The Best Way to Make It Through With Hearts and Wrists Intact Is to Realize Two Out of Three Ain't Bad

Having a daughter (or four) makes me think about what hang-ups I have that I don't want my daughters to have.  Body issues, low self-esteem, perfectionism, martyr syndrome?  I don't want to infect them with any of that garbage.  What if I'm contagious?  How do I avoid it?

Watching my kids go through puberty has been freaky.  I've read that Barry White's voice went from little boy to the full Barry White overnight.  He said he woke up and said something mundane, like "good morning," to his mom, and they both almost died of shock.

My oldest daughter turned sixteen a couple of weeks ago.  I never felt like she favored me heavily, looks-wise, when she was younger.  But, somehow, upon reaching a semblance of maturity, my face just popped into being on her body.  So.  Weird.  Like, so, weird.

I have never been that fond of my face.  I have okay eyes and eyebrows, my nose is too big, and my mouth is too small.  All features are overwhelmed by my soft, chubby cheeks.  I had sort of an eating disorder when I was nine or ten, and even then, my face was round and soft, atop a skinny little malnourished body.

But then my face appeared on my daughter.  She's got blue eyes and paler skin, but we look a lot alike now.  Enough so that Facebook tries to tag us as each other occasionally.  You know what?  My daughter is gorgeous.  I can't hate my face anymore, because it's also her face.  How would she feel if I talked about being fugly (you know, fat and ugly...) when my face is so like hers?

Don't Panic, No, Not Yet.

It's the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and I have one more class to attend before break.  I love school, but I am so ready for a few days off.  Then only one week of classes and finals week.  I think my grades are all A's right now, but we'll see how the rest of it goes.

The last few weeks have been crazy, even for us.  We had the house inspected for the end loan, and that means Toby spent about six weeks working on the business and working on the house nonstop.  I am taking thirteen credit hours this semester, and that's plenty.  I was also required to spend 32 hours observing for one of my classes, so I've been going to Diamond High School three days a week after my college classes.  I actually love this more than skipping from class to class for an hour at a time.  I got to know the teacher and the students, and I'm going to miss them.

We've managed to keep things afloat, somehow.  I'm not going to say it's always been pretty.  There are so many Little Caesar's boxes around here it looks like we hosted a frat party.  The floors are sticky and need a very good scrub.  But the kids are clean and healthy and not too neglected.  So now we can move on a little.

I get a little prickly when someone finds out how many kids we have, and asks me in an awed voice how I have time for school.  I know they don't realize this adds to the ball of mother-guilt in my chest, the one that tells me I'm a horrible mom for doing anything besides taking care of my house and my family.  I feel like they are asking me why I don't love my family enough to devote my time to them.

You know what I have realized?  I am a better mom now.  I am working toward something that will provide financial stability for my family. I am providing an example to all of my children that education is important.  I am excited to go to school, and I like getting feedback that I'm good at it.  I have more energy to take care of the house and my children, because I'm not depressed.  That's pretty huge for me.  I spent about ten years taking care of everyone else, resenting it, and feeling awful all the time. 

It is crazy.  But so is having seven kids.  I think once we crossed the threshold of impossibly difficult, adding a few more responsibilities seems fairly doable.  (Not that I don't get overwhelmed sometimes.  I burst into tears about three times last week.) 

Plus, things are starting to calm down.  The house is mostly done, and all we need to do now is some carpet in the attic and a few pieces of trim.  Only a couple of weeks of school are left.  We spent all hour Halloween money on finishing the house, and customers all wait until Black Friday to get a great deal on grab bag corsets, so next week we'll have money again.  It's all calming down, or will soon.

Can I give a shoutout to my drums?  Playing a musical instrument is emotionally cathartic...drums doubly so.  Playing drums always makes me feel better.  I turn stress and sadness into sound and sweat and it is glorious.   I broke my first stick last week, and was chuffed about it.  A day later I noticed that I've also put several cracks into my crash cymbal...and I'm not so thrilled about that.  I'm working on changing my cymbal technique from a swat to a glancing caress. 

In conclusion, crazy busy, light at the end of the tunnel, drums.  The end.

Headfirst Slide

It's October and I love wearing sweaters and jackets and boots.  I love being in school and I love that our house is nearly done.

What I don't love?  Today is a gray, misty day and I feel like the world is tipping sideways a little.  I'm gasping for breath and trying to hold on.  After emerging from a major depression, each bad day fills me with panic.  What if I'm going back downhill again?

A boy we used to know from church died last night.  He was seventeen, or maybe eighteen.  My dark day does not compare. 

School Work

These are my two science classroom bulletin boards for Classroom Management.  I'm kinda proud of them.  If I were doing this for my actual classroom, I might put QR codes instead of links in the top one.  Then students can just scan it.  I wanted to put Carl Sagan and Neil DeGrasse Tyson and Stephen Hawking, but I didn't have enough room.  I also figured Brian Cox might appeal to high schoolers more, amiright?

We Are the Therapists Pumping Through Your Speakers

This post should more accurately be titled:

Jill and Fall Out Boy, A Love Story

or

I Went To See Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was Great Memories, A Contact High, and A T-Shirt

or

The Little Blond One Touched My Hand (Well, Not Mine, But Some Guy In Line After The Show)

A few of my favorite bands went through phases in which they didn't name songs something that would help you connect the title with the lyrics. Things like "Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes," "There's a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered, Honey, You Just Haven't Thought of It Yet," and "Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet."  So each of my alternate titles would make a good song title.

I have listened to a LOT of music lately.  In recovering from the latest round of depression, I discovered that music makes me feel better.  It helps me be motivated and work quickly.  The faster, the better, the louder, the better.  I even started singing along, and that helps, too. 
Mostly Panic! At The Disco and Fall Out Boy, but I'm getting into My Chemical Romance, too.  According to my teenage daughter, that means now I'm into the Emo Trinity.

Anyway, Olivia, Laural and myself saw Fall Out Boy in concert last week.  There was a bit of unpleasantness with the hotel reservation going awol, then the reservation service placing us in a skeezy replacement.  Whatever, we were still seeing Fall Out Boy, so who cared?

I was not there for the opening acts, but they were interesting.  Wiz Khalifa does what Liv describes as "weed rap."  How a whole genre of music be about weed?  Well, it was.  Literally every song was about pot.  Sometimes, by looking at the crowd, you could tell who was there for Fall Out Boy and who was there for Wiz.  Not always, though.  A teeny blonde soccer mom in the seat next to me screamed her head off for him, and later came skipping back from the merchandise tent announcing, "I got a Wiz Khalifa t-shirt!"

There was a lot of pot smoke in the air that night.  Some guys about ten feet in front of us were passing a joint around, and the smoke was blowing right back onto us.  Maybe it made us a bit high, and maybe not...I don't know what to look for, really.  We were giddy with excitement and having a very good time, but I think that would have happened anyway.  At one point I texted Toby that we were still waiting for Fall Out Boy, and my eyes were kind of wiggly and didn't want to focus on the letters.

Wiz Khalifa's big finale included twenty-foot-long inflatable joints being tossed into the crowd to bounce around, and a confetti cannon.  The confetti cannon was actually really neat.  Imagine a packed arena filled with a blizzard of red and white little strips of tissue paper.  The wind was swirling them around in the air for a truly remarkable length of time.  After the concert, we found confetti all the way out in the parking lot, at least a quarter-mile from the concert.  I still have a few bits in my purse.

Wow, this is getting long.  To be continued...

Where Did the Party Go?

If you don't know who John Green is, you should.  He writes deep and meaningful and important YA books.  He also became a You Tube star/celebrity by spending a year interacting with his brother Hank only in the form of hilarious and informative videos.  Together, they are the are the Vlogbrothers and have invented Nerdfighters, a positive and socially conscious community of, you guessed it, nerds.  (Nerdfighters don't fight nerds, they fight  to Decrease World Suck.)  Imagine someone who is an award-winning author, but you can also watch him drink a blendered Happy Meal on a dare, or recreating his most embarrassing adolescent picture.  He's an award-winning author, and also this guy:

In the video above, at about 2:20, John talks about exhaustion and a depression spiral.  He says that in the past, when depressed, he would feel overwhelmed and exhausted.  In response to those feelings, he would do less.  Later, if he felt more overwhelmed and exhausted, he would do less and less and less...until he was eventually doing nothing.

He realized that when he did less, he was not only cutting back on the things that were stressful and draining for him.  He was also eliminating the things that made him happy, the things that filled up his reserves of strength and resiliency.

These concepts have been buzzing around in my head for two or three days.  I have been down for the last few weeks and it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to enjoy things I normally do.  It is easier to make excuses for not going places, and when I do go do something, I might feel terrible.

Toby pointed out last night that my current low is much less severe than the one a year ago.  I exercise a little, I do math, and I play drums.  These are all things that fill me up and make me happy.  Right now, they are my life preservers.

We will go on vacation in a couple of weeks, and as soon as we return, I will be going back to school.  I am taking Junior Block this semester, so I will have thirteen hours of classes.  I am frankly terrified about it.  I still have a huge family to care for, and a business to help run.  For the next several months, my time is fully occupied.

I'm writing this to remind myself not to cut out the good things, the ones that fill me up and make me happy.  I think school will make me happy, too.  But I don't want to be overwhelmed and exhausted and cut out the little things that give me energy to keep going. 






 

Hum Hallelujah

About two weeks ago, Toby and I went to the Moxie Theater in Springfield for our date night.  As committed Star Trek fans, we were excited to see they were showing the movie "To Be Takei."  The movie is about George Takei, the actor who played Sulu.

What we didn't realize was that the Moxie was showing "To Be Takei" as part of Springfield's Pride Week.  The movie was free, and we had just eaten supper, so we didn't buy any drinks or popcorn...(sorry, Moxie, we'll make it up to you next time!)  There was a donation table in the lobby for clothing and supplies for a halfway house in Springfield that supports LGBT+ youth who are homeless.

Other times we've been to the Moxie, the theater might have contained somewhere between three and ten other people.  We generally go on dates in the middle of the week because I hate crowds and we both need a break midweek instead of trying to fit another activity into the weekends.  That night, the theater was packed full.

I had a few moments of discomfort.  Did we belong here?  I mean, I support the rights of people to live however they choose, so long as they are not harming others.  We were just a middle-aged straight couple in a sea of "the gays."  I wasn't hurting them, they weren't hurting me, and we all had a wonderful time watching the movie together.  It was a very animated crowd.

George Takei's story is funny and sad and interesting and eye-opening, all at the same time.  I love when I don't know where a movie will take me next.  He was one of thousands of Japanese-Americans incarcerated during World War II, for crappy reasons.  He struggled with being Asian in Hollywood and only being offered stereotype roles.   For years, he pretended to be straight because he knew coming out would end his career.

Takei is an interesting guy.  He is funny and also a bit mean.  His relationship with William Shatner can only be described as adversarial.  I got a lump in my throat at the appearance of the late, lamented Leonard Nimoy, talking about how happy he was for Takei being able to live his life openly.

In the past, I have been taught to "feel the spirit" to know I am doing the right thing.  I would probably offend so many people to know I felt the spirit in a movie theater full of proud sinners, watching a movie about a sinner.  But you know what?   I did.  I felt warm and happy and right to support the rights of people who are not like me.

I was not waiting on edge for the Supreme Court's decision this week.  Honestly, I didn't know it was coming.  But I am happy about it.  I am happy knowing that religion can't dictate the lives of people who don't believe in it.  I tear up at every picture of 85 year old couples getting married, after being together 50 years. 

And All I Can Think Of Is...

Sorry for the blurry picture.  I took it while he was asleep, and I was enjoying the picture-ninja role.  Toby decided to shave his beard the other day.  I wasn't sure how I would like it, but it's his face, you know?  I accept his input, but my hair decisions are ultimately my own.  I accord him the same bodily autonomy.

So anyway, my husband has had a beard or a mustache for most of the last several years.  I like his facial hair.  Beards separate the men from the boys.  I like that in spite of cultural pressure to be clean-shaven, he was bearded.

But...Toby has a dead-sexy mouth.

I'm a dedicated mouth girl.  If I think a man is attractive, there's a 97 percent chance he is seriously appealing in the lip area.  (That may be the dirtiest-sounding thing I've ever written here.)  And while I have kissed Toby daily for twenty years, I haven't gotten a good view of his lips, unencumbered by bristly red pelt, for ten years or so. 

All in all, the situation is quite distracting.  Seriously, I feel like I'm cheating on my husband with my husband.  It's actually kinda fun.  Maybe we can work out a three months on, one month off schedule or something.

Adventures in Ladydrumming

Added to my growing list of "JILL DOING THINGS SHE WANTS TO DO?"  I bought this.  When I thought about things I enjoyed doing most in the past, playing music in band was near the top of the list.  It was really difficult spending that much money on something besides the house or the kids or something "useful."  It was difficult spending money on myself, basically.

So anyway, I've had the drum set for a few days, and my cymbals just arrived yesterday.  I've already learned a few things, though.

1.  All children love drums.  Some love them louder than others.
2.  Pencil skirts and playing drums don't mix. 
3.  I still remember a few things, but I have lots of practicing to do.
4.  I enjoy practicing.  It's a great mix of physical activity, aggression-venting, precision, and relaxation.
5.  Drumsticks are like bank suckers.  They give you a pair with each transaction.  I have three sets of drumsticks now, plus an oddball one stick because the kids lost half of my high school set.
5.  If you give a mom a drumset, she will try to convince her family to play with her. 

The last one is going to be fun.  I think we're working on a multi-generational three-piece Fall Out Boy and Panic! at the Disco cover band.  Five-piece, if you add piano and trombone. 

I've Got Troubled Thoughts, and Self-Esteem to Match.

 Please do me a favor and watch this video.  You will be rewarded with a rare Fall Out Boy ballad experience, including watching Patrick Stump (that guy up there, with the innocent face, massive sideburns, and gorgeous voice) rescuing and befriending a wounded seagull.  I have read that the song was from one member of the band to another, saying "Dude, you think you suck, but you are awesome."  When I mentioned it to my daughter, she said "That's how I feel about you."

Semester End.

I finished my first semester of college in ten years or so.  Somehow, we made it happen, and I think I made a 4.0 in the six hours of classes I completed.  It feels good to be moving toward something I want. 

I've taken the entrance test for the teacher education department, and should be hearing the results in the next two weeks.  Provided I pass, I can then apply for Junior Block, which requires 12 hours.  I feel that's stepping up the resistance fairly quickly, but I don't know that moving from no college to six hours was any easier.  Maybe 6 to 12 hours will be a breezy step.

I really enjoyed my on-campus class.  The teachers were excellent, if a little uptight.  I nearly burst into tears the first day of school, when the teacher sternly admonished us that if we were not prepared to work hard and be good teachers, we should leave now.  I thought, "Crap, I'm too old, too likely to be depressed, have too many other obligations, how can I possibly be good at this?"  Thankfully, I kept my mouth shut and proved to myself that I belong there.

I was required to observe 24 hours in Joplin schools, and to do so, I had to be professionally-attired.  That means my formerly multicolored hair is now quiet dark brown.  I have had to purchase pants that might be called "slacks," instead of leggings or skinny jeans.  Say goodbye to cleavage and t-shirts.  It is super ironic to me that most of my education was stressing how inclusive and understanding of all students we must be, but we are not to be similarly open-minded about who we allow into the profession.

I was even forced to participate.  We had five different projects to work on, and we had to pick a new partner for each one.  There were many interactive lessons which encouraged us to chat with others in the class and move around.  I definitely hope some of the people from this class are in some of my other ones.  I especially liked Melinda, a mother of four who drove an hour and a half from Arkansas to attend, and who'd had to dye her blue hair and cover her tattoos.  (I also adored one of the younger students who asked me how old I was when she found out how many kids I have, and she blurted, "I thought you were, like 24!"  Seriously, I wanted to adopt that girl.)

The online class felt like busy work.  I thought I'd like it better, but the weekly assignments usually took about two hours to complete and communication from the instructor was minimal at best.  I learned a lot of useful things about social media etiquette for teachers, evaluating the purpose of a website, and setting up a learning network to be a better teacher.  I killed myself the first few weeks, until I realized that it didn't matter how hard I worked, past a certain point. 

So, now the semester is over, and I'm thinking of all the things that have changed.  I know we can do this.  I know the kids won't starve, and that they can do more chores...if we keep on them about it.  I know that Toby wants to see me succeed, even if it means more work for him sometimes.  I think I can do this.  I think I want to do this, and I think I can be good at it.  That feels awfully nice.

Grades posted unofficially today:  331/331 and 458/445, 100% and 102.9%.