Big, Fat Mama

As soon as I walked in the back door, she was there waiting for me. 

The blonde girl.  

I had barely put down my first bag of groceries before she started speaking. 

"Mom!"

Quieter, "mom"

"Yes?" 

"When you were gone dad got so mad.  He was saying damn, and mother bleeper, and shit."

"Why was he saying that?  What was he mad at?" 

"The garbage can. He was yelling at the garbage can."

"Huh" I said, my mind's ideas swirling around as to what had happened in the hour that I was not at home. 

"There was a hole in the garbage bag and he got sooooo mad at it."

I tried not to smile too much as I went out to get more groceries from the car. 

Gigi loves two things.

Well, more than two things, but I'm focusing on two of her loves right now. 

Gigi loves to tattle on others and she loves any opportunity to use curse words. 

When I saw my husband a few moments later when he sauntered into the kitchen, I mentioned to him what Gigi had told me. 

"She's such a nark!" he declared. 

I prefer to think of it as honesty. 

Gigi is very honest. 

She's yet to learn how to stifle her thoughts. 

But, then again, why should she stifle her thoughts?

Why aren't we all so honest?

As honest as a 7 year old.

Who will tell you when your breath stinks as you go in to kiss her. 

Who will tell her doctor that her farts feel like the wind. 

Who will tell her sister, you hurt my feelings because you don't want to play school with me anymore. 

Even though sister has been playing with her for the last two hours. 

Who will lovingly tell me "I love you big fat mama" and not mean anything malicious by those words. 

I'm her mama. 

She loves me. 

And she thinks I'm big and fat. 

But I don't think I'm big and fat. 

I mean, YES I could stand to lose some pounds. 

But she weighs 55 pounds. 

So, in her wee little eyes and mind...

I'm big and fat. 

I need to be more honest. 

With people in my life. 

With people who have hurt me. 

Who continue to hurt me. 

And if I need to, I need to cut some ties. 

Because life is too short to have insincere strings connecting knotted up and frayed relationships. 

Honesty can be one of the hardest things to effectuate. 

Being honest can feel as if you're standing naked in a snowstorm. 

The vulnerability felt. 

The unknown reaction awaiting. 

But to a 7 year old, it's just how it is. 

Here's what you did and here's my response. 

I need to take some lessons from my daughter. 

But it's a scary lesson plan to look over. 

Why do we allow ourselves to shy away from honesty the older we get?

I have no answer. 

I'm still searching for "The Big Book Of Life's Answers". 

And I've lost the call number. 

I hope Gigi stays honest. 

I hope she doesn't go through life not telling it how it is. 

I hope she stands up for what she believes. 

Even if it goes against the grain. 

Even if it seems bizarre to others. 

Because sometimes the most bizarre ideas are in fact, the best ideas. 

I hope Gigi stays true. 

True to herself. 

True to her sister. 

True to her heart. 

True to those she loves the most. 

Especially big, fat mama. 

Trying To Be Your Own Cool

There's a new pop song blaring across the radio waves. 

I always wonder, who decides which songs are the "good" songs?

Is there some GOD-like radio being who points his or her finger at cassingles and declares "this is THE one for the month!"

Cassingle. 

Remember those?

A cassette single of a catchy "it" song that you could play over and over and over until you had all of the words memorized and could then sing along flawlessly to over and over and over. 

Now you can buy a song single on your phone and play it over and over and over. 

And annoy your husband. 

Because he "doesn't want to hear Gypsy by Lady Gaga anymore today thank you!!!!"

Geesh. 

So, the song that keeps blaring out of my car speakers this week is called Cool Kids. 

I think. 

But I'm not exactly sure. 

But that's all they sing about. 

Over and over and over. 

Lyrics that don't extend beyond this...

I wish that I could be like the cool kids. 

Cause all the cool kids, they seem to fit in.

Is there a message that I'm missing?

And if there is, am I just not cool enough to hear it?

It's got a catchy beat and I found myself humming it today at lunch. 

And I felt all dirty inside.

Because I hate it when songs like this become popular. 

And the kids all start singing it. 

And judging each other some more. 

Because they will do these things. 

They will start looking around to see who is cool and who is not cool. 

All because of a song. 

What makes a kid cool?

What in the hell does cool even mean anymore?

I'm still stuck in 1987 and I try to be hip, but my kids often roll their eyes at me. 

But, I do try to saturate their little minds with my ideas of fabulousness. 

I've told my daughters that the cool kids are the ones that stand up to bullies and defend those that can't defend themselves. 

Cool kids are respectable to adults and say hi to the students at school that sit by themselves at lunch. 

Cool kids say thank you and don't laugh when someone falls in the hallway. 

Cool kids aren't always the kids who play every sport and are first chair trumpet in band and student council secretary. 

Cool kids can be the artist who draws amazingly realistic dinosaurs. 

Cool kids can be the girl who gets the highest level of points every month for reading the most books. 

Cool kids are everywhere. 

Look around. 

Popular doesn't equate to cool in my house. 

And I try to share that with my girls. 

I always stress to them that "fitting in" isn't all that great. 

It's actually kind of boring. 

Be yourself. 

Dress how you want. 

Speak your own unique thoughts. 

Do your own thing always and forever. 

Because if you can't love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?

RuPaul said those words. 

And I don't know anyone cooler than a drag queen with a wise and loving soul. 

To Yell Or Not To Yell...

One of my favorite authors recently wrote a blog post about yelling at his dogs. 

And I could totally relate. 

Yelling is good exercise for the lungs. 

You need a big intake of oxygen to make your voice be heard. 

All of that oxygen satiates the brain with vital nutrients to help you...yell some more. 

If you don't yell (come on, you really don't?) you are only hurting yourself. 

I come from a family of yellers. 

Well, I'm actually 1/2 yell, 1/2 shh. 

My mom is from a family of 7. 

They are the yellers. 

My dad is an only child. 

He's the quiet. 

But I must tell you, when I say we are yellers, it's not to be construed as a vicious method of communicating within the family. 

We are better viewed as loud talkers. 

Very loud talkers. 

In large families, it's the way to go. 

The way to be heard over the masses. 

You're never going to get the mashed potatoes passed to you at Christmas dinner if you are as meek as a mouse. 

My dad still, after all of these loud years, doesn't get it. 

My mom and I will be in a loud, boisterous  conversation about the pros and cons of phyllo dough versus regular pie dough and he'll say "why are you two yelling at each other?!"

"Umm, who's yelling?  We're having a discussion!"

And we go right back to it. 

Loudly. 
I married a quiet guy. 

He's from a family of 5, but the mom of that group is a shh-shher and so they are one of those odd quiet large groups. 

But, I yell. 

At him. 

My kids. 

The dogs. 

The goats. 

My friends. 

Strangers.

Plants. 

My dishwasher. 

Dust. 

In my 9 3/4 years of raising two girls I've realized that they DON'T think I'm serious about something, really serious, unless I'm yelling. 

Then I get action from them. 

And I've noticed that my longtime friends from my early years are loud, too. 

We are that guffawing table at the restaurant that is oblivious to others around us. 

We are having a good time and enjoying each other's loudness. 

And in all seriousness, I'm the quietest one in the group. 

Scary. 

Having Daughters

Daughters. 

I have daughters. 

Two in fact. 

And it can be a tough world for girls. 

It always has been. 

They are lucky, though, that they live in the U.S. 

Where their individualities can be celebrated.  

But, there are still obstacles that girls must overcome to live a fulfilled life. 

And as a mother, it's my job in my household to strengthen my girls to become fabulous women. 

I allow my girls to express their uniqueness. 

With their hair, their clothing, their accessories. 

In hopes that if they are allowed to be creative at a young age, it will continue throughout their entire lives. 

Creativity heralds itself in many ways. 

Through art. 

Photography. 

Books and film. 

We try to show our girls all of it. 

Not just "age-appropriate" material. 

This notion that permeates the parenting air really needs to stop. 

I mean, I'm not out showing my children porn by any means, but they see stuff. 

In art and film and in photos. 

Of beauty and love and life. 

Because it's out there. 

And if anyone is going to show it to them, I want it to be me. 

I want my daughters to know about their bodies. 

How they work and why certain things happen. 

I've written about this in a past post.

Zoe still tells me "that I'm too young for this mother!"

I disagree. 

So I keep talking. 

And boys. 

I hope the mothers of boys are teaching them that girls are to be respected. 

That a girl should be able to express herself as she wishes without some sort of message being attached to it. 

A message that they think means "I can do what I want to you."

I want my daughters to respect their bodies and to know that their body belongs to them. 

So we talk about boundaries. 

And saying no. 

We haven't gotten too deep into this yet, though. 

They are young. 

But, it's my belief that if they hear something over and over and over, it will stick. 

I'm pretty liberal in my parenting manner. 

But one thing I'm tough on...manners. 

Table manners. 

No feet on the table. 

Sit on your butt. 

Use the utensils in front of you. 

They aren't decoration. 

Put the napkins you are provided with to use. 

And say thank you. 

Please. 

Call your friends' parents by Mr. and Mrs. only. 

Nothing irks me more than having a friend of my children calling me Jennifer. 

Kid, we aren't counterparts. 

Respect has gone out the back door and down the road with many children. 

Too much leniency at home in regards to adults. 

My children are told numerous times before going to a party, play date, etc with friends this statement..."if you need to speak to (insert friend's name here) mother/father, what do you call her/him?"

I'm met with the response of "Mrs. or Mr. (Insert friend's last name here)."

And I hear Zoe informing her friends when sitting in the back seat of our minivan "her name's Mrs. Pramuk" when they mutter to her "what's your mom's name?" 

Making and keeping friends can be daunting for girls. 

The drama of some female relationships rears it's loathsome head very early on in school. 

This is something new I now fear. 

I don't recall having to fight for a friendship in 2nd or 3rd grade. 

I think the biggest talks we have had in our home the last few years have been about friends. 

Telling our girls when they should walk away from someone that they thought was "on their side."

What I've learned so far in my daughters' 

school friendships...all is not as it always seems. 

The girls who come off as sweet when adults are around aren't necessarily showing their true colors. 

And we've had to say to Zoe "I don't think she's a good friend for you."

We aren't religious at all. 

But, we are raising our daughters on the virtue of goodness equals everything. 

And we explain the world's religions as much as we understand them. 

My husband was raised Catholic. 

So there's that understanding. 

Buddhism is fascinating to me. 

We try to showcase the world and it's differences. 

And we show them that other people are struggling. 

Or have struggled to get where they are now. 

We watch the world news. 

We watch documentaries on the civil rights movement. 

We watch shows and read books about the plights of their Native American ancestors. 

We have started to discuss what the Nazis did during WWII.  

We research polar bears and climate change together. 

So that they are aware. 

So they know the world isn't just their neighborhood. 

That it's big and can be scary sometimes, but that everyone needs to be aware of what's happening and if you can, you need to help. 

Zoe has seen that the world can be unfair. 

And that her friends can die. 

And that helps motivate her to give back. 

We give to the childhood cancer community. 

We are working on the Illinois license plate. 

We've explained to her that years of research in the area of childhood leukemia have kept her alive.

But that more research needs to be done.

New drugs need to be made. 

So she never has to lose another friend to a brain tumor. 

We teach them that knowledge is truly power. 

To love school. 

To love learning. 

If they don't know something, let's look it up. 

Having 21st Century daughters makes learning easy, actually. 

Want to find out what a graffiti painting by Banksy looks like?

Look it up on the internet. 

While you're siting in a restaurant. 

Eating pulled pork sandwiches. 

Then look up who first invented pulled pork sandwiches. 

Having daughters can be daunting. 

The arguments. 

The crying. 

The clothes stealing (Gigi is always taking her big sister's things much to the chagrin of 
Zoe.)

But, I'm glad to have them with me. 

Another set of estrogen souls for me to hang with. 

And to bond with. 

And to help shape into strong women.

I wouldn't know what to do with sons.  

This is part of a group blog post my Homesteaders and Homeschoolers group is writing...

Read more from Carla, Laura, and Melissa. 

All three women are raising daughters. 

The Birds And The Bees Are Gross

I want Zoe to be informed. 

To be a strong and informed girl.

Who becomes a young lady.

Who becomes a woman. 

Who knows stuff. 

Stuff like...

How babies are made. 

What her insides look like. 

Insides like her uterus and ovaries. 

And why we get a period.

I mean, come on, she's seen me using pads and tampons and I found this cool drawing/graphic online of a uterus and ovaries and fallopian tubes. 

And I showed it to her. 

And told her what each thing was and why women bleed and so on and so forth. 

I believe her response was "Mom, ewww!"

Today in the car she said she thinks one of her feet is bigger than the other. 

I said my feet are like that, too.

Then I told her that one of my boobs is bigger than the other. 

Silence. 

I looked in the rear view mirror and she had that look. 

You know, that look a kid gives you when they are embarrassed that their own parent has said "boob" or "sex" or "I'm going to dance in front of your friends!"

"Mom, you're grossing me out lately with all these talks about life."

"I am?"

"Yes!  Don't you think I'm too young for these talks?!"

"Girl, life is gross. Get used to it."

Parenting-How I Do It...Part 4

This final post in my parenting series is just a hodge-podge of me and my parenting behaviors...

My biggest goal with children rearing is this three word sentence...

Raising independent girls. 

I've started early. 

I try to free-range parent. 

I let them use the bathroom at Target or Walmart or the movie theater alone. 

When Zoe is with me I let her go into our local drugstore alone to buy stamps and mail our letters. 

I wait in the car. 

I'm gearing them up for the future. 

Small things lead to bigger things. 

I want them to leave. 

To see the world. 

To hear and smell and experience things I never have. 

And I know I'll mourn when that day comes. 

But it's what I've always wanted.  

It's what every parent, I think, hopes for. 

It's a life I never got to live...to go beyond these walls. 

A thing about me...I'm not a big "baby" person. 

I don't like baby-sitting infants. 

I don't enjoy the drools and cries and while I like the squishiness of babies, I prefer people who can talk. 

Who I can have a conversation with. 

Toddlers. 

I like toddlers. 

My parenting pitfalls. 

Sometimes I forget to feed Gigi breakfast. 

I'm not a big morning food person. 

Is she?

I should see sometimes. 

Sometimes I yell too much. 

I curse way too much. 

Sometimes I'm yelling and cursing all at the same time. 

At my kids.

Not fun. 

Maybe I'm too lenient with letting my kids hear the curse words. 

I'm not an alcoholic. 

I'm not a drug user. 

I'm present at all times. 

And I have a type A personality. 

To the umpth degree. 

It's my faulty gene. 

I don't openly express my 

sadness. 

I let it build up. 

And then explosions happen. 

These days are few and far between, but I feel bad when I finally burst open. 

Anger is my emotion. 

I should probably take some anger management classes. 

I feel horrible if I yell. 

Especially if I curse-yell

I apologize to them. 

And hope I'm not causing life-altering harm to them. 

And I try to remember that I'm just a person. 

In charge of two other persons. 

And I'm not perfect by any means. 

And I hope tomorrow is better. 

This is part four in a series I'm doing simply titled "parenting...how I do it."

Parenting-How I Do It...Part 3

I'm not a parenting expert. 

I still can't believe I haven't forgotten to feed and clean these kids of mine on a daily basis. 

Well, sometimes I do forget. 

An expert on raising another human...

I don't think anyone really is. 

There are too many variables and circumstances are constantly shifting and changing. 

We each have our own walls that contain our family and the ideals we want to share with them. 

In our house we talk openly about gay people. 

And our support of gay marriage. 

In our house, love is love. 

We talk about drag queens. 

My daughters love to watch RuPaul's Drag Race on television. 

The costumes, the wigs, the lip synching...and those are guys!

Say wha?!

And we discuss race. 

We have stated that we don't need to acknowledge the difference in people by declaring what color skin they have. 

Many parents I know teach their kids about differences in others by mentioning first their hair color or shirt color.  

I don't know if it helps or if we as humans are bound to merge with those that look similar to ourselves. 

But it's what we do and if it's right or not, time will only tell. 

We watch the world news and discuss war in other countries. 

The refugee families that must walk to safety through the desserts.  

We have talked about the missing Malaysia Airlines airplane. 

Death is life. 

They are entwined. 

My daughters know about death. 

Zoe watched her dear friend change in front of her eyes and then leave this world. 

We didn't get to see Jake as much as we would have liked because both kids were undergoing chemo at the same time, but they had a transcendent, heart warming bond. 

She helped to prop him up with pillows when he couldn't sit up on his own anymore. 

She fed him pizza when he couldn't move his arms anymore as they belly laughed while watching YouTube videos. 

And she was only 6 years old. 

He was 7. 

Life and death. 

We talk to our kids about other ethnic groups and watch war on TV because we want to teach. 

We want to teach our kids that the world is big and vast and not everyone looks like we do and not everyone has it as easy as we do. 

We are teaching compassion. 

Compassion for people. 

On our planet. 

That there's a big and fascinating world outside of this town they live in and go to school in. 

A world full of colors and smells and tastes and visions that will blow their minds. 

And if they want to one day go out into the planet and spread their compassion, I will have done my job. 

I've always wanted to go to Africa to work with orphaned chimps. 

Or adopt a child from a land I've never been to. 

Maybe one day one of my daughters will. 

And I'll visit and give out hugs. 

I'm an expert at hugs at least...

This is part three in a series I'm doing simply titled "parenting...how I do it."

Another School Bully

Another year older. 

Another year at public school. 

Another girl.

Another bully. 

We tried letting Zoe work through it. 

But, big mama had to step in. 

To let those in charge at school in on this bully girl's secret. 

That she's sad/mad/scared of something and feels like she has to take it out on my daughter and a few other girls. 

I am never intending to fight my daughter's battles for her. 

We have given her tools and advice to deal with mean girls.

Zoe is sweet. 

And sensitive. 

And not an "in your face" type of person. 

The bully was getting worse. 

Zoe cried at recess. 

Damn you recess!

It's my kid's hardest part of her day. 

I get stomach knots thinking about it. 

I always ask her about recess at the end of her school day when she's tucked safely into our sky-blue minivan. 

But it's third on the list...I go with "how was that test? Lunch? first so my concern isn't too obvious. 

So I called the principal. 

She called Zoe into her office. 

Then spoke to the bully.

Then called all four girls involved into her office and everyone apologized.

I was told that there were also tears from the bully. 

Maybe I'm a naysayer, but...I don't think the girl bully has changed too much. 

Zoe said she's not being mean anymore. 

All is good!

Oh sweet, innocent, sensitive daughter of mine. 

I love her positive outlook. 

But I know what's happened. 

The bully knows she's being watched. 

It's just like what happened to the other girl bully last school year. 

A grown up came into the picture and the bully became intimidated by this. 

Girls can be very mean to other girls. 

They use words and give "looks" and isolate friends from one another. 

And a mean girl isn't going to change overnight. 

And unfortunately you can't trust everyone who says sorry. 

There are many lessons to learn in life. 

There are many people to encounter who have their own stories and problems and insecurities. 

And sometimes they thrust their problems onto you. 

Just be yourself Z. 

Your sweet, sensitive, honorable, powerful, smart, beautiful self. 

Let those mean girls look up to YOU. 

Show them what a true friend is. 

And smile, smile, smile always...

Young Love

Gigi has a boyfriend. 

Or two. 

She keeps talking about two particular boys in her class, but one gave her jewelry today. 

He must be in this fight for real. 

He's not going to let this other guy get ahead in the love game. 

It's funny to see this "young love" emerge. 

She has no idea what a boyfriend is. 

When I ask her "what makes J your boyfriend?"

She just giggles, gets shy, giggles some more, picks her nose, hits her sister whose making smootchy sounds. 

When Zoe was in preschool (and I was big and pregnant with Gigi) there was a boy in her class who was always giving me the Zoe-Lowdown...

"Hi Mrs Pramuk!  Zoe's getting her coat on right now!"

"Hi Mrs Pramuk!  ZOE!!  Your mom is here to pick you up!!"

I always thought, either he has a crush on Zoe or has a thing for fat, pregnant ladies. 

I remember when my nephew was in preschool. 

He would tell us he had five girlfriends at school. 

Five!

He's in his late twenties and still looking for true love. 

It's a long process for some. 

Preschool love turns into grade school crushes. 

Then for some, there's high school heartbreak and college flings. 

I'm hoping my girls always remember what's important. 

We instill these values into them already...

Education, Self, Community...

That's what's important. 

Crushes are fine. 

It's nice to know that others like to be near us, to enjoy our company. 

But, boys can come later. 

Please. 

Like 30-years-old later. 

This boy in Gigi's class has come out with his guns a-blazin'. 

Homemade jewelry. 

This other kid better not try to up the ante with a puppy. 

Doing It All

Days and weeks can go by now and everything seems ordinary.
The girls go to school.
Dinner together every night.
Zoe has a test on telling time on an old fashion clock with hands.
Dance and piano lessons.
The only thing that really makes Zoe seem different nowadays is her hair. Or lack thereof.
So, when we have days where childhood cancer, specifically Zoe's journey through leukemia, spills open in front of us we become exhausted.
Again.
There's my overwhelming desire to give back to those that have saved my daughter.
Ways to do that are sharing our story with everyone.
Her story.
Via pictures and news stories.
All to bring awareness to the affects of childhood cancer and what we can do to help ease the pain of treatments, to find cures.
I have no intention of exploiting my daughter and her disease.
Her struggles.
Her dreams.
But if people don't SEE things like a little girl without hair, a little girl that has had to endure chemo, a little girl who has had to overcome tremendous turmoil, a little girl who misses her friend who didn't survive cancer, they just don't care.
People are visual creatures.
Photos and words have impact.
And if we can give back somehow to the doctors and the medicine that have saved our baby, we will do that.
Zoe may not remember a lot of what life was like during the initial onset of her cancer.
But we are providing her with memories of what she has overcome.
We are providing her with memories of the good we are trying to do in this big bad world that has allowed her to get cancer.
Memories of amazing encounters with people we wouldn't meet if cancer hadn't entered her world.
Zoe met the Governor of Illinois.
And a State Senator.
When she was eight years old.
The Governor got down to her eye level and spoke to her about her braveness, her good heart, and her courage to help others.
A memory that will last forever.
We want her to have these impressions in the forefront of her mind.
Not always needles, nausea, surgery.
We are giving her hope for the good she can do in this world.
Because she can do it all...

Blue Minivans Are Everywhere!

When I was younger, as in when I began driving a car on the real road and not just in the driveway and I thought I was the cat's meow and began driving over 25 miles per hour, I wanted a Jeep.
A Jeep with big ass tires and no windows.
A free-wheelin', life to be loved, hair blowin' in my face and getting stuck in my lip-glossed kisser, kind of Jeep.
In black please.
My dad said no.
I would flip it he chimed in.
Had he noticed my careless carefree driving after all?
I, instead, drove a red Mazda.
Not nearly as exciting.
Sigh.

Ooooh!
A Jaguar!
I wanted to drive a sleek, polished till I could see the workins of my own brain on it's shiny exterior, look what I have accomplished in my college-educated life, Jaguar.
In black please.
I bought a burgundy 4-door Honda.
Not as sleek, but it sure was dependable.
Dependable is so dull, though.
Dependable is way cheaper, though.
Sigh.

A wagon.
I wanted a wagon, as in look what a hipster I am, with my made in the good ol' U S of A, gas friendly, luggage rack on the roof because I'm a traveler damn it, Subaru.
In black please.
I have a blue Toyota minivan.
It's roomy, sure.
There's room for all four of us, plus grandma, grandpa, and the dogs.
Sometimes the minivan holds goats.
Classy.
There are so many of these blue minivans in town that I've had to outfit mine in stickers just so I can find it in the Target parking lot.
Sigh.

Zoe recently told me that when she grows up and starts to drive that she wants a minivan.
WHAT?!
A MINIVAN?!
Are you drunk again, kid?!
NO!
What about that Mini-Cooper we just passed?
Oh, look at that cool little Italian Fiat!
Isn't that awesome?!
You won't be driving anyone else around but your sister.
You don't need a large, full of garbage, smells like a dog fart, minivan.
That's what old ladies like your mother drive!

I hope she gets over that idea and learns to dream in more exciting and out of the box ways.
I do totally appreciate her sensibilities toward space and comfort and for the ability to haul large amounts of crap around town.
And there's the fact that she has an affinity to be like her mom.
I know that that won't last forever.
But I want her to dream of a life that's more shiny, fast, glossy, and just out of reach.
Something to aspire to be.
To live a life full of Maseratis and Volvos.
In black please.

Side note:
Zoe saw me writing this and stated that she would first like to have a scooter (like her "aunt" Laura) and would use a Volkswagon Bug when it's cold out to drive to school.
The minivan would be when she's graduated from school.
I sense a tinge of boldness there.
Sigh...

Sometimes, Somehow

When I eat a bagel, without cutting it in half or toasting it or schmearing it, just eating an entire whole bagel (which is not the best food choice, I KNOW!) I get the hiccups immediately.
Every time.

I need to start photographing again.
Really taking good pictures.
There's a Pinterest post I've seen about taking "a picture a day" for a month with a different topic each day for inspiration. 
I might do that.

I have developed a recent addiction to Diet 7UP.

I love that my kids are interested in politics, go with me to vote, know about social issues like gay marriage and environmental concerns.
Knowledge and compassion start young and I don't think they are too young to care.
When is the right time to start caring?
It's their future.

I have told Willie that if he rolls in one more pile of crap, be it horse or whatever that was on Monday, that I will ring his scrawny freckled neck!

I love watching Top Chef, Downton Abbey, RuPaul's Drag Race, Call The Midwife and Good Luck Charlie.
In no particular order, but I tell you, that mom on GL Charlie is a real hoot and makes me constantly laugh out loud.
I wish we were friends.
Oh wait, she's not really real.
Damn.
I'm still waiting for Lorelai Gilmore to call me.


I would like to lose 20 pounds.
I think I need to stop eating those bagels.

I also need to do something with the two SD cards I have that are FULL of pictures.
I would like to just throw them all into a pre-made photo book and be done with them.
I don't need all of the captions.
Just the pictures off of the cards.
I like to look at the faces.
To see the past and memories they have made.
Words get in the way.

I wish I could spend every Sunday with my friend Sue.

I'm going easy on Christmas this year.
Just a few presents the girls really want.
We don't need to be swallowed up by a bunch of new crap.
We have each other and our laughter filling my house is enough.
It really is enough.

Fear Versus Freedom

There are many fears to tackle when you have children.
First is to get the kid out of your body with no harm done.
Then to raise them into toddlerhood from infants.
From school-age child to teen.
From teen and into young adult.
It's a nail biting time, the worries about everything from poisons, to abductions, to illness surround a person when raising another one.
I just finished a great book Free Range Kids by Lenore Skenazy (she has a great blog.)
The author let her then nine year old son ride the subway home in NYC from Bloomingdale's alone and she was dubbed "America's Worst Mom" for it.
The book helps us understand where our fears come from in terms of poisons, abductions, and the general unknown outside our front doors.
Maybe things aren't so scary in the world.
That it's okay to give your kids some freedom to be what they are...kids.
To let them walk to Wendy's after school with friends, to let them play in the woods behind the house, to let them ride their bike to school.
Yes, there are bad people in the world.
The news is sure to tell us that.
But I inherently believe most people are good.
The homeless guy on the corner...good.
The guy walking his Corgi everyday after work...good
The lady at the fast food restaurant who cleans your tray away...good.
I think I've always been a bit of a free-ranger.
When I was just an aunt and my nephew and cousin would visit me, I would allow them to walk to Starbucks alone or to the corner store. 
And that was in Chicago.
They were teens.
They knew where to go and I trusted them to come back in one piece.
My own kids now are old enough to play in the woods behind our house without me.
They take our dogs with them, two fifty pound beasts who love to bark.
I trust them not to wander off the path and they know not to go with anyone they don't know.
Zoe also goes into a local drugstore for me to buy stamps and mail envelopes.
I wait in the car or am at the gas station just next door pumping gas when she does her job.
She likes to do it.
I let her take something back to the store shelf at Walmart that I've decided at the last minute I don't want to buy. 
My belief that something bad will happen to her while doing this is at 1% (there's always a small chance of something happening, probably that she'll trip over her own feet more than being abducted.)
While there are many scary things to sit and ponder over that can happen to your child, I've already had to deal with the scariest thing of all.
Disease.
A disease that the parenting books don't warn you about.
There's nothing to buy at Babies R Us to heed the warning about cancer coming your way and how to protect your child.
My daughter has had the devil of all devils at her front door and she has fought back.
The boogey man has not taken her from us.
The world doesn't seem quite so scary now that we have lived through two years of poison that's been deliberately given to her.  
Now that we have seen what could become of our daughter.
To know other families who have lost their child to cancer. 
Now that we know what's really scary in the world.
I am raising independent children.
I don't want to hover over Zoe anymore than I have these last few years. 
So, I will continue to let her go into the drugstore alone.
I may let her go into the grocery store to buy milk while I sit in the car balancing my checkbook.
I will let her and her sister play in the cemetery, looking at the family headstones, the angel statues, and the beautiful flower displays.
I have seen what's really dangerous in this world and we are not letting that put us into a shock.
We are living our life with less fear of others.
We live in fear of disease, but one thing is for sure.
That "thing" is that she is going to live her life with a vengeance.
A vengeance to be free.    
   

I would be interested in your own thoughts on Free Range Kids.

What do you let your kids do without you?

What freedoms do you allow your kids?  

So Dope

It's interesting to see how your child changes when she goes out into the world.
How others influence so much.
It would be nice to keep the kids in a bubble.
Not to have them introduced to things that aren't to your liking.
But of course that can't be.
There's a big world out there and my girls will come across all types of people, raised by all types of parents.
Parental views spills into their children's brains.
They way they speak, the way they handle situations.
Zoe started acting differently as soon as she started going to school all day.
In kindergarten she would come home with some sass-mouth.
Speaking back to me as she had never done before.
In first grade she started it again.
The freedom of being away from home all day with people as goofy and unsure of how to act in a new situation as she was.  
I think the same thing happened at the start of this year.
She goes to school in August, she comes home and is talking back for two weeks, she is immediately put in her place and the sass stops.

Then there are the things that just come out of their mouths...
"he's got junk in his trunk," "I love Justin Beiber," she is so dope."
Oh wait, I think that last one was me talking to my mom in 1985.
Gigi says the Justin Beiber thing.
We have never listened to the Beiber in this house.
I have no idea how she discovered him. 
I'm guessing school?
Isn't three and a half too young to sing "baby, baby, baby?"
But it's really not too bad.
She could be singing "I'm sexy and I know it!"
Oh wait, she says that, too.

The "junk in the trunk" comment rubs me the wrong way because it's derogatory, it's calling someone fat. 
She may as well be saying "he's got a fat ass." 
I don't like it.
I don't want comments like that to be overlooked by me, for Zoe to think that I think it's okay to say that about someone.
I asked her where she heard that, what it means.
Her responses were "I don't know" and "it means someone has a big butt."
I then stated that I don't want to hear that from her anymore.
I got a long and drawn out "ooooookkkkaaaayyyyy!"

A consciousness towards others starts to form early.
It's formed by what our parents instill in us.
In how we want to view others and how we are viewed by those others.
And I think that is so dope. 


Me and my peeps looking dope in 1989. 




     

I'm Peeved...

Some peeves this week...

I HATE it that at Zoe's school they are "trained" starting in Kindergarten (maybe pre-k, too...I haven't spied enough to see yet and I don't remember when Zoe was that little) to walk with their arms crossed in front of their chest.  It seems so military like.  So Chinaish (They probably don't even do that in China!)  I understand that some kids have a hard time keeping their hands to themselves.  I kind of understand the reason why this is ingrained into their brains, but it really bugs the crap out of me.  REALLY!  I tried telling Zoe not to do it (I'm such an instigator, I know), to walk with her arms by her sides.  She looked at me like I told her she was adopted.  She said "but I'll get into trouble!"  I said "really?  you will be punished for walking like a normal person?"  I double-dog dared her to do it.  She's not a rebel like me I guess because she didn't want to discuss my anarchy anymore.  

Every time I go to StinkyMart to buy eggs I have to go through 5 cartons of organic eggs before I find one that doesn't have a broken egg in it.  Who buys the cartons with broken eggs?  NO ONE!  Take them away!  Hey Associates!  TAKE THEM OFF OF THE SHELF!  Then I hate myself for shopping there and being within those walls in the first place.

I have so many ideas to do things with the girls, but never seem to find the time or the gas money to do them right now.  This cancer just sucks our wallet dry.  We want to drive them over to Indiana to see baby cows being born at this great place called Fair Oaks Farms that we took Zoe to when she was younger.  We want to drive them to Memphis to see pandas at the zoo because they are currently fascinated with pandas.  We are desperate for a life without hospital bills.

This whole Libya thing that is quickly becoming a full scale escalation of hate all over the Middle East and Africa.  The senseless murders for the stupid movie that upset a nation.  How is it that an entire country (okay, I'm sure it's not everyone in Libya, but it seems to be a whole lot of people from what I see on my TV) can be that mad about a movie a few people made?!  It's ridiculous and so wrong on so many levels.  YES!  ALL AMERICANS BELIEVE WHAT THAT MOVIE STATED THEREFORE PLEASE BURN OUR FLAG AND MURDER OUR CITIZENS!  It just, once again, shows what narrow minded people there are in this big, big world we live in.  And what a scary world we live in.  God/Allah fearing people who feel it's their place to take others' lives.  Shame to them all.

I'm spent.
I'm flabbergasted and exhausted.
I'm going to tell Zoe later today that we are going to cross the street in the middle of the road and not use the crosswalk. 
Just to see her law-abiding eyes bug out of her head.

Don't Forget To Believe

I believe in pink.

I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner.

I believe in kissing, kissing a lot.

I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong.

I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls.

I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.

~Audrey Hepburn

What Did You Just Say?

Things my kids say on a regular basis that I guess they got from me.
Or that homeless guy at the Walmart.

1. "Honey badger don't care!"
Everywhere.
All of the time.

2. Zoe using air quotes for everything...
"today at school they wanted us to "RUN" to the fence and back."

3. Steve Earle, Adele, and Mumford & Sons song lyrics about bad relationships, being drunk,  and dying fathers.

4. "Damn."

5. "Damn it."

6. "Damn it all to..."you get the picture, right?!

7. "God these dogs are dumb!"

8. "Dad, just do it already, okay?!"
With IT being either to change the channel from Sportscenter, get them a drink of lemonade, let the dumb dogs out, rub my feet.

9. "You are so going to get it!"
Both girls say this to each other when fighting.
Then I yell loudly from another room "Hey, both of you...CAN IT!"
 
I guess it could be worse.
They could be sticking their heads out of the car window and yelling "suck it!" to people who cut over into our lane while driving.
In due time...
 

Flying

This morning the girls went riding.
Pony riding.

Gigi took her turn first being led around the yard.
We went in the north field, down into the front yard to look at the dead raccoon's decay process.
It's looking good if you were wondering.
Sun's bleaching the teeth real nice.

Then Zoe took the reins.
She doesn't need us to lead her.
She's the driver now.
She moves at a grandpa pace, though.
Nothing speedy about her, that's for sure.
She went around our fenced in pasture, down the mowed path to the woods behind our house, into the north field.
A nice leisurely stroll.

Gigi got back on and they did some tandem riding.
Gigi holding on tight to her sister's neck.
"You can't choke your sister like that. Try hugging her around her middle instead!"..."Oh, ok."
I lead them around the yard, back over to the north field.
We went down a small hill with "easy" being said the whole time so Buttercup wouldn't bolt down it.
Then we came back up the hill.
This time I did a little jog to get her moving faster.
Squeals of delight from the passengers.
Then ol' mom did another jog, which wasn't so easy as I hadn't put on a bra yet.
This time the squeals led to screams.
They both flew off!
I guess the riders weren't hanging on tight enough and the little one flew to the side and landed with a thump in the dry grass.
The bigger one wouldn't let go even though she was hanging from the saddle and bouncing around like a dead fish.
After I yelled "let go!", she fell to the ground as well.
Buttercup just stopped.
Wondering "where did my riders go?"

After the tears subsided and it was confirmed that no one was hurt and that they had just been scared, we all gave each other a high five.
I said the best way to conquer the fear of getting thrown was to do what?
Zoe promptly said "get back on."
Which she did.
And then Gigi exclaimed with a huge smile, "I FLEW!"
"Just like a bird! I flew!"
That's my girl...

Stepping Forward

I've been thinking about renewal a lot lately. The way nature renews itself constantly. The trees rebud every spring. The mud and hard earth of winter always give way to fresh grass again. The birds have more babies, as do the deer. The world around renews itself. Then the people have to get in the way. Hatred, greed, constant complaining, fighting each other for materialistic shit. It's amazing to think we are still here and that the natural world hasn't taken over. People are trying their hardest to make sure the natural world doesn't last either. Part of the hatred and greed thing again. But I see how my daughter has rebuilt herself. How she renews her life every day, both inside and outside. She's getting hair again, her cells are behaving and stopping the initial overload of immature white blood cells that got her into this situation. We hope that this continues. We don't want to have to rebuild her again. The first time is taking a lot out of her, but she's diligent. She's not complaining (too much) and she's not hating anyone or anything because of her situation. I too, feel that I've been renewed from this experience. I always appreciated the natural world, but do so more now. To see and smell my world around me on the farm is uplifting. The smell of mud, manure, horse hair and decaying leaves is actually refreshing. I don't embrace hatred and complaints anymore. Sure, there are people I can't stand. Some relationships die off as we mature, while others seem to get stronger each day. I'm not going to let irate feelings override my life. My children deserve to hear laughter from my mouth, not spewings of hate and complaints about "nothing." So, through the eyes of cancer cells, through the damaging rays of radiation beams, through the obvious malice I should have for the world, I will smile. My daughter and I will hold hands and walk forward together strong and happy and ready to conquer everything ahead of us. Together. Because we know as bad as things can be at our home, it could be worse. And we take our next renewed step into a brand new day...

Doing the Right Thing...

Whatever we do lays a seed in our deepest consciousness,

and one day that seed will grow.

~Sakyong Mipham

 

 

 

What we did to our cattle dog may push us back a bit on the karma train, though...