multi-dying or tye-tasking

My daughter learned two big words this summer. "Tye-Dying" and "Multi-Tasking." She sometimes confuses them. "Look Mommy, I'm drinking milk and falling asleep, I'm tye-dying!" I explained that tye-dying was what she did at camp when she made her multi-colored t-shirt but using the word "multi" again just made her brain short-circuit. She recharged it with an episode of Little Bill.
I think last night though she finally figured it out. "We're eating pizza and watching a movie, we are all multi-tasking!" Who said multi-tasking had to be productive all the time? I like her thinking. A new spin on the word, if you will. It made me feel better about ingesting pepperoni while sitting on my bum.

the overused analogy

I'm sure the sex and blogging analogy has been used ad nauseum in many a clever posts.
It's been awhile for me (for the latter) and I won't get into too many details about it except to say, that just like with having sex, sometimes you can get in a blogging rut. It's the last thing ya feel like doing after the dishes, the tushie wiping, the putting the four year old to bed seventeen times, the laundry, the bills, the phone calls, the bad TV watching, etc. And just like our old friend "sex", once you get out of your rut and remember how good it is, you never want to stop. You know you need it, have to have it, can't live without it, will sacrifice sleep and anything else for it because it keeps your head sane and your skin clear. It keeps you connected and alive and honest.
Maybe I'll try shaking it up a little. Blog in broad daylight. Get up extra early to get one in or sneak in a few taps on the keyboard while pretending to use the restroom. I'm definitely drawing the line though at giving blog in the shower. I know how much my computer can take.

So, here's to sex and blogging. I don't recommend combining the two but once you power down.........;)

the oil it needs a changing.....

So, my husband and I got our oil changed together. Sounds more provocative than it really was. We pulled into the Mobil together and side by side several men checked our wipers and washer fluid levels. It was very romantic. When it was all over, one of the gentleman who had been servicing us explained to my husband and only to my husband why it's important to have our tires dealt with the next time we come in. He never once looked at me. I wondered if my husband had gone on a man-date with his brother to get his oil changed, if this Mobil employee would have addressed them both.
Afterwards, at lunch, I asked my husband if the men working on his car had tried to sell him any extras that he "really needed" while he sat in the car as they lubed it up. He said no. They didn't ask me either. This time. Because they knew my husband was right there in another car five feet away from me. When I get my oil changed sans spouse but with two screaming kids in his place, I am endlessly double talked about how much dirt is in my such and such clogging up my this and that and for the low, low one time price of somethingsomehtingninetynine it will save my car from ever breaking down again. or "OK, you don't want that well you really need to do this in good conscience I can't have you leave here without doing this or this or this....."
Yet, when it came time to explain about tires (not sell tires, explain about tires) nobody even wanted to look at me. I think it was assumed that I would probably have had a blank stare in response to or gotten bored by such difficult "Man Information." How can we expect women to be interested or educated if we ignore them because we assume they don't care or can't make a decision when a man is around. Maybe it works to some people's benefit. Maybe it's good if I'm really frazzled and unintelligent about what to do the next time I come in solo for an oil change that my head will spin until my 19.99 turns into 199.99.
Later, at the library where I was paying a late fee of 44 dollars because I admittedly no fault but my own have very poor Dewey Decimal-Card Catalogue-Public Library knowledge and I'm never renting a movie in there again, (so high maintenance having to renew-totally didn't even occur to me), a man rudely interrupted my handing over of a small fortune by cutting in front of me and asking for a pencil while he was loudly talking on his cell phone. After I handed it to him, he thought he would make up for his off-putting behaviour by adding the word Sweetheart to his Thank You. It was undeniably creepy. He didn't even look me in the eye as if Sweetheart just takes care of everything for everyone. Everyone with a Vagina. One size fits all. I felt so sad for him. He didn't even have the awareness to recognize his own sleaziness. I have no trouble with terms of endearment but I do have a problem with getting called a particular name from someone who I don't know solely because I have a rack. It made me want to take a shower.
Anyhoo, my mom forwarded me this. She forwarded me the clip in my previous post as well. So basically, how lucky am I that my mom sends me such thought provoking stuff? And then wants to know what I think. So, I'll preface it as she did: This clip really has nothing to do with which candidate you were for or who you like on TV or don't. It's more about recognizing how far we've come or haven't come. Recognizing not just what our journey is now but what the generation's journey was before us and maybe understanding a little bit more of the emotion behind the movement. Check it.

SATC acts locally, thinks globally?

When I let too many days go by without posting or writing for myself or speaking "my truth", I start to feel a tug at my insides (my soul, my spirit? Are those terms so last year?) Anyway, I watched this and it inspires me to drag my own self over the finish line feeling the full support of my campaign headquarters. The people in my life that only have my best interests in mind. I know we all have our Sex and the City peops who keep us on track and with whom we are equally invested in each other's successes. It makes me wonder. Can we take SATC to a global level?
I love what this guy has to say about relinquishing ego and moving toward a common goal or goals; Darfur, education, the war, the environment. I love the thought of a human shift toward a common goal where we begin to look out for everyone. I know not every single person that I meet is going to be my BFF, my Miranda/Samantha/Carrie/or the other one I can't think of her name right now. But I do sometimes get inspired by the thought that we could all somehow work together in an attempt to make good things happen for everyone. Call me a Pollyana but who wouldn't reap the karmic benefits of that?

I suppose "It really does take a village......"

finally, time to groom the dictators....

So, I'm waiting for something profound to hit me about the first day of camp for both my kids. The first day in over four years that I have been kid-free due to some recurring thrice weekly, almost all day activity that will last until the summer ends when that schedule will swiftly parlay itself into the exact same thing but call itself "pre-school" instead. Do you detect excitement in my words? Does this Post jump off your screen as all the letters do a little dance (maybe like the running man) because they are fueled by the author's sheer joy regarding her new situation?
Not that I don't love my kids.......
However, we were all ready for it. Especially, the little guy. He kissed me goodbye three times because I think he was so thrilled that he got to actually kiss me goodbye like he'd been watching big sis do all year. And there were no tears. From either of us. I think we were both relieved and excited about the newfound autonomy that awaited us. Finally, we can develop a little without each other. And I think it will only enhance the time we have together. I can tell him about what I've learned and he can do the same. Well, he can point to stuff anyway.
After drop off, as I left with the image of a proud lunchbox carrying kid and his eager sunscreen lathered older sibling in my mind, I felt "right." I immediately went over to my friend Adrienne's house and ceremoniously worked on the start of my new life which includes roughly 16 and a half hours a week just for me.
It just all seems like perfect timing. I'm ready with some new projects and he was itching to get out of his house. It was purely coincidental that I worked with Adrienne on that particular day. Everything seems to be sort of harmonious lately. Maybe it is the New Earth book or the almost three hours of meditation-like work I did with Adrienne yesterday, but I feel like I am in sync lately. And maybe the reason why it was so easy to leave the kinder yesterday was because I've been feeling fully present when I'm with them. Fully present most of the time you are with your kids rocks the hell out of being with them all the time yet wanting to be elsewhere. It's scary the love that kind of explodes when I get that "shizz" right.
And now I'll have time to address my little "hitler" moustache which is quickly turning into an "Osama Bin Laden." I don't know why I have so many dictators down there...

and the PP goes to.......

Petroville and Suburban Turmoil host the monthly perfect post awards which gives me the opportunity to shine light on a blogger who consistently makes me think and smile. I simply just enjoy her work.
This particular post The End of Fertility was inclusive and respectful and thoughtful.....
But what really got me was how she articulated the ephemeral. She attached words to the bittersweetness that occurs as we watch our babies grow.

After I read In The Fast Lane, I always feel like I've gone for a long run and cleared my mind. I feel peaceful. Maybe because the author is a runner? Perhaps. I just click away with that grounded feeling, like everything is in balance. And if everything isn't, she's somehow assured me through her writing that I can always take that long rebalancing run if I need to.

So, here's to you and your Perfect Post......

"Can't" this...

As I listen to my daughter's swim teacher tell her for the third time that she doesn't want to hear the word "can't" from her anymore, I find myself nodding along in emphatic agreement. I'm sitting in a chair at the side of the pool so immersed in their conversation that I must look like some stage mom who abandoned kid auditions in hope of my child star making the swim team. But the "Can't" thing really bothered me. At Four? "Can't already?" Me and Miss Jennete can clearly see that this is a case of "Don't Wanna" but it ain't no "Can't". Does it really feel like "Can't" to her? When does "Won't" become "Can't" in our brains? I suppose around Age Four if I had to guess.
On the ride home, I'm going over some projects in my mind that I've been feeling kind of "stuck" on. I don't want to let go of them and yet I can't seem to get to the other side. I can't figure out the financial side of things. I can't figure out what work needs to get done in order to move forward. I can't get to where I want to be....
Yes, Thank you. By this point I've made the connection as well.
"Can't" sucks because it really does feel like "Can't". My daughter can do big arms. She can swim more than half the length of the pool and she can "super-glue" her chin to her chest in order to lift her fanny up while she swims. It feels awkward and unfamiliar and I'm sure scary at times to move in such a way with no side of the pool to lift herself onto within approachable sight. Under these circumstances, "Can't" certainly makes good sense. I get it. I'm the first to say, "Chill out baby" to myself. "Take a load off of a long day. Why add another headache to the list? The laundry is done, the kids are asleep, let's deal with the project you've been working on tomorrow." I suppose this type of thinking is why it's become a project four years in the making.
I'm sure after Pre-school and teeth brushing and potty going and negotiating with Brother and Mother and peers all day, it would be easier to "Can't" ones way through swim class than to really go for it.
But then I see the pride on her face when she's swimming for fun and she can do it! "Look Mama," she says as she discovers her own confidence and skill. She knows she did this. Not her school teacher or her Mother or Miss Jennete. Her. All by MYSELF.
All by myself is a good feeling. It is the kryptonite to my can't. And it's what adds another hour to my long ass day. It's what feels so good about getting to the edge of the pool after the long lap and earning my "sit." My rest. After going through the motions of the day and doing what has to be done there is still something satisfying that is missing from my supposedly well deserved "nothing" time. It has become imperative that I do something for my soul in order for my ME time to feel complete. Some writing. Some reading. Or some chipping away at a project that will get done. "Can" get done.