Mid-pre hormonal meltdown last night and post post-hormonal "why on earth can't you pick ANYTHING up or even say thank you meltdown my mini me sturuck on something that has stuck with me ever since, and it's really very disturbing...
she said, mid sobs, "everyone does this, laundry and cleaning and cooking and it never goes away and noone is happy and you're blaming me and I DON'T WANT TO GROW UP because that's all there is and why should I....?" etc. There was a lot of etc. So much etc that I didn't exactly hear this until it replayed later in my constant-instant-replay mind that goes over and over everything just the way hers does.
Unpacking it, there's some important stuff. The I don't want to grow up part is disturbing, because I truly am aftraid she'll hurt herself. And when i went through that phase, I didn't know from TV and movies and friends that cutting myself with a razor blade to relieve the pain was an option--but I bet she does.
And, You're blaming me... for her laundry and stuff. I mean, yesh, kinda, since you ARE the one that left your gum on the new york times magazine, and you DO eat off of the dishes and, well, yeah, you create a buttload of laundry and it really would be nice if you'd help out... am I wrong? Am I damaging my kid by expecting her to try to fit it in somewhow?
And, noone is happy? Wow, there's a statement. That's the one that hurts, because it means the life I'm showing her is one that isn't appealing. And it kind of isn't to me, either and I guess I've been too up front about that because now she thinks there's nothing good about an adult life and like, yikes that's sure not the message I want to send.
Monday, April 5, 2021
Wednesday, September 13, 2017
the true millennials
Our children are our future. It's not an alternative fact, it simply is, and always has been, always will be. It's the nature of humanity. We die, they live on and take over. The cycle of life.
But this new set of children, these true millennial humans who didn't just come of age in the new century, but actually came to be as members of a new millennium, are somehow different, and the world that they will create will revolutionize all that we have known to date. They are just working their way through high school now, and while we, the baby boomers, learned about ecology, and taking care of the planet, not littering and trying to separate our recycling, for them the importance of this is wired into their very cells. We've taught them these things because we knew we should, and they have learned. We've given them choices--maybe too many choices, sometimes--about what they want to eat, where they want to go, what they want to wear and who they want to be with. And the presence of those eternal options, for better or worse, have had sweeping ramifications.
This is the generation that describes their heterosexual peers as "cis-gendered" without batting an eye. They accept a fluidity of gender identification as utterly normal. They don't care who you love, as long as you do it authentically, and while they may judge some things, as teenagers always are wont to do, their judgement is (mostly) specific and not targeted at race or sex or religion. The burden of proof falls on those who display their prejudice, an act for which they are deeply chastised. "You be you" they say, and largely mean it. This is the generation that has redefined "aesthetic" to include a hard-wired understanding that everyone see things differently, and that those differences are curious and interesting--and important to know about. So when one has neon green hair, the other appreciates it with interest but honestly says, "that's just not my aesthetic." It is a viewpoint turned completely over on itself, and one that will make our world, our future, something we never could have imagined possible just a hundred years ago.
And their love. They love humans as humans, without considering the right or wrong of it. Their "aesthetic" on relationships turns what we understand as attraction on it's head. The question, "so, are you attracted to boys or girls?" is not so easily answered anymore, or needn't be. To reply, "I'm not sure yet" is as valid a response as any. No longer must they call themselves homosexual, heterosexual or bi-curious, for they have the choice--that we started by letting them have mac and cheese or hot dogs, or wearing orange polka dots and pink stripes together, and applauding their creativity--and they accept these wide open options as their due.
I believe we will see emerge a generation of humans who choose to love based on deeper qualities than physical characteristics and gender compatibility, but on true connection. While our parents told us to "look beyond the surface for the real person inside", they really do. Conceivably we will see lifelong relationships built solely on personal connection, attraction deriving from a deep seated trust and caring, regardless of gender. We talk about sexual orientation, but I think by the next century that will disappear entirely, and humans will connect and build relationships with other humans, regardless of color, sex or the absence of sexual identity altogether. And I'm really proud of them, and maybe a little even us, for that.
But this new set of children, these true millennial humans who didn't just come of age in the new century, but actually came to be as members of a new millennium, are somehow different, and the world that they will create will revolutionize all that we have known to date. They are just working their way through high school now, and while we, the baby boomers, learned about ecology, and taking care of the planet, not littering and trying to separate our recycling, for them the importance of this is wired into their very cells. We've taught them these things because we knew we should, and they have learned. We've given them choices--maybe too many choices, sometimes--about what they want to eat, where they want to go, what they want to wear and who they want to be with. And the presence of those eternal options, for better or worse, have had sweeping ramifications.
This is the generation that describes their heterosexual peers as "cis-gendered" without batting an eye. They accept a fluidity of gender identification as utterly normal. They don't care who you love, as long as you do it authentically, and while they may judge some things, as teenagers always are wont to do, their judgement is (mostly) specific and not targeted at race or sex or religion. The burden of proof falls on those who display their prejudice, an act for which they are deeply chastised. "You be you" they say, and largely mean it. This is the generation that has redefined "aesthetic" to include a hard-wired understanding that everyone see things differently, and that those differences are curious and interesting--and important to know about. So when one has neon green hair, the other appreciates it with interest but honestly says, "that's just not my aesthetic." It is a viewpoint turned completely over on itself, and one that will make our world, our future, something we never could have imagined possible just a hundred years ago.
And their love. They love humans as humans, without considering the right or wrong of it. Their "aesthetic" on relationships turns what we understand as attraction on it's head. The question, "so, are you attracted to boys or girls?" is not so easily answered anymore, or needn't be. To reply, "I'm not sure yet" is as valid a response as any. No longer must they call themselves homosexual, heterosexual or bi-curious, for they have the choice--that we started by letting them have mac and cheese or hot dogs, or wearing orange polka dots and pink stripes together, and applauding their creativity--and they accept these wide open options as their due.
I believe we will see emerge a generation of humans who choose to love based on deeper qualities than physical characteristics and gender compatibility, but on true connection. While our parents told us to "look beyond the surface for the real person inside", they really do. Conceivably we will see lifelong relationships built solely on personal connection, attraction deriving from a deep seated trust and caring, regardless of gender. We talk about sexual orientation, but I think by the next century that will disappear entirely, and humans will connect and build relationships with other humans, regardless of color, sex or the absence of sexual identity altogether. And I'm really proud of them, and maybe a little even us, for that.
Monday, August 21, 2017
Why Choir and parts of soul
Yeah Ok so first I looked at this blog (because I googled myself and it came up--yikes!) and thought how awful that I hadn't written anything but then I opened it and found three unfinished posts so maybe I'll work on that.
But meanwhile I just dropped the girl at choir camp and as usual she extracted a ragged hunk of my soul for leaving here there, worse this leaving than many before because she (chose to?) bring back all the anxiety of the last time, the first time, the pre-actual-choir time when we were stuck in traffic for 5 hours (yes) and so the whole sensation of the place made her fall apart. And cry and grip me and beg me not to make her. So fresh on the other side of that, it seems important to talk a little about choir, and why it's important and what makes it good, to remind myself why I forced her in and that she'll actually be fine on Friday. I mean, she spent 3.5 weeks in England with the people last summer, she can't withstand 5 days in the woods??
This is her gift. She's had it forever. It's hard wired, and I think because of that she dismisses it as nothing. Everything else is hard and so she thinks the one thing that's easy is nothing. But it's not nothing. It wasn't nothing when we determined that she probably had perfect pitch at 3, or more or less confirmed that with her first piano teacher at 5. It wasn't nothing after her first solo with the chorus in Weston, in 2nd grade, when Joanne Hammill came over to me with tears in her eyes, babbling about breath control and vocal reach and how hard that was. Or when Mr Webster started recruiting her when she was 8 and she wouldn't go because she had to get up too early. (And I loved Joanne, she learned so much there and it was super fun.)
And Treble Chorus, and Boston Children's Chorus, and Select (where they didn't read music and the girl drama of middle school almost destroyed her). And clarinet and more piano and omg who LOVES music theory? I mean... but she does. And Andy Icocheca from Vienna Boys who begged her to join the Pops/Tanglewood Feeder chorus, but it's so good she didn't because he left and the musical theater lady came in, and my sweet, humble, talented and shy girl is so not musical theater and we know because we tried over and over. She's not brash enough.
And now Richard and Colin and Trinity.
The caliber of this training, the resources and opportunities that it offers (sonja tengblad! sophie michaux! jeremy harman the cello teacher!) would never have been there without it. Learning to deal with be with connect with the ever so very wealthy. It's *free*. But that doesn't matter, because I'd pay thousands to keep it going and make it available to her.
And the new cello thing. What kid decides to spend the summer taking up cello?
I guess it's worth the hunk of my soul. Even though I still feel it gone. And she WILL be ok, despite the presence of her acrimonious "ex" and I have to believe that.
Friday, May 15, 2015
The Power of a Smile
I've never been much of a smiler. My mother always told me that if you smiled at people, they would smile back and that was how you made friends, but somehow I couldn't do it. Maybe because it felt inauthentic (and there's nothing more awkward than a fake smile, I thought). Or because I had bad teeth, even after braces, and when I smiled in the mirror I hated how it looked. But on the rare occasions that I do smile, I have noticed that she's right, and that people smile back and do not grimace at me as though I am as ugly as I think I am when I look in the mirror and do it. And it actually does feel good, even when it's fake. I know that because I worked retail for a couple of years in a hippie dippie soap shop and I had to smile a lot.
But back to modern day. I am volunteering with a local food insecurity initiative and a recent project involves 2 ceramic artists, 400 kids making 800 pots aligned to inform their social studies curriculum, and a fundraiser to sell the one of two pots they make that they are donating to help their neighbors have food. An Empty Bowls fundraiser. (it's tomorrow, actually. 400 bowls 3000 Meals. Art.Food.Community.) Yesterday I was helping to wrap pots at the elementary school, for the bowls the kids are bringing home. I was there for 4 classes yesterday, and 3 the day before. One of the artists queried me that the day before seemed more upbeat, easier, more fun, even though the actual layout of the room was far more complicated and difficult to maneuver. And she was right, so I thought about it.
While I thought about it, I gazed at Melody, the other artist, as she was explaining to a tableful of 2nd graders why the glaze changed color when it was fired, and how proud she was of them for donating their art, and how hard it is to do that. And she smiling this big huge smile the whole time, even when she was asking kids to quiet down and even when she might have been a teeny bit annoyed that they were banging their precious pottery around. And looking at her made me smile, and that smile, the return one, felt real and good. It's true that when you smile your whole being, physical, emotional, physiological, psychological--every -ogical-- feels better.
Then I noticed that the teacher was absolutely not smiling. In fact, she was anti-smiling. Her lips were pursed and she was almost certainly having a hard time not yelling. At second graders who were figuring out which of their two beloved pottery pieces to NOT bring home. And the first grade teacher was not very smiley either and even though she's super nice I know (because M had her) that she has trouble with classroom management and has been known to raise her voice to be heard. And the 4th grade teacher I saw that day is also rather serious.
So this all leads me to believe that it's all about the smile. And we really all, me included and especially Madeleine, who has yet to completely form her personality (despite what she thinks) REALLY need to smile more. I have to remind her again of what her English teacher Ms Packer says--that Maddy's smile is a rare thing, but when she gets one, it's like her gift for the day.
But back to modern day. I am volunteering with a local food insecurity initiative and a recent project involves 2 ceramic artists, 400 kids making 800 pots aligned to inform their social studies curriculum, and a fundraiser to sell the one of two pots they make that they are donating to help their neighbors have food. An Empty Bowls fundraiser. (it's tomorrow, actually. 400 bowls 3000 Meals. Art.Food.Community.) Yesterday I was helping to wrap pots at the elementary school, for the bowls the kids are bringing home. I was there for 4 classes yesterday, and 3 the day before. One of the artists queried me that the day before seemed more upbeat, easier, more fun, even though the actual layout of the room was far more complicated and difficult to maneuver. And she was right, so I thought about it.
While I thought about it, I gazed at Melody, the other artist, as she was explaining to a tableful of 2nd graders why the glaze changed color when it was fired, and how proud she was of them for donating their art, and how hard it is to do that. And she smiling this big huge smile the whole time, even when she was asking kids to quiet down and even when she might have been a teeny bit annoyed that they were banging their precious pottery around. And looking at her made me smile, and that smile, the return one, felt real and good. It's true that when you smile your whole being, physical, emotional, physiological, psychological--every -ogical-- feels better.
Then I noticed that the teacher was absolutely not smiling. In fact, she was anti-smiling. Her lips were pursed and she was almost certainly having a hard time not yelling. At second graders who were figuring out which of their two beloved pottery pieces to NOT bring home. And the first grade teacher was not very smiley either and even though she's super nice I know (because M had her) that she has trouble with classroom management and has been known to raise her voice to be heard. And the 4th grade teacher I saw that day is also rather serious.
So this all leads me to believe that it's all about the smile. And we really all, me included and especially Madeleine, who has yet to completely form her personality (despite what she thinks) REALLY need to smile more. I have to remind her again of what her English teacher Ms Packer says--that Maddy's smile is a rare thing, but when she gets one, it's like her gift for the day.
Friday, August 15, 2014
the big lessons in the little things
Like non-negotiables, I think we all have things we do that we feel especially strongly about, even if others don't. Things that ring especially true, feel especially important. Like, putting the cap back on tightly.
But in the here and now, it's about cutting off the dead leaves.
Someone once told me that when you are caring for a plant, the most important this is removing the dead stems and leaves, because the plant, like a mother, will send it's energy to the dead parts to try to bring them back. And that saps the plant's energy for the live parts that can live and fruit more. I don't know if this makes any sense scientifically, botanically, what plant science research says about it, but it's makes extreme sense to me. So I do it. Somewhat obsessively.
And as I dug into the underneath of my zebra succulent this morning to clip of the two little withered leaves that wouldn't fall off when I pulled on them but I knewknewknew that they were dead, I thought about that. How vital it feels to my caretaking.
More maybe later, but just a start.
4/2016
There's something else about this, not the plant part but the what's important to me that's not important to you part. We were in Montreal, as a family, fighting about what to do because it was raining and things were closed and had generally not gone as smoothly as they might and M&I decided to shop the 20 miles of underground stores (that we couldn't find) and G said he would meet us at the metro after because it was raining and he doesn't like to shop. And after 18 years I knew he wouldn't be there but it doesn't change how pissed I was that he wasn't and that we were soaking wet when we got back to the hotel.
And I thought, Everyone values things differently and one a linear scale George values being on time at about 1 out of 10, in fact seems to make it a rule, whether consciously or not, to NOT be on time. I on the other hand value being on time at about a 9 on a scale of 10 so even being close to not being on time makes my heart beat faster and my brain feel like it might kind of explode. And never the twain as they say shall meet.
But in the here and now, it's about cutting off the dead leaves.
Someone once told me that when you are caring for a plant, the most important this is removing the dead stems and leaves, because the plant, like a mother, will send it's energy to the dead parts to try to bring them back. And that saps the plant's energy for the live parts that can live and fruit more. I don't know if this makes any sense scientifically, botanically, what plant science research says about it, but it's makes extreme sense to me. So I do it. Somewhat obsessively.
And as I dug into the underneath of my zebra succulent this morning to clip of the two little withered leaves that wouldn't fall off when I pulled on them but I knewknewknew that they were dead, I thought about that. How vital it feels to my caretaking.
More maybe later, but just a start.
4/2016
There's something else about this, not the plant part but the what's important to me that's not important to you part. We were in Montreal, as a family, fighting about what to do because it was raining and things were closed and had generally not gone as smoothly as they might and M&I decided to shop the 20 miles of underground stores (that we couldn't find) and G said he would meet us at the metro after because it was raining and he doesn't like to shop. And after 18 years I knew he wouldn't be there but it doesn't change how pissed I was that he wasn't and that we were soaking wet when we got back to the hotel.
And I thought, Everyone values things differently and one a linear scale George values being on time at about 1 out of 10, in fact seems to make it a rule, whether consciously or not, to NOT be on time. I on the other hand value being on time at about a 9 on a scale of 10 so even being close to not being on time makes my heart beat faster and my brain feel like it might kind of explode. And never the twain as they say shall meet.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Things I love, ongoing
Not exactly non-negotiables, since I can't source many of them, but things that resonate and make me feel good deep inside...
Badedas, a pine-ish scented body/face/hair wash the smell of which transports me totally to a calm, woodsy, peaceful place. I wish I could have it always. Can't get it right now.
Bigelow lemon body cream in a pot from Bath and Body Works--I love the soft feeling of this pot of cream and how smoothly it sinks into my skin. The fact that it smells like lemon pudding souflee is just kind of a big plus.
Better Botanicals Sandalwood Moisturizer--out of production. This is the first face moisturizer that I actually finished a bottle and re-bought--over and over again. I can't believe how much I love the smell, it's light and smooth, but my current (and perhaps last) sourced bottle is like water, sadly. A bad lot I think.
My microplane grater!
Stick mixer!
Badedas, a pine-ish scented body/face/hair wash the smell of which transports me totally to a calm, woodsy, peaceful place. I wish I could have it always. Can't get it right now.
Bigelow lemon body cream in a pot from Bath and Body Works--I love the soft feeling of this pot of cream and how smoothly it sinks into my skin. The fact that it smells like lemon pudding souflee is just kind of a big plus.
Better Botanicals Sandalwood Moisturizer--out of production. This is the first face moisturizer that I actually finished a bottle and re-bought--over and over again. I can't believe how much I love the smell, it's light and smooth, but my current (and perhaps last) sourced bottle is like water, sadly. A bad lot I think.
My microplane grater!
Stick mixer!
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Preparing
I'm taking my daughter on a tour of Europe--without ever having been there myself. And for the last 36 hours, I have been certain that in the next 5 minutes, I will definitely throw up. Unfortunately, my daughter is symbiotically attached to me and knows this, making the whole prospect of thowing up even that more imminent.
I'm glad I'm doing this, despite my utter fear, because I believe that I am giving her something I never had as a yound person--a whole world at her fingertips. Her older sister, my stepdaughter, is living and working in northern Italy with her wonderful husband and dog. She is a traveler, unafraid of anything. She is, as I always knew she would be, changing the world. Her PhD work is in evolutionaly marine physiology. She is growing marine microorganisms in the presence of excess CO2 from live volcanic vents under the Mediterranian Sea, and as they gorw she will determine how they genetically adapt to the presence of excess CO2 in their environment. I am beyond amazed with her, moreso for her utter humility for her work.
Since we will be there visiting her it seemed to make sense to do a rail tour of Europe with my 12 year old. She is just old enough to be able to travel with her mother, appreciate what she sees and not be utterly embarrassed to be traveling with her mother. I believe this will give her an appreciation for her own ability to do this on her own, something I never had. And still don't.
I used a travel agent to order to air and rail, I planned our trip and reserved our hotels in Paris, Luxembourg, Brussels, Bruges, and London. I arranged for our passports and bought travelers checks. I figured out where the train stations are and where our hotels are relative to them. I arranged for a global phone so that we can call her father every night to check in. I bought us rolling backpacks so that we can travel light, carrying what we need on our backs without checking luggage. I helped her pack. I've done everything I need to do, but still I feel like I'm going to throw up.
Did I mention that I have to sign the papers for a condo that we are buying while we are away, an investment property to add on to the rest of the the ones in the building and the one next door, less that 24 hours before we leave? Just in case I wasn't anxious enough.
Breathe.
I'm glad I'm doing this, despite my utter fear, because I believe that I am giving her something I never had as a yound person--a whole world at her fingertips. Her older sister, my stepdaughter, is living and working in northern Italy with her wonderful husband and dog. She is a traveler, unafraid of anything. She is, as I always knew she would be, changing the world. Her PhD work is in evolutionaly marine physiology. She is growing marine microorganisms in the presence of excess CO2 from live volcanic vents under the Mediterranian Sea, and as they gorw she will determine how they genetically adapt to the presence of excess CO2 in their environment. I am beyond amazed with her, moreso for her utter humility for her work.
Since we will be there visiting her it seemed to make sense to do a rail tour of Europe with my 12 year old. She is just old enough to be able to travel with her mother, appreciate what she sees and not be utterly embarrassed to be traveling with her mother. I believe this will give her an appreciation for her own ability to do this on her own, something I never had. And still don't.
I used a travel agent to order to air and rail, I planned our trip and reserved our hotels in Paris, Luxembourg, Brussels, Bruges, and London. I arranged for our passports and bought travelers checks. I figured out where the train stations are and where our hotels are relative to them. I arranged for a global phone so that we can call her father every night to check in. I bought us rolling backpacks so that we can travel light, carrying what we need on our backs without checking luggage. I helped her pack. I've done everything I need to do, but still I feel like I'm going to throw up.
Did I mention that I have to sign the papers for a condo that we are buying while we are away, an investment property to add on to the rest of the the ones in the building and the one next door, less that 24 hours before we leave? Just in case I wasn't anxious enough.
Breathe.
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