Utopia

Last night my Mom watched a PBS documentary about the feminist movement.  The Boy Badgers were still up, so they were playing and reading books while the TV was on in the background.  I hate to admit this, but I was a little wary of them being exposed to this documentary.  Not for the reasons you might think, however.  Discussions of abortion, sexual expression, or domestic violence would be difficult to explain, but I found myself worried about something more fundamental and, maybe, more selfish.

I like to think that the Little Badgers are still young enough not to understand discrimination, bigotry, or sexism.  They, of course, observe how people are different, in skin color, accent, age, or just being a boy or a girl.  They see that some of their friends have two Mommies, or a Mommy and a Daddy, or just a Daddy.  They see that some families celebrate Christmas and some don't.  They see differences, but not superiority or inferiority.  I secretly enjoy the little utopia that I imagine exists in the Little Badger minds-differences acknowledged, but not prejudiced.  

So how do I explain racism, or sexism to them?  I know that it is important for them to understand where society has been and how hard the fight has been to get to where we are in this country.  But, what is the starting point for that discussion?  It's almost easier to explain reproduction to them.  I've easily handled questions about how babies come out of Mommy's belly, or why their sister doesn't have a penis.  That's biology, not sociology.

I would love to never expose the Little Badgers to the bad stuff.  On some crappy news days, I have a fantasy of just living in a bunker for a while.  While watching that documentary yesterday, I didn't want to have to answer why some people thought (or think) women are inferior to men.  I just didn't want to go there yet.  I wanted to keep the Little Badgers in that utopia, where women are simply doctors, or mothers, or teachers, or chefs, or what-have-you.  Writing this now, I understand that this may be somewhat acceptable now, due to their tender ages, but in the near future is simply denying reality and leaving them unprepared.  It's unfair to leave them without an appreciation for the hard work and sacrifices it took to get here by generations gone before, and still today.  People fighting for religious freedoms, marriage equality, fighting age discrimination, fighting for civil rights.  Things aren't just handed out for free, and I know that's one of the basic lessons of life, kid or adult.

It turned out not to matter, yesterday.  The Boy Badgers pretty much ignored the TV, and instead focused on books and a snack before heading up to bed.  I ended up feeling discontented about my initial reaction.  As I thought about it more, I realized that it was good that this came up now.  I'm going to do some homework.  I'm going to think very hard about how to talk to the Little Badgers when these topics do arise.  I hope I can answer them honestly, if not fully, depending on their ages.  Utopia is a wonderful thing, especially for a child, in his or her mother's eyes, but was never meant to last too long, unfortunately.

What's your power?

The Boy Badgers are into superheroes, like Batman, Superman and Spiderman.  I'm not sure how much of the backstories they understand, but they like the cool capes, car, and webs, and they like the idea of the good guys coming out on top.  However, any superpowers that these guys have are equivalent in Badger eyes to a cheetah's speed, or a blue whale's size, or a lizard's ability to camouflage itself.  Which got me thinking, what "powers" do any of us regular folks have?  Powers that we ourselves perceive to be just business as usual, but to someone else would be mind-boggling.

For example, one of my weaknesses is to stuff my face at dinnertime.  That's when the munchies hit for me, and they hit with a vengeance.  Daddy River Badger has an amazing superpower (see, it's all relative!) to eat with moderation, no matter how hungry or stressed he is.  Another example has to do with kindness.  I struggle with being overly critical.  My sister-in-law is amazingly kind.  She has never said a bad word about anyone, and I consider that a superpower, for sure.  My Mom has a superpower of empathy towards animals.  Animals gravitate to her, and she cares for them as kindred spirits.  I worry about my tendency towards selfishness.  My mother-in-law has the superpower of generosity.  She is generous with her time and her love, no matter how tired she is, or where a person comes from.  Once you enter her house, you are treated as family. 

Each of these powers may not seem as jaw-dropping as shooting webs and swinging from high buildings, or as awe-inspiring as the the wingspan of a pteranodon.  They are also probably not anything special to the people who possess them, but to someone else they are amazing.

So, look in the mirror tonight and think about what your powers are.  Each of us has something to offer.  Kindness, generosity, self-discipline, physical ability, empathy, a talent for words or art, unconditional love.  I think my superpower lies somewhere in how much I love my kids.  What's yours?

Nightmare of a Nightmare

Last night was a doozy.  I had a hard time falling asleep and an even worse time staying asleep.  The worst part of all was a terrible nightmare that woke me up close to 4:30 in the morning, shaking and shaken.  The nightmare itself was pretty standard.  As far as I can tell, anyone who went to school has that dream where you've forgotten about an assignment or test.  The one I usually have is that I've forgotten to drop a class, and don't realize it until the final exam; but last night was a bit different.  It's been almost five years exactly since I defended my graduate thesis, and in my dream, it was the day of my defense, but I had forgotten to go.  I couldn't send an email and somehow my phone had disappeared.  The feeling of utter panic was profound, and it persisted when I woke up.

The night itself was bad enough, but then we had a wake-up call at five when Little Brother Badger started throwing up.  After all the cleaning and re-arranging, I ended up back in bed with LBB sleeping next to me (and a bucket).  Not being able to fall back asleep, I started thinking back to that dream, and why it was so affecting.  The dream scenario itself wasn't the thing that stood out, upon further reflection.  As a Mommy, there are many, many things that totally trump a missed thesis defense for scariness.  I guess I should thank my brain that this dream had nothing to do with the Little Badgers, but what a terrifying feeling of helpless panic.

Now, I can speculate as to why that panic is there, held somewhere deep inside.  I've recently left my job to be a Mommy full-time.  I'm worried about who I am, what I'm doing, where I'm going, and how much money it's going to cost (waste?) to get there.  I'm worried about my confidence, and my sense of self-worth.  I'm worried about how big my butt is and if I'll ever have the perseverance to make it back in shape.  Yeah, I guess you could say I'm all-around worried.  For the first time in my life I do not have an iron-clad direction.  Everyone around me is supportive, but I still have to sort things out in my own head to make it count.

Valentine's Day, with Bill Murray

As far as I can tell there are two types of people when it comes to the subject of Valentine's Day.  There are the people who care too much, and the people who don't care enough.  This year, I'm afraid that I fall into the latter category.  Daddy River Badger and I aren't really planning anything, and we're missing that necessary sense of "oh sh*t!" that would force us into something at the last minute.  We've got plenty of excuses: it's too expensive, it's too cliched, we don't like crowds, blah, blah.  Personally, I'm kind of enjoying wallowing in the minor feeling of annoyance whenever a Kay Jewelers ad comes on.  So what's with us this year?  I guess I'm just not into a big production.  I'm looking forward to the morning, when the kids can open their valentines from their grandparents and present theirs to their Daddy.  And for the evening, after they go to bed, for just Daddy River Badger and myself.  A funny movie on cable, maybe sharing a box of cheap chocolate, a nice alcoholic beverage (or three), and a little sexy time.  Bam!

Love is so much more than just a single holiday, but it's nice to have a holiday that's meant to celebrate it, even in a commercialized, annoying way.  It's probably especially important for DRB and I, being as smirkingly complacent as we are with our relationship.  Now, when we've been together for twelve years, married for almost six, when we have three kids and a mortgage.  Now, when we know everything about each other (even the thing that happened that time in that place), and we know that most surprises these days lead to arguments about money.  So, are we doing it wrong, playing down the holiday this year?  Or are we making it particularly special-appropriate for us, at this time of our lives.

We love each other.  We fight a lot, but we've got the love part down.  We fit, maybe too closely sometimes.  We're a little too sarcastic, and a little too cynical, but we appreciate the small things.  Watching a Bill Murray movie, sharing a pile of chocolate, fooling around a little.  I guess that, in the end, the point is to acknowledge the holiday, but not to force it.  For me, taking a step back and enjoying each other, sharing companionship and laughter and well-worn jokes, seems like the most romantic thing we could do.  And the dress code is perfect, too.

An Old Box

A couple of weeks ago I helped my Mom go through a box of old family photos.  These included photographs that dated from the 1900s, all the way back to my great-great grandmother on my Mom's side.  There were some photos that I had seen before, but most I was seeing for the first time.  How striking it was to see youthful images of people I had only known as elderly, if at all.  And how limited the images were.  These photos offered only glimpses into the lives of my relatives.  A moment at the beach, a picture of a girl holding a cat, a family Christmas long ago.  After looking through these photos, I found I was left with more questions than I started off with.

These photographs left so much out.  They offered simple familial associations, and geographical context, but no real insight into the lives of the people in them.  Especially in the oldest photos, expression was limited.  Smiles were rare, even on children.  Women looked older than they really were.  The stories appeared to be not what I saw in the pictures, but what I didn't see.  This led me to thinking about the history of a family.  How much lives on?  How much more is forgotten?  Are we doing any better now, with our thousands of prints and many photo books?  Or, in the end, are we left still to interpret an expression long past, a scene long gone.  History is interpreted through the lens of the present, and especially, it seems, with family photos.  I looked for similarities to myself; the shape of my nose, the texture of my hair, the curve of my mouth.  I wonder if I assigned similarities where none existed, or missed other nuances due to prejudice, or oversight.

When I look at my life today, it is framed by my children.  Their moments are my moments.  Some moments I can capture on camera, but most are simply lived.  The other day, my Baby was twirling like a ballerina in the middle of the living room.  She had started her dance quite spontaneously, and was whirling happily, arms over her head, her face beaming with delight.  I didn't run for the camera, but just watched her.  She stopped dancing as quickly as she began, and the moment was over.  This was a moment that could not be repeated, or even now captured.  It existed for her, and was remembered by me.  It defines who she is, as a child, better than any picture could.  It would be lost to anyone looking back through our family photos, trying to understand their distant relations.

I wonder how much of who we are is passed on through temperament, or mental fortitude, or capacity for happiness, parent to child.  Is it in the same proportions as physical similarities, or does it run deeper?  Because, even though the joy and context of the moment was fleeting, perhaps that dance echoed dances from long ago, dances that were not captured on film, but that existed and were as real and defining as my daughter's pirouettes.

Jekyll and Hyde Come to Dinner

One child, sweet little boy
Charming, polite, darling joy

One child, bold and crass
angry, passionate, broken glass

Both children, loved and held
Comforted, the world is theirs

Can I reconcile striking feelings
Found in pairs?

Because these children share a name
A face, a smile, they are the same.

My oldest child sometimes seems like two sides of the same coin.  He is just this side of five, sensitive and kind, thoughtful and gentle.  He will care lovingly for his little sister, tell me that I am the best Mommy in the world, and hold his little brother's hand unfailingly in a parking lot.  But, it seems that the price of this wonderful behavior comes in dramatic moments of anger and frustration.  Most of these moments occur, understandingly, at the end of a long day, or when he is hungry, or tired.  Most of these moments therefore occur at mealtimes.

I'm not sure exactly how it happens that my calm little dreamer becomes an inconsolable tyrant.  All I know is that, lately, sitting down for a family meal has been a battleground.  Over and over, I will cook, and he will refuse to eat.  Threats, bribes, feigned or real anger and disappointment; nothing seems to work.  Most of time he's sent to his room to sit by himself.  Sometimes he will go quietly, but there usually will be a screaming, crying scene.  In the end, his stubbornness clashes with our resolve to be "good" parents and the result is a huge sense of defeat.

It's not the food.  He'll break down over fish sticks, fries, and applesauce.  It happens whether he takes his nap or not, or if he's had his snack or not.  Perhaps, with dinner, there's something about the timing.  Daddy comes home and the energy of the house changes.  Mommy is probably a little stressed.  There is a whirlwind of setting the table, wrestling Baby into her high chair, arguing over milk or water, and calling the Boy Badgers reluctantly in from toys or books.

Maybe it's just a perfect storm within himself.  Perhaps he's been watching TV and gotten too engrossed.  Perhaps he's thirsty.  Maybe he's holding onto frustration from earlier when his younger siblings were knocking over his carefully-crafted dinosaur toyscape.  He creates his own intensity, and holds a lot of his emotion inside.  Today, an outburst happened at lunch.  He broke down as soon as he saw his plate.  I put him in time-out, then in his room, as we've done before.  But, unlike dinnertime, when Daddy River Badger is there to help supervise the younger kids, I was on my own.  I had to let him cry it out while I helped the Littlest Badgers with their food.  As lunch wrapped up, I heard the crying soften, and gradually stop.  Little Brother had done an especially good job eating all his food and I offered him some pudding.  I heard the bedroom door open, and soft footsteps in the hall.  Big Brother peeked into the kitchen, his eyes swollen, but an apologetic look on his face.  I held back my initial impulse to send him back to his room, and offered him his food.  He sat down and ate.  I gave him some pudding.  He told me he was sorry for earlier.  As the two younger children played in the next room, I washed the dishes and asked him why he behaved that way.  He told me that he didn't know.

But, I think I might.  When I was little, I remember trying to be very good.  I wanted to be an obedient child, and to make my parents happy.  I also had a strong imagination, and held a lot of emotion inside.  It would build up and build up, and when something would set me off, I would lose control.  I would cry, and cry, and then, after letting it all out, I would feel better.  I don't know why he's feeling this way, but maybe this common ground is a place to start.

Big Brother Badger is naturally quiet and likes to play on his own.  Perhaps I've been relying too much on his independence and maturity.  Maybe I need to be on a closer lookout for the younger kids taking advantage of his gentle nature.  Perhaps I need to watch for frustrations beginning to build.  I think Mommy needs to step up and do more than cook.

Please check out my guest blog post!

Hi everyone!  Kathy at kissing the frog has kindly invited me to write a guest post for her blog, which you can read here!  I was so excited to write about my wonderful Mom, and how she and I can try to relate to each other, despite our disagreements over the TV!