Stuff and things

Increasing Number Of Parents Opting To Have Children School-Homed (Snort)

The Boys Have Fallen Behind


"...self-esteem encourages emotional incontinence..."

Game changing brain change.

Anthem

Warning - turn your volume down unless you like very noisy music. Sort of loud and hard-ish rock, maybe. Lyrics below in case you don't wish to listen.

Anthem, Superchick
Here's to the ones who don't give up
Here's to the ones who don't give up
Here's to the ones who don't give up
This is your anthem
Get your hands up

We are fire inside
We are lipstick and cleats
We are not going home
And we are playin for keeps
We are girls who skin knees
We are concrete and grace
We are not what you think
Can't keep us in our place

Here's to the girls on their boards with bruises and scars
Here's to the girls whose fingers bleed from playing guitar
Here's to anyone who never quit when things got hard
You'll never let them say
"You'll never get that far."
"Never get that far."
"Never get that far."

We are fire inside
We are an army asleep
We are a people awaking to follow their dreams
We don't have time for your games
We have our own goals to score
There are trophies to win
Instead of being one of yours

Here's to the girls on their boards with bruises and scars
Here's to the girls whose fingers bleed from playing guitar
Here's to anyone who never quit when things got hard
You'll never let them say
"You'll never get that far."
"You'll never get that far."

Here's to the ones who don't give up (x3)
This is your anthem (anthem, anthem, anthem, anthem)

Here's to the girls on their boards with bruises and scars
Here's to the girls whose fingers bleed from playing guitar
Here's to anyone who never quit when things got hard
You'll never let them say
"You'll never get that far."
"Never get that far."


Phew. Better now. You know, I work my tail off at my gig. I'm sure there a thousand things and ways I could be doing it better, but most days I'm giving it all I've got plus bits and pieces I didn't know I had. I read incessantly about my "job," do self and other directed CE hours (sometimes literally, others more casually), and make it my business to know my kids, their issues, and what I'm talking about regarding them. Most of the time, this whole process is a positive feedback loop, providing way cool interactions with the punkins (I'm so blessed), endless teaching scenarios (for each of us, myself especially), and adding fuel to my tank so I can get up and do it all over again. There are moments, though, when I just feel like it doesn't matter what I throw down, what fresh things I can dig up and bring, it's just a losing proposition. Had some of those lately.

Very fabulous, and also some not so great news on the extended family front, plus big decisions to make in places where I'm in charge but most of "it" is really out of my control. Add in the fact that the kids are looped out of their ever-lovin' gourds because they get to see Daddy tomorrow, and yes, I have a little tiny sprout of a headache. And I've been weepy most of the day. The week. Whatever. Nice hymns to sing? Welling up. People coming together to create beauty? Sniffle. Dealing with difficult topics as well as druthers that just have no useful place in my head? Sob.

So the music is/was my answer. :o) It's a tad more convenient a catharsis than going skipping in the rain in the dark, seeing that I've got packing to wrap up. I'll be back with more while the big kids are having Daddy time (they are so, SO excited to see him) and Q and I wrangle the ongoing wretched computer issues (sob) and look for other ways to entertain ourselves.

From the day: E was in the bathroom and her sisters and I needed the nail polish out of there so we could do all forty fingers and toes at bedtime. The sisters became impatient and "shared" that with her. G was passing by during all this and offered up quite calmly and reasonably that, "Fire is always an option." (Insert my puzzled face here) "You know, we could try lighting the door on fire and seeing how long it takes her to come out then." By this point, given the level of angst being generated over the topic, you'd think he'd have found support for his idea. Without missing a beat, S stuck her head back around the corner from the hallway and hissed over her shoulder: "That is completely uncivilized, G." G and I nearly fell over laughing. Quietly.

The softer stuff should be playing by now, if you're thinking about the music. Hope you are well, cherished, and revelling in both of those facts. XO.

So cool

Who's up for a road trip?

Random

I am considering dreadlocks for myself. That's got to be less expensive than regulation hair styles, right? Or perhaps a nice bald head would be an effective option.

I spent four hours at the Children's hospital with Q today. Regular check-up kinds of things that aren't so regular if you have a more or less neuro-typical kidlet. Four vials of blood and hip x-rays he did with no problem, nary a squeak, giggled and entertained the staff throughout, but when we came home and I got out the saline nose drops bottle for his little congested head, he yelled and tried to get away. No kidding. He remembered having the goo sucked out of his sinuses the night before and he was not about to stay put for that kind of repeat assault, let me tell you.

More later, when I'm not about to tip off my chair. XO.

Beautiful

Everyone remembers those moments in which when they just knew. What a sweet, amazing, profound and lovely story. If you've never had that moment, the tale of precious Nella's introduction to the world will grant you insights I don't know how to explain any other way...

Wow.

Happy Heart Day

Hope your day was full of kisses and all manner of good things. I've got this song running through my head these days.

Hold Us Together
Matt Maher
Alive Again

It don't have a job, it don't pay your rent
Won't buy you a home in Beverly Hills
Won't fix your life in five easy steps
Ain't the law of the land or the government

But it's all you need

And Love will hold us together
Make us a shelter to weather the storm
And I'll be my brother's keeper
So the whole world will know we're not alone

It's waiting for you,
Knocking at your door
In the moment of truth
when your heart hits the floor

And you're on your knees

And Love will hold us together
Make us a shelter to weather the storm
And I'll be my brother's keeper
So the whole world will know we're not alone

This is the first day of the rest of your life
This is the first day of the rest of your life
'Cause even in the dark, you can still see the light
It's gonna be alright, it's gonna be alright...

Nice, huh? It's even better with music and it's a nice one for swaying to, if you happen to have someone nearby you'd like to grab and sway with. (Hint. Grab your Someone.)

Q's all snuffly and sick. Thankfully I'm mostly over the dreaded sinus crud, but it's likely to be a long night with the little man. Poor punkin. I've got my fingers crossed for a quick recovery for him, though. Wishing like crazy to avoid steroids this winter.

This week my youngest brother would have been thirty-three. I always wonder how things would be different for our family, who he would be, which of us he'd most resemble, if he'd survived. He was such a sweet little boy and still missed. I held my breath a little as each of my punkins passed the age he was when he died. So. Extra hugs for my mom tomorrow.

Hope you have a lovely and blessed week. "Kiss those babies." -Dy

Three Good Things

Q should be sound asleep by now. I watched him earlier, sliding down into stillness. He patted his Scout toy, which was singing him lullabyes for the sixth time through, and then laid his fat little starfish hand down on the pillow next to his friend Scout's nose. His eyes had been fluttering, but stayed shut during the Brahms lullaby, only to pop open again with a wide grin as he anticipated the music stopping a few notes before it did. When the next piece began, the eyelash frills slowly fell again. When that piece ended, he sighed, but didn't stir again.

He's just beautiful, lying in there with a little round cheek pressed into his pillow, snuggled up to his favorite toy. Watching him tonight, I remembered, for what reason I do not know, telling his papa the story of the Velveteen Rabbit. We were friends at the time, in college, had been out together a couple of times, and were flirting a little over the phone as I finished design projects and he avoided writing something (my grades suffered, his did not). I mentioned the story to him and he confessed to never having heard it, a fact I found somewhat stunning. So, while all splayed out on the floor amongst paper bits and mat boards and glue and x-acto blades, I told him the story. About toys learning lessons, a rabbit becoming Real, and how having one's hair loved off is quite integral to the whole process, allegorically speaking, of course. A few weeks later, he sent me a Christmas card with a bunny on the front, and referenced the story. I was thoroughly charmed.

I'm not spending any time with my head between my knees or breathing into a paper bag. This is very good. I am glad that I'm not. I'm glad that we have a warm place to be when the wind blows and the rain strikes. I'm glad that I know people to be capable of great kindness and have in fact both witnessed and experienced it with some regularity. I'm glad that I have the opportunity to practice letting go of preconceptions, misconceptions, and certain ideas to which I may have become altogether too attached. Mostly though, I'm glad that I don't feel like I need to panic right now, even where it's perhaps more or less warranted, and that I can still make choices right here and right now; one always has the choice of response to one's circumstances, yes? Yes. It is good to have those choices and to be aware of them. (For reference - I might, one day, wish to become some sort of novice in, say, a quiet, monastic setting. Because I imagine that I might eventually need to go somewhere very quiet and just lie still for awhile. It'll be that or the table dancing.)

Trois.