Letting go of the bad

Yep.
I dropped off of the face of the planet.

A series of things happened... and whenever I thought I should be blogging, something got in my way. Primarily... my attitude. Don't want to blog with a bad attitude. So, in order to clear out that attitude, I'm going to allow myself one post to get it out and then we can get back to talking about how adorable and wonderful my chill'uns are.

First things first: politics.
Yep, politics.
I hate politics. I try not to get involved with politics. Y'know what drives me nuts about it? We all need each other, folks. People who claim to be far left or far right... kudos to you, but you still need the other side (as much as I know it pains you to admit it). For me it is painful to see anybody claim to be 100% Republican or Democrat for the fact that - in my opinion - they are choosing to strip themselves of having their own thoughts on issues. Maybe this is my 'lazy' approach to the world of politics... maybe I just want to avoid conflict at all costs... I don't know. But to me, subscribing 100% to what a party believes is dangerous. It's like paying your dues and casting your votes without attending the meeting to see what's really going on and forming thoughts of your own. (This is where I have to say - I am not saying that ALL people fall under this category. I'm sure many of you are strongly one political party or another and you have done your research and are educated and know how you feel on the issues. It just seems - and this is supported by the many ignorant comments people have been spewing lately - that there are a lot of people who talk before they do their research. And make your party look ridiculous. No matter what party you are.)
This of course has been hitting close to home with this whole budget bill that our Governor is trying to pass... turning the state of Wisconsin into a media circus, a political circus, and... every other kind of circus you can imagine. Suddenly, the beauty of Wisconsin's political map - where every state election is a close race and we never know if we will be 'red' or 'blue' - is turning into a civil war of verbal assaults and mudslinging. And for some reason we are fighting this battle under the main platform of whether we believe TEACHERS of all people, are:
a. Hardworking adults who put in entirely too many hours, entirely too much of their personal pay, and entirely too much of their energy into helping us raise intelligent, respectful, upstanding citizens, or
b. Crybabies who barely work at all and are trying to suck this state dry of everything we have.

NOW, I know that that isn't REALLY the issue here. And I know that anybody who reads this who has strong opinions will want to rant about how uninformed I am and how ignorant my comments are... yaddayaddayadda. So I just want to say - this blog is not intended to be a reflection of my own opinion on the matter. That would be a whole different blog. And one that I will not write, because... I hate politics. This is only a reflection of what I feel is drowning me - and many others in this state - lately. Everyone is out for everyone else's blood. Everyone is looking at what everybody else has that they do not have... and demanding that others be stripped of those things. Am I wrong in thinking that we ALL make choices that bring us to where we are? We all choose whether or not to finish high school... whether to go from high school into the workforce, tech school, university, military, or mom's basement... what we will study, what we will do with it, how many years we will continue to study, etc. We all chose our professions. And now we're mad because other people chose another profession and that profession allows them perks that we don't have? (Again... I get why this upsets people. But the reasons behind it all seem to have gotten lost in the swarms of "I hate you. You get summers off." comments. Really, children?) And... as a side note... news sources that show the 'violent' protests going on in Madison... y'know, those streets lined with palm trees in Wisconsin in February... are irresponsible. The facts are strong enough on their own - you don't need to throw in footage that doesn't belong with the story to make the good folks of Wisconsin look worse than they already do.

Anyway, I was raised to believe that a person's politics are a personal thing that they should not ever have to defend. I will never forget how, after my 2nd grade class took a Weekly Reader 'election' poll (where I voted for Dukakis because Bush looked... too old for the job - clearly I was invested in politics even then) I came home and asked my parents who they were voting for. I was quickly told it was none of my business, and it is nobody else's business either. I didn't understand it at the time - and I thought it was pretty cold. But now I respect the fact that my parents wanted me to form my own political opinions without their influence... and now that I have a clearer idea of what the issues are and where they stand, I can see which way they lean... and I find myself leaning that way as well. But all on my own.

Amazing how I just spewed a whole lot more into this post on politics than I wanted or planned to... and yet didn't even scratch the surface? I just hope it was enough to get it out of my blogging brain. My goal: to never blog about politics again. (Wisconsin, if you could support me in this by starting to get along again, that'd be swell. Thanks much.)


Second bad attitude tidbit: When did 6 become the new 3?
I was all geared up to write a long, rambling, shameless, brag-filled post about my amazing, talented, responsible, kind and respectful son who has filled my life with unending amounts of wonder and awe - particularly this past year. As his sixth birthday approached the pride because so overwhelming I was really looking forward to this blog. I even gathered a bunch of photos together and was ready to write it...
and then, the weirdest thing happened.
Suddenly, everything out of his mouth was laced with attitude. Suddenly, my angel child was talking back to me. Suddenly, the WHINING was unending... the fighting with his sister was escalating like never before... the mornings were turning into battles... the afternoons were turning into wars... the bedtimes were turning into absolute natural disasters. What happened? Can I exchange my six year old for the five year old he used to be?
I knew this was just a phase... I hoped it was just for a few days. Ok, so I don't have the right attitude to brag about him ON his birthday... surely after his birthday party (a week later) I will have a renewed sense of amazement for this boy, right? We let him have an extra special day because of how extra specially good he has been... he'll definitely be extra specially sweet and grateful and wonderful the day of the party, right?
*sigh*
Very sad when the minute the last guests leave you have to go into immediately lecture/discipline mode. What a bummer on what should be a perfect and wonderful day. Grrr. I should have done my bragging blog before he turned 6.
(Update: I am optimistic. He seems to be settling down again. Which would be... a huge relief. As coupling the attitude with a 6 year old who thinks he's three with the attitude of an actual 3 year old... is no picnic.)


Third bad attitude tidbit: Worrying about my Dad...
As you probably know by now, Dad had a procedure done this past week to scrape out his blocked carotid artery. From what I have heard, all went pretty well and he's recovering now. I believe he will be home with Mom tomorrow. They have talked to others who had the procedure done and from the sounds of it recovery time is relatively short... and as Dad said, he expected it to go well because he sent in his season golfing pass and bought a new club that he fully intends to get to use :) (Gotta love Dad!)
What I haven't talked about much is how much waiting has gone into waiting for the day they could do the procedure. He found out about the possibility of a blockage in mid-December - something that really seemed to concern him a lot. Doctors for some reason were communicating this issue with him via snail mail... which I find kind of disturbing. (Especially around Christmas - one letter took about two weeks to arrive. From Rice Lake, people!) It took a couple months to get through all the tests to see if surgery was needed and if his heart and body could handle it all but eventually it was decided he could go ahead with it. So they finally scheduled him. And then they rescheduled him.
Now, if I had the ability to pull back and look at the whole picture from a medical perspective, this all might make sense. Maybe I could see that there are a multitude of other issues that the doctors had to deal with that were of much higher importance. Maybe I would understand the schedules and changes and reasons why this has to happen here and at this time so we need to move you around to this time. But I don't.
Here's what I know: My Dad is going to be 80 this year. He's got a long history with heart problems. One time a doctor scheduled him for an angioplasty a few weeks out and he couldn't understand the delay... then, the day before we were going to take him down for that procedure (and the day after my prom) something went horribly wrong and we nearly lost him... and the things I witnessed that night are burned into my brain forever. I know that his greatest fear would be to have to live after being the victim of a stroke and not be able to have control of his body or communicate with his loved ones... and that not having this procedure greatly increases his chances of that happening. I know that I have been blessed beyond words to have my Dad with me through every step of my life, supporting me in both the decisions he agrees with and those he doesn't, watching me at volleyball games, 4-H events, speaking contests, solo/ensemble performances, plays, and everything else I dragged him to... clashing with me as our personalities came head to head while trying to teach me to drive, golf, bowl, or draw a perfectly straight line... laughing with me when I tell him about the embarrassing things I have done (and making me retell the story about driving my bicycle into the laundromat at 3 a.m.). I know that his body has been through a lot in his 80 years for him to still be with us... to watch me graduate high school and college, walk me down the aisle on my wedding day, and get to know my children. I'm told these are all things he never thought he'd get to do with me - and how amazing is it that he's been with me for it ALL. And that's just my life there... not even taking into consideration the lives of the other five children he and Mom have raised together. Words cannot express how fortunate we are. But even at that... I know he's got so much more to give and to share with this world and I am SO grateful that this wasn't his time to go.
Anyway... the buildup to this surgery has caused a lot of anxiety... and the worry of the unknown. I have sorta had an attitude most of my life that surgery = good, not scary... because I have seen on more than one occasion how much healthier Dad would get after a surgery. But somehow, at 80 years old... and having a surgery in 'uncharted territory,' it got a lot scarier. God sure does keep an eye out on my Daddy, doesn't he?


Fourth bad attitude tidbit: Sickness.
Blech.
Who wants to hear from me when I'm sick? Trust me... you don't.
And when I am sick... and my kids are sick... and Kenny's got a heavy load at work... it's a mess. It's times like this that you start to wonder why it is again that don't just live down the street from your parents? (Though in this case it wouldn't have done me much good - since my parents were in Eau Claire having surgery!) This has been a terribly lonely week for me... feeling isolated and consumed with illness and like there is literally nobody who can really help me through it. YES, we have amazing friends... and we even have a generous friend-that-is-family-to-us who made us a delicious pan of lasagna (which I can now finally eat - I am so excited to be getting better!) which helped so much with feeding the non-sick of the family. But when I can't rise above my own illness (or rise... at all) and I have one child who I need to care for and another child who is determined to wear out any energy that she can pull out of me... all I really want is a genetically-bound person who can give me a couple hours off to rest without having to worry about somebody else. I know that as a mom this is my job and I signed up for it - and I am absolutely fine with that. But as a mom, as it turns out, I am also human (it must take years to become superhuman - as I am convinced my own mother is) and I reach my limits. And BOY, did this week bring me to my limit. Past it, actually. My poor mother called me on Wednesday evening to let me know that Dad was recovering and was greeted by me not being able to hold it together because I just... couldn't... hold it together anymore. Sobbing about my comparatively small problem... and knowing there isn't a darn thing she could do about it. But you have no idea how much comfort I got from just hearing the concern in her voice. Sickness does bad things to a person. My mom still makes mine feel better... even if it's just over the phone.


Fifth... and final bad attitude tidbit: March.
This one is more of a warning.
I have historically awful Marches. That lion who brings March in... never really seems to leave me alone. I think my lion eats lambs. No matter how much I try to psych myself up for it... March seems to win the battle every year. The really awful part of it is my birthday is at the end of March. Which means... by the time my birthday comes, I feel like I've been beaten with a bat for 30 days and it's hard to really feel happy and celebratory. So people tend to think that I don't like March BECAUSE of my birthday. No... I'm not a birthday sulker. I'm totally cool with the whole turning another year older thing. (Check back in a month though - I'm flipping both digits this time which seems to make people feel differently about age...) But March has been bad news for pretty much as long as I can remember. This one has clearly not gotten off to a good start... what with the whole house becoming a sick ward/isolation chamber and all. And Dad's surgery. I'm hoping that March decided to front-load for 2011 so that we could just drive right past the muck and into the sunshine. Let's hope that is the case.


Ok... now, by signing off of this blog, all the bad stuff will be out of my system, right? Yeah??
Here goes..................................................................

I'm bloggifying!

Everybody starts out their first blog with "Well folks, I'm not sure how much I'm going to use this thing, but let's give it a try..."

Ok, that should do it then! So now that I've typed that, I should be good then... right?

World's shortest blog. Ever.











Nah, not my style.

I have been staring at this screen for a long time while my children run in and out of the room to show off the latest 'fashions' they are concocting, wondering what to write about.
Thinking... thinking... thinking...
Taking breaks to take photos of each creation...
Then back to more thinking. What could be blog-worthy?? And then I realized while I am staring at this screen, my blog is unfolding right in front of me. All I need to do is document it :)

Let me start by saying... these kids are incredible. As all children are, of course! But I find myself amazed as I watch them freely choose and act on what makes them happy. Sure, we have a guy's guy... born with the natural ability to make a perfect car, gun or bomb noise... to turn any object into some form of weaponry, and to tackle anything that dares cross his path. And a little girl... princess at heart (and mind)... constantly singing... CONSTANTLY talking... loves dancing... and equipped with all the mind games any girl could dream up. Yet that girl still loves to play cars, Star Wars, ball, and will start wrestling her brother (or anybody else in arm's reach) at the drop of a hat. And that boy will play house, have tea parties, DOMINATE in a game of Pretty Pretty Princess and shower anybody he cares about with snuggles and I love you's.

And yes... even play fashion coordinator for his diva sister.

I asked the kids to play in their bedroom. I heard all kinds of giggles. And then Max comes out and announces to me that he dressed his sister... and BOY was he proud:

 Little did I know this was only the beginning:

And then he started to give her a little creative control. But just a little:

And then a little more:

And then he gave her total control of her accessories:

And she abused said accessory control:

And suddenly, it starts to make sense:

Max's enthusiasm for his sister's fashion risks involved his own hidden motive:

When God gives you a sister... fairy wings, wands and heels are the doorway into the REALLY cool costumes and games.

Every day I learn something new about my kids that amazes me and breaks my previous perceptions of who we are. Today's lesson? Brooke's not the only one who can dominate in the mind games department :)