First Day Of School

My little girl had her first day of school today, she was excited and prepared with all the necessities.  Instead of walking her to the bus stop I took her picture and said goodbye at the door as she got in her car and drove off.  The time passes so quickly.

Having been unschooled all of her life she was never confronted with the idea of leaving home each day to be told how and what to learn.  She was free to choose what bliss was calling her name at the time, even if it was a video game.  Now, just 12 days from her 19th birtday, she has chosen to attend college.  She has already logged 2 years of employment with the same company, watched how others are living (or wasting) their lives and chose to take a path which includes a college degree.  She doesn't struggle with the negative experiences I had in school or have to ask, "Why am I here?".  It wasn't assumed that she would go to college and when she first began working she thought she never would.  Life and the example of others gave her a better view into her own future.

I, being a terminal student, love college.  I would revel in the chance to live on campus and spend every waking hour studying, listening to lectures and discussing philosophy, history, psychology, art history and more.  Lanora is more pragmatic, get in, get the degree and get on with her life but I hope she'll enjoy some of the magic that being surrounded by other learners can bring.  I waited several years after high-school to start college and expected it to be a repeat of my previous experience.  I enjoyed high school but it was due to extracurricular activities like music and drama; the rest required little to no effort from me.  I came away with the message that graduation was more of shove out the door with little concern about my success.  What I discovered was that college could be anything I made of it and no one was going to hand me a grade without the work.  I bloomed and found I loved learning; any subject (except geography).

Also learned was that I could have made the same experience out of elementary, middle and high school but the force factors creates two disabling traps.  1 - If, like me, you have a hard time rising in the morning and would much rather be home with mommy (most 5 year olds would) you begin to see school as a painful detention to be endured with as little involvement as possible.  2 - Kids realize, early on, that they have to be there and the othere side of that coin is that the schools have to educate them.  The resentment at being forced usually leads to a sense of entitlement and if you want to see that in action just watch an episode of "My Super Sweet 16" or watch how kids vandalize and trash their own schools.  Okay, yes, the path leading to this behavior is complex but I will assert that force and coercion are the cornerstone.

Watching my beautiful, confident, crazy intelligent and balanced girl leave for a school course she chose was a great sight.  She still bemoans the necessity of proving she's smart enough for the job just because she got a degree but she knows it's a hoop, nothing more.  She also knows that no one can dictate this for her, they may hold out the hoop but she doesn't have to jump through.  This alone makes the jumping a moment of control for her, she can see the hoop for what it is and even the person holding it probably can't.

The Boob Tube & I

I experienced an "aha" moment today; my daughter likes to call them "ephi-nots" (revelations which aren't weighty enough to qualify as an epiphany). As long as I can remember I have been a TV addict; even if I'm not watching I have the set on for noise. But, to be honest, it's more than the noise, the sound of some shows and dialogue are comforting to me.

As a child of the 50's, 60's and 70's I was part of the TV loving crowd. But as we grown up hippies began to look around it was decided, by most, that TV was unhealthy. We all know the statements, "rots your brain", "robs time from real life", "read a book". I stood up to the criticism and advice to get rid of my "boob tube" but eventually caved and threw it out. I bought a new one about 4 weeks later but it was a valiant effort.

As the pressure grew so did my defensiveness and I was like an alcoholic looking for a place to sneak a drink. Thank God for children, now I had an excuse for more TV time with Disney movies and Barney. I was prone to pine for "I Love Lucy" or "X-Files" but at least it was the wonderful noise that calmed my nerves.

With time I reached the age where I didn't care what people thought. I learned to question every bit of "wisdom" and advice thrown my way. Imagine, all those years, all that rubbish and I had no clue. Television, like all things, has a value which is determined by the individual. The aesthetic and psychological value are hard to pin down but, like anything, it is a source of knowledge.


Having finally become comfortable with my use of the TV I realized that I had begun to turn the thing off more. Perhaps part of my dependency had to do with feeling defensive but my need to have it on certainly has waned. For the first time I have come to like it off when I sleep, truly enjoying the lack of sound. This is a good thing, my dreams are already odd enough without the sounds from a reality show twisting them further.

Signs Of Winter

September 7, 2009

A friend lamented the departure of the cedar waxwing birds, heading south to escape the coming chill. I could have given her a heads up, I had to shut the window next to my recliner last night. The window which opens for fresh air as soon as the weather permits and stays open until the air is too cold. We all seem to have a cue which tells us that winter is coming.

It seems so far away when the fans are running day and night. We wait so long for spring, then summer and try to remember how much we wanted it when temperatures soar. And if we didn’t have mathematics to prove it’s actual duration we would swear that winter is three times the length of any other season.

Winter’s slap is eased by the anticipation of Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years but they all come too close together. Once we have welcomed the next year we start a long and bone chilling crawl towards spring. And as I get older and beset by the aches of age I long for warmer days more and more. I finally “get” why so many people retire to areas like Florida and California. But then I would have to forego the greater contrast of seasons that living in the Pacific Northwest offers. I think the allure of such a magical appearance of spring will keep me here for years to come.


Watching Them Fly

My kids were raised with a lot of loving touches; hugs, kisses, caresses and cuddling. Like any child they thrived on the intimacy but it surprised me in how much it nurtured me as well. Something about the unconditional exchange between a parent and child feeds the soul of both. We may have many loving relationships in our lives but there is something about the touch of your child’s hand on your face that won’t be found anywhere else.

My children are 18 and 11 now, the elder (my daughter) still hugs but with a busy life and a husband she is now my fellow adult. Her husband is loving and I know she is well taken care of, getting ample hugs and kisses. My son has begun his life as a young man and is not currently comfortable with hugs and kisses. While the hugs are rare we are close in communication.

I may, someday, have another child in my life; grandchildren, honorary grandchildren, etc. but, for now, the lack of touch can make me feel sad. Not a sadness of desperation, but more of a bitter sweet wistfulness. It’s a subtle ache which occupies a rightful place next to the satisfaction of having loved and raised a child.

It is a curious thing that children enter our lives and demand that we put our little “Me, Me, Me Party” away and take care of them. They trust us, depend on us thus lighting the dormant nurturer who hollows out a space in our hearts that only will only be filled by that child. What we don’t realize is that the fondness we develop for the touch and nearness of our children won’t expire with their independence. That space we opened up for them in our souls won’t ever close, it remains and it is part of what we unwittingly took on with our decision to raise a child. Having watched parents who bemoaned their child’s independence I swore that that would never be me. And, while I try to never pull back on my kids as they set out further from me, there is a voice inside saying, “Where is my little one?“

The most surprising aspect of all this is that it is a little painful (sometimes a lot) it feels right. My experience isn’t new; for as long as we have history, parents have been through the same thing. It’s my role to miss the little girl and boy and it’s theirs to not understand, unless or when they have children of their own. Perhaps this is how we, as adults begin to see our own parents for who they were. Perhaps we appreciate them with more depth because we get a glimpse of the intimacy they miss with us. And perhaps we understand our own value; the people our parents loved and cared for.

I was trying to think of something to write about today and then I got the following in my email. I know it's quite "chic" to hate americans right now but I don't tend to pay any attention to fashion.

You could have heard a pin drop


When in England , at a fairly large conference, ColinPowell was asked by the Archbishop of Canterbury if our plans for Iraq were just an example of empire building by George Bush.

He answered by saying, 'Over the years, the United
States has sent many of its fine young men and women into great peril to fight for freedom beyond our borders. The only amount of land we have ever asked for in return is enough to bury those that did not return.'

You could have heard a pin drop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a conference in France where a number of international engineers were taking part, including French and American. During a break, one of the French engineers came back into the room saying 'Have you heard the latest dumb stunt Bush has done? He has sent an aircraft carrier to Indonesia to help the tsunami victims. What
does he intended to do, bomb them?'

A Boeing engineer stood up and replied quietly: 'Our
carriers have three hospitals on board that can treat several
hundred people; they are nuclear powered and can supply
emergency electrical power to shore facilities; they
have three cafeterias with the capacity to feed 3,000
people three meals a day, they can produce several
thousand gallons of fresh water from sea water each
day, and they carry half a dozen helicopters for use in transporting victims and injured to and from their flight deck. We have eleven such ships; how many does France have?'

You could have heard a pin drop.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A U.S. Navy Admiral was attending a naval conference that included Admirals from the U.S. , English, Canadian, Australian and French Navies. At a cocktail reception, he found himself standing with a large group of Officers that included personnel from most of those countries.

Everyone was chatting away in English as they sipped their drinks but a French admiral suddenly complained that, whereas Europeans learn many languages, Americans learn only English. He then asked, 'Why is it that we always have to speak English in these conferences rather than speaking French?'

Without hesitating, the American Admiral replied 'Maybe it's because the Brits, Canadians, Aussies and Americans arranged it so you wouldn' t have to speak German.'

You could have heard a pin drop.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND THIS STORY FITS RIGHT IN WITH THE ABOVE...

Robert Whiting, an elderly gentleman of 83, arrived in
Paris by plane. At French Customs, he took a few minutes to locate his passport in hi s carry on.

'You have been to France before, monsieur?' the customs officer asked sarcastically.

Mr. Whiting admitted that he had been to France previously.

'Then you should know enough to have your passport ready.'

The American said, 'The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it.

'Impossible. Americans always have to show your passports on arrival in France !'

The American senior gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained, 'Well, when I came ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day in 1944 to help liberate this country, I couldn't find a single Frenchmen to show a passport to.'

You could have heard a pin drop.

If you are proud to be an American, pass this on!

If not delete it

I Think

There are some statements, epiphanies put into words, which are so profound as to be staggering. Rene Descartes, after a search for an irrefutable statement and proof of existence, said, "I think, therefore I am". I had heard the words many times in my life but never examined them, the first time I did so, I was astounded. The very act of thought is proof of existence; brilliant.

Okay, so why do we need to prove our existence; isn't it obvious? Yes and no. If one says that the act of breathing proves you exist, that can be argued. Perhaps we learn to perceive breathing where it never actually existed, perhaps we are imagining our own breath. The parade of maybes is long.

So Descartes proved existence, who cares? I do! It isn't actually knowing that we exist which is the goal, it is the examination itself. Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living" and yet, many people seem content to seldom hold their lives or reality up for scrutiny.


Socrates chose death over life in prison because it would mean being cut off from the one thing which makes anything else in life satisfying; thinking and discussing life. Even as a believer in God I examine His creation, His purpose for me, His intentions in all things. If cut off from this most engaging of pursuits life would become dull.

It is curiosity and awareness of how mysterious life can be which gives all aspects of life their color. Knowing how fragile life is gives the love for and from my children it's sweetness. Knowing how fickle fortune can be gives the blessings I have the luster of richness.

How does anyone live without questioning, searching and pondering?

Fast Forward In Just Seconds

Children mature by the second but our perception of that growth comes in spurts and moments. I have heard some people say that it happens without noticing but it isn't true.

Tonight I sat and listened to my 11 year old son discuss strategy, weakness, strengths and other fine points of video games with a teen member of the family. As I listened to his animated discourse and deft use of vocabulary I was hit with one of those moments. The moment when you realize your child is not as young as you thought he was and you wonder when it happened.

I experience these "fast forward" moments periodically and they always take my by surprise. The little boy who struggled to find anything to say to a teenager can suddenly chat with ease and confidence.

I guess the thing that makes these moments so jolting is that you realize something has passed and you can never go back. A part of his childhood is behind him and whatever made him who he was is past. A parent is forced to rejoice over yet another step towards independence but grieve quietly for the little boy who is gone.

Muttering - week 323

1. Log :: fallen tree


2. Plaything :: a favorite toy


3. Broom :: sweeping the floor


4. Heels :: the back of my feet, made for kicking up


5. Smoke in :: something people may not do to my house


6. Guests :: friends visiting


7. Attraction :: there's something about that person


8. Shiny:: pretty, I wanna see


9. Risked :: sometimes ya gotta take yer chances


10. Velvet :: aahhh, soft and lustrous

Try muttering for yourself!

Muttering - week 322

1. Road trip :: Route 66


2. Pool hall :: Trouble, right here in River City


3. Extraordinary :: Amazing


4. Jackson :: Michael


5. Heartfelt :: Sincere


6. Wet :: Dripping


7. Strangle :: Choke


8. .com :: Internet


9. Touched :: Crazy, "teched"


10. Insipid :: Shallow

Try muttering yourself, it's fun!

Muttering

I discovered muttering on a friend's blog, I think it's interesting and fun.

1. Studio ::
Art, a place of my own where I create and no one will bother my "works in progress"


2. Meetup ::
Huh? Never seen this word, assuming it's another new creation.


3. Ostrich ::
Comical bird with insanely big eyes.


4. Jokes ::
Comedic stories whose retelling can be an art form.


5. Estranged ::
Sad result of a relationship failure.


6. Random ::
Unexpected and unpredictable.


7. Slap ::
An awful thing to do to anyone.


8. Hotel room ::
Luxury, someone else will make the bed and clean the bathroom. Ahhhh!


9. Inscribe ::
To adorn a loving gift with a note of intimate sentiment.


10. Polar ::
Cold!

Try muttering yourself! http://subliminal.lunanina.com

Quotes - Thoughts On Learning

"I never teach my pupils, I only attempt to provide the conditions in which they can learn." - Albert Einstein

"Try to learn something about everything and everything about something." - Thomas H. Huxley

"I am always doing that which I can not do, in order that I may learn how to do it." - Pablo Picasso

"Personally, I'm always ready to learn, although I do not always like being taught." - Winston Churchill

Bully For Them!

I just saw a new report about two people spotted, in differing areas of Portland, standing at busy intersections and holding signs. They weren't asking for money, they were asking for jobs. At least one of them was handing out resumes to passing motorists.

The man was interviewed and stated that it was a "little humiliating" but he was gonna do whatever it took. Why should he be humiliated? Here is the picture of a person who really wants to work and is taking the responsibility and initiative to to get a job.

If I were an employer these people would be first on my prospect list; they've already shown they know how to work. They have every reason to be proud, not embarrassed. I just wish I had a job to give them.

Sweet Story

 
This little fawn followed the family's beagle home, right through the doggie door and into the house.  When the family got home they found it settled right in and making itself at home.

The Roses And Those Dang Ol' Thorns

Friends are a blessing, a reason for life and a safe harbor from the storm...usually. I guess it is the nature of all things that blessing come with risks and friends, like family, carry the ability to take the wind right out of you. It has been rare and I know I've been guilty of the same but the sting is the same.

For some time now I have been dealing with the hurtful actions of a friend. She is actually dealing with the backlash of her own choices and deflecting it to me. Mind you, I know what is going on and have broken off regular contact but the pain doesn't seem to go away. Every once in a while it all comes rushing in and I get laid out again.

The worst of it is that it has hit my kid as well. Her child was my daughter's best friend and somehow became a target as well. I understand that it's hard for a child to avoid being caught up in her parent's mind set but I wish they could have been able to stay beyond the fall out. Any pain I felt was multiplied many times over when my girl was hurt.

Okay, I know all the usual things; being open can mean getting hurt. And it doesn't mean I shut down but I still have those days where it all seems to float back to the surface.

The very best lemonade I can make from this? Be more honest with myself, try to recognize when I'm mad at myself and not throw that stinking mess on someone else. And, finally, hope and believe the best from other and future friendships.

Oh Spring, Where Art Thou?

Perhaps it's due to the long and cold winter, the extra snow or empathy for my chickens living outside but I am impatient for spring. After enticing my imagination with several spring-like days, in typical pacific northwest fashion, the climate took a cruel turn and dumped about 4 inches of snow on our home. *sigh*

Having spent most of my life in southern California I am new to the strong border between seasons. Spring here seems dwarfed by the intensity of the other seasons, especially winter. Those first days so warm I can finally open my windows are precious; if only I could bottle them for use on days like this.

Now I must calm my impatience with holding fast to the knowledge that spring WILL come. Then I must remind myself to cherish each day as they are short and too few.

How A Chicken Changed My Life

I remember reading "The Egg And I" a few years ago; a decidedly less romantic book than it's inspired movie. Hollywood sexes up another great story, go figure. I'm not sure why I still wanted to raise chickens after hearing what Betty MacDonald lived through but I did.

My daughter decided, after hearing me talk about them, to buy me some baby chicks for Mother's Day; I was tickled pink. Off to the feed store to buy the bits of fluff where we discover they only sell a minimum of 6. Silly people, they have me confused with a serious farmer.

We pick two barred rocks, two rhode island reds and golden orpingtons. Now, I know that the reality of caring for chickens will be more of a jolt than the image of myself as a country girl has prepared me for. I also know that if I find I have too many or I hate chickens in general, there are many good people who will love to have them.

Raising baby chicks was easier and stinkier than I had anticipated and I was right, 6 was too many. A wonderful woman who adores chickens and the eggs they provide took three of them home to her flock when they were about half grown.

What I hadn't planned for was how bolstering this experience would be. I can adopt elements of a new lifestyle that will lead to greater self-sufficiency! Now we can add providing our own organic, free range eggs to building our own coop and pen.

With this success under our belt we have planned, for this summer's weather, to build a greenhouse, compost bin and earth worm bin. I'm so caught up in the excitement that I'm cooking more and more from scratch, making my own bread and creating recipes.

A ball was set in motion by these little birds and this path feels so right! Our economy and world condition certainly make sustainable lifestyles a good idea. Who would have guessed such momentum from such a small choice, well, besides God that is?

Parentood By Choice

Please keep in mind, while reading this post, that it is my first and very rough draft of an article I am working on. It requires much more structure and polish so be kind. LOL

WHY?

I am forever grateful that my long wait for kids afforded me the chance to really choose parenthood. One of the wisest women I know said that if you can't imagine your life without children then you should have them. Having children should be an option, a path one takes with purpose and excitement.

I never married and would have had a happy life had they never come along but I would have missed so much, the blessings and the worry. Only a parent can realize that constant, on the edge of panic, feeling that you have or might forget something. The unrelenting awareness that they could so easily be harmed or lost, it's a wonder any of us make it through.

I remember the moment when I knew just how much I wanted to be a parent. While riding the train to work I noticed a teen boy and his mom across the aisle from me. I couldn't hear them but they were talking; an easy, relaxed conversation that comes with intimacy. The way they laughed together and enjoyed their bond made me realize that it was, for me, about more than a baby to love. I wanted to parent a person, someone who would become an adult; I wanted to be a part of that.

HOW?

As a single woman I had choices, while they were all mine to make the impact they would have on my child was my first consideration. I could undergo artificial insemination but that would leave my child's genetic heritage a mystery. I could adopt but it was an expensive and iffy proposition. I could become a foster parent but it would mean a bond with a child who might would leave; a noble choice but not something I think I could cope with.

Every choice has a consequence and I had not been able to get beyond any of them. I prayed and read and waited; I was confident in God's awareness of my desire.

Then one day a friend called and told me about a mutual friend who was in need. She had just given birth to her second child and was in an emergency situation; she had to leave her home and had no permanent place to stay. Friends had offered temporary help but a woman with a newborn needs something stable. I had a place with an extra bedroom and, for me, it was a no-brainer. I told her to come stay with me and for as long as it took to find something permanent.

Patricia, Michael (11) and Lanora (5 weeks) moved in. All of us were surprised at how easily we fit into my tiny place, I worked full time and attended college part time so they had run of the house most of the day. We all got along so well, Michael was a great kid and very patient with me and Lanora began to worm her way into my soul.

I knew my growing bond with Lanora was from God because, unlike her charming brother, she made no effort to endear herself to me. She screamed bloody murder every time I tried to hold her, unless she was asleep, but I fell in love. When Patricia began to tell me about her search for a house we both began to cry, we learned that our dread of the day they moved out was mutual.

God had created a family, definitely not the model others could easily identify with but there it was. Our church owned a small house nearby which had been sitting empty for several months, now they were going to have renters and we were going to have a bigger place for all of us. For a while we were still basically roommates, I worked, attended college, Patricia took care of the kids and we helped one another as best we could. This, however, would change.

WHO?

Lanora grew and let me hold her more and more each day. As she grew in awareness our bond became stronger and she would greet me with excitement as I came home. Eventually she was crawling at full tilt to the door as she heard my car pull into the drive. She expected me to play with and dote on her until she was too tired and had to go to bed; and I was a willing playmate.

At work my patient fellow workers listened to my daily updates on her progress and looked through many pictures. It was at this point that Patricia and I had begun to talk about how the two of us were in the exact opposite role we seemed best suited for. I was a homebody, loved to cook and keep house and she wanted to be out and around people. She loves to work and being at home was like a prison sentence; God was at work fixing this problem already.

My work was with the welfare department and my clientele were primarily homeless and mentally ill. The stress of dealing with people so impaired and the danger of my work environment began taking their toll. I had struggled with depression and anxiety since early childhood but I understood very little about what was ailing me. I coped as well as I could until the job helped bring it to a head. After several weeks with little more than an hour or two of sleep, nightmares, clinical depression and frequent migraines I was convinced by friends to see a doctor.

My doctor ordered me off work for several months and this afforded Patricia the chance to go back to school and work. Of course, this arrangement worked beautifully and it has remained such to this day.

DEALING WITH QUESTIONS

Society gets little opportunity to see women collaborating without jealousy where children are concerned and this leads many to ask how it works. Some people got it right away and saw the strength of two women who supported each other and loved children without regard for who they "belonged" to.

The most common question we got was whether we were "involved". Patricia once answered that it would probably be easier if we were but we both liked men too much. As Lanora got older she would proudly announce to that she had "two moms", the parade of looks that passed over folks faces after that were priceless.

At first I was quick to make it clear that we were both heterosexual but eventually realized that I didn't care too much what they thought. Besides, watching them try to steer the conversation in order to determine our "situation" was not to be missed. For those who became our friends it was evident, soon enough, who and what we were. And although I think raising the kids was the primary reason we became a family, Patricia and I have become like sisters and will always be the others best cheerleader and empathetic ear.

LIFE AND ADDITIONS

Patricia eventually met and married Martin, from that came a BIG surprise named Jonathan. Lanora and I were at his birth and I have been his primary caregiver since day one. For a while Lanora and I shared an apartment downstairs while Patricia, Martin and Jonathan were upstairs, with Jonathan staying with me during the day.

Eventually Patricia's marriage ended and this meant Patricia, Lanora, Jonathan and I shared one place. Martin relocated to another state and shortly after died unexpectedly. About two years later Patricia met her current husband, bought a house for the kids and I while she and Darran live a short way from us in order to be close to their work. Lanora met and married Sean this winter and, like her mothers, she is opting for the unconventional. They don't plan to have children and are happy to share a home with Jonathan and I. Both are hard working, honest, wise with their money and prudent with their time and resources.

Needless to say, I am thrilled that they want to stick around. Our near future includes plans to find a lot with more acreage and and build at least two small homes. We are all excited about a venture into homesteading and sustainable living; Sean is talented in all areas of construction, electrical and computers. We also hope to build housing for other members of the extended family so more of our resources can benefit the whole.

It's still not the usual family arrangement but it's every bit as real and provides a safe environment to learn, grow and pursue happiness.