Shades of Summer

Perspective and direction paint different shades of summer

in front of me facing west, I breathe in the air of the Gulf

as the evening sun begins to retire into the horizon

and low tide rolls gently to the shore rinsing the shells

I turn and glance south and the sky is cool

blues are turning purple and blending with pink

an Artist's water color, soft and wispy

like carnival cotton candy

I turn and glance north and the sky is warm

blues are spreading into the cottony white clouds

golden glow casts out, bringing orange into pink

beachgoers trying to capture its beauty

Small under the vastness of the sky

we are extras in nature's theater

spectators of the scenic artistry

gazing up at the shades of summer 

Vacation

Vacation elation

it's a celebration 

an absolutely 

amazing sensation 

Brief liberation

a work cessation 

the beach, the mountains

true excitation 

Recalibration

rejuvenation

nothing but total

relaxation

relocation

recreation

vacation 

Wait and See

You'll just have to wait and see.

That's what the doctor told me about the possibility of nursing a baby, following breast reduction surgery when I was eighteen years old. I have to admit, it mattered then, but it seemed such a distant issue. I didn't worry myself over it.

We'll just have to wait and see.

That's what I told everyone when I got pregnant.  Nursing was beginning to gain popularity again, after a generation of formula and bottle feeding. Everyone wanted to know if I planned on breastfeeding, but it was a difficult question to answer. It didn't matter if I planned to or not, my body was going to decide for me. I convinced myself I could will it to happen. If I took care of myself during pregnancy, which I did, and I wanted it bad enough, it would happen. Then I gave birth, and it didn't. It wasn't that my baby couldn't latch or that he didn't want to eat. It was me. I had gone almost a full week trying, and it was so difficult to know. Was he eating enough? Was he eating at all?

Let's just wait and see. 

That's what the lactation specialists in the hospital who probably meant well said when I had my doubts. They really did a number on me. They insisted I keep trying and sent me home with the mega machine breast pump. Not the ones you buy in the store, a loaner from the hospital. They gave me all kinds of strategies and told me to wrap my breasts in cabbage leaves to stimulate milk production. They pressured me to keep trying, made me feel like I was a quitter if I didn't keep at it. I felt inadequate and uneasy, and I didn't sleep much. I wouldn't call it postpartum depression because it was only around eating times. No matter how hard I tried, it just wasn't happening. I could just tell my baby wasn't eating.

It's ok. Let's just give him a bottle.

Image retrieved from myhealthybee.com

That's what my husband said to me the night before he had to go back to work. He looked at me and sensed my desperation. It's ok, Laurie. And he went into the kitchen and prepared a bottle of formula and brought it to me. And just like that, my tiny little baby boy chugged down his first bottle like a beer on Super Bowl Sunday. I was grateful my baby was eating. I was grateful my husband was so supportive and understanding. I only wish the people in the hospital would have been a little more sensitive to my experience. It took me a couple of months to get over the idea that nursing your baby doesn't make you a better mom than one who bottle feeds. Being a good mother means giving your baby what he needs, and often your instinct is the best indicator of what those needs are. I knew my baby wasn't eating. I knew I wasn't nursing successfully.  Thankfully, my husband knew when I needed to be reassured. I love him for that. And it was win-win because my husband got to enjoy the bonding moments of feeding our baby too. And for that we're both grateful.




 

Natural Consequences

I had a conversation with a co-worker today while we monitored the lunch room. We're about the same age, but her son is approaching two and mine, eighteen. She told me from everything she's seen and heard from me about my son, he seems like he's a really good kid. It was a conversation evolving from chit chat about some of our students. And I told her he is a good kid. She then asked me if he ever really got in trouble. By today's standards and on account of the things we deal with at our school, no. My son has never really gotten into deep trouble. One day I'll write about the closest he came to real "trouble." That's a story for another day.

As we talked, I explained our style of "discipline." Neither my husband nor I have ever hit our son. He's been grounded a couple of times. But generally, we believe in the idea of natural consequences. A simple example of the principle is, you stay up too late and you're too tired to get going in the morning. Or, you don't do your laundry and you won't have clean clothes to wear the next day. Some psychologists will say kids may be too young to process the natural consequences of their behavior, and it would be then up to the parent to help the child understand. It has worked out well for us. Our son is exceptionally smart, and does a lot better with a rational conversation than with a random unrelated punishment. Not to say he never makes mistakes, and has always made the best choices, but no consequence is better than the natural one.

If you've read my blogs before or know me personally, you know how I feel about grades and learning. They are often incongruent. One does not always correlate directly with the other. School has been a challenge of my son. Lucky for him, he doesn't struggle like some with testing. But he does struggle to acknowledge the importance of daily tasks and assignments. As a result, he has great test scores and less than stellar grades. All of this by choice. We don't pay him for A's and we don't ground him for D's. He's making a choice. And the natural consequence of that is he may have fewer colleges to choose from when a smaller stack of acceptance letters arrives. This is an example of how we choose to parent. No fighting over grades, no power trippy punishments. Don't get me wrong, I do my share of nagging and checking in, but ultimately it is his choice.

Another example is how he earns and spends money. At sixteen, as soon as he got his license, he also got a job. Unlike some other parents (I do not judge, I'm just demonstrating comparison.), we do not take his paycheck. In fact, we never even see it. He has his own bank account, and he has a responsibility to make an agreed upon contribution to his car insurance and pay for his own gas. He makes a payment to us monthly, either in installments when he gets a check every two weeks, or once per month. We're flexible with him as long as he gives us the money. We still pay for parental things like haircuts and lunch for school days. And when his hours are low for a pay period due to reasons beyond his control, we may help with a few extra bucks, but that's it. So if he gets paid, spends a bunch of money going out with his friends or on the latest computer component he just has to have, that's his prerogative. But if he depletes his bank account before he gets paid again, and asks for money for non-necessities, well the answer from us is usually no. You spend all your money before you make more, you're out of luck. It's a natural consequence.

We decided early on, or maybe it just happened without decision.  We haven't and will never micro-manage our son. He needs to learn life lessons by living- taking risks, figuring stuff out, and yes- making mistakes. Allowing him to do all of this while still under our roof allows us to help him process it all and learn with our guidance and protection.  We process but we don't punish and we don't fix. Some would say we're too hands off, that we're not showing him the way. I've been accused of all kinds of parental no-no's. I guess it's all a matter of what you value.

I value my son's ability to learn to act instinctively and intrinsically. I believe he is growing up to be extraordinarily independent. Problems don't scare him, they challenge him. I feel pretty confident that no matter what life throws at him, he'll figure it out. I'm certain of it, in fact.

He never allows me to take photos. I forced him today!

An Imaginary Conversation

There's nothing like an election to bring out the asshole in people, especially the assholes. I am so disturbed by some things I read today. A few weeks ago, my writing group responded to a prompt titled The Unwritten Letter. We also have a closed group where we discuss our writing and have "brave conversations." Today, I'm having an imaginary conversation. I'm posting it here on my blog, for anyone who happens upon it to read. I'm not advertising it, and you'll understand why as you read on. But I really run little risk of the people it's about reading this, because well, they don't read stuff like this. That is, unless I include some incendiary title for clickbait and post it all over Facebook.  Not gonna happen.

I wrote not too long ago about my disgust with people's behavior over the election. No matter which candidate you support, if any, I can't get behind the mudslinging and name calling. No matter which party you affiliate with, if any, I can't stand the hateful rhetoric and condescension. I found myself feeling physically ill over a Facebook conversation I viewed on my husband's page today. Let me begin by saying neither one of us supports either candidate in the presidential election this year. We both feel a sense of responsibility and duty to our country to participate in the voting process. However, like so many others we struggle to come to terms with how to cast our votes when we don't like our options. We both abhor Donald Trump and almost everything he stands for, but Hillary Clinton is not a good alternative. So we feel stuck to a certain extent.

That being said, here is what happened today. This was actual conversation with guys he's been friends with all his life- since high school. I've known them almost as long as my husband, and I was so distraught reading this.

My husband posted this on his Facebook page today, along with a status message that read this:

"Unless you happen to be a republican white male. Maybe..."

Here is what followed. The traditional print will be his comment and the comments of his friends, and the italics will be what I wanted to say, but chose not to. I cannot sicken myself in a back-and-forth banter with ignorant, hateful people. I know they won't hear anything I have to say anyway.

Friend 1:

I'll take my chances. See how far your political correctness and your hugs and kisses get you. I'm not going to stand here and let this country turn into a Third World country, not for my children!! No sir!!!

My imaginary response:

I'm not sure how treating all human people with kindness and respect would make us a third world country. But anyway, if you're not going to "stand here" and let it happen, what are you going to do? That is, besides spew hatred. I know, you must be working for a campaign or maybe a human services organization. Volunteering your time perhaps? I'm interested to know what you are doing to help us maintain our first world status? 

My husband's response:

Of course you will take your chances, you are Republican, white, and male. I don't know how you come off charging me of political correctness and hugs and kisses. Just because I'm an independent thinker doesn't mean I support the new world order. Hate only breeds more hate. Simple as that.

Friend 1 Continues:

I'm a registered Independent. Also, not charging you directly just yelling high from the mountains. So far as white and male, YES SIR, and proud. Not ashamed to say it!!! Even though people think I should be. But I also have a black nephew and a gay niece that I care about. So no fucking hate here BUD.

My imaginary response:

Thank goodness for your token black nephew and gay niece. As long as you say you "care about" them you don't have to worry about the world of hate you are perpetuating for them to grow up in. I bet every night you thank your god it's not your son and daughter who are gay. And as far as white and male and proud, don't scrape your knuckles swinging your arm around to pat yourself on the back celebrating your birthright.

My husband's response:

I never understood the "proud to be white" thing. Pride should be reserved for something we have control over like graduating high school or raising great kids. You and I are the lucky recipients of winning the genetic lottery. We happened to be born white in the greatest country in the world. As far as hate goes, I won't charge you with being hateful, I know you better than that. But your candidate on the other hand...

Friend 1 Continues:

I believe there is racism on both sides, and why not be proud, it's okay to be black and proud or gay and proud. Be proud man. I've already got the graduation and kid thing licked.

My imaginary response:

Clearly you don't understand racism. I'd like clarification about what you mean when you say "racism on both sides." Graduated high school and stuck your head in the sand. And "the kid thing," wow. I hope your children grow up with love in their hearts. Without hugs and kisses I'm not sure they're going to make it. 

Then Friend 2 jumps in. He just happens to be the older brother of friend 1:

I've never understood the "self-hating-white-guilt" thing. All these crazy lib politicians, teachers and professors brainwashing our kids into feeling bad about their heritage.

My imaginary response (Hold onto your hats, because I almost lost it here. I blocked this asshole from my FB during the last election because of his ignorant hateful comments):

Are you fucking serious with that shit? So not thinking of yourself as superior because your white makes you self-hating and guilt-ridden? Is it possible that we don't think we deserve special treatment and want everyone to be treated equally, without being accused of hating ourselves?  We're not the ones spewing hate. And let me just tell you about this "crazy lib teacher!" I go to school every day and teach ALL children. Yes, I want children of all races, colors, and ethnicities to learn. I want all children to feel they are important to the future of our country and the world. I even teach the fucking hateful racist ones! It's my fucking job. And as for brainwashing them to feel bad about their "heritage..." Fuck you! Their "heritage" comes from several long lines of various cultures that all came here for a New World. What is it you are referring to as "their heritage?" Is it the Native American Indian culture? The heritage of this country is made up of all the cultures of all the people who have immigrated here over the years. This country was founded on immigration, and the white settlers killed and pillaged the original inhabitants because they thought they had a right to the land. What fucking heritage are you referring to? Sounds to me like it's the heritage of white privilege and power. So we're right back where we started, aren't we, "proud to be a white man, guy?"

Oh yeah, and if us crazy teachers and professors are brainwashing your children, why don't you keep them home and school them yourselves? Oh, that's right. You're not educated enough. Don't worry though, Trump loves the uneducated.

Friend 2 posts again before my husband has a chance to respond:

Not sure if you realize this but taking up someone else's cause isn't going to win you some sort of prize. Although, it might make you feel good about yourself and ease some of your apparent white guilt. I'm sick of all the white hate going around. I'm proud to be white, just like a black man is proud to be black. Doesn't mean I'm racist in any way, shape or form. And "my" candidate hasn't said one racist thing. I invite you to post a direct quote proving Trump is a racist. BTW, if you're posting sensationalized, false liberal narrative bullshit like you did here (inferring that Trump is racist) I wouldn't say that not you're anything close to an "independent-thinker." Respectfully...

My imaginary response:

Now I'm just sick of you because you sound like a hypocrite. I went back to your FB page which I have been avoiding like the plague, to see about the false conservative narrative bullshit you've been posting. And it's all there. You don't have to tell me you're not racist, because I know you are. When you have to announce it over and over to try and prove it, you pretty much give your rebel flag flying hateful self away. White hate isn't even a thing. And the thing about us caring people, we don't take up causes to win prizes, we take them up to help people and to help perpetuate fairness and equality, rather than promote majority power. And adding "respectfully" to the end of your post, is a little like saying "no offense" before insulting someone. It's pointless.

My husband's final response:

The only cause I'm taking up is the future of this great nation. Within the first few phrases of our founding documents is "that all men are created equal." If we are going to throw away that notion, we may as well burn the rest. (As if it hasn't been already) I carry no "white guilt" because I haven't done anything wrong. (I do think owning people is wrong, though.) I too am troubled by all the rhetoric and violence against white people. It's wrong-headed. I never said that Trump is racist. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. I called him "hateful." All one has to do is listen to him or read his tweets. That is a disqualifying characteristic for a leader in my opinion. Infer what you will about my post, but you can't say that Trump hasn't said those things.

I feel like my husband gave in a little at the end, acknowledging "violence against white" people as though it's a category of violence on its own. I think he was trying to put an end to the conversation. It's hard getting older and seeing your friends grow into people you have so little in common with. I felt absolutely sick after reading this whole conversation. I was sad. Friend number one happened to be one of my favorites of my husband's friends back in high school and college. It's hard to just write it off as politics. In recent weeks I have thought seriously about deactivating my FB page for awhile and "going dark," as they say. My writing group meets on FB and we talked about employing some other method because I wasn't the only one feeling this way. This election has risen to new heights with divisiveness among people I know. And as I try to reconcile this incongruence among the people I know and consider my friends, I thought this... most of what I see when I pull up my page is friends enjoying life. People taking summer vacations, teachers sharing ideas about their classrooms and the upcoming year (no strategies for brainwashing the white kids to hate themselves though), and family across the country sharing photos with one another. I decided, screw the hateful election mongers. Hell if I'm going to let them take over any part of my existence. I'm going to exercise my right to scroll on by. It's not always easy, but it's worth it. There's already too much hate in the world, I don't need it staring me in the face every day from now until November.