More than a Spectator

It is my first post of 2015. I will admit I am a little disappointed in myself because I don't have any earth shattering topics to discuss at the moment. For the most part we had a pretty uneventful weekend. We went to a car show, had a few beers at the old Mattress Factory, we took the kids to see the Paddington movie, and we went for a walk around the lake. The most excitement came on Sunday, when both of the kids were so horrible in church that I wanted to shrink down into the pew so I would not be associated with the terrors my kids had both morphed into immediately upon crossing the threshold to the church.

While we were originally going to go to De Soto Bend, that got thrown out the window as a consequence for the church fiasco when my son laughed out loud no less than 3 times and managed to surreptitiously eat all of Brooklyn's snacks out of her bag leaving her with none in the middle if a meltdown of near epic proportions. So instead of going to De Soto, we headed home where I spent the day doing experiments with Trevor with magnets and iron fillings that ultimately ended up on the floor and were impossible to clean up. (Thanks Magic School Bus!). Afterwards, the kids rode around on John's back (sometimes both at the same time) until it was time for bath part deaux since Trevor decided to "forget" washing his hair the night previously as he was in a hurry to continue watching a movie about mice getting flushed away. Apparently, it's a real barn burner so much so that personal hygiene had to be thrown out the window.

I am a little embarrassed to share all of this because it makes it sound as if my life is very boring.  We are not gone every weekend. My children do not have activities scheduled for every waking hour of their day. We have made the choice to not force or push our children into activities. My philosophy is that while the kids are young they should try many different things to figure out their own likes and dislikes and strengths and weaknesses. Trevor, who is six, knows the rules, and when she is old enough Brooklyn, who is 18 months, will also know them: If you try something, you have to finish the season but it is their choice as to whether they go out again the following year.  We have exposed our son to wrestling, soccer, baseball, gymnastics, boy scouts and Taekwondo.  He has expressed, however, that he does not really like any of these activities except for soccer, boy scouts and Taekwondo and even then an activity once a week is plenty for him. I am "okay" with this because my life does not revolve around whether my child is in the first grade basketball championship.

Many people say that their children's involvement in activities is driven by the kids. That maybe true and maybe my kid is just different and that is OK.  However, I have to wonder how much of it can really be independently kid driven. Or, is it based upon the affirmations the children receive from their parents for participating in the activities? Children have an innate desire to please their parents. So is it really kid driven if they are doing it to please mom and dad? Similarly, if it is the only time the children get to spend with their parents, then I suspect the child will stay out for that activity no matter what just so he or she can spend time with their parents. Or if younger siblings see the attention the older child gets for their participation, then do they also want to participate, not for the love of the activity, but for the attention it necessarily brings?

I also have to wonder what this cycle of constant activity does to the parents. I see parents looking haggard as they run from one activity to the next. I think to myself, is this really what it means to be a parent? To be a glorified chauffeur? Is having family dinner out of a paper bag from McDonalds really in the best interest of our families? Is this why, when kids leave for college some parents wake up and find themselves next to a stranger? Do we, as parents, encourage this over-scheduling because we do not really know what else to do with our children? For me, being haggard and tired usually means I am shorter and less patient with my children. I don't want that. I don't like that person. I like the mom who has time to laugh at her son's silly jokes. (Example: mom, am I saying Okay or spelling OK? Ok.) I like the mom who when she gets home from work has the energy to play hide and go seek with her children. I like the mom who can take her children to Paddington. I like the mom that goes to Sky Zone and jumps around on the trampolines with her children instead of sitting on the sidelines.

Yet, I worry that I am making a mistake because sometimes I feel as if my husband and I stand alone in this philosophy. We rarely see other families walking around the lake. When it is nice outside, we are one of only a handful of couples that can be seen playing with their children outside. We have asked other couples and families to do things, but the response is invariably the same: We have basketball, wrestling, practice, etc this weekend. I don't rule out that this may just be an excuse to avoid getting together with with people they don't particularly like (meaning us). But I also think a great majority of the time, it is likely true as well as a convenient excuse.

Don't get me wrong. I do recognize that activities teach children important lessons about life. But I also think there is value in learning how to enjoy and spend free time. I don't want to teach my child how to be stressed out all the time running from event to event. I don't want to teach my child that free time is a bad thing. I think there are important lessons to be learned in the family unit, too, and that these can't be learned if the family never truly functions as a unit. But, most importantly, I want to be more than just a sidelines spectator in my children's lives.

The Power of Words

I saw the movie Selma last week-I wanted to see it before Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day as a tribute to a man I find inspirational, beautiful, compassionate, peaceful, loving and courageous. I understand there are questions of certain historical accuracies and I am not going to get into those. What I think is undeniable is what Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. did for the people of this country and for the world.

He died for the cause of justice and equality at age 39 and he had achieved so much by then. It made me wonder and think about what I fight for in my life and what people in this country fight for and are inspired by. We can't all be the face of a national or international revolution or cause and it is very sobering to think about what some people have accomplished by a young age and reflect on one's own life in comparison.

In thinking about these things, I thought of two quotes I find inspirational and true. The first is from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.: " Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." The second is from Mahatma Ghandi: "Be the change that you wish to see in the world." These quotes provide the foundation from which this blog post is written...it is one I've wanted write for a while and I thought the week during which we honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a perfect time for this post.

I want to talk about the power of words. I think one of the most erroneous adages is "sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me". I understand the intent behind the words and I understand that maybe it's freed some people to let other people's hurtful words "roll off their back". That said, I disagree with it for the most part. I think in our current society, we do not think about words--what they mean, how we use them and how very powerful they are.

We have talked before in this blog about harmful cliches like "you throw like a girl", "cry like a girl" and other demeaning, sexist phrases. I would like to broaden the discussion. I think as a person of conviction that if I stand firmly against using these derogatory terms, it is my responsibility to remove other harmful language from my daily usage. Let me give you a few examples.

About 5-10 years ago, the phrase"oh, that's so gay" came into usage to denote that something sucked or was lame. I admit to having said it around that time...until I thought about what was actually being communicated through the casual use of that flippant word choice. Dubbing something we don't like as "gay" equates gay with something that is less than and is derogatory to the gay community. Once I realized that, I eradicated the phrase from my vocabulary.

Sometimes words and phrases have become so accepted and ingrained in our language that they go unnoticed. An example is the use of the word "pussy" to chide someone who is fearful or lacks a backbone or basically is just doing something we deem, once again, "less than". I have heard women use the word...women who are feminists and are (rightfully) pissed off when they hear someone say "throw like a girl" and other phrases of that ilk throw around the word pussy, oftentimes, without blinking an eye. Because it is such a common usage of the term, the use and the damage frequently goes unnoticed and unaddressed. I chose these two examples to illustrate my point but there are numerous examples of this unfortunate reality.

I liken the use of these terms to chronic toxicity. Casual use of these words and phrases and the repeated exposure to them over the course of time chips away at a person's heart, soul and self esteem. It also works to damage an entire people's collective consciousness.

This brings me back to the two quotes I mentioned earlier...I believe that if I do not want sexist terms to be used casually and not so casually, it is my responsibility to be conscious of and deliberate about the words and phrases I allow in my vocabulary. What we, as a society and individual people, deem as acceptable language is a form of justice.

If I ask for justice for my gender, I want to ask for it for everyone and practice daily justice in my own personal life. I will do and be the change I wish to see in this world. In the same way chronic toxicity can kill slowly over time, positive changes on a daily basis accrue to make this world more just for all of us...and that is something each of us has the power to do every day.

The Bang and Let Go Kind of Girl

Holaa everyone. I’m going to be completely honest here in saying that I never know how to begin these blog posts. It’s like, do I start off with a legit introduction sentence like I would in an essay orrrrr do I just ramble a little bit for the first paragraph until I finally tell everyone what I’m going to write about? I guess this time I chose the ladder. The hardest part about writing for this blog is honestly choosing what to write about, which is probably why I’m still babbling, but okay okay I will shut up and cut to the chase.

So anyway, for those of you who don’t know me, I am 21, about to graduate college, very loud and outspoken, and oh yeah, I’ve never been in love before. I never had that high school sweetheart that I gave myself to and then later he broke my heart, nor have I met what many people think will be their future spouse in college. Needless to say I have had flings with people before, but I have never been in a committed relationship.

Now, most recently I was out with a few of my friends and I was complaining to one of my close guy friends about the dating habits of guys my age today. I was complaining about how guys think it is okay to get shitfaced drunk and then proceed to call a girl at bar close to either get some late night “lovin” or to simply have someone to cuddle up to at the end of the night. This is today’s modern form of dating (too many blog posts on this topic already) and I was complaining about this fucked up dynamic we have created and instead of playing into it, saying that I would not be one of those girls to answer that 2 a.m. phone call.

My friend didn’t really agree with me and said that it just seems that that’s how most dudes operate. “You’re the one that doesn’t let dudes in,” he followed up with. “You strike me as the bang and let go kind of girl.” Now, you can probably see where I would be a little offended hearing these statements but to be honest, I really wasn’t offended because I’ve been hearing this shit since I was old enough to kiss a guy.

The annoying part of hearing stuff like “you seem sexually experienced” or “you just have that face that seems like you’d be down to fuck” is that people who say this kind of stuff are judging me based solely on what I show on the surface. I wear makeup, I’m a bit sassy, I swear a little too much and I’m not afraid to tell someone what I’m thinking.  I’m not quiet or soft and can shoot the shit back at the guys. Oh yeah, so that immediately makes me a slut.

I was kind of taken aback by the statements my friend said because one day I truly do want to fall in love with someone and find that person as weird as I am. In the meantime, however, I am not just going to settle for Joe Schmo just for the sake of being in a relationship. People continuously tell me that I don’t let guys in, but let me tell you, no guy has tried that hard to get in or break down the walls that I put up. No guy has persistently tried to get to know me, hell, no guy has actually even asked me out on a real date! (I know that’s asking a lot for my generation)

I do let people see the soft, vulnerable sides of me (my sisters, close friends, and maybe a boyfriend one day), but it takes a lot for me to do that, and maybe it does for everyone, but I’m not willing to just throw that part of me out there for just anyone and I think that’s okay. This is probably the reason I haven’t been “attached” to anyone, but I think that at this point in my life I’m better off this way. I think it’s healthy that I’m not in an unhealthy relationship because based on my track record of going for some real winners, I would probably be attached to someone and stuck in a fucked up relationship.

I also had no clue what a good relationship looked like up until I was 20 years old. My parents’ marriage was nearing the end by the time I was born, so I grew up in an environment with a very cold atmosphere. I never saw them kiss or complement each other and at age 6 I thought it was completely and utterly normal for parents to not sleep in the same bed. I thank God that I have older sisters to show me what a loving relationship looks like. My second oldest sister, Jill, has been happily and not so happily married to her husband John for 8 years now. I say happily and not so happily because those two have shown me that marriage is full of love and sometimes hatred, but through both feelings you’re going to have to get through it with each other because you made a promise to one another. Molly is going to be married this May and I thank her because she has shown me that it is okay need your spouse and also be needed. Sometimes you will be the caretaker and other times you will be the one getting taken care of and there is no shame in either of those.

So, I guess I am a little bit skeptical of opening up to someone because up until recent years, I have only seen the cons in doing so andI guess now that I have seen what a good relationship looks like; I

know what I want to “attach” myself to. If I’m going to open up with a chance of me possibly getting my heart broken, you can bet your ass it’s going to be with a person worth it.

I guess the entire point of this blog post was to get your guys’ opinions, though. Do you guys think that it’s strange, healthy, unhealthy, etc. that I’m 21 years young and have never been in love or attached myself to anyone? What factors allow you to open yourself up to certain people and not with others? I would love to know your thoughts, as this is a question I am constantly struggling with and over analyzing just a hair too muchJ.

Here's to All of Us: '14-'15

Hello and happy 2015, folks!!!

As this is our blog’s first post in 2015, I feel as though I should start it off with a bang. I should post about something exciting…or controversial…or challenging…or…well, you get the picture.

Truth is, it’s January, there is snow on the ground, the temperature is in the single digits, and I find that I am not feeling my usual level of spark. Blech. January. I have been trying to find more appreciation for winter this year; I can’t avoid the cold/snow living in the Midwest, and there is no point in feeling miserable for 3 months. Consequently, I have been trying to enjoy that I have more time right now to read and relax. And after running around wildly this past summer and fall, I HAVE enjoyed having more time to regroup with myself. However, it still does not negate the subzero temperatures and dark, and so I find myself with less zest than usual.

Anyhow, I have been thinking about New Year’s lately. Like so many other topics, I have some ambivalent feelings about New Years and resolutions/goals/intentions/commitments. First of all, I appreciate any holiday that encourages people to reflect. I love the idea of reflecting on what happened during the previous calendar year; I think it’s imperative to reflect upon our challenges, our successes, and our growth. One practice that I started for the first time this year was to write a list of everything that I was proud of in 2014. As someone who tends to be a bit hard on herself, I initiated this practice so that I could remind myself of the ways that I had succeeded. Some of them were fairly significant (like teaching my first college course), but I also included some less obvious successes (like initiating a set monthly dinner with some friends). I felt both so empowered, and blessed, afterward that I started encouraging several of my bereaved clients to do it as well.

In addition to reflecting on the past year, I also think that it’s important to take time to think of the ways we want to be more intentional in the upcoming year.  Humans are habitual creatures, and without being intentional about change, we probably won’t.

I think my ambivalence about New Year’s goals/intentions/resolutions/commitments comes from a couple of different places. First, it seems to me that there is often this underlying notion that we will somehow have an ontological shift once we go from December 31^st to January 1^st. That we will somehow magically be different creatures who do all of the “right” things. I don’t think that human change is ever really that drastic, and if it is that drastic, it’s not sustainable. In my experience and observation, most positive change happens in small increments over an extended period of time.  And if we don’t find a way to habituate ourselves to the goal/resolution/commitment- to make it a part of either our everyday lives, practice, or character - I also believe the change is less likely to endure.

I also feel irritation that “lose weight” is continually one of the top goals. Now, don’t get me wrong- I am certainly aware of obesity rates in America. However, phrasing it as “lose weight” seems shallow to me as it is primarily based on one’s appearance. I want people to take pride in their bodies, but I want them to take pride in their bodies for more than just how it looks. I want people to take pride that they became stronger. That they built up more endurance. That they became more flexible. That they used their bodies in creative ways. “Losing weight” just does not have enough depth, and I worry about the one-dimensional value it conveys.

Finally, I also have concerns about the level of goals that we set for ourselves, and then the shame and guilt that we endure when we do not reach them. Sometimes it seems as though new year’s goals are chance for us to write down EVERYTHING we think needs to be better about ourselves and our lives. That we want to succeed with our health, appearance, finances, career, relationships, education, self-care, etc. We want to do ALL the things (Read this post by another blog for a hilarious commentary on this subject). And again, I think that this degree of change is neither attainable or sustainable. And my concern is that we feel shame/guilt when we do not succeed, and this makes us avoid it even more, and it creates a nasty, perpetual cycle.

All that being said, here is my list of intentions for 2015.  It’s not a glamorous list by any means, and I’m sure it has its own shortcomings.  However, it is what it is- it’s simply what I would like to do in the coming year that I have not done before.

1)   Pass level 1 Aerial (I started taking aerial silks classes in December, and they have been great! I will probably do a post on it sometime in the future).

2)   Read 30 books (I love reading, and it enriches my life in so many different ways.  I want to make sure I am being intentional about building it into my schedule).

3)   Pay off 1 of my student loans

4)   Paint my bedroom (It currently has hunter green trim. Yikes).

5)   Maintain the life-giving practices that I already had in 2014 (such as intentional time with family and friends).

I also plan on focusing on “patience” and “grace” this coming year. I’ve noticed several ways that our culture of instant gratification affects me (Read HERE for more details), and I want to try and be more patient with myself, with others, with God, with time. Additionally, I want to focus on grace- extending it to both myself and others. I don’t have anything “measurable” with my goals of patience and grace- but I have them posted as reminders in a couple of places.

I also thought about having a goal for this blog. That’s one that I need to talk about further with the other sisters as this is a collaborative project. But I would like to potentially think about growing our blog. Right now, we primarily promote on Facebook, and that does not reach as many people as we would like because of the method Facebook uses to determine what shows up in your newsfeed. I don’t always like “growth” as a goal, but I do like the notion of discussing our ideas with a greater number of people. That being said, if the only people that ever read our blog is our immediate family, I will still count it as a success.

So, here’s to 2015 with new challenges and successes. And I ask you, fellow readers, what are your thoughts on New Year’s goals/resolutions/commitments/intentions? Do you do them? Why/why not? If so, what are they?

And one final closing thought- thank you, readers, for reading our blog in 2014. Here’s to another year of Dissident Daughters.

An Alesch Family Christmas

Happy Hungover from the Holidays Monday! To be completely honest, this is one of the last things I want to be doing right now. It’s Sunday night and I have to go back to work tomorrow after being gone for a week for our annual Christmas trip to Iowa. I’d rather be half-assed engaged in a book or a movie or any other activity that would allow me to zone out instead of concentrating on writing. BUT, here I am. I am sitting on my couch in my robe and slippers on a Sunday evening writing this blog because I have realized that we sisters, we dissident daughters, do not just use this blog to convey our grandiose thoughts and tirades to the Facebook community. No, more importantly, we use it to talk to each other, to connect with each other and in some ways it’s our own private little way of writing our not-so-private diaries and letting the other sisters read it each week. I have a feeling that soon we may even need the blog as a historical reference. We’ll go back some day and read some of these blogs together and say, “Oh, I totally forgot about that time we _____ (fill in the blank)!”

So anyway, the point of this blog is to briefly talk about the Alesch Christmas and the week’s activities (kind of like Jill did after my Bachelor Party Weekend in Chicago). I’m just going to hit the high points because frankly, if I wrote about everything, you may think I was trying to copy the script of the National Lampoons Christmas Vacation…

1. We all went to the “Small Town Christmas Throwdown” hosted by my cousin Brett and his lovely wife, Meghan in Council Bluffs, Iowa. My aunt Sherri made some of the best beef brisket you could imagine, Jill and John brought a huge meat and cheese tray, and Larry and I brought some meatballs from Spaghetti Works. I guess you could say we like our MEAT! Many drinks were had by all, of course, and before we knew it we were talking about boners hanging outside hotel windows for the SECOND Christmas in a row…

2. Larry and I spent that night at the Marriott in Downtown Omaha. This is the same hotel where we got engaged last year right before we had a sisters’ night out with my mom. It was special to me to spend the night there again. Not because I’m that type of girl that is going to relive her engagement as the biggest accomplishment in her life (far from it) but because it reminded me that the best part of getting married is having your family around you to take part in all the fun activities.

3. My sister Jill and my family threw me an absolutely BEAUTIFUL shower at a French restaurant in Omaha called Le Bouillon. I definitely wasn’t expecting all of the guests who showed up. I was so happy to see my aunts, cousins, etc. We do not get together often and it was just a really nice time. Jill and Amy made some of the best favors I have seen: personalized wine bottles with our engagement photos as the label. Oh, and the handmade, chocolate dipped Oreos were also the bomb! Thank God that Jill was able to control her anxiety and didn’t reschedule the shower for Pizza Ranch as she had threatened! I also have to make note of the fact that even at a fancy restaurant, of course Jill gives out blue balls as a door prize.

4. We went to the musical Beauty and the Beast after the shower. I had forgotten how beautiful this story really is. I got watery-eyed at a couple different points. Jill also hooked it up so that we got access to a private room during intermission where we got free drinks, appetizers, and our own bathroom. That was pretty bad ass. I have to think our friend, Big Shot Diers, had a hand in that.

5. The next day was a much needed lounge day. Kristen, Larry and I stayed overnight at Jill’s and after joking about a commemorative marathon shoe via Snapchat (I seriously think we are the only family that religiously uses Snapchat to communicate #Aleschproblems) all morning, we dropped the kids off at the sitter’s and started the day. First we visited the historic Crook House in Omaha. This was special and significant because for the last three years we have seen historic homes. The first year it was the Brucemore Mansion in Marion, Iowa. The second year it was the Dodge House in Council Bluffs. After our tour, we seriously drove ALL over Omaha getting some last minute gifts, including a huge ass fish net for my cousin. By then we were ready for drinks. Jill took us to this lovely German Bier Hall called Huber-Haus. This may have been my favorite part of the trip because it was such a surprise and so creative. You see, when Jill, John, my dad, and I went to Europe in 2012, we first went to France and then to Munich, Germany for Oktoberfest. So Jill planned my shower festivities to mirror that. First we went to a French restaurant and then the next day we went to throw back some German beers.  For dinner that night we were also in for another surprise as we went to a wine tasting at a place called Nosh in Omaha. The wine was flowing and the food was phenomenal and before we knew it, we were talking about all the drugs we did (or didn’t do) in college while Jill simultaneously planned for the kids to have their very first sleepover at the sitter’s because we were too drunk and would be home too late. YOLO, right?!

6. The next day we all drove to Des Moines. Jill left for work early in the morning (and proceeded to get sick at work) and Larry, Kristen, and I drove down later. We met up with Amy and Anne for dinner at what may be everyone’s favorite diner, Drake Diner, and later had a girls’ night, sans Jill, at Anne’s place. We played Cards Against Humanity and indulged in one of those wine bottles from my shower and laughed for about 3 hours straight. Though none of us other than Anne had ever really played before, we quickly learned that you couldn’t be “too literal” with your answer or come up with a “box answer” lest you be chastised by the group. Kristen, Larry and I stayed at a hotel that night in Des Moines, which is really insignificant but I like to mention it because I love the fact that both Larry and Kristen feel comfortable sharing a room as a threesome.

7. On Christmas Eve we went to Denison and went to the Christmas Eve Mass, which is somewhat a tradition only because we like to listen to the songs that the choir sings. We also had a delicious soup dinner that night. Larry made butternut squash soup even though he was nearly on his death bed from the flu. I really am a lucky woman. Kristen and Mom practically pulled an all-nighter even though Mom should have been sleeping and recovering from her recent thyroid surgery!

8. On Christmas Day we had brunch at our Dad’s place, which was quite impressive, I must say, complete with an egg bake, warm fruit compote, and GORP! Dad was already three beers in by the time we arrived so that was amusing. Kristen quickly joined him and threw back some Coronas (Feliz Navidad, bitches!) and we started playing Cards Against Humanity for the second time of the week. This resulted in us having to school Dad on what “queefing” was (blech!) and many other laughs at how much Dad sucked at the game until the last round. Finally the Finkens arrived and we all opened presents. Like every year, we were all grateful for the books that Dad gifted to us.

9. We went back to Mom’s on Christmas Day Night and made way too much food with way too many chefs in the kitchen. It was fun though. I would take a crowed, chaotic kitchen over a quiet Christmas dinner for two any day. We also did presents with mom. The gift that stole the show was the pair of “tig ol’ bitties” that Jill had gotten Larry and that ended up on Mom’s dining room ceiling. I must also document that, much to my chagrin, we finished all 6 bottles of wine that Larry insisted on bringing.

10. The final day we had breakfast at Mom’s and even though the culminating event of this year wasn’t as frenzied as last year when a squirrel made its way to the Christmas cookies in the middle of the kitchen table,  there was still plenty of chaos. Jill was going to leave the kids with our mother while we went to a movie so they were all hyped up, running around naked, and jumping on beds. Honestly, it wasn’t really bothering me but my mother turned to me and said, “Molly, I wanted to tell you: I know you and Larry aren’t used to all this commotion or the way we do things, but I’m so thankful that you come home every year.” To me, that was the defining line of Christmas this year. OF COURSE, not everyone is 100% in their comfort zone over the holidays, OF COURSE it it is emotionally and logistically challenging being around family so much over the holidays, but I can’t imagine it any other way and I am so thankful and blessed to be part of a loving, dysfunctional family.     

 

Holiday Magic

I'm scattered.  I'm thinking about a million things right now and don't really have a good feel about what I want to write about. I want to write about how saying you are too busy for someone or something is really a way of saying the activity or person you are declining is not a priority. I know that's harsh and you may be too busy because you have other things going on but i do think there needs to be some accountability before this statement is uttered as a reason for declining an invitation. If you are too busy because you have company or another event or need time with your children, I can understand that and I won't argue with your priorities. But we, as a society, have gotten into the habit of relying on "I'm just too busy" as our get out of jail free card for when we don't have the personal courage to admit we simply do not want to make the effort to attend. That is what I have issue with. That the line is used to brush people off without having to be accountable for our own personal choices and priorities. I'm too busy, when used in this fashion, allows us to avoid personal responsibility for our choices and can be offensive and harmful to the receiver. 

I want to write about how women need to stop being dependent on others from a financial perspective because such a situation usually only finds an end in desperation and weakness. I see many women who are unhappy because their great provider flaked out on them or because they need to stay in a semi-abusive relationship because they can't afford the alternative.  Dig in Ladies.  Sack the fuck up. Find a way to make ends meet on your own. Can you ever really be happy if you have created your own prison? Yes, it sucks. Yes, it's hard. But the alternative is worse in my opinion and I want to end the dependency keeping in mind that a partnership is different than dependency. 

But. But. But. Neither of these topics feels right, at least not right now. Maybe both hit a little too close too home. Maybe I'm not ready to poke the bear on these topics. Maybe I'm still angry because both of these issues have interfaced with my life recently. To be honest, I'm not sure. But instead of forcing it, I am instead going to write about Santa Claus...Old Saint Nick...that jolly old fellow whom we tell children to believe in and later, after years of deception, bewilder those same children with the reality that we told them to believe in something that was completely and utterly false.

Perhaps this is a morose look at the toy-building, north-pole living, red- suit wearing fantasy that we, generally without question, spew forth to our children. Many children simply accept the lie and the later truth and move on without missing a beat. For me, I remember feeling crushed, then guilty that I had asked for so much, and then stupid for having thought there was somehow a universal equalizer who brought toys to children based on the amount of their internal goodness instead of the amount of money in their parents' bank accounts. I remember thinking of all the people who had told me, without missing a beat, that Santa was real.  Who were these sick freaks that lied to children? I didn't understand why adults would create such a wonderful story just to have to reveal it was false.   And yes, I went here: If Santa wasn't real, was it possible God was a myth, too?

Yeah, I know I probably over thought it. I was an asshole even back then. Maybe it was undiagnosed autism or aspergers or hypersensitivity or some other weird ass spectrum disorder that made me unable to simply accept that every kid was lied to about Santa. I wish I wasn't this way, trust me. But, because I am this way, I can't help but wonder if this is the result we really intend to have or should intend to have with our children. Do we really want to insist that our children believe? Why do we do this? Is it for our children or is it for us? Can we create Holiday magic without the lie? Who is the lie for? Are the memories of Santa and the excitement a child feels sufficient to make up for the fact we teach our children to believe in something false? For most kids, probably. The Elves on  the Shelves, the toys at Christmas, all of it creates such wonderful memories that most children are ok with the whole charade and pass it along to their kids in turn. But, I think like all things, we have to consciously be aware of who our children are and what is best for them based on that. We can't simply do what everyone else does out of habit or laziness or just because we have always done it that way. We have an obligation to know our children and do what is best for them, not what is easiest or better for us as the parents.

My son is six and he, unfortunately, is much like me in demeanor and mind. Trevor does not believe in Santa. There. Be appalled. Judge me as ruining his childhood. I know that's a typical reaction. In fact, my husband had this reaction.  But I'm standing firm on this one. I know my son. The reality is that my son has challenged me since the day he was born. He is literal to a fault and has been diagnosed as hypersensitive which explains why he was colicky and why he sometimes wakes up and he feels all wrong inside and his brain is telling him to be naughty today (his words). He is an old soul and a unique person with very special needs, much like I was. His brain is always turning, trying to figure things out. He asked me about the meaning of life at age 4. He wanted to know why people died and what happens in heaven at the same age. He wondered why heaven was in the sky when we knew it was just sky and nothing more.  He continues to challenge me with questions about whether dinosaurs are in heaven and how do we know they really lived because someone could have just put those bones there to trick us. Touche, Trevor. He said to me the other day, "Don't you just ever think about how weird it is that we are alive? You know, that we are even here at all?" And I tell him, "Yes, I do,"and that is the truth. I tell him part of the beauty of life and death is the mystery of it all. But I do feel like I don't have any answers and that I'm failing him sometimes. That's not going to change so what I have told him, unequivocally,  is that while I may not have all the answers I will always always be honest with him and do my best to answer his questions honestly.

As a result, I began to fancy myself as the purveyor of truth to my son. He could ask me the tough questions and he did. Questions about God, Jesus, heaven, hell, dinosaurs, and many others came pouring in.  And although I can't solve the question of why dinosaurs went extinct or why they were alive to begin with, or how the Earth was created, I felt like the honesty thing was working really well for me up until my son asked me if Santa was real.

I wanted to avoid the lie of Santa. I wanted to continue the wide -eyed excitement of Christmas morning. But I was the self-proclaimed purveyor of truth. And I couldn't reconcile those two positions, at least not with knowing how my son thinks and experiences his world.  After about a minute of reflection, because that's literally all I had, what I realized was that all reasons I wanted to lie were reasons that were selfish or specific to me but not in my son's best interest at all.  So I told Trevor the truth. I told him that we had promised each other that we would be honest with each other no matter what. And so I was going to tell him the truth. So the self-proclaimed and oh-so-humbled purveyor of truth said to her son that Santa wasn't a person like we are led to believe. In fact, Santa didn't bring presents or live in the North Pole. But Santa was real in the sense he represented and stood for the feeling of love and the magic of giving and receiving presents from a loved one. And in that case, everyone could be excited about Christmas and we didn't need Santa to be excited. Christmas was magical because it symbolized love.

My son did not cry or even bat an eyelash. In contrast, I remember being devastated and crying when i found out that there really wasn't a red-suited, toy-hocking man who had the ability to break into every house in the world one night a year to deliver presents. But Trevor simply said; "Oh. So where DO the presents come from?" I responded that his mom and dad love him very much and WE give him the presents. He beamed. "You love me that much?" he asked. I assured him we did and would continue to do so. My son left feeling loved and  seemingly unscathed. I left feeling glad I had not lied to my son or threatened him that if he didn't believe in something he would not get presents. Instead, my son began, on that day, to associate Christmas presents with the love John and I and others feel for him. We still play Elf on the Shelf but it's a game between Trevor and I, and it is still fun and magical because it is played out of the love between a mother and a son. I don't need a myth to have the magic. It's there on its own and it always has been. 

Many people who hear that story think it's crazy and accuse me of ruining Christmas for my son. I understand, but I respectfully disagree. My son is like me. He believes,  without reservation or hesitation,  that people should not lie. He believes in me and trusts in me and I don't want to change that despite the fact it has sometimes backfired. I'm reminded of when my son asked me what the "F" word was and I told him because I wanted him to hear it from me rather than his friends. But the next day my son said "Fuck," to my husband. When my husband asked who taught him that and Trevor said, "My mommy," I couldn't deny it. So it hasn't always worked out perfectly. But for the most part, I'm happy with being the self-dubbed purveyor of truth.

Since having that conversation with Trevor, which also led to the big reveal about the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny as well, I have heard my son tell adults who ask him about Santa that Santa is not real and that Santa is just more like a feeling. I'm proud to hear him say that. I'm proud he is not upset. I'm proud I didn't lie to him or force him to believe in a myth for my own gain. This is an unpopular view, I know. But I know my son, and I'm confident I did the right thing. I overheard my son tell his Aunt Molly that the Tooth Fairy wasn't real and that his mom told him it was more just like a feeling because we were honest with each other in our family. And I smiled. I smiled even bigger when later that night Trevor came out of his bed to ask for water and when I tucked him back in he stopped me and said, "Mom, to be honest, like you are all the time, I snuck my IPad into bed with me and have been playing this whole time. I got a new guy and I told myself after I went to bed, 'Trevor, that was a good plan.'" I laughed and was happy he had told me the truth. I don't need an imaginary white bearded,  cookie eating, sleigh riding myth to show my son the magic of Christmas.  Love shows us the magic every single day. That's something even adults can feel magical about. 

"Thank you God, for this good life, and forgive us if we do not love itenough."--Garrison Keillor

I am grateful. I feel so blessed and loved and I am grateful for feeling this way. I am grateful for the people in my life who love and bless me. I am grateful for the opportunity to love and bless the people in my life.

I have a list of blog topics that grows daily and when I was trying to decide which one I would write about, the word and feeling "gratitude" kept coming into my heart and my head. I'm working on putting together a yoga class and gratitude is the theme there as well. I know better than to ignore myself when I have these moments so this post is about gratitude and its place in my life right now.

I recently went through a separation with my romantic partner and the separation involved me moving to a new space. Neither of these things were easy, emotionally or physically. I am still grieving the losses.

And I feel grateful. I am grateful because I have wonderful friends who helped me emotionally and physically through these last few months: my friend who offered me a place to live when I needed one, at an extremely affordable rate; my friend who took an extraordinary amount of time out of his work day to help me move things I couldn't move by myself; my friends who took time to talk with me, to help me process, who put up with me when I was a wreck and sort of a bitch and loved me in spite of myself.

I am grateful for the Thanksgiving I was able to spend with my mom and two of my beautiful sisters. The memories we made and the laughs we had are priceless. My time with them reminds me of who I am and how much my family loves and supports me. They somehow understood that weekend was about us and not about asking questions about what happened or what my life status was.

I am grateful for the people I work with and the customers who come into my work places. These people share themselves, their energy, their personalities and their experiences with me on a regular basis and allow me to serve them, which is a beautiful gift in and of itself to give someone...the opportunity to serve. I am blessed to have jobs that leave me in a better mood when I leave than when I got there.

I am grateful for being reminded of how I touch other people in ways I'm not always aware of...and for how it seems to happen on days when I need it the most: the day my nephew called me to tell me he got prizes from Boy Scouts because I helped him sell popcorn and "it was all because of you, Aunt Amy!"; the day I received a thank you card from my sister thanking me for being present at her bachelorette party and for cutting my shirt into a sports bra (I laughed and cried at that!) and for being a good older sister.

I am grateful to have the opportunity, time and space right now to process and work towards clarity in many areas of my life...to get out of the "grayness". And I am grateful for being grateful. I am not saying any of this has been easy and trust me, I've shed my share of tears and been sad and depressed and lacked energy and been a bitch and not loved myself or others during this time period. But the notion that I am still grateful despite the hurt and sadness and transition....for that I am truly grateful because I think this is the first time in my life I am in a healthy enough state of mind, body and soul to be able to experience both things at the same time. Both/and NOT or.

There are two quotes which I think are very fitting to what I am trying to say with this post:

"There is a calmness to a life lived in gratitude, a quiet joy."--Ralph H. Blum

I feel that calm in the midst of my inner and outer transition and turmoil and I do believe it is gratitude that has allowed me to feel calm and at peace. Gratitude has made it easier to deal with anger, sadness, hurt and anxiety. Sometimes it soothes those feelings, sometimes it makes them smaller and sometimes there isn't room for them anymore because of the gratitude taking up all the space. That's how I've experienced it.

To summarize, I want to say that this experience has not been easy. I do not want my message to be misconstrued-like there was not hurt, sadness, anger...all of the emotions associated with loss. Like I said earlier...I have been a wreck and depressed and it has been hard on me. That said, there is a calm within me and I have experienced gratitude during these times...it's both/and, not one way or the other. 

I also want to convey the message that expressing gratitude to someone is extremely powerful for both the giver and the recipient. You do not know how your gratitude might touch someone when they need it. And you might not know how much your own gratitude can do for you in tumultuous times. So let people know what you're grateful for and be specific. There is a powerful beauty in handwriting the message.

The second quote is the quote used in this post's title by Garrison Keillor: "Thank you God, for this good life, and forgive us if we do not love it enough." We are all blessed...especially if we are reading this blog, there is no doubt we are blessed. Love of life and gratitude...they may not be synonymous but they are definitely entwined, in my experience. And that, dear reader, might be for a different blog post. Suffice it to say, gratitude has allowed me to love my life in all of its various, beautiful, sometimes harried, sometimes scary, sometimes exciting, sometimes contented stages. And for that, I AM GRATEFUL.