When mortality comes knocking at your door and makes you shape up

I've been kind of pissed off at the world lately. Mostly for things that are no one's fault but my own. I thought those kinds of crazy emotions were supposed to become non-existent after the high school years. Apparently not.

Anyway, I was picking up the kids playroom while J was playing with the kids in the living room. Suddenly he asked me, "Okay, what's going on?"

Trying to deflect, not sure how to answer, because although I wasn't in a stellar mood, I'd been normal because I'm too big to throw fits in front of my own children, I replied with, "Um, where?"

After a few seconds J said, "Whoa, something is going on." He peered further out the front window and then announced he was going outside. Of course, the babes and I followed.

When we walked to the end of our porch my 2.5 year old promptly said, "Holy shit!" She took the words right out of my mouth.

In front of our neighbor’s house, in the street, a red car was stopped dead in its tracks. A 30+ ft tree having fallen on top of it. The entire passenger’s side was smashed, pretty close to the ground. The driver’s side was badly damaged, but not quite as badly. But by "not quite as badly", I still mean, "holy shit!"

I stood holding my baby boy, my girl at my side, and I had to choke back tears. Because although I know better, although I never should let my mind go there, it did.

Immediately I thought of how easily that could have been me. Us. We drive right there every single day. Several times a day, oftentimes. It could have been us. My babies. And if it had been, if we’d been in our own car, on the same side of the street, in that exact same spot, I wouldn’t have a little girl anymore.

And that’s something I can hardly even think about; it nearly kills me.

I could deal with a lot of devastations or tragedies. If J lost his job. If, God forbid, he left me. All the inevitable deaths of those I love some day down the road.

But my children. Their mortality. It is something I cannot let enter my brain without hyperventilating. They are amazing. They are everything. But they are mortal.

And that terrifies me.

Fortunately for them, I haven’t wrapped them in bubble wrap and forced them to live in a padded cell, though I’ve been tempted. I’ve always let them do crazy brave things at insanely early ages, trusting that they know better than me what they are capable of.

Mostly, I know how to deal with those fears. If they fall off the slide, if they nearly cut their thumbs off, or maybe knock themselves unconscious from falling off of a table (not that those have happened before…). Those are things I am more or less prepared for. Afraid of, but prepared for.

I’ve never thought to be afraid of a 30 foot tree falling on my car while driving. Never in my entire life has that thought crossed my mind. And I bet it hadn’t crossed the couple’s whose car got smashed today either.

And it always seems to be the things that we don’t know to fear that kick us in the ass. Kind of like the reasons that have been giving me such a negative attitude lately.

But you know what? I have two amazing children. They are happy. They are healthy. And nothing else matters at the end of the day.

Nothing.

Everything else is so minute and unimportant it doesn’t deserve my negative energy. So instead, I’m going to focus on those awesome babies that I do have, and just be happy. Because life is too short. There are too many unknowns.

And when my own mortality comes knocking one day, I don’t want to have spent so much time with the “woulda, coulda, shouldas.” I just want to have spent a lot of happy, good times, with my amazing little family.

The death of Ankor

We've always been open about death with the kids. Well, as open as you can be with a 1 and 2.5 year old.

We found a bird once that was dead. When H asked why it wasn't flying, I told her outright that it was dead. She just kind of nodded and said, "Oh."

When H gave her baby brother a rolly poly to play with and he promptly ate it, I told her it was dead.

When she dumped a bucket of rolly poly's into her water table, I explained that they had drowned since they could not swim, and they were dead.

When B stepped on some rolly poly's I explained to the kids how they were now dead.

You are seeing a trend here, right? You should probably call rolly poly homocide on us. As much as my kids love them, they sometimes forget to be gentle....

Well, for baby B's birthday my dear, sweet little sister bought them a fish. H named it Ankor. With a K. I don't remember how it became that it must be spelled with a K.

I told my sister a fish was too much responsibility. Too much feeding. Too much cleaning. Too much remembering to care for it.

For me.

Kids, I'm good with. Plants and animals, they don't stand a chance.

So Ankor died.

She looks like she has mold on her.

I swear to God I did everything I was told. I cleaned that stupid tank bi-weekly and fed it the "special" fish food because it was picky. WTF? A fish can be picky!

But it died anyway.

So I figured that since we have always be point-blank about death it wouldn't be a big deal telling H.

I was right.

Until she asked to watch her swim 2 hours later. And I had to explain again that she was dead.

And then H said that no, she would rather Ankor be alive and swimming, and could I please make her move now? (So maybe I left the dead fish in the tank to let J deal with...)

Finally I told her that her auntie would take her to get a new fish Thursday that can remember how to swim.

Apparently she doesn't "get" death as well as I thought.

But that's probably a good thing anyway. She's only 2.

That baby pang

I'm super envious of people who are done having babes. Like done having them because they want to be done, not because they have  to be done due to other reasons, such as financial, illness, age, whatever. People who are legitimately done and want to be done and feel done. They rock. They suck. Whatever.

I feel like everyone I know is having babies this month. Perfect, beautiful, tiny babies. Something I will never have again. Something I mistakenly made the choice to never have again.

Yeah, I just wish I could be one of those people who were done because they truly felt done. But I’m not. And I’m going to have to accept that. Even though it sucks.

The things I learned but didn't really learn.

As I was walking my little girl to preschool this morning (post on preschool to come) I started thinking of nebulous clouds (I think there are such things). And then my mind wandered to nimbus clouds (I think those are real, or maybe something from Harry Potter). At that point I started thinking of volcanoes and sedentary rocks and indigenous trees and all those other things I “learned” in school, but didn’t really learn.

We were taught so much in school that we needed to know long enough to get an A on a test and then 2 weeks later would have looked at the same test as if we had never heard of such information in our lives.

And really, if we’re being honest, we hadn’t really. We weren’t learning the information, just memorizing it long enough to pass a test. And that’s all that was expected of us anyway.

It’s silly, in my opinion, to force kids to learn anything outside of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Everything else is simply an interest. Sure, I think kids should be encouraged to explore other subjects, and maybe even gently nudged towards those they wouldn’t so willingly delve into. But really, outside of reading, writing, and arithmetic, none of it is necessary.

I am sure this will come as a huge surprise, but since my 2^nd grade class where we learned about different clouds, not once have I had a need for to know the differences.  I’ve yet to need my chemistry information, or to utilize that biology dissecting project. No one has asked me about volcanoes. And, wait…..wait for it….I’ve not had to do a single bloody calculus problem since my final exam. Go figure.

And that’s all good, because although I got an A for all those classes, I have retained nada  about any of it.

You want to talk literature or proper grammar (which admittedly I don’t always use), history, travelling, foreign countries or human rights issues, I’m your girl. I’m a butt load of information when it comes to those things. Because they interest me, so I genuinely learned them (though most on my own time, not in a class).

Guess what my college degree is in. That’s right! History and International Studies with a focus on Human Rights. Surprisingly, though really not, I didn’t major or even use any of the crap I was forced to “learn.”

I do think reading, writing, and basic arithmetic are very important, whether you like them or not. Those are three things everyone uses daily, whether you like it or not. I use them as a stay at home mom, my husband uses them as an engineer, my little sister uses them as a college student, my older sister uses them as a 4^th grade teacher, and my step-sister uses them as a waitress. There is just no way around it. (And let’s face it, those are the only thing you are tested on for the SATs. Even they get that everything else just isn’t as important.)

But all that “extra” stuff? Nope. Honestly, what a complete waste of most of my childhood. I could have been playing, learning from the world around me and doing things that truly interest me (which also seem to be tools for learning). Instead I was stuck in a classroom for 7 hours a day doing meaningless busy work that have in no way contributed to me being a successful or well-rounded individual.

I’ve learned so much in my life thus far, and I’m learning so much more each day. But it’s really sad all the things I learned that I didn’t really learn.

I just hope I can give my kids something better. Sure, many are probably rolling their eyes thinking it’s a hippy-free-love way of thinking, but if you think about it; really stop and think about it, you know I’m probably onto something here.

"I fear a world run by adults who were never spanked as children." Really!?

So there is this little picture-thing on facebook (what the heck are they called??) going around that says something like, “I fear a world run by adults who were never spanked as children.”

Really? I mean, really?

What a thing to fear.

Some of the best people I know were never hit as children. They are the most secure, academically and financially (career) best off. They have the least anxiety and depression issues. But okay.

Some of the wealthiest countries, such as Sweden, also have the lowest rates of crime, poverty, and emotional disorders. Guess what. It’s illegal to spank your child there. Coincidence? I think not.

And really, it makes sense.  I mean, if an adult were to hit another adult it is called assault. That is punishable by fine and/or jail time. That’s pretty serious.  If a child hits another child they are immediately reprimanded and oftentimes punished because as parents, we feel it necessary to teach our children not to hit since it is mean. And God forbid a child hit an adult. Just the idea of it is crazy. It’s an absolutely intolerable act.

And yet when a parent hits a child, a person a fraction of their size, a person most susceptible to the damages of inconsistencies, we get a pat on the back and commended for “being a parent.” Definitely showed that kid who is boss.

If we are supposed to teach our children that hitting is wrong, then what in the world is hitting them teaching? It’s only okay to hit if you’re bigger? It’s only okay to hit if you don’t like what the other person has done? Hm…that’s pretty inconsistent to me.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not perfect. Not always consistent. I just think the whole idea of spanking is screwy from the start. I can accept that people get super frustrated and lose their shit. That’s honestly about the only time spanking makes “sense” to me. Still not right, but I get it.

What’s super twisted is when people say you should never spank out of anger. Wait until you’ve calmed down and are rational, then spank. WTF? What kind of rational human being thinks, “Oh, I should hit my kid. I’ve only got 20+ years on him and at least 100 lbs, I obviously cannot come up with a better solution to handle this situation than with physical violence.”  Terrific.

But really, regardless of my feelings toward the whole subject I really don’t care if someone actually does choose to spank their kid. I’m not going to lose any sleep over it and I’m not going to stop talking to you (but you may me after you read this) or being your friend. I do however, find a statement that you actually fear a world run by adults who were never spanked as kids to be a tad bit ridiculous. Okay, a whole lot ridiculous.

There are some much greater things in this world to fear. Rather the adult next to me was ever hit as a kid just doesn’t make my list. Or if the kid in my daughter’s preschool class gets smacked for hitting, that’s really not my business (unless it’s actual abuse).

So yeah, I have a lot of fears about the way the world is run and by whom it’s run…but how they were disciplined (or lack thereof) as kids, just isn’t one of my fears. Just saying.

Time for an "update"

J is constantly trying to get me to “update” my life.

“Your computer is too old,” he says. “We can get you a new one. Faster, more updated.”

“My computer works,” I tell him. “After it’s fallen out of a window a few times, we’ll talk.” (Some of you get that!)

“How about a new phone?” he asks. “At least a smart phone. We can start small.”

“My phone works,” I tell him. “Why would I mess up a good thing? I see how much trouble you have with yours. Mine is no trouble at all.”

“How about a kindle and you can condense your library and read on the go?” he suggests.

“How about not and we’ll pretend you never suggested it,” I reply.

It’s not that I’m against technology (though I may have not given in to CD’s until high school or owned an iPod until college…way after they’d been the “norm”). I just really hate screwing up a good thing. I don’t believe in fixing something that isn’t broken.

But if it’s broken – I say, okay! Let’s update. Let’s fix it. Let’s see what’s newer and better out there. But I’m not going to do it if I have something good and functioning.

Take my eyes for instance. I just “updated” them. They sucked. They were blurry and couldn’t even read the freaking alarm clock without contacts or glasses.

So, I was all for it. A super quick procedure later, and I can see. Like perfectly. Without glasses. Or contacts. And it’s amazing.

So sure, when my computer has seen better days (or fallen out of a window) we’ll talk about it. Until then, I’m not in the market to fix something that isn’t broken. Even if there is “newer and better” out there.

Maybe I’m set in my ways.

Maybe.

My little monster(s)

Miss H is at this amazing age. Sure, there are moments (if we are being honest, typically several in one day) when she drives me crazy, but really, she is just awesome. She is so funny and quirky and comes up with the best things. Constantly she has me laughing until I'm in tears, and she gets baby B going too. It's great.

Today she wanted to wear her ladybug Halloween costume. But shortly after putting it on, she decided she'd rather wear her brother's. She she wore a fuzzy blue, three-eyed monster costume that was a few sizes too small. But she didn't care.

Then she toted around two Build-a-Bears that she calls the names of her "god sisters" and repeatedly kept laughing to me, "I'm soooo crazy! I'm just so crazy, Momma!"

She cracks me up. She makes me smile. She makes me so happy to be a mom. And sometimes, because she is just so awesome, it feels a little surreal. Like, really, how'd I get something, someone (okay, two someones!) so amazing and awesome and simply perfect?

Yep, this is all mush. All rose-goggle mommy-love. All that inexplicable bliss that you have right after having a baby has suddenly re-surfaced the past few days - and I didn't even have to have a baby! I guess mega jet lag does it, too.

So yes, although she may drive me insane - Miss H is the best little monster a momma could ask for (and so is B!).