am sad.

Stalker Santa Gets a Sidekick

I know I am not the only one who finds this lyric a little unsettling:

 

He sees you when you are sleeping. He knows when you're awake.

 

Creepy, right?

 

I love me some Santa, don't get me wrong.

 

 

See?

 

I love a guy known for generosity and a hearty laugh, but the idea that he actually watches over your every move, even while you sleep, and then punishes you by withholding presents - it just does not seem very saintly.

 

But things are getting worse. We now have the Elf on a Shelf. Because Santa apparently was missing some of the criminal acts committed by very small children, parents have embraced a backup plan of having one of Santa's elves turn up all around the house, in unexpected places, and judge you on your indiscretions. They are actually called "Scout elves" and report back nightly to the master stalker in the North Pole, then show up in a different place the next morning. He can go anywhere and watch you anytime he wants.

 

So, imagine this guy staring at you from your toaster or bathroom sink in the morning:

 

 

He looks just a little too happy about catching you doing something from the naughty list. In fact, some preliminary research has shown that Elf on a Shelf is a bit of a player, if not a total perv:

 

 

And this is just speculation, but he may even have a bit of a drinking problem.

 

 

 

No judgment my elfin friend! I am just saying that maybe you should get your own affairs in order before you decide my two-year-old is blacklisted from the nice list for taking too long a turn with the plastic horse.

 

Children are magical thinkers. To them, the elf is real, and the idea that he is able to turn up anywhere to spy must leave them with some sense of powerlessness, if not a vague feeling that something like this may be happening when Mommy showers:

 

 

Look, I was raised Catholic so I totally get the whole "Be obedient or suffer the wrath of God" - or Santa, or whatever. The idea that St. Peter at the gate has a naughty and nice list and everything you have ever done in your entire life has been documented, is not so unlike the story of our little friend here - and I guess it is effective as a behavior shaping tool or we wouldn't use it.

 

But... don't we really want to promote the concept of doing the right thing because it is the right thing to do? Because holding onto the plastic horse with all your might while your sister cries does not feel as good as showing love and unclenching your chubby little fingers from around the horse. That giving is a lasting, joyous feeling while receiving is a quick, cheap thrill. That the low level of anxiety that comes with fear of getting caught lying, stealing, or cheating is simply not worth it. That you are enough, that you are good, that you are strong and no one needs to tell you those things by putting you on a list; you can know them for yourself.

 

I know, I know - I am overthinking these things and it is an adorable tradition that the kids "LOVE!" - but that is what I do kids. I overthink small things because sometimes small things matter big.

 

Besides, I can't be the only one who wants to do this: