Behold, my powers of parenting and artistry combined!  Quake in fear!

(Also, check it!  I didn’t realize it until later, but I used lots of consummate Vs!  That’s how you can tell it’s a real dragon.)

Sometimes being a parent is gratifying.

Today, when the boys were getting a bit too rambunctious, I suggested the boys go play outside. Both of their faces immediately fell, and I knew something was up. They told me that they didn’t want to go outside, because the little girl who lived next door wasn’t their friend anymore. This girl is the light of their existence. They will be dead set on doing nothing but loll on the couch and be slugs, but the second they hear her voice outside they disappear, barefoot and all.

I knew good and well they’d all been playing badminton together Friday evening, and I’d wondered why Saturday was such a big indoor day for everyone. I dug a little deeper. Piecing together the two versions of the tale, the boys had gotten carried away with playing in the autumn leaves. They threw the leaves over her head one too many times, and she got fed up. She announced that since she didn’t have any friends that would play with her, she wasn’t playing outside anymore. Both of the boys just accepted this as their due for crossing the line. They both expressed remorse, but they informed me that their apologies hadn’t worked that day, so that was that. They’d lost a friend.

I was horrified at how easily they let her go. Clearly they were both sad at the loss.  They didn’t want to even think of playing outside unless there was a chance she might be there. They were embarrassed that they’d hurt her feelings, and didn’t want to “bug” her anymore.

It was clearly time for a life lesson, one that lots of grownups I know need as well. I suggested that perhaps Next Door Girl actually might be missing them. Surely, there was a chance she could be persuaded to be their friend again. They were very skeptical, but agreed to try to win her back. I let them mastermind the plan, and they decided to write her a card asking for forgiveness. Red Chief even added a Tootsie Pop from his dwindling Halloween stash. She didn’t answer the door, so they left it on her mat and waited.

I was so worried that this would backfire on me.  I distracted them with the movie Nausicaä, and crossed my fingers that all would end well.  Within an hour, two little boys were rewarded for their persistence. This note had been left on OUR doormat:

I forgive u can u come out side p.s. thanks for the succer

All was right with the world again. The movie was forgotten, and they even left the door open in their scramble outside.

The idea of career and passion has been on my mind since I can remember thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was told at an early age that I could be anything I wanted, and to follow my dreams. As I got older, my dreams did not divert from the male-dominated fields that they always were in, and suddenly adults wanted to tell me I couldn’t really do whatever I wanted, that’s just something that people say so that kids will aim high. I had apparently aimed too high for many people’s comfort, and was encouraged to lower my bar a bit.

I took that encouragement a bit too much to heart, or perhaps I didn’t really give it much heed until I met Chris. Either way, my plans changed greatly somewhere late in high school and early in college and I decided my passion would be better served pursuing a family than a career. I know now that this isn’t an either/or proposition, but my young foolish self had seen one too many families who were neglected for a career. My parents’ marriage was foundering, and I blamed behavior that I saw as glorifying money over relationships. Age brings wisdom, and I realize now that it was more complicated than that. And of course, the choice isn’t between the two, but how to properly balance the two.

I still am not convinced that everyone’s dream job is what they need to pursue. ”Following your passion” isn’t as clear as guidance counsellors would have you think.  For some people, a job is just a means to a paycheck, so that they can spend their time with their true passion. I don’t think there is anything wrong with continuing in a career that’s only “good enough” if it provides the chance to live in your dream town. It all depends on where the passion really lies.

There are people who can pursue multiple paths in a life’s span. As an adult, my passion has been devoted to my family until now. I’ve set aside personal dreams, but they were strong and would not be denied forever. The last five years I’ve been weighing any decision carefully, but I’ve decided to resume those personal goals. I don’t really dig being at home, domestic goddess though I may be. I’m easily bored, and even more resentful if I feel that I’m being held from my true potential.

The balance of what is truly my passion is weighing on my mind lately, as I’m having trouble with making ends meet despite pinching pennies hard enough that Lincoln cusses me out.   I know that being a well rounded, fully realized woman will provide my children with an excellent example of someone who did not compromise her beliefs or values for anyone. I know I’m going to screw up along the way, and they’re not going to get every little thing I wish I could give them.

I wish I could wiggle the answer out as to how to be inordinately wealthy and simultaneously have beaucoups of free time already! I think it really comes down to needing to sleep about 5 hours less any given night. Anyone who has seen me on 6 hours of sleep or less will agree that this is not in anyone’s best interest. I know that people the world over have this issue, and particularly women. I’ve really only scratched the surface. I could realistically make the whole blog about this and have fodder for writing for ages.

As if to illustrate my point, my oldest just tried to diagram the way tastebuds really work and I grumped at him because “you see Mama is typing.”  So I guess I ought to go on to the next thing.

“Love of an Orchestra” by Noah and the Whale:

This is how my heart feels so much of the time.

Today has been one of those two steps behind kind of days.  I’ll just share a conversation I had with Red Chief on the way home to fill today’s quota.

“Mama, today C__ became a Walker.”

A Walker walks home from school, as opposed to someone who is in carpool.

“Oh, really?  Is that important?”

“That’s very good, Mama.”

“Why?”

“Oh, because when I get old enough, I’m going to marry C___.”

“Really?  After you move out on your own?”

“Ummmm…. No! Because … I know!  When I’m that big, I’ll be strong, because I’ll be a grownup like Daddy.  So I’ll push our houses together.  That way she can have her Mom and Dad and I can have mine.   And I’ll tape… no.  I’ll glue the houses together!  Yeah.  But definitely tape over that.  That will work.”

Yesterday my family saw Where The Wild Things Are.  I’d been looking forward to this for months in advance, but as the date drew closer, I found myself apprehensive.  What if they ruined one of the simplest, best books from my youth?  Could I stand it?  People were buzzing about it, which made me more nervous.  I was surprised that many people were interested.  When I heard someone express boredom with the whole concept, it made me feel much better, actually.  I can’t explain that.  Then there was the premiere, and all talk seemed to drop off.  All I heard was Zombieland talk.  It was bizarre, because I knew so many people who claimed to be going the day of, but no one could tell me how the movie actually was.

I went looking up reviews, knowing that I couldn’t spoil the movie, having read the book.  I read scathing reviews mixed in with awestruck reviews.  People suggested this was a big “ad for Ritalin” or a scarefest that would traumatize children.  I actually read one reviewer who said it was unfair of Spike Jonze to inflict his own tortured, dark views of childhood on her precious cherubs.  I also read a lot of reviews that said it was boring, and there wasn’t much plot.  So, I was a little concerned that it would be overly dark.  I wasn’t concerned about the plot, since it’s a 10 sentence book.  I didn’t expect a very complex, involved plot.  I expected the same as the book.  Kid throws tantrum, escapes to his imaginary world, comes down off his tantrum, and returns home, where he finds unconditional love.

After seeing the movie, which held pretty true to that formula, I find myself boggling at the reactions I read. The most common charges were that the movie was too scary, or symbolically complex  for children to sit through.  Ha.  My kids, 8 and 5, loved it.  The little one was scared on the way to the theatre because he’d overheard me discussing the dark reviews I’d read.  Several people suggested that anyone who identified with this movie, adult or child, should get to a counsellor or swallow some happy pills straightaway. Well, childhood is not all gummy bears and rainbows!  Life is hard sometimes.  To pretend otherwise is unfair to children.  Yes, there are developmental stages wherein their understanding of life’s complexities are incomplete, but we could say that of any adult as well.

I also read complaints that we didn’t know the “backstory” of some of the Wild Things.  Guess what?  This is a story about critters from a boy’s imagination.  Go with that!  Children often are baffled by other people’s behavior.  They DON’T know the backstory as to why the people in their lives act the way they do.  It’s frustrating to not understand, or not to be able to express yourself properly.  Kids have tantrums, freak out, get out of control, act like wild things!  I think the movie captured that very well.  Max was no monster, despite what reviewers said.

The last complaint I read a lot of was that the movie was boring, and only a “hipster” (I read this several times) would enjoy it.  I don’t even understand that complaint, to be honest.  I suppose it’s the most honest of all the reactions, though, because that boils down to an actual preference, instead of a misguided attempt to shelter children from evil feelings like anger and sadness!  The boring, I can attribute to the lack of song and dance razzle dazzle that Pixar and Disney have conditioned us to expect from a kid’s story.  Jim Henson style puppets (which were supercool, by the way), even with updated animations, are inadequate in a world where every movie is a primary colored 3D animation fest.  I found the movie to be stylistically beautiful and refreshing, personally.

This is not really so much a review, as much as a recounting of lessons learned. Dragon*Con was mostly a failure, but not because the Con wasn’t cool or there wasn’t stuff to do.   I’ll try to work in what things we did see along the way, though.

Planning errors were our biggest downfall. I knew there were events in downtown Atlanta, but I was actually using this as a way to get away from college football — specifically the Alabama/Virginia Tech game. See, my brother Lauren was all about Alabama football, and he was living in Hokey territory. It was a badge of honor to him to piss off Tech fans around him. This game was something we’d been looking forward to for most of the year. So, I was glad I’d be at a convention and a baseball game, to avoid that first hard game of the season.  Yeah, guess where they played? The Georgia Dome, because that’s a natural venue for that game. But you already knew this, didn’t you? This is what I get for avoiding the news. I started seeing Virginia Tech jerseys everywhere. It was like a sledgehammer to my gut.  An emotional booby trap.

There were other issues, of course. We shouldn’t have taken the kids, or should have taken them straight to the daycare services. There were a million people there, and the kids were well behaved, but constantly on the verge of being lost or trampled. I shouldn’t have allowed us to get double booked with the ball game, because we had the bright idea of avoiding the 10 minutes a block traffic and hoofed it to Turner Stadium. We should have tattooed a map of downtown Atlanta to one of us. I mean, there were henna artists right there. They’d have done it for no more than $20.

The line was long, and we should have brought more cash to pay for tickets. That would have saved us two hours. In fact, we should have started out with cash and credit, because we finally found ourselves a parking space and it took credit.  All in all, we missed out on a hugely fun time because the expectations were too high, we didn’t plan well enough, and we kept wandering in circles and trying to keep the kids from being bored to death. Also, because I kept bursting into tears and apologising for being an angry, broken person.

I hate that I don’t have much shiny stuff to tell everyone, but I know people want to know what I saw. We went to one presentation by Lucasfilm, which was very exciting for the boys.  It highlighted the upcoming Season 2 of Star Wars: The Clone Wars and the Old Republic MMORPG coming out soon. That looked really wicked.

The cosplay was colorful and varied.  For a bunch of introverts, I saw tons of skin and self-confidence.  There were steampunk, anime, comic book, period, and any other types of costumes you can think of.  There were even two Coralines that I saw.  No, we don’t have a lot of pictures.  Refer back to me trying to keep the kids from being trampled and general crowd panic.

There were some really cool vendors.  We wanted to find some dice, but there were no GameScience anywhere.  In fact, the only dice to be had were Chessex.  I wouldn’t be caught rolling those things, but they didn’t have a decent collection of dicebags, either.  That was a big disappointment.  Maybe next year I can represent GameScience, and if I learn to sew or leatherwork between then and now, I can provide those as well.  There was certainly a market for them that wasn’t filled.

There were some spectacular artists, my favorite being Kevin Dyer.   His artwork is made of cast paper, and he relies heavily on Celtic themes.  I’ve never seen anything quite like it, but I loved all the Celtic Knots and dragons and trees. I want one of everything, and a house big enough to house it along with my Ansel Adams prints that I will own one day.

OH!  I do have one encounter with someone nifty in particular.  I had to say “excuse me” because I almost bumped into this dude in a pink dress, with a white mohawk and black corset that matched his combat boots.  I think it was Malcolm McDowell, from A Clockwork Orange and Heroes.  So that did send my tummy swimming a bit.  For a few moments I was very excited.  But then Red Chief almost plowed into him and I thought the earth was going to swallow me whole, so we walked away.

Next year we’ll be much more prepared, and I’ll regale you with all sorts of stories.  If anyone else went, I’d love to know more of what happened around the Con.  I know that there were four buildings and days of events, so we missed out on a lot.  I’d love to hear about it.

One of my favorite kids’ shows is ending.

Grant says the funding crunch is partially to blame, but the decision to end Reading Rainbow can also be traced to a shift in the philosophy of educational television programming. The change started with the Department of Education under the Bush administration, he explains, which wanted to see a much heavier focus on the basic tools of reading — like phonics and spelling.

Grant says that PBS, CPB and the Department of Education put significant funding toward programming that would teach kids how to read — but that’s not what Reading Rainbow was trying to do.

“Reading Rainbow taught kids why to read,” Grant says. “You know, the love of reading — [the show] encouraged kids to pick up a book and to read.”

This makes me so sad.  Kids don’t get enough reinforcement on the joy of reading.  Also, as someone who just had kids leaving that age group, most of those newer “how to read” shows on PBS are terrible. The only notable exception I can think of is Between the Lions, which bridges the gap between the classic how to read show, Sesame Street and the niche Reading Rainbow filled fairly well.  The next best, Super Why and Word Girl, have served as mostly mediocre entertainment to my children.  I guess it’s just a good thing I didn’t rely on the television as a teacher.

Both of my kids are officially school aged now!  I don’t know how that happened, but here it is, fall again.  The summer is over, and suddenly I find myself with a bunch of free time.  Right now I’m adjusting by keeping myself super busy and not allowing myself much time to stop and think.

The oldest one calls himself Thing One, from the Cat in the Hat.  He dressed up as his favorite Dr. Seuss character and the name just stuck.  The little one also has a literary nickname.  It’s Red Chief, after the O. Henry short story, The Ransom of Red Chief.  He’s got the hair and the attitude. My parents called me that as a kid, too, so it’s actually an inherited title. “Son of Red Chief” was a paper company, though, wasn’t it? So we’ll go with the aliases, so as to protect the guilty til they are of an age to out themselves on the internets.

Thing One is a second grader now.  School is old hat to him.  He slid out of one routine of television, reading, computer games, and bike riding and into walks to school and a new class with remarkable ease.  He’s itching to play either flag football or soccer this fall, but hasn’t made the final decision yet.  I’m glad, because he’s a bit of a couch potato lately, and while we’ve been getting to talk a lot about some good books, I’ve been a bit lax about cattle prodding him to run and jump.  He’s also looking forward to Cub Scouts again, and all that goes along with that.  So he’s just great.

Red Chief has been very apprehensive about school.  It started well before he was 5.  Thing One was clamouring to get on the school bus as soon as he knew what one was.  Red Chief has been the opposite.  He tried to convince me that he didn’t need to turn 5 years old, because he didn’t want to go to school.  I pulled out the Rainbow Cake and convinced him to go on and age another year.  While he was scared, he’d also been very protective of me, wanting to make sure his Momma didn’t cry any more for any reason. He’s been saying he wants to take care of me, which is just proof he’s my kid.  Even the very first day,  he was trying to make a deal.

“Momma, if I hide under your covers, they won’t find me!  They’ll just look under mine.  Then I can stay home with you!”

It was a tempting offer, but I took him to school. He was nervous, but then he saw a cute girl with curly hair that was sad, too.  He pointed her out to me, and I asked did he want to talk to her.  He nodded, and said he could make her smile.  The little charmer went over and got a small smile out of her, and eased his own fear by taking care of someone else.  After that he was fine.  When I picked him up, I asked how school was.  “Momma, I was just kidding when I said I was scared.  There was a gingerbread man  and we had a mystery and we found the clues and guess where he was?  In the LUNCHROOOOOM!  And I got to eat a gingerbread man and I didn’t eat him like the fox did but I ate his head first!  Omnomnom!”

Are you a good housekeeper?  I need some good housekeepers to mentor me, and teach me how to pass that trait on to my children.  My mom is lousy at it, but her mom is a neat freak and germophobe. I suppose Mom’s a pendulum swing, because Granny is so extreme that she washes her ground beef twice before cooking it to “get the blood out.”  Hamburgers aren’t really her best meal.  On the other hand, my dad is all about being organized and he’s fairly clean.   My mom’s disorder seemed to dominate the house, though.

When I started dating Chris, I saw this pattern again.  I used to detail my car once a week, and I had a day for every chore in the house.  The first time I saw the inside of his car, I freaked out — where was I supposed to sit?  He assured me it was supposed to be somewhere on top of all those Dr. Pepper cans. I suggested I drive.  But within a year of hanging around him, I was utterly corrupted.  That is to say, my precious Cavalier was just as junky as his.   How did it happen? I’ve never quite understood that transformation, but it’s there.

For the next decade and a half, I’ve been on a quest to get back to that natural cleanliness. I find my brain feels cluttered when my environment is.  My strong drive to work and produce doesn’t translate very well in my household. My enthusiasm is nil as long as the kitchen and bathroom are basically hygienic.  I do have a brand new Dyson vacuum though, which has been a source of inspiration.  Dysons are a nifty bagless design, and I love that part of it.  Something about being able to see how nasty each room got in the three days since the last vacuuming makes me oddly excited, too.

This week, my 7 year old asked me about an allowance.  Generally when he has been given money in the past, I’ve been the one to keep up with it, so I’d just distribute money on an “as needed” basis.  I decided to seize the opportunity.  If they can do their part in keeping the house clear of their clutter, it will go a long way.  I’d love to cut out those weekly torture sessions when we all work on their room for a couple of hours.  Quite frankly, where it stands with us now is unacceptable, so I’m trying this. I don’t like nagging them, and closing their door at all times so I don’t know about the mess isn’t working either.  I surely am not about to clean up their messes, because I feel that would be teaching them laziness and irresponsibility.

We made out a chart with a daily checklist.  Everyday, they have 12 points to check off on their list, plus a section for “bonus points” that will come from me not having to nag, extra good behavior, or other things.  I plan to be generous with the bonus points when their attitude is good.  Each item on the list is worth a penny.  Since they were asking for a dime a week, they feel that having the potential to earn a whole dollar every week is amazing.  So far, it’s working.  I haven’t had to do very much reminding.  I’ll just chirp, “I’m going to make my bed now,” and my kids actually get excited and tackle their own.

Any thoughts?  Strangely enough, I hear people talking about housework all the time.  I guess that’s because it’s common to all people.  Still, I rarely think to pick people’s brains about it. I know at least a couple of really stellar housekeepers read this blog, and a couple of slobs, too.  What’s your philosophy towards housework?  Are my attempts at encouraging my kids to be a bit more tidy doomed to failure?  Is there a better way to go about it that I haven’t considered?