Driving gloves & domestic violence?

 

look at our boys playing games

He moved with the energy of a stretched rubber band. The black pleated khaki pants, paired with a short sleeve button up tucked in shirt, were worn like a costume.  The fidgety  adjusting and re-adjusting of  his sunglasses. The quiet strained way he barked orders at the two boys, to look for quarters in the arcade machine’s slots. How he grabbed the joystick and gloated “this is how you do it,” as if he needed to show them who’s boss at these fucking machines. How he slammed the second beer glass into the first when he was finished. The way he strode outside and smoked a cigarette hastily, after telling the woman to just ‘take a damn picture’ of all the art on the wall. And then, he got into his black Toyota, kids buckled into the back, and his wife texting in the front seat. I watched him pull on gloves, and speed away.

Our Monday night solo-mama dinner out had been punctuated by witnessing this strange interaction between a man and his family. There was nothing overt. He didn’t touch anyone harshly. He barely even raised his voice. But the strained energy was like that gas smell right before an explosion. My gut screamed danger, but my eyes said ‘normal family eating dinner at Zippy’s Giant Burgers.’ Sure the kids seemed angrier than other 8 year olds, but they could have been having a bad day, right?

My gut says domestic violence.

But my question is…what do you do about it? If you ever witness something…off…in public (or not), what do you do (if anything)?

When I worked as a crisis counselor I felt prepared to go into situations that were volatile. When I’m out for dinner with my 2 y/o I don’t expect to have to put up emotional boundaries about what I will experience and how I will react. There’s no law against being an asshole, and the guy didn’t DO ANYTHING. But my gut said a different story. My mind starts to race, thinking that when he was in the bathroom I could have struck up a conversation with her. Or asked her outright if he hurts her. Or just given her the Crisis Line #. Or I could have said something to the kids. Or I could have gotten the license plate and reported a drunk driver (because I had just seen him drink a beer).

Instead I stood gape-mouthed as he drove away. Even hours later, the icky feeling in the pit of my stomach lingered. I know that legally I didn’t have to do anything. I don’t even know if ethically or morally I needed to do anything. I do know that if Candid Camera was filming I would have felt like an ass for not doing something. But…but…what would you have done? What should I have done?

A Little Celebration!

Boof bought me flowers, to say Thank You for getting through the busy season with him. I said that he was the one who did all the work (who knew accounting could be so HARD with a kid), but he said that I did the work, being home late every night with Potamus and trying to juggle everything without him. Flowers to celebrate that the busy season is over and real-life can resume.

But I look at those flowers as a celebration, because, as of Monday, Boof is now employed as a full-time tax accountant! He proved himself a worthy seasonal accountant, so they’re keeping him on full-time! YAY! This means we can stop borrowing money from our in-laws, and can afford to take a breathe without the haunting past coming for us! It’s been a long year, but I am so thankful that we have gotten through it, together, and have proved to be stronger, closer, and a little bit  more thankful!

Our Favorite Bartender

After dinner, with Potamus tucked quietly into the recliner with grammy, we headed on out to a little local bar that employs our favorite bartender. Yes, we have a favorite bartender. Back when Boof and I were dating, his sister was still living at home, and his other sister would come down from Bellevue for a weekly happy hour. And this bartender was the kind of guy you could say, “just make me something,” and he would come up with the PERFECT drink to compliment whatever mood we were in that night. And he’s sometimes give us complimentary drinks, and we’d tip generously, and have a grand time. And then he moved and got a different job and we didn’t see him again for about two years.

Then, Boof and I got a Groupon for a local bar/restuarant and lo and behold, there was favorite bartender! So, since Boof’s sister is back from Georgia (sans husband this time, boo!), we thought we’d pretend we were back in the good ol’ days and visit with our old friend. And boy he didn’t disappoint! The drinks ranged from rasberry limeade tasting, to a cucumber mixed margarita (maybe strawberry cucumber?) was DELISH. Yes! A fun weekend overall, connecting again as adults, rather than parents and aunties and uncles!

And if the drinks weren’t awesome enough, the mac n’cheese and fried cheese curds from Beecher’s cheese…AMAZING. I know, I know, we’re talking about CHEESE, which I’ve tried to give up, but seriously, this stuff was amazing!

Sometimes it is just really good to get out, get a drink, and act like a “kid” again!

 

Animalistic vs. Humane vs. Machinistic: A Conversation with my husband about ethical eating

While conversing over dinner about ethical eating options and all of the  disgusting fascinating things that I am learning about the food system and my own eating habits, I used the word “humane,” in relation to what I am hoping for somehow in the new choices I’m making. And he looked at me and said,

“hmm, that’s an interesting word choice. Humane. We wouldn’t use that in relation to other people, just animals.”

Knowing him long enough now, I realized he wasn’t looking for a fight, just merely observing the word choice I had used. And so, rather than get defensive (like I would have done a few years ago), I went down his rabbit trail, replying:

“Well, in the animal kingdom they go for the jugular. They aim to kill, but don’t seem to create elaborate systems of destruction in order to get their dinner. Humane is like getting back to the compassionate, empathetic heart of who we are as people, with frontal lobes. It’s not just reactionary like animals, but it’s like being an animal with a heart.”

As I was talking it just started spilling out, and I kept talking it then he said:

“It’s interesting that the further away we get from being, oh, say, Neanderthals, the less humane we seem to get.”

And I replied,

“Well, I think that’s because we’re heading away from the animalistic-with-empathy and heading toward the machine. I mean, if you think about it, we’re machinistic now. They even say it’s a factory farm, and everything is mechanized and it is taking the soul away from it. It’s about conveyor belts and technology and more-more-more-more-MORE. We’re becoming machines.”

I hadn’t really thought of it like that before, at least not aloud, but it made a lot of sense to me. But I don’t want to be a machine. I want to be human, treat things humanely.

But I’m not giving up technology. I just don’t want to get eaten by it.

Thoughts?

Now What? Moving on After Rejection.

I’m trying to remind myself that we are all made of sparkle dust, souls merely existing earth-bound for a period of time, and that, in cliche terms, this too shall pass, but hot damn I haven’t cried so much in months.

Yesterday Boof found out that the job he wanted, the firm we felt SO good about, the one he had built relationships with people who seemed to really get him and be excited to offer him a job…isn’t going to happen. The official rejection letter came on Saturday. We were crushed. Not just crushed because, at this moment, he has no other options lined up, and that firms are so far into their interviewing/hiring process that he has virtually no shot, but because we had felt so good about it. So good. That gut feeling that I always get when something is going to work out…yeah…that meter is clearly off now.

Square one.

In the practical reality of things, nothing has changed, save the hope that things would be different come the first of the year. Boof is still studying for his CPA exams, watching Potamus in conjunction with his own mom, and we are still scrimping and relying on our in-laws to float us indefinitely. I am still the not-quite-enough-breadwinner, the one who gets up in the dark and leaves my sleeping boys to trudge through rainy traffic to the ‘office.’

Nothing has really changed.
And we aren’t even at risk for feet of flooding like my East Coast friends.

Sparkle on.

WHY DO PEOPLE HOMESCHOOL?!

In theory I respect the right for individual families to make educational choices for their children. I have both friends and family members that have chosen to home-school at one point or another, or have been home-schooled, and with the variety have had varying levels of success.

In practicality, though, my educator brain doesn’t really like the idea or the overall practice of homeschooling…especially past elementary school. Perhaps I only focus on the negatives, but from my experience, many of the parents I have seen, sacrifice things that public/private education could have offered in an attempt to gain something (not sure what, exactly, but I am sure they have a reason in their mind), that doesn’t actually seem to work. An example, is my aunt pulling her daughters out to home-school, after her youngest was being forced to complete assignments and stay in from recess to do so. My aunt felt the teacher wasn’t being fair (which could be legit) and that my cousin was being teased (also a legit reason to look at the education). But instead of sending her to a different school or get her evaluated for an IEP (needed for both mental and physical reasons), she chooses to home-school her. What began as a legit reason to re-evaluate, has turned into 4 years of home-schooling by a depressed divorcee mom with only a high school education. My cousin is behind in grade level (assessed by my mom who is a reading specialist), and has social skills of a 4 year old (at 12). When we have family functions even the little kids tease her because she is so…weird…which simply perpetuates a pattern of teasing/low-self-esteem that as a mental health professional, I am concerned about in the future. In contrast, though, is my dad’s cousin, who raised 6 kids on a farm, is a college educated elementary teacher who home-schooled her kids through middle school and then sent them to public high school. While socially awkward in ways, the kids have gone to college and found boyfriends and gotten jobs. All things I am concerned about for my other cousin.
What brings this subject up in my mind, is the frustrating day I had on Thursday with my predominately home-schooled morning class. Many of the students are willing to learn and do the work that I require of them (which isn’t much, as far as college goes), and reasonably beginning to make friends and think critically…there are a handful of students who both are socially awkward with their peers AND with me, which can be worked through, but their intellectually arrogant attitude isn’t based in actual performance and I can’t help to think has been instilled in them by equally arrogant parents who thought that they were so smart that they could teach their children everything, including all the high school subjects. Nobody I know is THAT smart, which is why high school has different subject teachers. I am just baffled that one person could think they could substitute for a hundred professional people with experience and education in the teaching field.

I would feel less upset by this if it didn’t set the students up for such failure in life and higher education. This one student, who rolls his eyes and grumbles with every assignment is probably smart, but when he writes, he writes at about a 4th grade level. His friend was helping him formulate his paper into a paragraph! I could understand if this kid was so brilliant that he was oodles and oodles ahead of his classmates, and therefore was lacking in social skills, but he seems to have a deficit in BOTH social skills AND reading/writing comprehension. I think his bad attitude masks the fact that he really just doesn’t know what he’s doing…which I could see how he might have slid through in a public school, seen as defiant, but he was being home-schooled! His parents should have realized that he cannot perform at grade level! Right?! And the defiant attitude toward me, as a professional educator, just doesn’t seem to jibe with the whole ‘respect’ because they are Christian, thing, ya know?

And then I begin to question these parents’ motivations. I know they are conservative Christians, but did the sacrifice of having him not be around “worldly” things really help him get the best start in life? I am very biased about this, having grown up very conservatively, without being allowed to watch tv/movies, and wear those long dresses, and go to church every week, but my parents always valued public education. And Boof and I have talked about the state of the education system, and how it doesn’t always meet a child’s needs, but I think home-schooling as their whole education is just the wrong way to go about it.

So, what are your thoughts on education…public/private/home-school? Is there a place for home-schooling?  A time where home-schooling is actually selfish? Thoughts on how I can reach these students who are failing?

The Mom Stays in the Picture

The internet is blowing up with the story (originally found on Huffington Post) about how moms aren’t found in their children’s pictures, for whatever reason (self-esteem, they’re the ones taking the picture, etc.), so there’s this campaign to get mamas into pictures.

I saw the original article and thought it was interesting, but passed it by, since I find myself often mugging for a shot with Potamus. But then when I saw the article featured on Offbeat Mama, I knew I had to comment:

“Maybe I am just a narcissistic cow, but I freaking LOVE being in pictures with my baby. And I shamelessly ask people to take photos of us, even when it annoys them (because I also shamelessly ask them to re-take it if its blurry).”

AND write a little post, showing the evidence from many of our self-portrait shots.

I wonder…where are YOU in the pictures? Do you tend to be in more shots than your child’s other parent? In our family, Boof is less predominate, preferring to mostly stay behind the scenes. If you aren’t in pictures, why not?

Bucket List Letter

I heard this article:  James K. Flanagan: A Grandfather’s Last Letter To His Grandkids on the radio yesterday, and knew that I had to present it in class to my students. Not only is it poignant and full of really great advice, it also fits right along with our This I Believe essays that we are writing. As I re-read this letter to my students in class, several of the pieces of advice stuck out to me:

Everyone in the world is just an ordinary person. Some people may wear fancy hats or have big titles or (temporarily) have power and want you to think they are above the rest. Don’t believe them. They have the same doubts, fears, and hopes; they eat, drink, sleep, and fart like everyone else. Question authority always but be wise and careful about the way you do it.

I’ve reasonably gotten the ‘question authority” bit down, however, it is more recently that I am learning to do so in a respectful way. As a teenager I would yell and scream or sulk or pout, all that showed a lack of maturity in my rebellious questioning. Though I would like to thank my dad for working in radio and showing me the truth behind the fact that everyone, even celebrities, are just normal folk.

Be kind and go out of your way to help people — especially the weak, the fearful, and children. Everyone is carrying a special sorrow, and they need our compassion.

While I don’t necessarily go out of my way to help people, like I’m “not looking for trouble,” I do find that I am surrounded in many ways by people who seek me out for advice or solace from life’s shitty storms. I loved how he put that everyone is carrying a “special sorrow” because it reminded me so well of my favorite quote:  “be kinder than necessary, everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.” I don’t always do a good job of this, in fact, I’m struggling right now with 2 students from a very conservative and churchy background who seem to be very arrogant in their schoolwork, that I am finding it difficult to see how young and small and scared they probably really are.

Travel: always but especially when you are young. Don’t wait until you have “enough” money or until everything is “just right.” That never happens. Get your passport today.

While I long to go back to India, I am glad for the opportunity that I did have to travel when I was younger. And I’m happy that Boof and I travelled when we were newly married and dating. Because, while I like traveling, in theory, the process wears and stresses me out tremendously, now that we have a kid. Gone are the moments where I felt rested and energetic enough to get on a plane and fly to Delhi or Manhattan or Atlanta.

Pick your job or profession because you love to do it. Sure, there will be some things hard about it, but a job must be a joy. Beware of taking a job for money alone — it will cripple your soul.

I do believe having a job that is a joy is a luxury for many, and is something that I have been striving for since I went to graduate school. While I don’t believe that my job will fulfill all of my heart’s desires, I do want to feel inspired and wake up every morning without fearing or dreading what’s to come.

Always keep promises to children. Don’t say “we’ll see” when you mean “no.” Children expect the truth; give it to them with love and kindness.

I think this one resonated with me the most. I remember hearing so many times “we’ll see,” or other vague parenty phrases, which left me confused. I know, now, that my mom/dad/grandma/uncle/etc. was probably trying to spare me the disappointment, putting it off or softening the blow, but the limbo-land was worse than just hearing the word “no” to begin with. It is almost worse than getting the answer “dinner” when I would ask, “what’s for dinner?” JUST TELL ME DAMNIT!, but I know that mom was trying to spare herself the whining that would have accompanied the answer.

What pieces of the list stuck out to you? If you were to write a letter to your children or future grandchildren, what lessons would you include?

Being Elmo: A Puppeteer’s Journey: A Movie Review

I wasn’t allowed to watch much television as a child, save Mr. Rogers, so my experience with The Muppets and Sesame Street is rather limited. My conservative Christina parents did not like that Count Dracula was a vampire, and had various other misgivings about the whole Jim Henson world, so my exposure is a few random snippets of the shows over the years. However, I was around during the Tickle-Me-Elmo phase, and while mystified by the appeal of a squeling red doll, I did recognize that The Muppets and Sesame Street characters were influential to most of my peers. In fact, thanks to my height, Big Bird, was one of my nicknames growing up!

So, in looking for documentaries that showcase career development or overcoming obstacles, I came across Being Elmo: A Puppeteer’s Journey, which chronicled the life and work of Kevil Clash, as he pursued his dream of being a puppeteer, and eventually gave Elmo the voice and character that we know today. While thinking of myself as a reasonably interested individual, the ADD media generation has certainly worn off on me, so I give documentaries about 5 (long feeling) minutes to grab my attention. If the documentary fails to draw me in in that time, no matter how good it might get further along, I am done and moving on to the next one. This is what happened while prepping for my lesson. I started on documentary and BLOOP moved onto another and BLOOP moved on to another until FINALLY I stumbled across Being Elmo.

I was skeptical at first. How would this relate to my life, let alone the lives of my students? But hot dang, the first five minutes went by and I was rivited. The storytelling is magical, and really shows how Kevin followed his dream against the odds and ended up doing something that he loves. While I did feel that it was redundant toward the end (think minutes last 10 minutes), the fact that it kept my attention for so long was amazing.

So regardless of whether you grew up loving The Muppets or Sesame Street, or, like me, you have limited exposure to it, this documentary will entertain you and leave you inspired. I am excited to share the story with my students, in hopes to inspire them to follow THEIR dreams like Kevin did!

On being a non-morning person…

I am determined to not let the brilliance of a 3 day weekend, every week, be overshadowed by the ridiculously early morning and commute to work the other 4 days. As I rise, before the sun, I am comforted by the fact that rest of the city is right along with me…blurry eyed, stumbling to put dress socks on and comb our hair into a reasonably professional look, and waiting (im)patiently at the nearest drive-through coffee stand to get caffeine coursing through our veins. I am NOT a morning person, that is, I do not actually like to get up in the mornings (though my body hasn’t let me sleep past 7:30 for at least 3 months). I wake up at 6 am and am out the door by 7 to make it to the college on time.

While I hate getting up, I do actually find that once I am awake and tasked with things to do, I am very productive. In one of my first jobs, I used to come in early, work until about 2 and THEN take a lunch, because after I’ve eaten, the hours tick by s…l….oooooo….w…..l….y. Like stabbing-myself-in-my-eyes slow. In fact, this tendency to want to escape the afternoon slowness had me “yelled at” on day 5 of my job as I was caught “sneaking out” early. I wasn’t sneaking out, I had arrived 30 minutes early and had worked through lunch, but didn’t have permission (didn’t ask, didn’t think I needed to, the last 3 jobs haven’t required that for flex time), which left me almost in tears…but I handled it professionally and have moved on from there.

One of the hardest parts of mornings, though, is leaving sweet Potamus and Boof in bed slumbering, while I creep about eating my peanut butter toast and digging through a dark closet for something reasonable to wear. They look so sweet together, and while I now these days are limited, as Boof will hopefully get a job soon, it does make me twinge ever-so-slightly with jealousy of the thought of them sleeping in indefinitely and lounging about the house. (In reality, though, Potamus is up by 7 and doesn’t nap until mid-day and Boof has to hold him for 3 hours because he won’t ‘go down’ for a nap, and both are covered in Cheerios and yogurt and all the thing that make less jealous of the whole morning arrangement).

My morning class is overwhelmingly the best, engaged and participatory with amazing insight. My afternoon class, when the caffeine and enthusiasm is wearing off, is…less-so. It is smaller, more masculine, and I’m having a difficult time deciding if I should compare them to the morning class or roll with what they give me and go from there. They just seem so…apathetic, and doing a song & dance to convince them to discuss things isn’t really my style. I’m looking at it as a new challenge.