Label Whores No Mores

I climbed trees, played sports, made mud pies and rode my bike with fervor. With as much joy, I donned a fancy frock, painted my nails, experimented with make-up and baked cookies. I liked dinosaurs and video games and matchbox cars, I chased boys down and kissed them. In my mind I brought to life countless scenarios in which I was the daring savior, the heroine, the boss. The rebel, the damsel, the leader. And they all fit like a glove. And still do.

I had two brothers closest to me in age, so "boy stuff" was available, but I didn't think of it that way. It was just stuff to explore. I never stopped to wonder what ramifications there would be if I didn't do one or the other set of activities, I just went for it. I employ the same gender-blindness with my own three daughters, they are as grubby and rough housing as they are emotional and delicate at any given moment. I want for their world to be as boundless and wide open as possible, so when I see people trying to place them in a gender place of stereotypes (and it happens often), it gets me formulating theories about how to lessen the importance of proving things, and how to focus more on being at ease with who they are and what they want.

Terminology gets in the way, most often. We are a society of classifiers, and that is backed up by the way we think and how we pre-determine things just at face value. Inside the box, I've noticed. As progressive as we are in this the year of the future, we are still quibbling. It has to be embraced from the get-go, that we are all a jumble of both genders and how cool that we are who we are, irregardless. Our unique perspective is where we really are.

As I got older, around my early twenties, I started classifying myself as a tomboy, as a shorthand way of saying I do things I like doing, and steer my own ship, no matter the gender normative. If I didn't define myself as such, people had a harder time understanding motivations I had to be independent or sans a steady boyfriend. Like, so much so that I deferred to a term to define myself, rather than just rolling with it despite what they had to say, turning a deaf ear to their pity or confusion. I was told it's rude to be rude, or something like that. It was oppressive at times but I didn't buckle, I just ignored it as much as I could, we're all equal in my eyes ultimately. A little packaging won't change that. Beyond gender or race or color or religion, we are people.

The ironic converse of the tomboy thing that I have encountered in my career as grown up tomboy, would be the feminist scene. It's a hot button issue now a days, which is weird, since it's been an ongoing struggle for a long time, home girl Gloria will tell you. Lately it seems like you have to shove in every one's face how proud you are being a girl/woman, else they take you for a pushover. Which usually means you are likened to a man, with all your damning of convention and your sharp tongue and demanding of things. Eff you men and your sexist malarkey! We are going to get ours because we are just as good as you, but you aren't that good! Kind of thing. I've never met someone that considers them self a Manist, though, for obvious reasons. So jokes on us.   

I'm not opposed to solidarity and feel it with a select group of strong women I've known, but many times the same that use power statements with the term "vagina" in them (for the last time we have VULVAS not just the vagina, or one part that facilitates sex and baby making, which are the sole functions we are trying to disassociate from in the first place, to level the playing field right?) and refuse chivalry of any kind and rail against wage gaps are the same doing the biggest injustice to any slighted group. And they tend toward using the term rather than living it.

In doing those things, one is still needing the all evil male gender to validate and bounce off of  for their argument to mean anything. And that puts the wall up between the two sides of a very human coin, pointing right back to the whole he/she situation that doesn't fix anything, just emphasizes it. And we are still needing a man to validate. As the galvanizing leaders who spoke for equality of all kinds, positive replacing the negative is so much closer to victory. 

Yes, there are invisible ceilings and horrendous sexist mentalities, and definitely injustice in ways of monetary appropriation, but if that's all we focus on, then that's all we'll ever be. No matter what is implemented outwardly, the change has to come from within for it to stick. No one can insult you unless you feel truth to their insults. That I do know. So if we carry on building armor around us, we close off to all that might help change that nastiness, for good. Our nurturing natures, serve us better than we ever thought.   

By this time some might be incensed and wanting to leave an embittered word or two in the ol' comment box. How dare I, not want to join something that is finally gaining the momentum it deserves, being a woman and mother and professional in my own right? How can I not use a term to define myself, if it's powerful and enlisting myself with the masses of independent people that I am a part of? I feel you, skeptical people. I realize if the revolutionary scores before me had a similar mentality, the civil/gay/gender equality movements would have looked very different throughout history. 

The beating of a drum only creates more attention to the drum being beaten, not the tireless persistence to be heard though. It's the structure we live in, but that's what I'm talking about. In every instance, the breakthroughs came when it wasn't a fight anymore, but a persistent truth with calm clarity behind it.

Be the change you want to see, evolve past all of it and create your own world of equality. Invite others into that place, with your kindness and example and attention to that which works. Then those around you know who you are through your actions, no word needed. Step into your strong shoes and be the best you possible. Leaving all the real malarkey out of it.

There will be monsters and ridicule and barriers, yeah. You have to tune that out and stick to it. Pay dues, plant seeds, keep at it. As a person with goals or dreams or ideas. Ignore the clamor of insecurity, inside and out, or you will always be paying attention to it, and it will always contort into something else out of whack.

I watch my own little ladies get after the world with ease and flair and gusto, and I know that they have this idea at hand already, gratefully. They already know that us chicks are a dynamic bunch of beings, but not just because we're women. Because we're diverse and miraculous and powerful and deserve all we want, however we want it. And we shall attain it. If we'd just realize that and stop letting others tell us anything different.

Cheers, ladies. We got this.
   

   

  

      

The Single Again, Triple Mama Drama: Saga No More

I have learned a great many things on my path so far. That's the thing with knowledge, unless you are willing to apply it to daily life or share it with those who will benefit from it, it's useless. To that end, I have been shaping my life with that swollen cache. To that end, I write this now.

My last entry into this portion of my blog (The Single Mama Drama or SMD, then shifted to the Not So Single Double Mama Drama or the NSSDMD), spoke about our arriving as a family in a new city, all glittering and alive with possibility. That coupled with the accumulation of another kiddo, Maybel Dean, and getting a full handle on their dynamic under those circumstances. I go for broke, what can I say. My wisdom on those things has grown even more, being compounded by both the (semi recent) dissolving of my relationship and the arrival of a third kiddo. Alright, apparently I go for straight up bankrupt. But how glorious it has been, and continues to be. For I have come full circle in this saga, so much that I consider it not to be one at all anymore. 

Getting into He Said/She Said details of it all isn't where I'm at, so you won't be finding that here. I'm a private person yet an open book but one of the new skills applied is to truly root out the positive from the avalanche of negative it came in at times like these. Like, full on let it all go. The rest is just tail-chasingly draining and a waste of good emotional energy, to constantly be dwelling in "what went wrong". Ours is not a tragic tail of cheating and deceit and lies and fallen majesty . The basic truth to me breaking up with the father of my kids is due to an intrinsic difference on a few key levels. You can love someone all day long, but if you don't meet up in the partnership areas that matter the most, you are spinning your precious wheels on the road to domestic equilibrium. Spinning with such fury. 

I love this man (and always will), for he co-created with me two beautiful girls. As I have always known that the real kind doesn't just disappear one day, like a set of keys, the latest revision to that is how to exist with a former partner in a way that works. No matter how many cute stories or common interests you share, when you happen to make a living being with a significant other, that is the purest form of love. A far bigger commitment than a piece of paper and a party could ever be (or any tailored version there of). To disavow that with, "Sorry, I just fell OUT of love with you" means it wasn't what you thought it was all along. That doesn't mean it wasn't real or wasn't good or wasn't worth it. Every brave thrust into intimacy is worth it in my book, it helps you ferret out what you really want, less you meet the same type of person and engage in the same type of behavior. On an endless loop. Being honest enough to change it into what you want, is where it gets interesting. This all began happening for me as I started that scary trudge up the mountain of realization. I was going to be a mother in a triple dose.

Winry Star debuted on September 25th, 2014. She is ten months as I write this (time, she flies), such a wonderful addition to the Rambunctious Twins (for not the seven years difference, they could have shared a womb, so similar those two). We all  fall in love with each other more and more each day though, so we are doing something right.

Strangely, I was convinced she was a boy until she proved me wrong, the pregnancy was just completely different from the other two (if you recall, I am a solitary fortress when it comes to child bearing and in such let nature do it's thing). I did consider a midwife briefly, for the comfort of those around me, took some vitamins here and there as my body indicated a use for them. Maybe my fixation and (turns out misleading) intuition of her being a him was what I needed to cling to, in order to deal with it and not run screaming into the rustic foothills of scenic San D.

This time around, I announced before hand that there we were multiplying again. It was odd and often nostalgic for the previous instances when I just dealt with it on my own, but much better for everyone around me so I just dealt with it the best I could. I did keep the "free birth" element like her two sissies, it was just me and her when it was show time. Resoundingly beautiful, in that moment and all else forgotten, that stayed the same. How amazing that mothers can forget all of the pain so quickly, and just focus on that which is joy and new and life affirmingly true. Little Winerz. Might be the pistol-est of all, but with a gentler slant and gentler way (and it's lovely to have a little variety). She is an asset to the team, I happily report.

So here I was with an great family in a beautiful city with everything wanted still on track to manifest and days filled with merriment. And I would still hit the wall emotionally and have mini meltdowns at will. I wanted to know why, I wanted for better than that, for those I love. Relationships really are a mirror reflecting that which you are back at you, it's totally true. Be it parental, platonic, or romantic. One informs the other, and with Winry came a clarity I hadn't been able to access ever before. Funny how that works. Have to trust the events are serving you, even as they kick you in the face.

So I decided to get really real with myself and what I had become. Take a nice long look in that mirror and figure out who was looking back. Not comparing myself to the Old Me, nor longing for the future, Well Adjusted Me. Just deciphering how I felt in that moment in comparison to how I want to feel on a daily basis, in hopes to merge the two and just be content and happy. Such a simple elusive goal if you're lost. Turns out my disquieted soul was due to me selling myself ridiculously short for the whole of my adult life. Sure I had unique, awesome experiences and had bonds with good people, and lead a mostly good life that I tried my hardest everyday to honor. Despite all those things that did work, on a the deepest inner levels, I felt the weight of unworthiness above all else. 

Sounds cliche and heavy, but that's what I unearthed. It dawned that I had railroaded myself into emotional/relationship situations that, had I just taken a second to consult my inner, truest self, I wouldn't have. I had been deferring to that ugly, impossible to please sneer in my head (the one that's disguised as my own) that belittled and betrayed who I really am. It kept telling me that this wasn't good enough, that I was doing it wrong somehow. And it was smothering the Lola out of me. Once I figured out where it came from or just that it was even there, I took action to dismiss it and shut it the fuck up. Once and for all. The main adjustment was to break all the old patterns of deferring to someone else or doing what they wanted of me instead of sticking to what I knew was my truth. That whatever I wanted or knew or felt was A-OK and even more so, essential to my success in whatever I did.

So I broke those patterns. Not seamlessly, mind you, but broken for good. For me. For my girls. A few relationships outside of the main one I'm speaking to also took a ditch for it, but hey, I guess they aren't meant to be if they blurred in importance through my new, clear vision. No way to turn back now. I knew it in my fibers, light bulb style. 

This familiar yet fresh vision beheld in the reflection that utterly kind, ever grounded, super intelligent, calmly confident, artist/rebel that had the balls and faith and resources of soul, to jump in a car and pursue what she wanted a thousand miles from comfort zone about a decade ago. And this time, she's stood ten times taller with all the life she's lived from then until now. So she tipped her hat and claimed the space to grow stronger evermore and I, at long last, deferred to her above all else. Man, it felt and feels good.

It was a hard decision, mainly for the effect it would have on my girls. Don't get me wrong. This is how it had to be, though, for that very same reason. So I fully kicked off my It-takes-two-to-Tango dancing shoes (as sensitively and amicably as possible) and began my path again, refreshingly barefoot. Well, barefoot with three sets of little bare feet beside me. We are still good friends, he and I. It was mutual, in our understanding that we needed to be alone to reach our full potential, for the better of us all. I look at him with kindness as much as I ever did (minus the random frustrations that will always be), and we are doing this the best we can, that's all one can hope for. 

Co-parenting is a marathon and a break up amid that is a decathlon. You have to keep picking yourself up, talking yourself up and playing the drama down in as many ways as it is presented. If you take being a parent or a partner or friend to heart, that is. Those applied skills I mentioned before boil down to three major points. As I discovered each one, I committed to practicing not just preaching. Do with them what you will, I know they benefit anyone, not just someone in a similar situation. As much as possible, remember that:

1.) Your life is happening RIGHT NOW.  This, right here, is where all your power lies. It's all we truly have if you think about it. Past and future are concepts, and ultimately just serve as a distraction from this amazing moment. I spent so much of my life somewhere else, missing it. Where we live and breathe the best, is right here and now. Getting lost in it, we are our genuine selves and that yields the best outcomes.
        

2.) Love, Love Love. Replace the negative fiddle faddle with kindness to yourself and those around you as much as possible, be thankful for the simplest of things. If you don't love that all important reflection you see in your mirror, figure out what it will take to love that person and follow through. Hang in there, it's worth it. Your perspective is yours alone, and your responsibility. It comes with great privilege, don't worry.  

3.) Do what you say, say what you do.  Elements of a relationship change daily (we as humans, change daily) but if you communicate and follow through, the other stuff is able to shift to what it needs to be. In all ways imaginable. Don't be afraid of stating your heart's contents, be afraid to let them die unheard.

I know I could have saved some time and effort by just slapping those down and dropping the mic (too late), but that's what went down, sparing the nitty gritty. It's all in the past, we have been broken up officially for over a year now. We are still in constant contact as we have only each other really to get square on our own (funny how that works, too), and in many ways have a far better relational time of things than we ever did as a couple. It's challenging, it's messy it's wonderful it's poignant. We will be all the better for our accomplishing all of it. The girls included. They know they are loved unconditionally and that we have their backs. I would rather they see two people realigning toward the positive, separately, than form a warped negative template of how two people are, together. Call me crazy.  

I am so proud of my unit, no matter what formation it takes, we will always be a family. Can't ever forget that. I'm excited for the future but I keep it loose like a cloud morphing with changing winds. I am grateful for the past and it's hard won lessons, but don't let it shackle me anymore, certainly don't allow it to beat upon me and in turn, us.

As far as long chronicled epic tales go, I don't consider it as such now (how I detrimentally did at times before). We've expanded past that and are perseverance personified, living and breathing and loving each other, changing daily to accommodate who we choose to be. I am so thankful I finally know that isn't a tragic tale of woe, that's a melodic memoir. How great that it won't ever be finished.     

   

     

Remake: The Movie

I read an article about seven years ago that pops into my head more and more. The author outlined ways in which Hollywood studios are screwing themselves over financially and creatively. The remaking of film history, particularly the 80's and 90's, was among the offenses. Remaking films that have no real business being messed with, as they stayed on our radar the first time around. All that tactic does is reiterate to the audience that Hollywood at large focuses on procuring dollars with haphazard, pandering nostalgia more than earning our trust or respect with original thought or innovative presentation (I'm looking at you, Disney). This was almost a decade ago, and the message is louder and clearer today than it was at the time. I don't think we recognized what was happening, but it continues, this landslide to muddy repetitive oblivion.   

If these projects were Kickstarter funded, grass roots style manifestos of exciting artistic play, that would be one thing. If, say, the people involved truly loved the story lines so much that they decide to expand on it for the further joy and enjoyment of fans everywhere and the end result tapped into that important essence. Maybe. If the entire original cast (yeah, even the two line day players) signed on with the same director and writer. Maybe, maybe.

Sadly though, even under those conditions, the versions received along those lines just fail to recapture in spirit and resonance, especially so far past the relevance marker. I submit for example, Dumb and Dumber To. I choose not to watch that one, I prefer to keep the first inspired, weird, hilarious one alive in my mind. All previews I've seen are kind of a mockery. It's a great example, because that was one of the break outs of the time, we added it to the lexicon of quoted and re-watched (I had the soundtrack, that's when you know it's real). The only reason it was, however, was that it had no intention of being so. It just ended up there, by way of telling an unfamiliar off-the -wall story with apt casting and raunch and utter silliness that worked. All the off center things were what made it memorable. I bristle when things get all contrive-y twenty years later. Polite pass, guys.        

I'm not saying that the artists involved with these projects are crap for being involved. Bills to pay and dreams to realize, haven't we all. From a business stand point major markets are hard to keep because there remains that second-to-second refreshed page of newer and shinier things to be distracted by (top tier execs not heeding the internet is the fore runner as to how this all started, if you ask me), and it ain't getting any easier.

Youth obsession coupled with instant gratification and it's a wonder we aren't just splicing together ten second mash-ups of "cool movie stuff" and calling it good: a sad event in the past, then a big explosion, a fight sequence, a romantic embrace, a secret revealed that thickens the plot and/or justifies all the drama. Then everyone smiles and laughs and carries on toward a beautiful sunset. Save ourselves time and-ahem-money.

We deserve better, and know for a fact we are capable of better.

I look around at the complex, wondrous, amazing lives of those around me and see nothing but a plot line or a jumping off point to fill numerous pages with. Everyone on planet earth has a thought that no one else has thought of before, not unlike our fingerprints, we are no two alike. Despite the unifying commonalities that will always be utilized to tie it all together, how odd it is we are lining up to accept what's being thrown at us. I know I'm not the only one out here on the farthest fringe of popular demand that feels this way.

Let's head toward the lusher, greener fields of entertainment then, those that have grown out of fertile imaginative soils, not well-worn tracts fertilized over yet again with slick business acumen and marketing degrees in (full Oscar winning) costume, masquerading as inspired installations of moving human condition. All just to grab us by the wallet and purse strings, not tug at our heart strings organically. Complete with action figure and DVD/Blue Ray combo pack on standby. We have whiffed if all before a few times. Ignoring that is an insult to the intelligence and integrity that we admired about those movies way back when. Is it not?  

Might I suggest...a familiar face, style or imagery that might be reminiscent of something else beloved, but rather than trying to recreate the entire experience, creating an entirely new one? Using the same crew, cast and vibe (if we must, after all Mel Brooks did it for years and never lost his cred), but doing something that is a complete departure from: Batman, Superman, Spider-Man, The X-Men, Middle Earth, formulaic romantic cliches, Cinderella, Snow White, the 80's hits, the 90's hits (early Millennial while we're at it), Star Wars, cult classics from any era, prequels/sequels that come from a think tank built to make money, not the originator and their personal touch. I have nothing against the themes above, or the movies they have spawned...I just don't really care enough about the characters anymore to remember or invest in any of it. I know I'm not the only one.

There are silver linings to the dreary deja vu clouds that hang above us. For every Rocky Horror Picture Show remake (the thought of that one still stings like a jellyfish), there are gems like Mr. Nobody and Gone Girl. Even if you didn't particularly like the movie (I did, both were against the grain and stylized enough to stick), it got you thinking in new directions, it dazzled you in some way even for just a minute. That minute is worth more than all hours of the other rehashes combined. It's why we buy tickets, in hopes to have that.

I hold sacred the forging of new horizons. I see no point in life itself with out it. That includes the decline to buy into all the reused just to have something to watch, and just so they have something to make money with. We are in the directors seat on that one.

So here's to those fresh perspectives, may they grow stronger and fresher each day. Eventually we will bust out of the rut. Art imitates life, after all.

I eagerly await the aisle for those stories. 

    

    

The Latest Level

On New Years Day, I shared an elevator with two strangers, an elder gentleman, and a younger gentleman. As the doors closed and we began our one floor rise to the grocery store, the elder gentleman said, "Happy New Year, I hope it's been a good one for you." to both of us. I smiled, wished him the same and confirmed that it had been so far. The other man shifted somewhat uncomfortably and said nothing, eyes front. The elder man then said, "I think there are good things to come this year." I agreed, adding that I felt that as well. At the same time I noticed that the other passenger felt the opposite, apparently. The doors opened and he all but fled the small compartment. By the sheer contrast of the two standings, that ten second scenario seemed to encapsulate the vibe of this dawning year. A time of new beginning and hope, with a dash of squeamish uncertainty. As this isn't a new theme, New Years have been happening for a while now, what evidence do we have that this will be a good year more than not? What has yet to set it apart?

There are some awesome strides being made in the positive column. Spirituality is more prevalent, it seems. More people going to church again/more/anew, more people meditating, or at the very least, questing for deeper solutions to prevailing questions. Science is uncovering and discovering things that are very encouraging, things that we've all suspected for a while in connecting the spiritual and the factual. Families starting and/or expanding, more babies coming in, bringing new life and a fuller scope with it. Professional milestones, companies giving back, trying to better the environment, some folks striking out on their own branching into a version of their dream rather than being a cog in another's. Empowerment, not subservience. The world finding unexplainable yet harmonious examples of an evolution as a planet. A stronger bond among us all, in that we know more now that we are all one. That we affect each other. It's inspiring to see these unfolding, I know they will all be for the better.

Then there's the other sobering hand, slapping at the other with detracting word. The FDA's puzzling regulation turns (like, lowering standards of acceptable food processing will benefit us all HOW exactly?), a polarized view of certain marriage laws taking effect, confusion on mandated health care and all it entails. More baffling weather/climate turns, more species dying off and fewer avenues to escape the claustrophobic realization of how big a role man plays in it all. A still stagnating economic scene, one that forces us to ignore the more pertinent issues.

Both the light and dark are ongoing, a part of the human condition in all it's duplicity and complexity and it's all pretty much same shit different day, kind of thing. A ceremonial countdown to a different numeric moniker doesn't really change either, but how we're filtering it all just might.

My awareness and connectedness to my fellow man, is the main shift for this, 2014. I think if our perspectives continue to shift enough, it will warrant some really uplifting, awe eliciting happenings, and we'll be on the right track. No offense to that squeamish dude, maybe he just doesn't like elevators. Maybe we posed stranger danger. Maybe he's just working on that perspective shift, and our reassurance was a slide in a more positive view, but he had to rush back to a party, or something. I hope the latter.
  
Usually at this time-I waited a few weeks to see how the vibe is playing out this go around-I am knee deep in a new manifesto. I've vowed to be un-afraid, to be open, to be the real me, to continue being strong, to enjoy the journey, and to let it all happen, in years past. All of those have served me well, and that's why I gave the response I did, to that kind stranger in the elevator. I do believe all this is culminating in a good direction, and I do my best to aid in that. Every day, not just once a year.

It's 2014, for Pete's sake. This was a time envisioned of flying, spaceship like modes of daily transport, meals in pill form. We are supposed to be having holographic phone calls about important futuristic things. Although we are fourteen years deeper into the millennial era and still not a regular episode of The Jetsons, perhaps we have it wrong. Perhaps it wouldn't help out the struggles we face, to have more revolutionary and reliable technological tools to aid in our various human plights. We use smart phones, we drive hybrid cars, we use NASA informed products in the kitchen and household places, and yet we're the opposite of progress they offer, quite often. Much more tech than we've ever been, yet we clobber around with these tools, almost using them to detach from our humanity, not enhance it's existence. I would love a jet pack and a programmably efficient robo-nanny to fill my shoes as much as the next chick, but perhaps we've yet to reach that horizon due to our obsession with what that horizon holds. Through  all the aforementioned positives that are happening, maybe we'll get there sooner than we think, but maybe we're better off right where we are, re-learning the basics. The two shall meet at the perfect time, not before.

That can be said for all the goals, all the hopes, dreams, aspirations and silver linings. We know they're there, and instead of anguishing over them, we ought to just take it a day at a time, and truly accept where we are in the process. Enjoy it, as much as possible. Before we know it, 2015 will be creeping up, and we'll have a chance to start the whole shebang again. Better, updated versions of ourselves, not just updated inanimate objects. Closer, if not far beyond those pipe dreams and onto another. That's my resolution this year. To keep shifting to allow the greatness to flow.

Who knows...maybe we can all share a lift and a message of hope with someone that needs it in the following months. At least we'll be that much further off the ground.   

The NSSDMD: Outside The Box Office

 Maybel, the wizened, discerning, year-and-seven-month-old she is (and I'm serious), has already landed on some repetitive films in her short time. Wallace and Grommit Curse of the Wererabbit was first. Then it was Hotel Transylvania and Tangled alternated at regular intervals. How to Train Your Dragon made the rounds. The Fantastic Mr. Fox is her current du jour, following a stint of The Croods. Big sis Logan paved the way with these, and at the same age, had her own crop of repeats. The love of a good movie is in their DNA, no secret there. Dabbling so frequently in this arena, I realized recently that one of the perks to being a parent these days is to have such an awesome array to choose from. Not every one is a gem, but those that shine are sunglasses worthy. They stand on their own as great films, not just for a certain type, age or mentality. The lackluster pillars of cutesy, clichéd "kid" shows have crumbled, and standing in their place are some of the most original, touching, and well executed stories being told. Stories that by being told in their unique way, send a message of uniqueness being a good thing.

That being said, the kid demographic has the majority of the credit for those risks being taken I'd suspect. Little ones dwell in full magical imagination while forming opinions, with a complete suspension of disbelief. No skepticism or cynicism in their way. What's so cool is that you in adult form get sucked into that world for a brief time with them, remembering what that feels like, if you let yourself. The kiddos appreciate those kinds of interactions too, how rare they can be.

Watching the flawless end results-often with new nuance found each time-it's easy to forget what it takes to get to that end. The technical genius-be it computer, stop-motion or old fashioned paper and pencil-rarely receives adequate recognition. It takes years of daily minutia from start to finish, and only a select few in the team of thousands bringing them to life ever get the high fives their live action counterparts do, if at all. They toil away to present these vivid dreamscapes with fresh takes on relevant real-life lessons. Far more than before, I'd say. The actors bringing unfettered flair armed with just a microphone, have freedom to bring the character to life with equally dazzling vividness, with no physical limitation. That in itself is pretty rad. It's art come to life simplistically, because it's allowed to be by everyone involved. The industry could apply such tactics across the board and build a sturdier foundation to launch from. Maybe even earn back a little credibility with which to earn a buck.

All technical reverence aside, the real value is how they are personally bonded to you/your family. It's honestly why I got into this crazy entertainment racket myself. Some of the happier memories of childhood are of the whole family watching a movie as a unit when the moments before and after, we were anything but. We'd take a journey, have fun and forget all else for a while. Everyone deserves as much.

I'm a big fan of quiet time, reading time, no technology time and being outside time, for sure. We are equally happy doing all. When it is time to bust out though, I'm pleased with the substance offered and retained. To know that it's enriching, not just vacant space. That we share quotes, inside references and the knowledge that we have a rekindling of those things, whenever we want. Even at a raucous daily rate.   

To be bestowed such gifts, it seems like there ought to be a better shorthand way (too late) of conveying thanks. I do know that with all flowing, passionate pursuits, the work is it's own reward. Any child can show you by how they are. Those contrasting colors will be vibrant, knocking down any four walled stumbling blocks in their way, living on. I'll take that ticket every time.      

Alchemetizing

We are the sum of our greatest and weakest parts combined, at times the weak links having the glittering edge on defining us. Flaws subconsciously tormenting, always reappearing, on an endless vicious cycle. The nuisances (or those who point them out) emerge to kick us down a peg just when we think we have a handle on them. The why is different for everyone but the how in which we try to fix them is usually common ground and for common reasons: to be happy. Self-help, affirmations, copious amounts of prescribed, legal and illegal drugs. Religion. Spirituality. Feigned ignorance. Physical exercise in place of them all. I've chosen to deal with mine using all of the above at one time or another, but in all those cases, the basis is to change the unsavory completely. To renounce the bad with a whirlwind of determination and gumption and delight in doing society and loved ones a solid. Acknowledge the little bastards, usually with a sigh or a snarl, pushing to be "better next time".

Turning tin into gold is a once thriving practice known as alchemy. Science, magic, and whatever else being used to transform something into something else more valuable. I came upon an idea linking the two together this past weekend, a provocative alternative to anyone who plays hard for Team Fix Yourself. Instead of grabbing the gnarly root and yanking it with ferocity, you allow yourself to follow it back to inception (childhood or adolescence), introduce yourself and invite it to brunch. Get to know it, embrace it, own it, love it. You are never rid of those things you give attention or effort to, so being at war is a big waste. The negative are as much a part of you as your DNA, and as hard to remove. If you're argumentative, strap on your litigious shoes and fight for important cases in a court room. So you transmute, in order not to transgress.

As I watched the five minutes of video, my knee jerk reaction-which in itself is one of my more minor yet niggling traits of doom-was a tilt of the head and a knitted brow. It was almost like this trusted sage speaking sagely to me was enabling us all to be a-holes. It takes honesty, energy and a swift kick to the comfort zone, but oppositional change is certainly attainable. To set oneself aflame is quite the ordeal mind you, but it's entirely possible.

I mused on it for the rest of the day to give the notion a fair shot. I jotted down a bullet list of the self actualized major offenders, and while doing so I had a light bulb. Try it and see for yourself.

The enumerations of shame I came up with weren't mind boggling, so there's that. I'm painfully aware of how stubborn I am, how independent to an alienating degree, how moody, how judgmental when confronted with judgment, how shamelessly I remain a joyous shopaholic, and most of all, how heinously hyper-analytical. Because I live in the maze of my thoughts like a Kodiak in it's cozy labyrinthine cave, I've come to know these things far longer. The difference was as I sat there, I think I finally managed to high five my big ol' bear. After we on-goingly meditate him down to more of a cuddly cub. It's taken 15 years or so, but fair enough. The flip side to those blighters are my fortitude in all matters, my leadership by example, my passionate pursuit of what I want, my distinct sense of style and where to find it, and that lovable bear yields what I write.

I haven't turned on myself and wagged a disapproving finger, as I automatically used to. I've simply chosen to alter the yucky thoughts in my head as they arise. I'm testing shit out in the field, recording data with less urgency and more "aaaah, that makes sense". I can't ever stop my fervent thinktitude, but I can turn it to a more accomodating speed with more light hearted outcomes. I can choose to shrug off rigidity and be flexible. I can pass by the shoe section and avert my gaze. I can accept help more often. Not with a sullen sulk for the rest of the hour/day, but with an ease and confidence.

As you become a "grown up" with responsibilities and obligations and stress, it gets easier and easier to shrug it all off and keep doing what you have to, compiling and vocalizing a litany of reasons why you can't do anything about it. I've challenged myself not to slide by in that way. I refuse to be an embittered husk, walking around pissed off at the imaginary oppressive juggernauts who are responsible. That is enemy number one of life as we have it, as far as I'm concerned.  

The results are still coming in, as they will until I'm at long last, a complete and flawless individual. Spoiler alert: that ain't gonna happen. So I'll keep treading through the discomfort and learning curves, so I can meet up with the higher level interpreted me. The Lola 2.0 (or whatever .0 is relevant these days), will surely greet me with a smile.

Despite the trials, tribulations and general monotonous loops the human condition is comprised of, I'm all for it. It's worth the lost relationships-which will come back better over time if they are a mutual good thing-the angst fueled epiphanies and the romance with yourself deepening. It's a tempestuous best friend that you can't help but keep around (minus some hate, war, greed, fear mongering and looking to others to find answers), even as it kicks you in the shins or embarrasses you at a party. I advise revisions, they are more than worth their wait in gold. And they will be to those uplifted by them, too.





     

Blendship

As you get older, the need to maintain friendships dwindles. The want may never fade, but the dogged pursuit of unnecessary bros and subsequent compromise...it grows less urgent with time and maturity (hopefully). When a bond does last, however, it is a beautiful, awesome, life affirming thing. I had the privilege of spending time with two very special friends this past weekend (sparking a few new friendships and reviving a few old ones in the process). I was a bridesmaid in the wedding of one, and the house guest (for the wedding trip) of another. Couldn't have had one without the other. I'm thankful and delighted to witness the people they've become, for at times it seemed like we'd never mix up again.

Lifestyle is the king pin in relationships. Quitting a certain drug or getting married or deciding to be a lion tamer can either strengthen or snap a bond in twain. My particular friendship killer was moving to California to pursue my life goals and get the eff out of the blizzardry. It's a word. Before I left the first time, I knew I had a handful of friends that cared about me and my life and all that jazz. By the time I came back with my first kiddo in tow, that number was down significantly but I was knee deep in being a young, first time mom, so I didn't really notice. Kids are the number one killer of inane friendships, by the way, rightfully so. Then I filled in the gaps while I was back in town, re-connecting with the best of them and drinking my anxieties away. Drinking even a hangnail away, really.

Then I rallied and moved back to Cali, and those bonds that I cemented the three years I was back, took a hit. I suppose I played yo-yo with emotions, quite unintentionally. The visits I had back since to the ol' hometown have always been split between familial obligations and a want to keep those few lasting connections. It was often too much to do and too many to see for it to be satisfying, though. Then I joined Facebook-or the modern day town crier/gossip that doubles as your personal publicist who you check in with a minimum of 38 times a day-and it became both easier and harder to stay connected. I watched as the relationships I thought I had strained a bit under the contrast of closeness. I started not wanting to comment on photos or post my own, simply because, what's the point? We are different people day to day so how can you rely on any friendship, really?

So then the wedding trip came together. I was a bit nervous to be seeing long lost faces, as I was nervous to be staying out of town without my family by my side. Like NO family. Friend only, this time around. Plus I'd be staying with one friend and partaking in festivities with the other. The old twenty-something me would have blown a gasket at that loyalty clustercuss (ten points for that movie reference if you get it right). But instead of stressing (as the old me would have) I just went with it. I am so delighted that I did so, all weekend.

As I went through the events that surround both a three day off stint and a wedding, I realized some wonderful things. I realized that those who truly know you, will rise to meet your needs. You won't have to ask, they'll do you a solid every time. I realized that the closest person to you may still learn something new, something that you couldn't tell anyone before. Timing takes a big part in what is said. I learned that no matter how well you plan, you have to give yourself over to the moment, and if you picked your people right, you'll have a blast every time. The small stuff won't be a big deal, when the big stuff is so well preserved. I learned that even if you've gained a few pounds or lost a few hairs, the core you that is you, is shining on brilliantly, no matter what. And if you pick your people well, they love you for that shining brilliance alone.

 I knew all of this before, but to realize it spontaneously again, made the whole experience all the more magical. Not that the raucous bar convos, the late night heart to hearts, the laughter, the MANY MANY drinks, the gorgeous rainbow, the sporadic silliness, the tearful tenderness, the relaxed elegance, the humble talent, the warm memories (past and presently made), the copious witty exchanges and above all the unconditional love didn't contribute...it did.

How thankful I am that finally, life is no longer a bunch of ingredients clobbering the next for palatable recognition, but rather every easy component mixing deliciously. To have those around to help in whatever way the are able make that happen for you, is a true joy.

I know I couldn't possible re-cap to a satisfying degree, so I won't try. The regurgitation is never as good as the meal itself, if you catch my breeze. Something sacred. I did have a wonderful time, dashed lightly with near panic attack inducing hangovers, but no matter. It was well worth it, all of it coming out in the wash of life's awesomeness. I looked into the eyes of my best friend, two times over that weekend, each pair reflecting a particular strand of myself, yet the best possible sum of it's whole. It's a good feeling, one I recall in the moments since, in their absence.

To my ladies, Jiffy and the Meerkat, I love thee always. And to my other lovelies: Max, Laruelini, the Chihuahua, Head, T-Dub, Adamantium, Mandita, Eric B, Effin' Mahoney, Molly J and the rest who I bonded with randomly...It was a pleasure and I can't wait to pick up where we left off.
             
  

The NSSDMD: Shitty Kids Need Love Too

The neighborhood kids we were once excited to befriend, are a lot more complicated to be friends with, turns out. Logan is trapped in the frantic middle, as this particular playground is also her home turf. We witness multiple unsavory acts and hear hellacious phrases from this Viking brood roaming the grounds. Separately, they're alright. They can focus past cuss words and physical lashings enough to converse on their favorite super heroes, or how school was that day. Lump them together, however and it's a disparaging, lowbrow extravaganza.

When Logan has been allowed to join, she turns into one of them herself. Upon return, Maybel catches grief simply for being younger and unable to tell her to back off. Us adults catch grief for expecting more of her and we have residual fights to that end. As yucky as those consequences are, I can't help but feel for the wild bunch outside, even as they disappoint and infuriate. I know they don't have anyone counteracting all the damage they sustain out there or they wouldn't be in this mess. We've tried to bridge the gap when we can-a pizza party here, a listening ear and positive word there-but we shan't help them over our own, especially when Logan gets ganged up on and hurt inevitably. Bullying is the new black (either giving or receiving), for so many kids.    

We waffled on letting her outside to play for the first few months. We instructed her on how to avoid the undesirables while still accommodating her need to mix it up with her peers. Lordy knows she ain't innocent herself at times, but no one deserves to be harassed or made fun of en masse. After many trials and a few more errors, we concluded that no-mans land isn't worth it, and instead we will be accompanying her to the park, for social and physical exertion.

Only problem is, now she has to endure the kids carrying on without her, within ear/eye shot.For a social kid like her, it's torturous. She has to be the even odder man out, and the kids that once walked to school with us or enjoyed a juice box with on occasion, are now not so included. The stress we try to alleviate still rests on everyones' shoulders in a new way.

My way has always been to go solo if there's no one on the same page as me, while Logan prefers to chase down someone to play with regardless of conflict. It's been a challenge to meet in the middle. Now that she's older than a toddler, whatever bad influence she's exposed to rubs off instantly, out of sheer survival. How difficult it is, to resonate love and kindness and understanding, while she watches her peers shove the opposite at her constantly. And what a kerfuffle it is for those meanie-heads hacking it in society. Now and later.

Like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I believe that you can only replace negative with positive. It's Law of Attraction. I can't allow them to treat Logan with such disregard, but be so disgusted that I turn into an adult version of that. I can't single out Logan and stress her out incessantly over this stuff. She's almost eight (not twenty-eight), and has plenty time to right the wrongs within herself, and it's up to her anyway. More often she needs a hug and some quality time, not a lecture. I know if we choose kindness in the face of ugliness, we'll all be better for it no matter what the circumstances are.

Focus on yourself (which is the only element you really can control), keep your head up and ignore the others sipping on Haterade and slingin' mud. Lead by example and stay positive, even as you avoid it all together. I'll strive to keep her as fulfilled as possible without them in her sphere, until she finds a better fitting flock.

Kids getting the shit end of the stick, whether it's Logan assimilating or the neighbor kids demonstrating, the consequences of turd burger behaviour, the crap stress it puts on others and the difficult interpersonal bullshit we all have to wade through as humans, will always be there in some form. I'm thankful we have the option to flush it all away and start fresh, every day.  


 

The Matriarch Mess

Your parents are the most important relationship you have, I'd say. From the ground up, the way you relate to them and vice versa directs every other avenue you take in your life. Even the worst of the worst examples of the parental bond have a way of contrasting life so that either, you never pass on any endured unsavory-ness, or you learn enough by it to overcome and be better than they had been.
At times, familiarity breeds contempt, however. It seems that if you're a daughter, no one gets under your skin like your mom, and same for father and son. A same sex parent can be a handful, and I know for a fact they feel the same about us. I have two daughters of my own.

My mother came to stay with me and the fledgling fam over the holidays, a step in the process of moving here permanently. It both chagrins and delights me, the idea was hatched out of a mutual agreement on us being under the same roof for a myriad of reasons. It sounded great in theory, as most theories do. If I didn't sport the Mama Card already, the transition and adjustments might not have been so bumpy as they've frequently been. But I do and they have, all the while, life churning on around us, being effected by our fall out. Shades of how it was in my childhood, cascading back.

I love my mom. I respect her and I appreciate who she is, look up to her in many ways. In the most flattering, emulating the groundwork she laid with me, for my own kiddos. I always did, even when our relationship was nothing to be proud of. So why is it that I mentally flip her off so often, cringe at her insistent instruction? Has my own daughter started doing the same to me, at the tender age of seven? How far off is my eight month old daughter on that? Crap on a cracker, I say. Doesn't seem right or fair. Just flat out contradictory to the very nurturing nature that women posses.

You despise most in others that which you despise in yourself, and that saying makes the most sense when I reflect on shouting matches we have. My mom is an intelligent, stubborn, hard working, persevering lady. She expects the best of people, or at very least, ownership of the worst. I am not far off in those respects, she instilled all of her four children with those traits, painstakingly so at times. They have served us well for the most part, so it's not for naught. I can't speak for my sibs, but in my case, she bristles at me most for being the very way she is to me, back at her. Give it a second, it make sense.
It's my choice to take offense to the manner in which she relates to me, I've been privy to her personality long enough to let it roll of my shoulders, or remember that she means all of it with the best intent. To humor her, as she's earned it.

I understand where she's coming from, and she me. We both agree on most subjects enough to make a go of it, but the select issues we do NOT agree on kind of rip our bond a new one. She's the grandma of my kids, and her job is to spoil them and send them back to me to deal with the less appealing aspects of mothering. That's the perks of having grand kids, I thought. Her stance on that is different, however. She's a teacher and therefor lives to instruct no matter what. It just comes out of her, I notice, even when it violates the treaty du jour. I've asked for boundaries to be honored, and the same of hers in turn. But every few days, we have a go-round that results in sullen, iceberg existences from her or I, or both. We have to fix that, I'm tired of the place where I rest my head also being the place I bang it on the wall repeatedly. In order to do so, I have to ask questions and embrace the answers, no matter what they are.

In all honesty, I do wish that she was still in charge at times. That I was just a cog in the machine, not the systems operator. That I could magically regain my freedom. Party, sleep in and not have to give a rats' ass about anything. Maybe her being in close proximity, it's a constant subconscious reminder of that. With my mom now in my California life, the lines of difference between what I had then and what I have now, are all the more visible. The same for her then. Perhaps seeing me with my little ones, starting out in a new chapter of life at the age I'm at, reminds her that shes' in the latter chapters, even if this endeavor is a new exciting phase itself. And that's a lonely place to be. So it's more familiar/easier to charge ahead than trot alongside. Or maybe we're just both stubborn, used to being in the drivers seat and secretly like a good high stakes debate (as usual, I bet both). What silly creatures us women are, though equally complex and amazing.

To meet in the middle, we have to keep trying to understand each others perspective and be patient. God help us all, the patience. I need to organize my own thoughts and emotions and remember who I am and what's happening in this moment. Who I am, in this moment. Even my lovely mom, who I cherish in her own respect, shan't effect that if I'm for real. I think that's how moms still teach us, into our adult years. I hope to remember all of this in the future, if Logan/Maybel and I are ever in a similar predicament.

Unless there's no reason to, we'll keep trying to allow it to work. Family is the best of reasons to do so, even as they make you want to poke your eyes out with blunt spoons. Just have to roll up our sleeves and clean up whatever spills out.     



  

The NSSDMD: (Not So Single Double Mama Drama) Part One

I have been away, and I'm truly sorry to leave those hanging that follow this journalesque blog o'mine. But as with a journal, sometimes life supersedes the written word for a time, only to fuel it so completely later. Please read on for a full explanation and catching up of what's been going down. I shan't be away again for so very long.

When I check out of lifes' motel, there will be so many shinning, glittery memories of my time here that I'll gratefully look back upon. My favorite movies and books. Enjoying all the boisterous family holidays as a kid, feeling safe, happy and loved. Sewing wild oats with wild abandon, in places I'd always dreamed of being and at long last, made it to. Looking in the mirror and feeling delighted at what I see staring back. Hours spent with the people that celebrate who I am the most, doing things unique to only us. And most glittery to date, starting a family of my own. My life has morphed and grown to allow for their respective journeys to take shape, and it's as rewarding as it is grueling at times, not that it's a news flash to say so. The past few months I've been away we've multiplied from three to four, moved to a new city, and started a new chapter.

My enigmatic little genius, my sassy spitfire with a heart of gold named Logan, who so completely changed my scope of life seven years ago (and the soul reason for the SMD), started out a painful secret of mine. I've touched on this subject a few times, but never with this degree of explanation. I didn't feel I could do it all justice, or I just wanted the forthcoming novel to do big numbers, I 'spose. But it's a necessary, timely time to let you all in on it.

No one knew concretely (a few family members suspected) of Logan until she was already here, after I gave birth to her myself, all by myself. I kept it hidden from everyone I knew. Yeah, I know, misguided teenagers in preachy after school specials do that sort of thing, not competent 23 year old aspiring actors. Secret, solo and in the passenger seat of a car isn't how women envision their first child bearing experience. Especially when they didn't want one to begin with, didn't fathom it ever happening. My distant thinking at the time was that motherhood would trample everything I'd carved out for my life up to that point. I was an island of my own independent functioning, a career oriented, self-sufficient party girl that no one really understood, but who many thought they knew well enough. Not having anyone to care about or for, besides me, myself, and I. My plan was to leave her at a fire station for someone who really wanted a kid, could truly take care of her. Then she came out and I let myself fall in love, and couldn't drop her anywhere but into my own life. Needless to say the ripples of how Logan was born touched everyone around us. Anyone regaled with the tale was/is shocked or humbled or confused (or all three) as to why I could/would do anything so "dangerous" or "difficult", or truly astonished that I had the wherewithal to see it through with no trauma or death.

Truth be told, I was more freaked out by the thought of others interfering than by any other facet of what was happening. No stranger was going to shout "BREATHE!" at me, if you catch my breeze. I know how to do that, thanks, and I would rather do it at my own behest. Most women would have gotten prenatal care, dealt with the "facts", let everyone know what was happening way before. Celebrated it with cutesy decorations, even. I'm not most women though, don't do things the "normal" way,  and these two experiences only cemented that about me.

When it was just Logan and I for that first five years, it felt like who I presumed I was and who I truly wanted to be finally blended and multiplied my person hood, even as it kicked my ass into shape. To hell with all the others. I had found a being that loved me for me, unconditionally, one who I would see concrete proof of daily time and energy and emotion spent. I was content and determined to shift and make my goals fit around this little lump of love. So I did, and it was good.

Cut to October of almost two years ago, when we met Darrick. He was a friend of a friend, and sparks didn't exactly fly when we first met. He seemed like good bro material, but I wasn't looking for any sort of romance. So, naturally, the ivory white glove of relationship slapped my cheek soundly. It was a quick, challenging, comfortable ride to coupledom from there. We went from acquaintances, to friends, to roommates with benefits, to being with each other everyday. We had started a life together. All within a couple weeks.

We were/are friends first, and that always leads to something lasting, even when it's resisted most for various external reasons. He's a lone wolf like myself, so we had some adjustments within ourselves to contend with (but like attracts like, so here we are). Logz was none too pleased to have our dynamic changed so soundly either, needless to say. I was all she'd ever known and now there was someone else taking my time and attention. But they are a lot alike ironically, and after seeing him as a friend first and then (stubbornly, reluctantly), a father figure, she finally accepted that we were now three. It was a breakthrough, it was.

Then around September of last year, I crash landed back in that weird, distant place I had only known once before. That lonely, protective, place. I watched from a distance as all the happy, nagging thoughts of giving Logan a sibling, all the anxieties of having another lump of love added to the mix too soon, as the anxieties of financial constraints had a strangle hold on us,  and most of all, dealing with what everyone around me would have to say about it all...finally, I watched as it all culminated on Mothers' Day of this year, when Maybel Dean Alexander was born. She was 8lbs 1oz of round, roley, Buddha baby from the moment she debuted. Quiet and observant and lovely. This time I was in the bathroom, not my car, so upgrade there at least. Just like her sister before, she debuted to a couple suspecting family members, but mostly clueless onslaughts of those who know us. They all were shocked and delighted, confused but content that we were both healthy and happy. Logan loves her baby sis, despite the initial resentful fury that comes with any sibling dynamic, and the near out of the blue big sister-hood.
  

I don't suppose I can explain my position to any satisfying degree, but I'm a writer so I'll take a stab at it. Some could argue that I betrayed many people out of the "pregnancy experience" they would have had through me, that I cheated Maybel out of prenatal care in every respect, that I cheated myself out of that...and in that way I feel a millimeter of remorse. But that's just it; if it weren't for anyone else involved, I would have done it just the way I did. She came out as healthy as a little ox (or bull, she is a Taurus..and her name is Maybel) so at the end of the day, no harm no foul. Darrick took the biggest hit being a proud papa that couldn't really be, but that's a big reason why we work. He trusted me to do what I had to, and he's just thankful to have such a wonderful baby girl. 

Pregnancy does funny things to women, just as war does funny things to men. Hormones and emotions thereof, the prospect of  shoving your personal autonomy farther away (just as you got it back to some degree if you have more than one), considering all the ramifications of every choice you will or won't make on your baby and everyone else involved...it can be one of the loneliest, scariest times in a womans' life. Even if throngs of people support them through it, it's still personal and private and life altering.

For some reason, my response to all that is to go into "protection mode" as a nurse in the hospital called it (we went both times after they were born, to get checked out). Half of me denies it's happening, the other half will be damned to let anyone mess with me or the alien object that grows steadily that I must protect. A part of me just doesn't want anyone to see me go through all the gory details if I can spare them. As crazy as it sounds. I didn't connect to either girls until I looked into their eyes for the first time, heard their cry, kissed their little chubby cheeks. I knew if I'd gone the traditional route things would have been worse for me, and in effect, them.

This I will say, however, for what it's worth and as for how it may apply to mine or  any particular life situation of yours:

1) Babies are resilient, miraculous creatures. They follow mamas' lead, so if you're OK with your choices, they will be too.

2) Panic never helps any situation, stay calm and stay in the moment and stay strong. It will work itself out, I'm living proof of that.

3) If you trust yourself enough to know what's best for yourself, then committing to it all the way-even when that means choosing something that's wrong to someone else-won't bring about catastrophe, it will bring change for the better. With all due respect to the peanut gallery, you have to ignore them. Either they'll understand or they'll exit your life, and you'll be happy in that life. It's the only one you have, afterall.

So Maybel is here now, no matter what it took, with all her magic and beauty and wrecking ball effect life as we knew it, only to re-build it stronger. She fits so well, and we love her completely. Amidst all the Maybel drama, we were getting ducks in rows to move to San Diego, the other big change in our lives lately....standby for Part Two.
     


      

The SMD: Double Dutch

The most indicative sign of the times we live in, are those noticed when you spend time with a group of modern youngsters. This isn't a news flash or an unexplored theme here at the SMD, but it continues to boggle my mind all the time, sending me scrambling for a solution to it's residual effects. Effects that both Logan and I, daily, rebel against by nature.
We have always delighted in her respective stages, enjoying that age as much as possible without letting loose all her "big girl" strides (it's harder than it sounds at times, but completely worth it) and until she started school, it wasn't a blip on the radar too often. The blips were fewer and farther between, at least.
She's spent the majority of her time around older people as opposed to other children, but an only child has that cross to bear, and it's a good thing more often than not. She's always held accountable for things she knows better of, in the best and worst. This school year has been a bitter pill socially though, and it has everything to do with her defense mechanisms and the influences she's feeling torn by.

How tragic it is to witness the attitude, sophistication and morals she's immersed in resemble that of Sweet Valley High rather than Sesame Street. She has to jarringly bounce between the two worlds: the safety zone of accepting home life and the ongoing teen-like drama of the 1st grade (there's something really wrong with that last part), just to survive. So very foreign, this concept, at such a young age.

Yesterday she was recognized at an awards ceremony, by her teacher and principal for a whopping reading level escalation this trimester, and for perfect attendance. She is now a level above where they hope the students in her grade to be at the end of the year, with a few months to spare. She jumped ten levels, the little dickens. I'm beyond proud of her for accomplishing that at all, let alone under these emotional circumstances, and I told her so. They need to hear that stuff as often as possible, and so many don't. This feat was accomplished by the harnessing her frustratingly/ brilliantly selective focus and fortitude (and my dogged insistence she apply herself, but that's my job and the whole point of me being at home with her) despite any fatigue she comes home drenched in.
The same skill set that she possesses to achieve such accolades is the very one that causes her to stumble in the social world, and I noticed it yesterday. There she stood, getting an impressive award, and after all was said and done and we came up to her to congratulate, a group of her friends stood by with thinly veiled contempt for her. Or maybe it was AT her. It was hard to witness proof that originals aren't really encouraged completely, when there are so many types of necessary conformity at this age. It's a hard concept to grasp at any point in life, hard to be different when sameness is affluent and easier.

It's not the kids' fault, either. Alot of her peers/older kids she's exposed to on the bus, haven't had the privilege of a parent/care giver around to cultivate that in them, good bad or indifferent. No one's fault, but no ones' immediate duty either, when providing food and clothing and a roof over their heads trumps all other finer points. No judgement, as we all do what we have to do (and these are tyring times that keep getting trying-er), but there's still collateral damage to deal with, everyday for everyone involved. Our family deals with the converse, and neither is a pic-nic, I know that. Parenting is just so impossible sometimes, we all deserve medals of honor just for any positive result or semblance of balance we can achieve. I mean that.

On this hyper speed maturity crash course, all of them are trying their best to assert/be themselves, while blending in effectively. Society is a sticky wicket, it really is. Stand out and strive for success they're told, but get nailed for doing so by those that you most want to be stoked for you, your friends/peers. In my experiences growing up, I was confronted with these issues much farther down the pike (like, Jr. high farther), and I'm flat-out pissed that Logan has to go through this while she's just getting the hang of this school thing. But such is their quickened journey. She/they are just as screwed as we are as parents-damned if they do, damned if they don't, and damned if they can fix it consistently, half the time for one reason or another. That's important to remember, as we watch them mutate from what we know to what they choose to be. Even if we don't relate to it as much as we once did, we're growing and learning as they are.

This school year is almost over, and I'm as relieved as Logan is. Perhaps a smidgen more. Hopefully this next go-round will be more grounded, more even, more fun for her. I know my little one can do whatever she wants in her life, school or otherwise, like everyone can, and it's pointless to waste your gifts just to blend in. That much she's learned. I've passed on the best tools I myself employ, and tried my hardest to inspire kindness to herself and others, even when it's the hardest road to take. That's all we can do, really. If only I could grab her hand and transport her to the future for a few moments, where she'll see that all her attributes that caused her grief growing up, allow her to succeed in her adult life...that would be helpful quantum leap. Until such is possible, the jumps we sustain will be to keep standing. And that's good enough, when we're still learning the ropes.

Mustard Seeds

The little things in life end up being what the big picture looks like, even as they're simultaneously shuffled under the rug to suit any given situation. We've learned as consumers to attack the fine print with an almost OCD precision for fear of being duped/fleeced or cheated. But when it's time to provide that precision to others in the workplace, it often mutates into a defensive justification of why we can't be bothered, why it doesn't matter or isn't worth it. We're adrift in this shit ton of minutia, whether in positive or negative light. God is in the details, they say.

This past weekend while watching the Super Bowl Half-time Show, I realized Madonna is a perfect example of the detail double standard. I could write an entire entry (or two) about why she irks me but I won't, suffice to say that she is a Monet in my eyes. From far away, she's a pop culture mainstay that makes that money, flaunts that body and shocks that audience with no shame in her game for quite a few decades now. Props on that. Any article read, interview witnessed or publicity stunt endured however, and she comes across not as the "artist" she claims, but rather a competitive fame whore with no real gratitude to her fans, no real self-aware dignity of what she has already accomplished. There's no need to be chasing down juvenille adoration so aggressively, still, when we know it's just to remain in the limelight. If I didn't know the latter, I could accept the former. But alas...she might as well have been a crew member jostling a mop in drag, she was so out of place on that extravagant stage. Her Madge-esty was not so majestic, so I'm pretty sure that backfired to some extent. Her chosen details did her wrong.

Topical examples aside, if you're inspired to do something from the heart and with good intentions-uplift your fellow man, spread love not hate, that kind of thing-delightful details are part of the package. Taking pride in every last stitch is becoming a lost art form, but it doesn't have to. We could take a cue from the former generations on this one, as much as it pains us to admit that tid-bit. A job well done doesn't have to be shoved upon us from the outside in. Looking around and appreciating the small stuff that our job affords us-money to do it, contrast to enjoy it-can be all we need to step it up a notch and further a cycle of positive actions, not negative defenses. Our details can do us right.

The difference between like and love, first or second, yay or nay in relation to important things, boils down to the tiniest fragment and it's all up to your attention to maintain the good. If the little things noticed don't agree with the grand scheme you're working toward, they can become what's holding you back instead of helping push you forward.

Holding the door for someone, picking up litter as you happen by it, or smiling at someone that looks like they need it, are the only ways I how to keep the inspired details churned out, and coming back in. All for the sake of dwelling in a happy place and helping others join in. So make the most of those mole hills, the mountains await.

Deciduous

I'm on the two month cusp of my third decade here on earth. On paper and in practicality, it's just another year, but because it's the end of an era, and the start of "true adulthood" as they say, I can't help but muse on my station. Contrary to most, I say assuredly as ever before: bring it on. I've always had an inkling that this specific time frame will yield amazing, positive fruition for this old soul. No more uncertainty and fluctuation that the teens and twenties challenged with, no more stress about superficial issues that once preoccupied and distracted me. Nothing but proof of progress, greater confidence and manifestation of all the hard work and perseverance that kept me going through all those years of wonder and upset (the only thing, at times), one way or another.

Why now as opposed to any point in the past, though? As I've been doggedly rushing towards this milestone, some of the miraculous journey was lost in the shuffle, I see that now. Is the very concept of "age" a help or a hinder, then? If we were never told of our age or that time passes in incremental notches towards a mysterious end point, would we have the same life experience, or would we ourselves even "age" the same? I don't think we would, but we as humans might need to play the game.

The first birthday is a big one, the start of hopefully many to come. Then there's the acquiring of walking, talking, reading and writing skills. Losing of baby teeth. The loss of innocense and blissful ignorance to harsh and necessary realities. All signs that we are growing up on schedule, as that's the goal. The sixteenth birthday is the next big one, then the eighteenth, then the twenty-first. Every one after that is a running joke about how close you are to being over the hill or on the other side of the hill, or one foot in the grave, basically. It's a blur, a blast and a torture in so many ways. All the while, we are chided to "act our age" or "grow up" if we aren't exhibiting ideal adjustment to all this change, all this rapid development. You wouldn't drag an infant along the ground, angry that they weren't striding along with you, but at a year, time to buck up and make it happen. Self/society imposed deadlines and all. We can't wait to be adults frequently as children, time ebbing along, but as adults we often rebel against the the shackles of responsibility when we get there at long last. We are never happy with what we have in the precious present, but so sad when we notice it has disappeared, further down the pike.

We live to move forward, pursuing a new plateau, languishing if we fail to. We don't actually know we're getting older, other than we tell ourselves we are, and compare our aging with others that are or have along side us. Without our calendar year strumming on, we have no evidence that indicates our maturation to date. We have memories, scars of every type and anecdotes, but nothing tangible.

It's a no wonder we all feel so cut-throat compelled to achieve and retrieve what we want in life. Youth and material obsession, the ever accelerating yearly traditions (Christmas is now Halloween, Thanksgiving and ACTUAL Christmas, so we are all but done with the year around October or sooner), and the subtle, subliminal reminders that we're getting older and are going to die someday...it's all tremendously pressuring.

Quantum physicists theorize that time is actually circular, not linear. That all historical and future events are happening simultaneously with our notion of here and now. As mind blowing as that thought is, I would be delighted to know it's so. To have the finish line stretched into infinity, or have it revealed as the starting line instead. To enjoy "time" in feeling and quality for it's own sake, as it's all happening in it's own way and scope, and will be regardless of your perception of it/role in it. If we had that certainty, we could stop for a moment, we could enjoy that moment. We might not ever attain what we want when we want it, but we might remember more of the details when it mattered most.

Like majestic, oxygenating trees, we garner annual rings of growth, whether we're conscious of it or not. From the ground up, it takes earned wisdom to know our value truly, to fully utilize the stature and strength we inherently posses but often forget we have to our detriment. In that respect, age is an important awareness. The most important. Unlike trees though, our rings are phantom (crows feet, laugh lines and gray hairs might count I 'spose), unless we use them to our full advantage and remember to revel in the space between each new one. Relax into the cycle and trust it will take you where you need to be, not the other way around. To absorb the landscape around you not constantly vie for richer soil, be you redwood or sapling or in between. I've finally learned that one, so on to the next branch. At a leisurely, seasonal pace, that is.

The SMD: De-Cycling

I've felt like a terrible mom for the past few weeks. Even if it's not my fault directly, I am in charge of helping my kid navigate the treacherous battlefield of school, through all the social, educational and pragmatic follies it provides. Logan has come home in a bad attitude funk for a few weeks now (no matter how I futilely try to ease the strain on my end), and it hurts my heart to see her in such a state. We've had many conversations on bullying, talked over negative choices versus positive conflict resolution, and she surely knows her place in all of it and how to avoid trouble. But being prepared in theory doesn't mean in practice it will work out. Us adults struggle with peaceably asserting ourselves, and these are six and seven year olds, for crying out loud. My daughter is feeling alone and bullied, and I want to snap my fingers and fix it. But I can't.

I remember my own versions of playground politics being as hectic and oppressive. Back then the "popular" kids would exclude anyone else from foursquare or tether ball, only sharing among themselves with hurtful scoffs at your request to join in. The odd derogatory remark or slur on my hygiene or my family, the occasional physical altercation. The upper classmen throwing their weight around and ignoring the lower levels or being mean for no other reason, than that they could. It cuts deeply, even as it was played off to the contrary, or in the worst case, turning into one of them myself to fight fire with fire. Which never gets anyone anywhere. The major difference is that all this was happening in fourth or fifth grade, not first grade. The times they are a changin', and how unrecognizable they've become.

Academically speaking, the year is going well. She's easily getting the hang of addition, writing her letters and sentences with increased ease, and reading better all the time. Many accolades on returned homework packets. I'm so very proud of her progress, and all the more jarred at the social backslide. Parent/teacher conference was today, and it was a welcome insight into her classroom time. She's ahead of the curve in many areas, so maybe that's the rub.

The biggest change for Logan has been that I'm not the Room Mom this year, not there (yet) on a weekly basis to back her up as I had been before. It's just a different ball game this time around. Without the weekly presence in her school experience, I guess she feels alone and adrift to battle it out on her own. Cutting apron strings is good, just not when the child feels abandoned by it. Schematics and scheduling shouldn't be a roadblock when a parent wants to be instrumental to the teacher and therefor the class, but these are difficult days. We're all doing our best, but it really sucks when signs point to it not being good enough.

After a particularly aggressive interaction with some older kids at the pool the other day, I asked Logan to please level with me. She tried to throw out an obnoxious, flippant response and avoid talking about it, but I just patiently waited. She finally collapsed into my lap, and let the flood gates open. She's been having trouble on the playground with a girl in her class, her molar teeth are coming in and making it difficult for her to chew food, she misses her Kinder-friends that were such a close knit group, now split among four different classes/recess cliques.

Of all the issues, the one in particular stood out. I smoothed her hair from her bleary eyes, and assured her that it's going to be ok. We talked about bullying yet again, and I reminded her of the tactic we'd seen a while back on one of her favorite Nick Jr. shows, Little Bill. Instead of engaging with a bully, whatever their verbal affront, you simply say, "So?" and carry on with your business. She had forgotten that simple yet effective technique, and was glad to be reminded of it, I saw it on her face. Sometimes all it takes is a gentle reiteration to help them feel equipped against the negative, but who knows if it will come out when she needs it. Those are the times a mom wants for the ability to magically appear and urge the kids into a kind resolution. If only the technology were at hand.

Bad examples at home, jealousy, insecurity and competition are the main reasons kids act out against one another, I've noticed with my own. When watching each other act a fool, it's easier to join the crazy train than to walk away and save yourself the potential disciplinary consequences, as you have to show no fear or vulnerability to be exploited later. In that sense, they all just want to fit in, to relate and to be secure even if it's by detrimental means. I think that's why Logan has gotten into this cycle, as heart wrenching as it is to realize. It's such an unfair, uphill battle. Especially for those that get taught ways to be a good citizen get pitted against those that don't. Nary the twain shall meet, without alot of bumps along the way.

Logan is a super smart go-getter (or a flat out bossy boots when she's allowed to get carried away), and has a penchant for entertaining others. She loves to help out, she wants everyone to get along and follow her down the path of fearless adventure. She's goofy, energetic and creative. All these traits will take her far in life, but the rite of passage that is the immediate need for acceptance, blocks her from seeing that. I've taken it upon myself to remove that big gnarly block, every chance I get.

At the close of our state of the union talk, I told her that empathy and her own attitude are the only things to get her past would-be bullies. After explaining that by putting yourself in the other kids' shoes and trying to be kind to their rough day/bad mood, she seemed to click a bit better with the advice after. "Don't worry about the stuff that happens between the learning so much," I said. "Lead by example and remember who you are and what our family does in those situations. Don't just turn into them to cut corners." She smiled at me, nodded her head and agreed. "Yeah, cuz it just goes 'round and 'round and 'round!" She replied.

I'll be doing everything I can to bridge this temporary gap in Logan-ness. Keeping things copacetic and structured at home, giving her praise for her good merit, keeping her in check when she tries to shirk her big girl responsibilities under the guise of being too tired/stressed to deal. We'll see if maybe she can implement those tactics more, and be happy to be her more often. I truly hope she can, as that's the only way any negative scenario is stopped. By taking the sting from the words/actions and affording a chance to fix it. Otherwise, we're all in the loop with no hope of getting out.

A Mark, A Yen, A Buck Or A Pound

We hunt it down, hoard it from others, dream it were endless, and when it isn't, make it stretch. We flaunt it, we use it, we abuse it, we pray for it. We save it, shift it, invest it, spend it. We debate over it, we hate it, we love it, we lose it, we know it's not the key to life, but it sure makes the journey to find said key, a smoother ride. We don't need it as we need the intangible air we breathe (not yet, but days are numbered)...but we DO need it for the food we eat, the roof over our heads and the learnin' in our brains, so that we might earn more than those who have no learnin'. Survival of the fittest and all that. It separates us, elevates us, chucks us into fits of anxiety, depression and elated relief at any given moment. Our culture, attention, stress levels, daily routines, economy and our very lives, all center around paper. Not metal, nor magic nor spirituality. Not love, not happiness. Paper.

There are two very polarized, heated, arguments about this illustrious parchment. Both based in stereo-typical-albeit true at times-nonsense. Those that have a sizable amount wish to keep it for themselves and let it trickle down as they see fit, or something to that effect. They demand the freedom to choose how to share it, or to share it at all. They made it, they speak for it. If they want 15 houses and 35 sports cars, that's their prerogative.

Those who have minimal amounts, wish to make more but they need start-up capital to do so, just to put food on the table while they fight/compete for their opportunity to make more. And those opportunities have dwindled desperately low. The less fortunate strain the lives of those who don't know strain otherwise.

The have and have-not arguments both have valid points, but it all just boils down to your fortune blueprint and how wisely you build around it. You had no control over this as you were born, but are held accountable (pun intended) for it constantly throughout life, one way or another. We all strive to attain the American Dream, but unless we have money, connections brought about by money, or fertile means to make/save, we're at the seemingly unsympathetic whims of those that do. The age old Land O'Plenty conundrum.

For the record, I believe that a decent human will work honestly and dutifully to better their finances given an unbiased chance. I also believe that those with money would share if it meant truly helping someone and not just pacifying laziness. The skills it takes to make a mountain of cash from a start up business is a close skill set to that of someone who has to make sub par wages take care of a six person family. Devotion to a cause, if you will.

It's borderline terrorism to admit to a stranger that you have no 9-5 job (or, heaven forbid, that you're winging it with no health insurance). Heads piteously tilt at your tragic lack of security/usefulness and a silent prayer is uttered for your wretched mortal soul. Or so it feels. Either that, or assumptions are made at outward appearance that you're a trust funder with no need for the rat race. Then you're regarded with an equal mixture of hatred and envy. You're not a hinder, but you're part of the hindersome wealthy that ignore those in need. A glint of you'll never know what I go through, you'll never care in their collective eyes.

You're a blight on society no matter where you fall. Not only does that hurt and offend, it works against anyone getting to a better plateau in spirit or monetary gain. Realizing in a short second or two that those around you will forever categorize you on such insignificant yet pragmatically vital detail is sour and bitter and sickening.

We're all people, regardless of jumbled/heralded fiscal follies. We all have hearts and feelings and passions and ideas. We aren't numbers or faceless crowds to be herded to and fro by the pluses or minuses on our bank statements. That argument doesn't hold up to creditors though, most wouldn't give a squirt of piss for your specific circumstances. Just be responsible for your debts and stop whining, would you? Even as we try, we're still shuffled into the masses of lazy good for nothings that don't have the crucial pioneering spirit, and will never be handed the tools to adapt one.

I've had both self accumulated chunks to live comfortably with, and also the crippling lack there-of. I can see both sides, even as I am in the ebb tide currently (and for years now). Waking up to no food in the fridge, no gas in the tank, and numerous bills staring back delinquent, is no way to wake up. All the merciless angst, all the pressure to pull your own weight. It's the opposite of thriving, it's suffocating and nerve racking.

When things were financially easier, life wasn't deeper or more fulfilling simply because I could go shopping...but it was a stronger sense of self that I provided for myself, and those I love with my own two hands. The world was a not so noisy, rarely as ravenous and far more forgiving. It's that contrast that wrangles me to the ground.

I'm an able bodied young person-relatively speaking-and for that reason, I'm not on unemployment, food stamps or Medicare/Medicaid, even on the days I could use it. And there's many of those days. There is nothing wrong with needing or asking for help, but many see it as weakness or thievery, so much that the stigma and general tone of it all is intense enough to thwart me. I would if I had to, but it hasn't come to that yet. There are those that abuse the system in every economic bracket, and it's a shame to see such needless negativity, it breeds more of the same. There is always a comeuppance for those individuals that have nothing to do with my opinion of them, so I leave it be and focus on myself and my family. I have to.

I haven't been gainfully employed for about six years. My daughter is my current and most important job, any money made outside the home would mostly be spent on child care so I could leave the home and earn it. And there's the rub. I don't delight in this.
It's been excruciating at times, not to know where the next meal will come from, and not feeling in control, as for many years prior I was.

In this time however, I did earn a black belt in the art of making 20 dollars last a week or two, a degree in making miracles happen by wishing and willing the ends to meet, and a PHD in staying as positive as possible. I fight back mentally with the thought that someday, I'll be stable and regain my personhood to myself, and in effect, society. Some day, this will all be a funny anecdote. That all this struggle is for good reason, if the pay off, literally and figuratively, is what I'm striving for it to be. The lessons learned are invaluable, even if I didn't pay a small fortune in exchange. Being the best person I can despite the occasional urge to go on a shrieking, wild-eyed, machete wielding rampage, out of frustration, exhaustion and degrading misconception, is my focus. Out of this blinding ire that what I desperately try to improve, with futile job hunts and internal mantra, hasn't panned out yet. My sense of security isn't what it used to be, but my life is by no means inconsequential because I'm broke. Quite the converse, actually. I try frequently to better myself and my situation, but I refuse to let money be the bottom line, as scoff inducing as that statement might be to some. It comes and goes.

At the risk of provoking more tail-chasing debate, I'll say this: We're all in this together. If I woke up tomorrow with millions, this feeling wouldn't magically erase with that paper. It has been etched into my soul in both the bad and good. Maybe that's the point. Maybe others need some etching of their own before they understand their respective opposite. Understanding leads to betterment of any situation, but that's a tall order. I know it's easy to say ideally what we might learn in practice to be otherwise, as I know how hard it is to work your ass off only to see the fruits absconded with. It always works out because I believe it will somehow, but there are those that lost their resolve long ago, or never had it. That doesn't make them less deserving of a person.

The most mutually revered beings in this divided climate are those who blend in regardless of background, regardless of education, regardless of brands on their back. They relate human to human and forget to keep count, give and take equally. They shape our lives with the uplifting message to exalt what's truly important. Quality of life by way of one another.

Ultimately, it'll be a compliment to share wealth I've secured for myself. It means that all the discipline it took to get me there paid off. I've arrived, I've battled and won. All the blood, sweat and tears it took, weren't in vain. I believed and I achieved. It means I'll be breathing easier, stepping lighter. I look forward to that day, but I'm intent on enjoying my humble journey no matter. I will look at it with that trademark leadership slant that Americans are conditioned to show from day one, and try to help. From the bottom of my soul, that's the truth. For no other reason than to be kind to those that need it. But for the grace of God/your own personal Deity, go us all to the other side of the spectrum.

"Money makes the world go around" was cleverly and satirically sung in Cabaret, and at top volume and in various inflections by us all, since we created this game. That may be so, but it takes all walks of life to push us past preconceived notions, drop our egos and choose to look toward the prosperous horizon, marching on together. Pick each other up when we stumble, appreciate that we're in a position to do so. Try to do better, believe in the worth of us outside our net worth. I would gladly pay those taxes.