Category Archives: kids

I think I have failed at home schooling.

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Or maybe it worked for a while and it isn’t working any more. The kids don’t want to do work anymore and the effort it takes to force them is hurting our long term relationship. It didn’t used to be like this. I am feeling so sad. I’ve been waiting for the kids to turn a corner and just… do their shit all year and the only time they work is if I stand over them seething. If I sit down for a minute and stop badgering they stop doing anything.

I can’t do this any more.

I’m always happy to answer questions. I do not appreciate having to stand there and say, “What is the next number you are supposed to write down. Now, what kind of math problem is this? Write the symbol.”

EC is 10. This is bullshit. I can’t fucking do this.

I did not object to this level of help when they were preliterate or when they were learning to write. But she’s a very good writer at this point. She doesn’t make many math mistakes. She just doesn’t feel she should have to hold a pencil and write things with it unless she is under duress and I feel like shit all the fucking time. I hate myself more with every passing day. I feel sick to my stomach.

So yeah. We will move to some town. I won’t be trying to make friends. I won’t be exploring new, interesting places. I will sit in a house all day with a baby then spend my afternoons and evenings forcing kids to do homework instead of spending 12 hours a day yelling about academics.

I feel really sad and like a failure. I don’t think this is going to result in much happiness for me. I don’t know if it will result in happiness for my kids. But I can’t keep yelling like this. It’s been a whole school year of it and it really isn’t ok. I feel so bad. And I am unable to do anything to motivate my kids. I can’t make them care.

April is booked in Japan. I literally don’t have a plane ticket bought after that. I still want to go to Scotland to visit Jenny, but maybe I can only be there for two weeks.

We can’t just pick a country and start school there because of residency issues. It would take too long for us to be allowed to stay, we will miss the start of a school year. So we have to go back to the US.

There aren’t very many places in the US that I can handle living in the weather. That’s a serious limiter. Probably central Oregon.

I anticipate a black depression while we live there. I don’t think I will be capable of doing much other than keeping the baby alive.

It is so stupid for me to want things.

Before 11 months is over….

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She is standing for short periods by herself without holding anything. She consistently says “mama” for me and “dada” for Noah. Nigh-nigh is solidly for sleep. Nom nom is I’m hungry. She signs milk.

When Noah is holding her and I come close up she lurches towards me to have me hold her then she wants both of us to lean on Noah’s chest. It’s really sweet and cute and oh goodness I am so glad she is here.

She plays a lot. She’s super into her toys and she’s starting to kiss on her dolls.

She wants to practice walking up and down the hallway for long stretches of time.

She sleeps easily. Night weaning is going fairly well. She rarely fusses at night any more and it only takes a few minutes to convince her to go back to sleep.

She eats so much food. She eats and eats and eats until I feel like certainly she will pop. But then at other meals it is two bites and she’s done. She is learning her needs.

We are solidly on disposable diapers and her skin is now clear and healthy looking. She needs them.

She has her 1 year check up next week for more vaccinations.

I continue feeling like this family is really awesome for me.

Eldest Child continues to lurch towards finding balance. This is hard! Middle Child is struggling with feeling too big and too small for everything. Being in between is hard too.

Life is hard.

Nobody likes it when I cry all the time. It’s been a rough few weeks. But we keep moving. And we hug each other. We talk about our feelings and try to make space for people to be less than perfect.

 

I hope.

If it stops working for us we will do something different

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Well. That’s the end of cloth diapers. Our poor baby had a bad diaper rash for over a month. Getting rid of it was terrible. We switched to disposables because we were using big gobs of Aquafor and Hydrocortisone on her with every change (doctor’s advice). When it finally cleared up we switched back to cloth. Less than a week later she’s looking very red but it’s not quite a rash.

Oh fuck it.

This is not such a big deal that I need to stick with it no matter what. Yes, I will hate buying disposables. But on the up side: way easier to pack and deal with laundry.

So I’m going to be passing along my stash. This baby has sensitive skin. She’s sunny and good natured and easy in many ways but her skin is really sensitive. She has to be covered in creams and lotions constantly or her skin gets upset. It’s ok. We all need what we need.

She needs disposable diapers.

Don’t forget to notice the third child

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This week Her Sweetness learned how to crawl and pull herself up. She is super excited taking practice steps. Her “ma ma ma” and “nananana” have more purpose. Ma is still not for me alone. nananana is stop doing that/I don’t like this. She still signs “milk” meaning she wants something no matter what it is.

I really want to nightwean. My shoulders hurt.

9 months

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Her Sweetness went in for her checkup yesterday. 28.5″ tall and 19 lbs 11oz. Yay baby! The pediatrician says that her chin rash is probably from drool and recommends Aquafor with maybe a tiny dab of hydrocortisone. The belly rash she agreed was probably heat rash. The doctor does not see any reason to allergy test and I’m cool with that.

She’s doing everything she should though she isn’t at the front of the pack on development. Neither super advanced nor behind. Head circumference is huge, as usual for my spawn. Height and weight are both 75%+. She’s my shortie. Ha.

I feel so grateful that we had her. A few months of feeling sick and suicidal are so small in the scheme of things. I get to have her forever. She is sweet and cuddly and increasingly willing to sleep independently so I feel far more sane than I did when I just had EC. Ha.

She is enjoying standing with assistance but she isn’t pulling herself up quite yet. She loves to sit and play and she scoots around but she isn’t crawling yet. She is starting to push herself up on all fours and do the rocking pre-crawl motion.

She’s a mouther. Floor candy is going to be a problem.

I got the board books out this week! She is utterly entranced. Sandra Boynton is absolute entertainment. I’m glad I left some out for her while I was packing. This was the perfect time to bring them out. She’s so happy.

I mean, she’s a really happy baby in general. I don’t think she cries for 2 hours total in most weeks. She only indicates distress when she really has to. There’s always a reason that can be found/fixed. Sometimes that reason is “I’m bored and done entertaining myself” but that’s completely valid.

I am really appreciating how watching the big kids with her is showing me sides of them that were previously hidden. They are so considerate and loving and sweet. I love watching the three of them.

I feel lucky all the time that I get to be part of this family. Thank you Noah. This is awesome.

AND I SAY THAT AFTER WEEKS OF BEING ALONE WITH THESE DARN KIDS.

The bad part.

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My kids forgot where we were tonight. They had to be dragged out of traffic more than once. More than 20 pedestrians per day are killed here.

I flipped.

I told them that I don’t hit them. But there isn’t a CPS worker or judge or cop in the world who would punish me for spanking them after they walked in front of cars that many times in one night. I literally pulled EC out of the traffic lane seconds before a motorcycle whizzed by where she had been standing on the way to dinner.

We watched a fucking cement truck blow a red light and not even slow down just a minute before you walked in front of a car coming out of a driveway and you didn’t even look.

What. Are. You. Doing.

Spanking is not an effective teaching method in general.

This…. is different. It’s ok for me to instill terror in you of cars. That’s my fucking job. If I have to hit you to prevent you from killing yourself… ok. I don’t want to, but ok.

I did not hit my kids.

I told them, instead, that if they are careless with traffic in any way again we will turn around and walk back to the apartment and they will not leave it again until we go to the airport. Their dad and I will get groceries and they will stay inside.

That seems completely fucking fair.

I will have three children when I leave this country. I don’t care if you have a good time.

The place where they ran out into traffic? I watched a man die there yesterday. Kuala Lumpur plays for keeps.

THIS IS WHY IT IS SO HARD

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I went in my room for a little packing reshuffling (looked at temperatures expected for the trips… errr… maybe the pants need to move around a little) and zoning out…

GUESS WHO FOLLOWS ME IN HERE BECAUSE SHE WANTS TO DO HER MATH NEXT TO ME BECAUSE BEING WITH ME IS ALWAYS BETTER THAN NOT BEING WITH ME.

The desire for enmeshment doesn’t just come from me, yo.

I love her so much. I think she is wonderful and kind and thoughtful and sometimes lazy and obnoxious as shit and absolutely perfect. I like knowing that she is alive. Even though she gets on my nerves. I have to keep trying to be a better person so I can deserve her.

I wanted these people so much that I feel like I am going to explode.

I get to have three children.

I’m going to go cry with joy now.

Even as I’m also irritated. Because that is life.

I spoke too soon.

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Well dinner sucked. Fucking grandmother. So grandmother didn’t order enough food. And then grandfather was encouraging everyone to take as much as they wanted! Eat more! And then I realized that everyone who was supposed to eat… was arriving staggered. So I ate the last fucking burrito approximately 3 minutes before the last person arrived.

So I looked like a huge selfish asshole. It was my second burrito. I really would have preferred to eat three because they were small. I’m fucking nursing a baby and the only lunch they had around during the day was cheese, bread, and greens. Oh, and cookies. So by dinner I was fucking hungry.

Then the room mate was helping to clean up after dinner and he and the grandmother stood around and loudly talked about how rude and disrespectful my children were because they didn’t offer to clean up the kitchen and do everyone’s dishes.

Oh, side note: I did everyone’s fucking dishes after lunch.

So I was expected to clean up after lunch and my children were expected to clean up after dinner.

Other fucking note: we had intended to come into town and see the one brother. It turned into a fucking family reunion with alllll the siblings and their entire families expected to show up. Oh. So it was a lot of people in a small space and everyone is super touchy about shit being messed with. But they also encourage the kids to touch things. But then they get mad at the kids.

This is such a head fuck and I am so god damn angry.

My kids do a fuck ton of house work. But no, they don’t show up at other peoples houses for a meal and offer to do all the cleaning. That has not been part of their home training.

That’s not something that most of the people we visit would allow or want. BUT HOW FUCKING DARE MY KIDS NOT SHOW UP AND WAIT ON THEIR FUCKING GRANDMOTHER. DON’T I KNOW THAT THEY NEED TO BE TRAINED TO BE A WOMAN IN THE KITCHEN GETTING ALL THE GOSSIP. THAT’S HOW FAMILIES ARE FORMED. THAT’S HOW CHILDREN LEARN HISTORY. CLEARLY I DON’T CARE ABOUT THEM BEING PART OF A FAMILY.

Fucking woman just pissed me all the way off. I am so tempted to ask her to step outside with me before breakfast and tell her, “If you can’t keep your viper’s tongue quiet for the few hours you see my children you will never see them again. Do you understand me?”

But we are here for someone else’s tragedy.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I fucking hate this woman and I fucking hate Texas and I am so fucking pissed that I am fucking here.

Oh, and my cousin called me this week. I returned the call yesterday. She asked if she could travel with us to be our au pair. Uhhhhhhh that would blow up. That would explode and go poorly and then I would lose the only tenuous relationship I have with an adult relative. No. No. No. I can’t do that. I’m too fucking old to pretend that something like that has a chance at success.

I can’t see a way for us to recover from that mistake. I couldn’t live with Sarah or Jenny. If I couldn’t get my asshole into check to live with either of them…. I don’t see a way of it working with my cousin. Not with a bunch of international travel. Not when she is flakey and undependable and couldn’t get on a fucking plane to see me for Christmas. No.

So I feel like an asshole for understanding these limits. But holy shit they exist.

I feel so full of rage and hate I want to explode. I want to punch that fucking bitch in the face. We came out here to be nice. And this is your response. Why in the fuck are we nice to you?

I am going to have to say something to her. I am going to have to say, “We will not be back for many years. Because of your mouth. If you open it again, it’ll be forever.”

This is a trip, not a vacation.

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I am pissed. This has not involved rest for me. I needed rest really badly. But my kids decided that instead I get to spend all day on academics. If I don’t spend all this time on academics they will fall further behind and EC is already in “catch up” mode so falling further behind isn’t ok.

Catching up was the plan. But they lied about their progress for a quarter of a year and that was a time period where they should have been busting ass. They will be caught up soon. But I am going to be on duty until they are caught up. That sucks. I really needed rest. Oh well.

And we are in one of those developmental “disequilibrium” times. Which pretty much means my kids are squirrely as fuck, arguing over everything, and not being good about being responsible for their bodies in general. It is normal, appropriate, and developmental. Honestly it is probably part of why they tried lying like this.

But I told EC that she is now on her third chance. If she ever lies to me about academics again we are done home schooling. This is a privilege, not a right. If I permit her to lie to me and slack off like this… I am harming her. I am neglecting her. I will not neglect my children. If you need to be in school so someone else can ride your ass… fine. We can do that.

But I think Stanford is right that she is going to develop emotional problems. And that’s going to be her burden to bear in life and not mine. I can’t make this easy enough for you that you never have to try and do work. Just…. no.

The food is good. I feel upset and alienated so I can’t tell if people are being work-nice or actually nice so mostly I’m just not talking to anyone. Because I feel bad in myself about myself.

I feel so incredibly disappointed and angry. I feel absolutely devastated that the only way I can have any kind of vacation is if I schedule it without my kids.

That feels so bad.

Because if my kids are included they will find ways to wreck my day.

EC is absolutely capable of doing 6 pages of math in 4 hours. Most of this trip it has been more like 1 page in 3 hours because she is pissy she is being forced to work.

This sucks so much. I am so upset.

And nooooooooooooooooooo medication.

What a great vacation.

It is not helping in any way shape or form that the first flight to get here was full of verbal abuse from strangers. I was called all manner of awful names. A bitch told me I was a moo cow who should be back in my pen. There was this asshole who spent the entire flight going through offensive stereotypes trying to get a reaction. He didn’t shut the fuck up. Noah and the kids slept through it. I had to stay awake to be able to react to the baby stirring instantly. That sucked.

So I’m kinda hating people and feeling hostile and angry.

I have some really big feelings about appearance stuff right now.

And that’s not getting into the group of hispanic men in the airport who spent a lot of time ranting about how people like my family are ruining the world. I can’t say they are wrong.

I feel like dog shit.

I don’t know if I was right.

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My daughter very consciously and deliberately misled me for months. Like, took active steps to pretend she was doing something mandatory… while not doing it.

Because she’s a completely normal kid.

When I discovered this my response was to giggle. Because she’s screwed. She is going to be sitting in our hotel room in Mexico making up what she lied about. Cause that’s how life goes sometimes.

She didn’t appreciate my giggling. She screamed that she was going to punish me. She got in my face and loomed and told me she was going to humiliate me in front of every person I know.

Uhhhh. Well. I put my hand on the back of her head, pushed her to her knees and growled, “I. Don’t. Think. So. Go. Out. Side.”

Was that the right thing to do? God I don’t know. That was so minor compared to everything that happened to me. I didn’t hit. I didn’t yank her hair out. I didn’t spend a lot of time screaming at her.

I remember once I told my mom I was going to make her sorry. She grabbed me by the hair, yanked me through the house to my bedroom, and threw me against a wall.

I pushed my daughter to her knees. Then made her go outside for a little while.

These are dominance challenges. I can’t imagine that letting her win every single one is going to be good for our relationship or her character. But is that too harsh? It’s not abuse according to any statute in my state. But is it wrong? There are so many things that are legal and still wrong.

My friends hit their kids.

I feel despicable for putting my hand on her head and pushing her to her knees.

Perspective, yo.

I went outside to talk to her after I calmed down. I asked her what response would she like from me? Would she like me to scream and rage about her lying? Would she like me to spank her like my friends do their kids? Would she like me to cry and feel guilty because it is all my fault I haven’t taught her to be an honest person?

I giggled. I giggled at your sheer audacity. (She then asked me to define audacity. I said, “Your balls. Your nerve. Your stupid bravery.”)

She apologized for threatening to punish me. I apologized for putting my hand on her. But good grief I don’t know another way to handle someone getting in my face like that.

No. You don’t get to do that to me. Just….. NO.

My kids correct me a lot. They call me on my bullshit. They feel free to criticize me. But there are limits. You don’t shout that you are going to punish me because you got caught doing something wrong. That’s not ok.

I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO DESERVE BEING PUNISHED AND THAT IS NOT OK.

The thing is… if I had put my hand on her to begin with and she had told me that she was going to punish me for putting my hand on her? I don’t think I would be so angry. I would feel I deserved it. But I giggled. No. You don’t get to punish me for giggling. That’s not ok.

It is so hard to figure out scale. Everything in my life was so much more violent than that.

According to every statute, it isn’t abuse. No bruises were left. No hairs were removed. She was not harmed at all.

But it was a dominance challenge and I won.

I don’t feel good about that.

I am writing this down because I am not proud of it. If my daughter ever says, “Remember when you…” I need to be able to say, “Yes I remember. And I documented that I was not happy with myself for doing it. But it happened.”

I can’t rewrite this shit. I owe her honesty. Even if she isn’t honest with me. That’s not important. This is a one way road of obligation.

I will never run out of what I owe her.

I wish that I didn’t feel like part of what I owe her is teaching her not to scream at people when she is in trouble.

Something needs to change.

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Ok. I’m in a cafe with music I like playing. I have my braces on. I need to be home in 90 minutes. Let’s see if I can defrag my brain.

I had a great therapy session today. We talked about the difference between PTSD and autism and how my various issues are compounding on one another. We went through which of my choices they were responding to last week (yes they were in fact biting their tongue to not say WHY ARE YOU MAKING BAD CHOICES) and why I am making them.

They are worried about Malaysia because a melt down there could have bigger consequences than in many other locations. That is a valid fear. But I have pretty good reason to think that I’m at risk if I melt down in a lot of places and I don’t honestly think Malaysia will be harder than a lot of other places. I believe that I will keep a lot more to myself. I will have to go rest faster because the consequences are extreme for a fuck up.

Why am I going? Because Noah was invited! How often is he going to be invited to a Muslim country? Probably not that often and I want to find out what it feels like in my bones. I want to taste the air and meet all the wonderful people who are living full and complete lives that don’t resemble lives I already know about.

The lack of medication is going to be hard. Sarah says I should get Prilosec and she’s not wrong.

But bigger than that trip is how we live our lives over the next few years. Sarah points out that I’m doing this thing where I completely deprioritize myself and I have done so while breastfeeding before. My shrink was adamant that my experience of decentering myself and my needs is absolutely board standard for breastfeeding parents. This hormonal soup is hard. But this is going to stay true for another few years and I need to manage my big kids. I can’t treat them like they are as important as an infant. Well… importance doesn’t feel like the right word. Their wants aren’t urgent. Their needs can be somewhat delayed without a problem. They are old enough that we should start having times when they come second or third and that’s healthy and appropriate.

It’s not healthy nor appropriate for me to always come in fourth or fifth place.

I am proposing a basic change to our schedule. I want to request that we all have one hour off in the afternoon without screens or the right to ask anyone for anything. No snuggling. No questions. Unless you are bleeding, figure it out for yourself for one hour. My big kids are 8 & 10. This is absolutely appropriate.

Also, we are talking about mixing up the order of our day a bit. Noah is not getting enough uninterrupted time to be creative. That’s a problem. I absolutely understand how hard it is to be creative when you are interrupted every 15 minutes for bullshit. His job requires near constant creativity. It’s not ok that we are acting like we don’t get to set boundaries with the kids. This is an extreme over correction.

I am proposing that I take over breakfast again and Noah work in the evenings after dinner and he gets to sleep in. That after dinner time is a great window for the kids getting predictable screen time (if they get their chores done) in a way that allows me to rest when I’m most tired. Noah is more of a night person and he likes those evening hours for creativity. My best creative hours are 4-8am. We are very different people.

I feel like we have been flailing and failing to create the structure that allows the kids to know what to do and when. I’m tired of having to be a jerk to get them off of the screen in the middle of the day. If they get the screen at 2pm, I am usually getting nasty to get them off for dinner around 6. Sometimes they tell me they don’t need to eat. That’s not good.

I am really struggling with how much my kids blow me off unless I get nasty and throw a tantrum. Everything short of that is worth ignoring.

I am not ok with this dynamic. It means I get to be an abusive bully or I get to be abused. Both suck.

I don’t want to abuse anyone. I need to learn ways to defend myself without being nasty and the last two weeks I have *sucked*

I am having a hard time setting boundaries all over the place and part of it is how worn out I feel. I feel like I’ve been massaged with a cheese grater. That’s not a great feeling. I’m exhausted. Taking care of a baby is draining as fuck. The whole first year is hard. I could seriously use a night of sleep and I am not going to get one for months. That’s hard to contemplate. My body has needs and those needs are not going to be met for months.

How do I find space for that? How do I find space to be gentle with myself as I cope with being pushed well past bearing? How do I find space to be nice to the most important people in my life?

How do I stop feeling hatred because I am so far past capacity I have nothing but hate left. That is the worst feeling.

I never want to hate my loves. But frankly, when I feel like I’m losing my mind… I do. I hate the whole world. I hate every person who wants me to think or interact or work. I get so tired and empty.

And filling my bucket feels so hard these days. I don’t even know what I need. I need time. I need to feel interesting. I need to feel like I have potential and worth and value. Not from working.

That’s so hard.

What kind of worth do I want?

I know I spend so much time on advice forums because I want my shitty ass life to help someone else have a better life. Not that my life is currently shitty. Past tense. I want to feel like the experiences and wisdom I have are valuable. Not because I serve you. Because it is wonderful that people exist who share what they know with the world.

I want to feel like I am more than a mommy/wife appliance. I want to be something that impacts other people. That is a big part of filling my bucket. I adore my family–don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to stop home schooling. I don’t want more space from Noah. I want to have a self outside of them the way Noah gets to but my available hours for such an existence is so small.

I need to take my writing more seriously and I feel like I have danced around that for years. I am so afraid of trying to be an authority about anything. I actively hide from being allowed to be authority.

Sometimes I wonder if my kids are disrespectful in the ways they are because they are learning from me that I’m not really worthy of respect. I sure act like that. But I don’t know. They are their own people and sometimes their behavior really sucks. Because they are people. Because they are kids. I don’t think they suck extra hard or anything. They are very normal. And I need to teach them how to treat me and I’m sucking at that.

This is tied into appearance stuff. I have to care more about how I look because I have to show people how to treat me. That’s so hard. I have been asked to leave businesses because I didn’t look good enough to be a customer. I’ve had the police called on me because I looked like a vagrant on the road trip. I am not imagining it that I ping a lot of “icki person” buttons for people and quite a lot of people are innately programmed to be mean to people they perceive as lower than them. It’s absolutely normal. And hateful. And cruel.

I remember when D told me years ago that if I don’t want people to be mean to me for looking bad then I had better do the work to look better.

The unstated implication there is I deserve the mistreatment if I don’t jump through hoops to be “pretty enough”. That feels degrading. I feel angry about this situation. But my anger doesn’t do me any good and it doesn’t change the fact that the world is full of abusive monsters.

This weekend someone told me that she thinks that something isn’t abuse if it is common/normal. I accept that she has this perspective. I wildly disagree. I used to know a woman who is part of a very specific culture. In her culture people with mental illness are to be entirely shunned so they don’t hurt the rest of the tribe. Guess what? That’s abuse.

If your community thinks it is ok for you to die because you aren’t good enough that’s abuse. Ableism is pretty standard in this country. It’s abusive. It’s normal for doctors to provide shittier health care to black women in this country. It’s abuse.

A great many traditional parenting practices are completely fucked up. I’m not going to get into them. Because shit I don’t want to argue. This is my opinion. You are allowed to have yours.

I need to create more space between me and my family so that I get to exist. Or I am not going to be able to be a healthy member of this family and that will mean that I have to go.

Ok. Time to create space.

The video game stuff. Ugh. Ok. So. When I say that video games are triggering what I mean is that when the topic comes up I am instantly full body flooded with adrenaline. I want to fight. I want to hit. I want to scream. I want you to get the fuck away from me before I hurt you. My early experiences with video games often revolved around people hurting me if I wanted to play. My body learned that this experience, this hobby, are not safe for me. Could I unlearn this reaction? Probably. With time, effort, and a lot of EMDR therapy.

Do you know what I don’t fucking care to pay for a bunch of therapy to fix?

My issues with video games. Therapy is expensive as shit. I can’t manage to fix everything.

When people are sitting around discussing their video games in a completely chill way I spend my time fantasizing about head butting them so that I can break their nose.

It’s not fun to be in my head through this process. Feeling this nasty, this angry, this much need to FIGHT hurts me. I feel sick.

It’s not fair for me to have to go up and down this roller coaster just because someone else wants to have fun. That’s not ok. So I finally said that I need that to be a boundary entirely. The kids are trying. EC asked me if she has done ok in the last few days and I told her yes.

My kids do want to be considerate. They just don’t always succeed. They are kids.

I need to teach them. And being a nasty bully isn’t the way.

And it also isn’t ok for me to have to beat myself in the head in order to accept what is happening me. That is also not ok.

Happy Birthday Middle Child

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Today my boy turns 8. It’s been a journey to get to the point of saying that. I would do it all again in a heart beat because I’ve gotten to see my child create himself. He knows who he is and who he wants to be seen as in this world. I like that about him.

I like that he is capable of making decisions for himself about identity. He tried out being thought of as a sibling for a while and then he realized that wasn’t really what he needed from his relationship so he adapted. He has asked for Bubby to be his brother title name and that’s fine with me. (In my family history there isn’t a special name for anyone but the oldest sister. It’s ok that he wants his own thing too. I’ll support that.)

He’s really smart. He knows a lot of stuff. When he doesn’t understand something he will ask many questions until he really internalizes the topic. I respect that.

He is more aggressive with his big sister than anyone else on the planet and that really worries me sometimes. Let me clarify that I worry about his impetuosity as a child with limited self control and appropriately age developed brain. I do not worry about how he will turn out as an adult. He’s going to be awesome. But while his brain is forming… he reminds me so much of me. And I have so many things from my childhood I regret. I hope I can help him have a smaller list.

He is sweet. He is brave and willing to try almost anything once. He’s an incredibly gentle and caring big brother. He’s great with his baby sister.

I love getting to have private conversations with him. His mind is fascinating and intense. We talk about how to help one another with our big feelings. Things like “When I’m feeling sad I find that deep breathing helps.” “Oh, that isn’t as effective for me. I find that the most helpful thing is curling up under a blanket.” Like, not that he needs to help me but we share strategies. We encourage one another to exercise a lot because that helps both of us stay stable emotionally. If one or the other of us is being pissy sometimes the other will say, “Hey! You are sounding like a run might be helpful.” It’s really cool when that works out. It helps a lot.

We really love running together. I am dead serious that I trained for the marathon so I could keep up with my children. They wear me out. Yes, I can go farther than them. Yes, I am stronger than them. But not much and I have to constantly work on it. I have improved so much over the last ten years just because I don’t want my children to leave me behind while I am incapable of keeping up.

I don’t want to be left behind.

He’s a little ahead on math. He’s just about exactly at grade level for reading at this point. He’s really proud of all the Spanish he has learned. He’s much better than me at chess. I think he’s a much better artist than I was at his age, but he is very intimidated by me, Noah, and EC having more practice than him and he thinks he sucks. I think he’s pretty good.

He has a startlingly large fan club. Folks get along with him. He’s most prickly with his family. We are safe.

He doesn’t have one clear favorite book or movie. But holy tomato his favorite food is bacon.

 

Milestones: Six months today

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Her Sweetness is sitting up on her own very well. She is doing what I consider equivalent to signing, “Put food in my mouth.” We have started solid foods. She now reaches towards food and points to her mouth. It’s within nodding distance of the sign for “eat”. She’s really clear about indicating that she wants to nurse. In general she is a cheerful, talkative soul.

She sleeps pretty well but she still nurses 2-4 times a night.

She adores all of her Bigs. She thinks her siblings are perfection and wonder.

We are enjoying having her in the family.

She knows that her toy bin is hers and she gesticulates forcefully to tell people to bring it to her. Then she tries to climb in it.

She loves to use the toilet in the morning. She loooooooooooves baths and that is still the most reliable way to get her to sleep.

She likes car rides. How did I get a kid like this? She loves the stroller. She loves being carried. She loves her swing. She’s a happy baby.

She likes to pick her own clothes out and she gravitates steadily towards stripes. No sign of teeth and no sign of standing or crawling.

She’s glorious and I love everything about her.

Oh my god no.

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Hormones.

Right in this moment I feel like I want a fourth baby. I don’t. Physically I don’t. Emotionally I don’t. Hormonally I kinda sorta do.

Crazy fucking bodies. I don’t want the expense. I don’t want the pain. I don’t want to feel like I need to die because I am so fucking incapacitated. I don’t want to put my kids through that. I love where we are.

Hormonally, I want to be pregnant. Vasectomy for the win. My husband is too old.

Fuck. This shit is crazy. I’m almost 37 and my first three kids were extremely hard on me. I’m not a candidate.

This shit is crazy.

I don’t want a baby. I wanted three kids. I have three kids.

I want to travel for 2-3 years then settle down somewhere and foster. I don’t want another baby.

But I do. Bodies are weird.

BUT NO MORE BABIES FROM THIS FACTORY. I might go get sterilized just for fucking sure. This is insanity that cannot be followed up on for any reason in any way. No more babies. I very sadly fear I would kill myself because the intensity of my feelings are so overwhelming.

But my kids are the bestest things in the whole world and even though they make me want to break all of my teeth from frustration.

I don’t know what the fuck I want.

a weekend update

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I am so grateful my husband is happy to take the baby for almost the whole day minus feeding time. I am so grateful that my third kid will tolerate being handed off like this. My older kids would have screamed the roof off.

I made my kids spend the whole weekend sorting their stuff. A box for Washington DC (daycare, dear child) (our first hop) and a box for Scotland (second hop) and long term storage and donations. I’m glad we’ve spent the last three months purging because this was still super hard and they didn’t finish.

I understand why my mom spent so much time screaming and hitting me when it came time to pack. This is frustrating as fuck. But I have time so I didn’t scream and I never hit my kids. I feel more compassion for her. She usually had to pack a whole house and move in a weekend or less. I’m spending 5 months on this process. I am creating the space for me to be calm while I do it.

I think most parents are assholes (when they are assholes) because they are overwhelmed and don’t really have enough cope/resources for what they are trying to do.

I spent a bunch of time looking into a POD type storage unit or a local in house place. Given that we have to come back and forth to this area for medical stuff, an in house place will be cheapest and most accessible. I’m pretty happy that we are going to be able to visit the library and check books in and out.  I don’t have to ask friends for very much help. This is ideal. I was anxious about asking other people to do work for me. That’s a good way to sour a relationship.

We are selling our fabulous art house to friends who will properly appreciate it. I’m pretty sure everything will be fine. Until that’s signed and delivered I can’t stop thinking about it. There’s some details about the situation I won’t post publicly. But I have a lot of hope.

It turns out we have too many books about religion to do all of the reading in a twelve month period. It’ll take closer to two years. We went through and put post its on the books today and my daughter laid out how she wants to tackle the subject. I’m proud of just how capable of forethought she is. She’s only ten. She decided that she wants to understand people better and she thinks she won’t be able to wrap her head around people until she gets their religions.

I look up to my daughter. She’s an upstanding little person. I learn so much about how to be kind and giving and loving from her.

My son reminds me every single day that my words have power. My body has power. I can intimidate people or I can help them feel safe. I can be nasty and effective or I can be kind and useful. I don’t have to be terrible to get shit done. He teaches me this deep in my belly. We remind each other to watch our tone because we both uhhhh kind of think hostility is the most comfortable approach. But it isn’t. We have to work on this. We try so hard together and we laugh at our mistakes. I’m so glad I get to learn with this wonderful person.

And our baby is the happiest baby I’ve ever been able to be near. I don’t know what the fuck happened. My older kids were not this happy. I think it’s because she loves her little pod of people. Last night at dinner for the first time I put the baby on a chair in between the big kids for dinner and gave her some toys. She was ecstatic to be with the big kids. She kept leaning towards them in this tender way and laughing.

I feel so very lucky that I get to be here. I am allowed to be part of this family. No one is going to make me leave.

It is very hard to believe this is my life.

I made a bunch of progress on packing the garage. Easter stuff is gone. That feels massive after all the Easter parties. I haven’t been ready to sort Christmas yet. We aren’t going to keep that big of a percentage of the stuff. Definitely the tree ornaments. How much more though?

What is important?

If you fail to plan you plan to fail.

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It’s hard to get my thoughts organized. I’m struggling on a few levels. I’m struggling with the need to organize my thoughts and my possessions for the move. I’m struggling with all of my feelings about gender and people transitioning and gender conforming behavior. I’m struggling with my various levels of tolerance for teaching people who are different points on the path regardless of age.

It was refreshing to me to see the counselor visibly coping with how upset she is that so many children at a camp for gender nonconforming kids are doubling down on the binary. Fluidity is valid. There is no trait that belongs to a gender (liking toys, tv shows, or colors, long hair).( deleted pissiness)

I am sometimes foolishly optimistic.

=================================

We’ve done a little bit of packing today. I am two boxes away from being done with adult fiction. I need more tape before I can continue. Whoops. We are instead sorting and organizing and putting stuff out on the table. All of the kid stuff that isn’t a book or clothes is now in one room. That’s a huge accomplishment for our little household. They have thrown up on my house over the last few years.

And realistically I haven’t taken things off the walls yet so there’s still school posters up. (Some are down already but not all of them.)

September

With a weekend long party that ends on the 2nd of the month I need to have the house cleaned up and mostly packed by the end of August.

11: Mexico trip. The only stuff left will be stuff that is coming with us on the permanent travel or stuff we will drop off at Goodwill on our way out of town.

I suspect I should order the pod/packing unit for September 24 and finish filling it by October 5.

October

Disneyland

Malaysia

Halloween at our house.

November

5-Ortho

9-Austin for KRW

10-Tay

Deal with selling the house? I’m still a hair fuzzy on how this is going to go. I am waiting for a few details on their end because that’s Important.

LA mid-month

Head to DC?

December

DC

January

8-mouths for all

hepatitis follow up

check in at Santa Barbara?

Feb

UK?

Mar

Bath Ruby? -England

UK?

April

Isle of Ruby? – England

Ruby Elixir? – Taiwan

18-20- Japan for Ruby Kaigi

probably schedule trip back to bay area check on dental stuff.

30-May 2- Rails Conf Minneapolis

May

Ruby Hack- Ut

up in the air.

June

Ruby Nation? – Va/Md

July

Brighton Ruby? – England

dental cleanings due

August

Euroku? – not sure where

south east Ruby – Tn

September

UK?

October

UK?

November

UK?

Rubyconf? unannounced for date

 

That’s the end of my steam for today. I’m weary.

I’m proud of us

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We had a conversation at breakfast about the ice cream. I was clear that I don’t know what to do. I asked kids what they think. Noah had thoughts.

It was nice to talk through things like, “I could over react and say that we can’t buy ice cream anymore or we can only buy vanilla but I feel like neither would solve this problem.”

Eventually we came up with the idea that since we usually buy multiple containers at once we just aren’t allowed to have more than one kind that I won’t eat at a time. Since the kids will freely admit that they eat ice cream that they don’t like very much before the stuff they bought for themselves that I won’t eat at all.

I like a few kinds. Vanilla, cherry vanilla, butter brickle, chocolate chip, cookies and cream, butter pecan…

I just don’t like everything. And it’s annoying that we will go for a month or two with many kinds of ice cream in the freezer I won’t eat. So Noah buys me a container and it’s gone a week later because the kids gorged on the one for me and then go back to slowly picking at their containers.

I don’t know how to have this boundary in a loving way. I’m not even sure I know what it means.

I don’t feel even remotely ok with needing to have all my stuff be separate and labeled with my name. That just feels awful.

I know this is petty as fuck. It’s about the ice cream but it’s not about the ice cream. It’s about consideration and sharing and perceiving other people as worthy of notice.