Solidarity, Mamas

I don't write much about Eli these days because it's starting to feel like more and more of an invasion into his privacy to share his life semi-anonymously to the interwebs. He's nearly 13, he has an online presence (as do his friends), and also, he has a much more private life now. And really there's only so many pictures of a tween staring at his phone that I can post and still remain interesting. 

But you guys? This whole parenting a near teen boy is KILLING ME. Like legit, I want to say it loud for those parents in the back. THIS IS REALLY FUCKING HARD. I would go back to potty training and public tantrums in a heartbeat. I feel like we all commiserate about the lack of sleep and the keeping them alive bit. We laugh and joke and support each other and build our amazing tribes. And then around age 7 everyone starts to go their separate ways (probably because that's when sports start and homework becomes real and we remember that maybe we have a partner we'd like to cuddle with occasionally and then we're all too busy to form coherent sentences beyond that.) I think I maybe thought that if we set a good foundation, this next bit would be easier. We've always been big on letting our kids make decisions, have opinions, etc. but also to know that they need to be respectful and kind. We've come through some shit with this kid, and he's been so sweet and resilient. And yet...

He made me cry yesterday. Like, we were having a totally normal, unremarkable conversation and I caught him in yet another "less than truth" and I lost it. I went to apologize for my outburst later, and as I was apologizing the tears just sprung loose. I get it. This is when he needs to figure out who he is and what he stands for, and he needs to do a lot of that on his own. But I also need to make sure he stays alive and doesn't turn out to be too big of an asshole. And instead of having to bear the judgmental stares from Karen at the grocery store and brush off your elderly neighbor's well-meaning advice, there is a community of people who are looking to you to fix some bigger issues and you sit there and nod and make all the right noises while on the inside you're frantically trying to figure out how the fuck you're going to handle this shit-show because I'm pretty sure they didn't cover this in What to Expect When You're Expecting. And I love him with all of my heart, and he is going to be the most amazing man someday, and this shit is really fucking exhausting sometimes.  

So, I got nothing. But I wanted to put this out there in case your first-born (or second or sixth) is coming into their own and is making you question all the things you held true. I see you, Mama. This shit sucks and it's hard, but we can do hard things. So when I see you chasing after a skulking teenager while simultaneously trying to be as invisible as possible so that his friends will never know that he didn't spontaneously come into being, I will send you a silent fist bump. And if you need to come over to say all the things you know you shouldn't say to your kid, but need to say anyway, we can drink cheap beer and hide out in a corner. 

Also, I'm just going to stare at these for a minute and remember when he didn't think I was out to ruin his life. 

Becoming

Firstly, if you haven't read Michelle Obama's Becoming, go do that. Like, as soon as possible. I love this book so much that I waited a year for it from the library, read it, then promptly purchased my own copy from Costco. I think we've established that I am not a fan of the memoir, but OMG. This one is so good. I think maybe because it reads slightly differently? Like there was a message that the author wanted to send, and used her own experience illustratively instead of using the book as a way to memorialize her story? Does that make sense? Long story short, it didn't make me hate anyone and didn't read as particularly self-aggrandizing. There are so many moments in the book that I could relate to, and the way she writes them is so casual but also so beautiful. I love a beautiful sentence and man, this book is full of them.  The way she describes people, especially her friends, is particularly amazing. As I was reading, I texted a friend and said, "I just want someone to see me in a way that they can describe me like this." She has so much respect for strong, powerful, caring women. And then there's how she talks about family life and all of the sudden, she could be in my brain. There's a whole thing about trying to find the perfect winter hats for her daughters to wear when Barack announced his run for president and it was like, "Let me sing you the song of our [neurotic, trying to hold it together moms] people." I don't know that I've heard a truer story than funneling all of your fears, anxiety, and excitements into a single damn hat that (spoiler alert) your child will then refuse to wear. Someday I'll tell you the story of the matching raincoats. 

If you can't tell, I LOVED the book. It left me feeling connected and optimistic, and also inspired to maybe shake myself out of this mid-life/existential crisis that I seem to be perpetually circling. She trained at the top schools to be a lawyer, got a great paying job at a prestigious firm, and then decided that maybe she didn't really want to be a lawyer after all. But she also talks about the pragmatic parts, like "Hey. The law pays a helluva lot better than community service and I have all these pesky loans now." 

Okay, so the book is amazing and I loved it. Now's where story gets REALLY good. The day that I finally got it from the library (a full year after I put it on hold), I randomly texted my friend from Minnesota. C and I were talking about her and I thought I'd check in, seeing as how I was stuck at a wrestling tournament being ignored by my tween for the next ten hours. She wrote back and we caught up a bit, and then she said, "Hey! Do you want to go see Michelle Obama with me?" I laughed and was like, "Wouldn't that be amazing?!" Nope. She was serious!! Her husband had bought them tickets as her Christmas gift and then couldn't go. If I could get myself to Minneapolis she wanted to take me as her +1. Some frantic work negotiations, a few frenzied conversations with C about how, yes, I was going to be gone for a week for work, then turn around and fly to Minneapolis and really, you're really okay with this? and about half of our accumulated frequent flier points, and I was headed to the Twin Cities to see an old friend and attend the Michelle Obama Book Tour! 

That's her in the black and silver shirt! 

She was amazing. So funny and thoughtful and genuine. I really was worried that she would sound canned, or that her voice wouldn't match her writing (suggesting that she'd had ghost writers) but I was pleasantly surprised. Even in a sold out stadium, she was authentic and personable. The two hours flew by. I wanted so badly to take notes because I'm a huge geek, but I was really trying to just enjoy it. So now I'm left with what really stuck for me. I think I've boiled it down to three major themes.

1) We all need to make a better effort to advocate and show up for kids. Not just ours, but all of them. So much of her story is about how people advocated for her and made her believe she was unstoppable. 

2) Each of us needs to find our own voice, and then use it. I bought the shirt (of course I did) that said, "Find your fire and keep it lit." I take that to mean, remember what inspires you. See above re my mid-life/existential crisis. 

3) We're all a lot more the same than we are different. Someone asked her if she still worried that people wouldn't see themselves in her story, and her answer was that she was heartened because SO MANY people seem to see themselves in her story. Which means we can all relate to each other's stories too. 

And then there was a lot about motherhood, and wifehood (wifeness?, marriage? you know what I mean). She's honest about the fact that she had to take a back seat in her relationship, and how she struggled through that. She obviously loves her husband, but she also makes fun of him and talks about how she had to take ownership for her own happiness. She talks about getting to know her girls as individuals, and about how much of her time in the spotlight was spent making sure that they got a normal life. Even if that meant the Presidential motorcade showing up for parent-teacher conferences or having friends' houses swept for bombs so she could bring pie to a potluck. 

Also, and I'm not sure I've talked about this, but C and I have decided that our word for 2019 is "Invest." We take that to mean that we want our decisions, financial and otherwise, to be intentional and to positively impact our future in some ways. Invest in getting the kids outside their comfort zones. Invest in making sure Eli has the scaffolding he needs before he heads to high school. Invest in making our house a home. Invest in making our relationship stronger. You get the point. And Michelle Obama used the word over and over as she spoke. It was a cool intersection between someone I find inspiring, and the intention that I've set for myself this year. 

And my visit with my friend Amanda was amazing too. I got to her house and she immediately hugged me, then made me change into gym clothes to take me to a dance class. The next day, we had donuts with her kids, then went to an hour long squat-fest at the gym that left my legs shaky and my language decidedly not kid-friendly. The day I left, she made sure we squeezed in a Zumba class so that I was good and tired, and confident in my decision to not pursue professional dance, before I got on the plane for a long trip home. Between gym trips, we talked (a lot), met up with her awesome friends, and hung out together. It was a great mid-week vacation and I'm so so grateful for it. And I'm hoping to hold on to some of this inspiration. There are so many things that I optimistically wanted to do with my life, my career, etc. and I don't want to lose sight of that. I'm in a place where I'm considering what kind of impact I want to be having, and hearing her story reminds me that I don't necessarily have to stay with what I know, but also that it's okay to keep that whole pesky "support your family" thing in mind too.

Poor third baby

Averson turned SIX (16 days ago, SMH). I love this girl and her crazy little personality SO MUCH. She's constantly trying to figure things out and make connections, and her sense of humor is dry and probably inappropriate for her age. She still loves to snuggle, but only sometimes, and only on her terms. She's learning to read and to braid and practices both whenever she can. She's obsessed with Youtube toy videos, including these weird Nerly Babies from Mexico that we may be planning a Mexico trip around. She also loves the word "shit" but uses it in ways that are hard to correct (funny how many songs actually include the word "shit" these days) She gets SO mad and throws some pretty epic tantrums, but is also so sweet and loving. She's still an animal lover and jaguars, cheetahs, and leopards remain her favorite animals. She aspires to be a Rock Star and a Veterinarian when she grows up, and she'll put on charity concerts that will benefit sick animals. She is such a joy and the perfect side kick and I just love her brain an awful lot.

Birthday pic. It was also Pajama day at school so she got to rock her Wonder Woman onesie. 

Breakfast donuts

And then MOR DONUTS for her class. She had a sub that day and I can't help thinking that it may not have been a coincidence. 

For her birthday, she asked for dressers to organize her Barbie and American Girl doll clothes. She was THRILLED and I feel like I totally got one over on her. 

Instead of a party, I bought her and I tickets to see The Little Mermaid musical. It was a surprise, but when I asked her a couple days before her birthday if she wanted to know where I was taking her (because I couldn't hold it in anymore) she said NO!!! WTF?! What kind of six-year-old wants to savor the surprise?! But she did, clear up to when I took her to lunch and she had no requests other than the waiters singing her Happy Birthday. 

She was thrilled, BTW. And the play was SO GOOD. 

Happy Birthday, Stink. I think you're pretty amazing and I cannot wait to see how you rock the next year. I hope you love it, even if I still sometimes make you hold my hand.

Poor Peppa

I should preface this by saying I’m not a fan of Peppa Pig. I find her...not cute and kind of pretentious? She’s on par with Caillou for me. Also I’m not super into British humor so maybe I’m missing a big component. I was always grateful that none of my kids really got into it. BUT. This poor pig family! It seems like every internet scare hoax has some tied to Peppa. That creepy bug-eyed chick is imbedded in her YouTube. She’s banned in Australia for trying to get kids killed by spiders. Watching causes autism. Her accent is causing widespread speech issues. She’s akin to the animated antichrist! Like really, if we want to scare parents shouldn’t we pick something more malicious like JoJo Seewa (F your $20 hair bows) the lady who makes the weird unboxing videos with princess dolls?

Peppa, I’m not going to suggest that my kids become fans but I will stand up for your innocence in all these allegations. Even if you really, “coincidentally” look like a dick and balls.

Prison tiers and murals

This week I spent a couple days at San Quentin State Prison. As part of my job, I walk the tiers and talk to inmates. San Quentin is one of the oldest prisons in the state and the tiers are very much what you'd picture if you picture prison. It's always striking to me the way that modern trappings are superimposed onto such a historical setting. Also, once you're at the top you can't help but look down and get a little dizzy. I can't even imagine what it would have been like with all these inmates out of their cells on the tiers if something were to happen.

This is a historical photo, but the actual tiers. It's five stories up accessible by narrow staircases. I definitely got my steps in. 

 BUT, that's not what I want to write about! Someone I was touring with this time casually asked if I'd ever seen "the murals." When I told her I hadn't, she found an officer to let us into the dining halls. I 100% was not prepared for what I saw. Six HUGE, complex murals covering the walls of three separate dining halls, and portraying the history of California, all done in amazing monochromatic detail. I have never wanted to take a picture in prison (STRICTLY forbidden) so badly in my life. Thank goodness for the internet! 

Alfredo Santos was a young inmate in San Quentin in the fifties and he was chosen to paint the murals when he won a contest run by the prison. They gave him two colors, brown and black. It took him two years to paint. For years after he paroled, no one knew what had happened to him (turns out he ran to Mexico for a bit, opened several art galleries, and even worked at Disneyland for a while.) However, when he heard that the Smithsonian was interested in the murals, he wrote the prison and asked for a picture of them. Since then he has toured the prison and actually been given an honorary San Quentin key. The Smithsonian has bought the rights to the murals, if the prison ever shuts down.

 

This is the best site I found to see the pieces in detail, but up close you lose the sheer enormity of it. It's really breathtaking and I was sorry I didn't have longer to look. There are so many teeny little pieces hidden throughout it (including, apparently, a caricature of the warden as a prim old woman in a courthouse). There's also all these pieces that are painted in a way that messes with your perception of dimension; eyes that follow you and vehicles that always seem to be coming toward you. I had no idea that it was over fifty years old when I saw it. 

I love prison architecture and I'm fascinated by how different prisons have been designed through the years. There's so much that goes into it, and a lot has to do with the political climate of the time. For example, more modern prisons afford more in ways of "human comfort" while older prisons are obviously designed primarily with confinement in mind. I always wanted to look into it more but, shockingly, there's little written on it. Until now though I haven't paid much attention to prison "decor," frankly because most prisons don't have a lot of sanctioned art work. I'm absolutely obsessed and fascinated by the history of these murals though. There are several more on the prison grounds by other artists that I can't wait to find out more about. 

The Case of the Missing Paragraph

At the kids' school, the third graders always put on a play. It's pretty involved, and Syd has taken it REALLY seriously. Way more seriously than Eli did when he went through. She doesn't exactly love being the center of attention, so I was cautiously optimistic about how much she was going to actually enjoy the experience. Even more so when, days before the performance, she casually mentioned that she had two solos (!)

It was so unbelievably precious (of course). The play was a whodunnit about a missing paragraph, so it was all about writing conventions and essay composition. Syd had two parts, one as a maid and the second as Amelia Earhart.

Besties

Amelia! 

Catching up with the happenings

We have been SO BUSY, and it's not even a cliche. My work has me traveling a ton, we're wrapping up the wrestling season (and with it the 12 hour tournaments) and the girls are really just along for the ride. Some of it's been really fun, and some has been ridiculously mundane. We got our pool fixed! And the guy came, did the work, and charged us what he said he would. It's a miracle! C has been volunteering for all the things, including spending the night at the church this weekend as security. I am trying to be all body-positive and tried to buy some new work clothes yesterday. It was awful and made me feel both lumpy and old. When did we start putting stripes down the side of slacks? Why don't pants have pockets? Why are all the work shirts sheer? WTF is happening?! I went to two malls and Nordstrom Rack and ended up with a pair of pants, two sweaters, a jacket, and a panic attack. Guys? I even tried the old lady stores that smell like mothballs and memories. So now I have three pairs of black pants and I'm committing to another round of Whole30. Right after I finish these boxes of Girl Scout cookies. 

Know who doesn't have any problem keeping up with fashion? Averson.

I puffy heart her fashion sense. She originally had on a cheetah print jacket as well, but she declared it to be "too much cat." 

1) They aren't trying to emotionally destroy each other and 2) they're actually playing. Like children. I pretty much cried right there. I believe the tween/teen years are going to be AWFUL with these two. 

C and I went to BINGO for our date and it was AMAZING. We were easily the youngest and least skilled there. Shirley, Blanche, and Robert took us under their wing and showed us the ropes. Then Shirley came on to my husband. 

With all of my early morning/late nights, C's been making lunches (and making me look bad in the process. Again.) 

Dinner, eaten in the bleachers of a high school gym during a tournament. This is why I have to do Whole30 again.