I never really explained why Saturday was so nice. I got rather off track. And when I get off track like that, getting back on task is Herculean and my arms are kind of not Herculean. So it goes.

After having multiple really good babysitting sessions with other peoples kids I then had a fair bit of time off from my kids. The juxtaposition makes me really appreciate my life. I appreciate that I get to go between high-effort-community-building and rest.

I feel very lucky every day that I get to have the choices I have in front of me.

Like today: Noah and I are taking Calli to Tyme for Tea for lunch as a special date without her sister. She’s going to be over the moon. I haven’t even told her yet.

It doesn’t take much for my kids to act really grateful and appreciative. Oh man am I glad. I keep this system in place by NOT spoiling the crap out of them all the time. If my kids whine or demand the answer is a flat NO and so they just don’t whine much. And demanding things from me will result in me giving you a facial expression that will not be friendly. I don’t have to say a word. My kids (ok to be fair Calli hasn’t said this yet–only Shanna) respond with, “Uhm… my tone of voice kind of sucked there–huh? Yeah. And that probably isn’t one I can ‘try again’. Right. Sorry.” Then she looked down and just stopped bugging me.

Wheedling is an art form. Shanna is turning into a master. She has to walk a very fine line because I’m ridiculously sensitive to tone. If you demand, the answer is no. If you whine, the answer is no. If you pester (ask more than three times), the answer is no.

I don’t fucking bluff.

In my view we get along like a house on fire. Shanna responds so well to having a frame work around communication. But I don’t know what my kids will think when they grow up and have independence. Maybe they will say I was a fascist-controlling-psycho. Who the hell knows.

My kids are kids. So by definition they spend a high percentage of their time engaged in behavior that annoys the crap out of me. I think it is in the contract. “All children must irritate their parents.” Otherwise they wouldn’t get to be children any more and they could be immediately drafted into some kind of pacifistic-work-zone.

The *most* irritation I feel is when they remind me the most of me. Of course. Like It Should Be.

I work very well with structure around my relationships. My kids seem to thrive that way too.

They are sooo happy. I have a hard time believing things will turn out that badly because my kids are in a good mood the vast majority of the time. They don’t have a lot of strife in life so things are very smooth sailing for them. I may not spoil them but everyone else sure as fuck does.

My kids believe in a generosity of spirit that blows my mind. My kids really believe that the world is mostly a great place, but unfortunately shitty things happen sometimes to some people. They seem so aware to me. Part of it is that they listen to the things I say way more than I would have imagined before having kids.

I’m pretty sure I never had the respect for my mother that my kids have for me. I had a father in the house from birth telling me that my mother was stupid, weak, unable to handle life, and delusional.

Every day it feels like I’m play acting a role. I’m pretending to be someone of worth and value. Not in the bank balance sense. Lots of shitty people have money.

I want to build my kids up. I want to make them believe that they are capable of enormous amounts of work that can cumulatively have massive effect. If they just go do it. So far, they entirely believe me.

“Gosh this is going to be so hard to master. It’s going to take me a lot of practice. Sigh.” And then they fucking practice.

Having a lot of time to kill in life is transforming. I had a lot of unstructured time as a kid, but I was punished for anything I didn’t master just about instantly. So I did not spend my alone time on new skills. That would just mean more punishment.

My kids are… not me. They don’t have the terror in their belly I live with. I don’t think they are “fearless”. Shanna gets scared. She will talk about being scared. She says, “Ok, right now I’m feeling kind of scared in my belly. So I’m going to have to take a few breaths before I try it.”

I almost explode with pride and joy when she says things like that. All I do is nod though.  I tell them “Only a stupid person is never afraid. Bravery isn’t about never feeling fear. It means you keep working no matter how your body feels.”

I wonder about the long-term impact of hanging out with someone like me. I’m a counter-phobic-six if you believe woo woo shit. The more something scares the shit out of me, the more drawn to it I am.

I’ve spent over a week working in my head on the wording of a letter for Noah’s mom. She sent me a very nice letter last time. I asked her for advice on managing ones temper. Between her first kid and her fifth she went from hitting a lot to not hitting. How did that work? I didn’t quite phrase it that baldly, but nearly. Her response was serious, heartfelt, and semi-useful. She specifically talked about having to learn to work through your aversions even when it feels bad.

I’m trying to figure out how to write her and say that whereas she is right that one should not run from aversions, one should not always focus on over coming them. Balance. Sometimes aversions are healthy. Figuring out when is… something I suck at.

And I get to explain that despite the fact that maybe I should “push through” my aversions in some places…. I shouldn’t in every arena because my body has limitations. No, I should not work through my aversion to handicrafts and force myself to do a lot of them. I type too much. I would end up unable to use my arms at all. That seems… kind of stupid.

The only true one-size-fits-all advice is: keep breathing.

Really I think I am in such a good mood (going on a week now) because I had a high week followed by lots of rest and Noah time. Hanging out with Noah pretty much always makes me feel better about myself. I’m very certain that there isn’t another person on the planet who likes me as much as Noah.

Every night and morning he grabs on to me in bed like I’m his security blanket. Even if we’ve been kind of arguing during the day. He hugs me like he needs me. Year after year of this feels like a balm to my soul.

I’ve spent so much time feeling like an expendable piece of trash. Noah’s love is… I couldn’t have imagined it before I found it. I don’t think I would have pictured someone as basically challenging to my positions needing me so much. I’m hard on Noah sometimes. I argue with him about feminism and racism and class and privilege. We don’t have similar points of view. Sometimes I will be so fucking nasty that I say, “And that is why lots of people think that you and people like you are the enemy. Don’t act surprised later.”

And he still hugs me like I’m a security blanket. He says that I really know him more than anyone ever has. I’m not sure I know what that means.

I don’t sugar coat my version of the truth. (See how I personalized it there? I understand that I don’t possess The Truth.) It is kind of weird being respected for how bluntly I can eviscerate someone. To be fair, I’m not as skilled at it as Noah is. Ha.

I think that it helps that no matter what negative things I can say about Noah, I have far more positive to say. I believe him to be a good man and a good person. Which is kind of funny because I don’t know that I’m a good person and he’s done shitty things too, so why do I give him a pass and not me?

That’s just how the cookie crumbles. For all his lack of gung-ho willingness to jump on bandwagons that have my issues as a focus he really does try to make things better for other people. Not just the stupid streaming video games he is working on right now.

He does it more how I do it. He does it one by one. He told me a long time ago that there are two kinds of people. Some people care very much about the people around them. Some are fairly apathetic about the people around them. If you need help, never go to the first group. They will micromanage the shit out of you and try to control you if you ask for help. If you ask the second group for help they will evaluate how much it inconveniences them to do it and do it or not. There aren’t additional hoops.

I’ve watched Noah be good to people. You know someones character not by watching how they treat those with power, but by watching how they treat the help, and animals, and children. Noah listens to people in a way I deeply respect. He doesn’t usually end up agreeing with their positions, but he really tries to understand. He wants to see someone else’s point of view even if it has no effect on his behavior.

But I’ve watched his behavior change a lot in the last ten years. I respect Noah. And he likes me.

That’s a good reason to be happy, right? I mean–I know I shouldn’t draw my own emotional state based on the justification of someone else having an opinion about me.

I have a lot of complex emotions about Noah. I have feelings about him as an individual and I have more feelings about some of his generic group identifiers. Some of those feelings are intensely negative. I don’t think it is hyperbole to say there are moments of hate. I feel hate towards amorphous groups that unfortunately Noah has a membership in. That kinda blows sometimes. But given that there really are a whole lot of white men… it’s going to be like that sometimes.

I know it isn’t fair. I try very hard to treat each of you (white men) as individuals but I have a lot of reason for my feelings. I’m sorry you walked near that net. It isn’t actually about you. I don’t feel good about having these feelings either, but they exist. Sometimes they flair up and make it difficult to have a conversation with an actual person. I’m sorry. I know this is my problem.

I know it isn’t your fault I’ve dealt with so many shitty white men. Yes, I know I’ve had more positive experiences than negative. Notice how I’m still here trying despite the enormous innate issues?

I’m trying.

Why do I hate white men so much? White men have raped me. White men look at me and see a worthy receptacle for their racism and homophobia and stupidity. They find out they are fucking wrong really fast but… there are a lot of times when they try.

People talk to me. People feel comfortable sharing shit they really shouldn’t share with strangers. I’m just like that. Which means I get a lot of shit.

I get to hear about how “bisexuality never happens among males naturally but of course it is ok in women”. Said jackass didn’t know how to respond when I said, “No I am not bisexual. I do not require my lovers to pick a point on a binary.” Yes, yes you read some scientist and this was his conclusion. Do you know how little I care? Apparently not.

(I had a weird run-in during the weekend at a naked hot tub place. Man I get all the winners.)

Like my neighbors telling me not to put brown people in the mural. Fuck you very much.

I went to Target yesterday, like you do sometimes. When you run out of stuff. I stood in the middle of an aisle for a while and watched people stream past me just because I felt so glad about the composition of people. I was kind of a judgy piece of shit because I made some assumptions about race. I counted people for a while. White people were around 30% of the people who walked by me. I say a wide array of clothing and ages and body types.

I feel very happy that my city is so diverse. I think that my kids are lucky that they get to grow up with people of many faiths all living right next to one another. My kids will not grow up in a white bubble. My kids see skin of every color imaginable every time they go to the store. People vary. We don’t watch tv. Our bookshelves have been very carefully selected to display a wide range of bodies and lives.

I tell my kids a lot that we are very lucky. It isn’t about how we look. That’s an accident and not something that anyone can change. If you like someone or not based on how they look then you are an asshole. We are lucky because we have access to lots of good food. We have a stable home. My kids are very loved by the people around them. Not everyone is born so lucky. When someone is born without these privileges it is never their fault.

It just happens. And it is sad.

My kids are sheltered. They are sheltered from all the scary shit I read about on the internet. My kids are going to get to their teenage years and branch out and discover that everyone else hates their bodies. I hope they will be very confused. So far, Shanna thinks she is hot shit. And she’s right. Calli has expressed fewer opinions but she likes being strong.

Shanna woke up. Now she’s sitting on my desk while I type. I think I’m going to go now. My good fortune wants my attention.