Blue Skies and Gray Skies

In my line of work, we operate in both "blue sky" and "gray sky" environments.  Gray skies typically get the most coverage - tornadoes, floods, earthquakes.  It's always a challenge to get the blue sky activities noticed in the public - our preparedness programs, our services to the armed forces. Gray skies make better stories, and they dominate our attention, but as the communications director, it's my job to market both.

Often times my blog is dominated by gray skies, because it's in the gray skies that I feel the need to explore and purge my negative feelings. This leads to the impression that I'm living my whole life under gray skies, when the reality is I'm happy most of the time.

Getting divorced is the grayest my skies have ever been. Scott and I would both agree though that at the bottom of this, we feel we are doing the right thing for us. On the worst days, when my thoughts are their darkest, I want to write, I need to cry. Yet on my best days, and even my normal days, I'm too busy enjoying my kids, enjoying my friends, enjoying my job, enjoying life to make time to write. The need to write isn't so great on those days; and those days are the norm.

So today, I want to write about my blue skies.

The kids and I had a good day yesterday. Sure they were kind of awful in the morning when I told they had one hour to get their rooms clean or I was coming in with a garbage bag and throwing away anything left on the floor. But I spent that hour getting the rest of the house clean and then helped all the kids finish up their rooms before the hour was out. We watched a movie together on the couch then ran errands. (Haircuts and new shoes!) We had beans and toast for dinner - easy and certain to please! We put on our jammies and watched Harry Potter. Jaguar fell asleep curled up in my lap; it was sweet. The girls went to bed with no complaining. I then stayed up until 2am watching Switched At Birth on Netflix while finishing up all the laundry. I had a great day!

Last weekend was my first weekend away from the kids. I spent the first night - Friday - in Oklahoma City, eating pizza from Sauced on Paseo and watching hours of CNN. I spent Saturday with my high school bff Devon and one of her friends, grilling out, drinking gin and gossiping around a campfire until all hours of the night. I went to a play the following day with another friend. I had a great weekend! There were sad moments as we three newly single women talked about the disappointments, the regrets and the losses that come with divorce, but we had a lot of laughs and a lot of perfectly bad ideas regarding how to keep the campfire going in our somewhat inebriated state.

I talked a few days ago about my fear of being alone and the negativity that I can heap on myself while alone. I honestly feel that way some days. What I don't get around to saying though is on other days, I look forward to getting to know myself, spending some alone time learning to appreciate the quiet solitude. Last weekend after spending all that time with friends, I took myself to a movie I've been dying to see and loved going by myself. It was a movie based on a book that dramatically impacted my life and was a movie I didn't want to see with anyone else. Watching it in the cinema alone is exactly how I wanted to see it. This morning, I've even gone so far as to allow my kids to go to church with my mom (shock! horror!), so that I could revel in the silence of an empty, clean house, writing this blog and appreciating the me-time.

I recognize that I've never been very good at being alone and I've never really been good at knowing what *I* want. Before Scott, I had a very serious boyfriend that I spent way too much time trying to please, trying to be what he wanted me to be. Before him, I had a boyfriend that liked me so much just as I was, but I felt the relationship wasn't what God wanted me to be in so I ended it. Scott always allowed me to be me - he's incredible that way and this point needs to be reiterated loud and clear because he NEVER asked me to be anything other than who I am - but the moment after we married, I moved to another country and became "Scott's wife" to everyone else, and a few short years later, Fifi's mum. I did everything for the kids, was everything they needed me to be, and I don't regret that for one single second. But they are older now and don't need me like that so much, and Scott and I are splitting up, and I am back in America where people remember me as just Lori Arnold, the girl who had an obsession with mooning everyone and an equal obsession with Tripping Daisy, and you know what? I look forward to just remembering what I like and who I am all on my own.

A few weeks ago I had a night all to myself. I almost felt afraid to leave the house and go out on my own, because I had no idea what I wanted to do. I had a few options, but all the options included me going alone. I was supposed to be meeting friends, but they all canceled for one reason or another. I drove around aimlessly for a while realizing I don't know what I even want for myself, what I even like to do, what choices I should make for myself. I'm generally happy to go with whatever everyone else wants to do; I'm not picky, I just like to hang out. Left with making decisions for myself, though, I was at a loss. I picked a restaurant I wasn't terribly excited about and ate dinner by myself with a book. I texted my friend. She encouraged me to just "do me" that night, whatever the hell that might look like. And you know what? I decided to follow my gut and do exactly what I really wanted to do, even if it meant doing it alone, and I did. And I had a fantastic time! I realized I AM capable of going places alone and having fun and making friends wherever I go, and that excites me.

Scott and I as a broken couple also have our mix of gray and blue skies. But it's the blue skies we're focusing on. It's the days when we can just talk about what we're going through and what we want for the future and how we can best love and care for our kids and still be a family. It's the days we can hug each other and know that deep down, we will always want the best for each other and root for each other's happiness. It's the times we can still laugh about things and roll our eyes at the things that annoy us both and quote Scrubs and know that the other person knows we're quoting Scrubs. We will always be in each other's lives no matter what, so why dwell on the gray skies when there are blue ones to smile through?

I have a lot of blue sky days. A LOT. I have gray ones too. The gray ones get the limelight, but as a blogger, I'm making it my job to share about both. I may not love being alone, but I know I am strong enough to make it work. I'm an extrovert. I need people. That won't change. But I don't need to be codependent. I want to learn the difference between needing to do things with people and being able to do things alongside people. I can face the fact that I'll never be the kind of person who chooses to hike the Pacific Crest Trail to find herself, but I can and will be the kind of person who will travel to another city by myself and hang out in bars and meet the locals and see the sights and take photos to post on Instagram and text with friends while I'm off doing my own thing. I can't do complete solitude, but I can just "do me". I'm going to be okay. I'm going to be happy. :)

Finding the Good Amongst the Bad and the Ugly: 2016

I think we can all agree that 2016 sucked seriously bad, but with the year from hell wrapping up tonight, I'd like to reflect not on all the deaths, divorces and demagogues, but on what went well for me and my family this year.

1. I landed my dream job. I wasn't looking for a new job, but like dream jobs are supposed to do, this one just sort of came out of nowhere. Working in communications and media relations, managing volunteers and staff, and belonging to a humanitarian organization that I fully support and believe in is exactly where I want to be. It's not an easy job, and there are days when I wonder how I'm ever going to accomplish all that needs to be done, and in this line of work I see a lot of heartbreak. But those things have a silver lining; I'm in a job that challenges me and helps me to grow, and I am a part of something that is making that heartbreak we see daily a little easier for disaster victims to cope with. Plus, I work with the most diverse and wonderful people imaginable. I love my job.

2. Scott got promoted. After working his tail off, he got a promotion in 2016 that he more than deserved. It means more work in some ways, but he was doing a majority of that work already. Now he gets acknowledged for it too. The two of us with our new jobs are feeling very "power-couple", very Frank and Clair Underwood, without all the lies, murder, backstabbing and covert negotiations with Russia.

3. I visited many new places. I was fortunate enough this year to travel to several new places I'd never been before. I went to Tacoma, WA, New Orleans, LA, and Denver, CO. For work, I also get to travel all over Arkansas and Oklahoma - maybe not the most exciting two states, but the travel makes every day something different. I love traveling, and 2016 gave me ample opportunities.

4. We got a dog. Isobel came into our lives in February. While she's more Scott's dog than mine, she's become a valuable member of our family and Scott's new best friend. We are happy to have her in the McFarlane household. Even if her farts stink to high heaven.

5. The kids are finding their niche. Fifi tried out for Odyssey of the Mind and was accepted into the program. She loves it and is so dedicated to it. I love seeing her imagination and dedication grow. Lolly got to start playing soccer again and is getting so good at it. Watching her excel at something she's been working hard at for many years now, even after a year long break, makes this mummy proud. Jaguar started Pre-K and is getting all the therapy he needs to help him catch up with his peers (speech, occupational and physical), and to see the difference school and therapy have made on him is incredible and makes my heart full. I love seeing all of my kids thrive and learn new things and do what they love.

6. There was some good entertainment.  Stranger Things on Netflix, The Hamilton Mixtape and Harry Potter and the Cursed Child were all products of 2016. These and other books, shows, movies and music are surely worth remembering came out of this year from hell.

2016 was a load of bollocks, but there are always things to be thankful for, even when you have to think really hard  to come up with them.  Here's hoping 2017 brings us better and more plentiful moments and fewer celebrity deaths and celebrity presidents.

Happy new year, friends!

Half Out of My Mind

A couple of weeks ago I did something kind of stupid. It was one of those things where someone talks you into doing something you know deep down is a stupid thing to do, but the person makes it sound so fun that you buy into the enthusiasm of the moment and just go for it. No thought, no consequences, JUST DO IT like Nike.

A younger me got caught up in these situations often, like throwing fireworks into the church campgrounds in Kilmacolm or mooning the security cameras in Yocum Hall or rolling the Anschutz' house even though Mr Anschutz was rumored to be the dad who would run you off his lawn pointing his rifle at you. It all seemed like a really good idea at the time.

This time, however, it wasn't my rambunctious friends convincing me to make wild, spontaneous, devil-may-care decisions. No, this time it was my dad.

I blame it all on him. As a kid, I desperately wanted his approval. As a teenager - well, we'll skip those years. As a college student, I wanted him to be proud of me. As an adult, I still can't shake the childish need to impress him. Maybe that's why I let him peer pressure me into this.

In his defense, I did start the conversation. It's been on my bucket list to run a race before I turn 35. My dad's a runner and a cyclist and has been nudging me to do a race with him for a couple of years. I brought the subject up, suggesting I might register for a 10k at some point.  But when he converted that to a number I could understand, and I realized that was only 6.2 miles, that just wasn't really any kind of a challenge. It would be too easy. I figured I could just about manage that now with zero training. So I let him talk up how great the Little Rock Half Marathon is, how great the trail is, how it's a perfect time of year to run. His enthusiasm began to rub off on me, and I began to think, "I can do this!"

And that's how he convinced me to sign up for a half marathon.

Half. Marathon. 13.1 miles.

What was I thinking?! I signed up to run a half marathon. I am not a runner! I do not enjoy running. I do not like to run. Why would I agree to run a half marathon?!

But I did. I signed up to run the race with my dad. I paid the registration fee. I ordered one of those water bottle packs that go around your waist and an armband thingie for my phone. I'm ready to go! Let's do this! I thought.

Until the next morning, when it dawned on me. I just paid money to put myself through utter, intense misery. 

I decided to ignore the nagging feeling that I'd gotten conned into doing something very stupid. I managed to ignore what I'd done until my dad texted me earlier this week to ask how my training was going. My response: ellipses. Training? Ha! The very thought of going for a run made me want to eat a donut and take a long nap on the couch with episodes of Gilmore Girls running in the background.

But the shaming worked. (Well played, Dad.) Dad's text, along with a little additional motivational shaming from my husband, pushed me to take the next step towards checking this item off my bucket list: begin training.

I decided tonight's the night. Wednesdays and Thursdays and one day on the weekend will be my training days. Tonight, after a 9 hour day at work, I came home, made a shepherd's pie from scratch (and by "shepherd", I just mean "cowherd" because beef is cheaper than lamb), helped the kids get into bed, and then I took off to the gym with my water bottle and Hamilton the Musical on my phone. My goal was to do four miles - whether I ran or walked, it didn't matter. Four miles.

I admit I did try to change my goal last minute ("How about four miles OR an hour, whichever comes first?"), but Scott gave me that shaming look again. Okay, fine. Four miles.

I got to the gym and started the treadmill. I almost chose one of the "performance" settings but rationalized that this being my first return to the gym after about two months, I'd better take it easy. I set a decent, cool pace and a flat trail and started jogging along to the genius rhymes of Lin-Manuel's account of our country's first Treasury Secretary.

I did my first mile in 15 minutes and five seconds. My second mile was complete before the 15 minute mark. Hey, I can do this! Two miles in under 30 minutes!

My third mile came in just over 15 minutes. But I was exhausted. My legs were burning. My lungs were aching. My stomach was threatening to hand me back my cowherd's pie. I slowed down but kept going. Four miles! I can do this! Almost there!

The last mile was painful, but I pushed through. If I'm honest, my secret goal was really to finish four miles in one hour. But as the hour ticked down to five minutes remaining, I knew I was unlikely to meet that goal. I picked up my pace, hoping to outrun the clock, but it was too much. I pulled my fourth mile in at 2 minutes and 10 seconds over an hour. I have never been so grateful for the cool down function on the treadmill in my life.

However, as I leaned over the handlebars gasping for breath and trying not to pass out in front of the hot, muscly guy running next to me, I realized that I just run almost a quarter of a half marathon. On my first night of training for a race that is still five months away. I can do this. I can do this!

#GymSelfie! Start of run - End of run ...

So at the end of the day, I still think I'd have preferred Dad talking me into going cow-tipping over running a half marathon, but maybe, just maybe, this will be okay too.

You better be proud of me when I cross that finish line, old man!

Last First First Day of School

Last week, all three of my kids started school. Fifi went into fourth grade, Lolly into second, and little Baby Jaguar - not a baby anymore - started Pre-K.

All three kids went into the same school building at the same time for the first time. For two years they will all be in the same building for the only time in their lives. Fifi will head off to Middle School, and from then on they'll all be off doing different things for the rest of their childhoods.

I remember Fifi's first day of P1 (the equivalent of first grade). It was different than when she went into Nursery (two years equivalent to Pre-K and Kindergarten). She was starting all-day school in a uniform like a real pupil. I cried a little. It was a big deal.

I remember Lolly's first day of Kindergarten. She did NOT want to go to Kindergarten, but I managed to convince her to try at least one day of it. And of course she loved it. I didn't cry. I was happy to see her excited and willing to stay.

Last Monday, Jaguar started Pre-K. It is like Nursery but much more formal. He doesn't wear a uniform, but it's all day and we pack his lunch and he gets a folder that we have to sign each night. Because it's not Kindergarten I didn't think I'd be that emotional about it. But then he went into class the first day. There were tables and chairs and backpack hooks and a place to put his signed folder every morning, and I realized, this was it. This was Jaguar starting school. This was the beginning of the routine he'll follow for the next fourteen years. 

He was so grown up. He wasn't shy. He was impressed by the toys and the alphabet rug and the other kids. He hastily gave me a hug and a kiss, and then I was extraneous. I said a feeble goodbye to the teacher, and Scott put his arm around me, seeing the tears spring in my eyes.

It was my last very first first-day-of-school. From now on, this is our family's routine. Kids to school each morning until Fifi graduates high school. No extra daycare stops. For this year and next we'll drop them off at the same school each morning, but the following year, they will all split up again. Lolly and Jaguar will be in school together, until Lolly catches up with Fifi, just in time for Fifi to head off to Junior High. They will chase each other through the school system until college.

All three of my kids are in school now. Jaguar was only a baby yesterday. Come to think of it, they all were just babies.

"Nothing is as far away as one minute ago."

Time passes too fast.

Operation: Kick Spring Break Tail

I have nine days in a row off work. Nine! It's Spring Break, and it's my first real vacation from work, aside from random days here and there. I am determined to make the absolute MOST of it. Operation: Kick Spring Break Tail has begun!

It started on Friday after work last week. It was an exhausting day (week, actually, no month - wait, it's ALWAYS exhausting), and I was so relieved to get home and forget about work for a week.  (That didn't really happen. I was up all through the night that night thinking about things I hadn't satisfactorily tied up and stressing about them.) It being the start of Spring Break for the kids too, I promised them they could have friends over. So Friday night, we had two extra girls in the house. Scott worked late, so I had five kids on my own all night. But I refused to let that get me down! We ate frozen pizza for dinner, and I started the break off with a bang - and by bang, I mean cupcakes!

With Cadbury's Mini Eggs

I was told by my two extra children that I was the coolest mom ever. Yes, dears, that's because I haven't yelled at you to clean your room and threatened to take away your allowance.

The next morning, we exchanged those two girls for three different children.  We kept my friends' kids (8 year old and 2 year old) over night so they could have a proper date night and went ahead and also invited over another kid to stay. Why not? Six kids? I used to keep six kids at a time as a childminder. I can take this.

We ordered pizza (pizza two nights in a row, talk about "coolest mom ever") and rented The Good Dinosaur. And ate cupcakes, of course.

Oh, and we dyed everyone's hair. Spring Break gone wild! Whooo!

Sunday morning was Secular Sunday, which is really just our and one other atheist couple's version of once-a-month church. We make a big breakfast, let the kids run around together in their pajamas, and "fellowship". The only church aspect missing is the sermon and the singing. And the praying. And the getting dressed. Okay, it's nothing like church. Yesterday, breakfast ran into lunch, and it was just a super great morning. In the afternoon, I took two of my three kids shopping for Easter outfits. We don't go to church, so it's really just an excuse to buy sweet dresses for my girls and a little suit for my boy, to wear absolutely nowhere. Yay!

Today has been an errands and phone calls day, while Jaguar watches endless episodes of Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood and the girls watch Minecraft videos on YouTube. I forgot how leisurely errands can be when you aren't doing them during your lunch break. It's 2pm, and I've spent the day getting the cars assessed, talking to the bank, taking a nap, shopping, and eating pretzels with cheese at Target. I'm considering taking another nap after this. Then I'm going to bake chocolate chip cookies from scratch. I might finish off the night with a dram of whisky and Netflix.

And y'all, it's only Monday! Whooo!

Operation: Kick Spring Break Tail is well on its way. May it never end, like Groundhog Day. 

The Pajama Fairy

Fifi is screaming, "THE PAJAMA FAIRY WAS HERE!!!!" She's running down the stairs screaming to everyone, "GO CHECK YOUR BED!" Jaguar is wide-eyed, open-mouthed, leaning out of his bedroom door, excitedly telling me, "Majaba Bairy!" Lolly is squealing.

I began telling the story of Penelope the Pajama Fairy for about six years now. I came up with the idea after hearing a radio program about unique family Christmas traditions. One woman said when she was a child, her mother would clean all the sheets and make all the beds and give every child a new pair of pajamas on Christmas Eve, to wake up on Christmas morning with a clean start. My wee girls were super into fairies at the time, and thus the Pajama Fairy was born.

Every year, at some point on Christmas Eve when the kids are out, Penelope, the fallen tooth fairy, stops by with clean sheets (sometimes they are even brand new) and a new pair of pajamas for everyone to wear on Christmas Eve night. She makes the beds and lays the new pjs out for the kids to discover when they get home.

In the McFarlane house, the Pajama Fairy is a big deal. She might even be a bigger deal than Santa.

Fifi has been begging me to write the story down for a couple of years now. So this year, I did. Maybe one day I'll find an illustrator and eventually put the story in print.  It's still in draft form, but for now, enjoy a little McFarlane family tradition and feel free to adopt it and make it your own!

Everyone yell, "PAJAMA FAIRY!"

The Pajama Fairy

***

Penelope is sad.

She is a sad fairy.

Penelope is a tooth fairy. Or was.

She is sad, because she is not a tooth fairy anymore.

The thing is, she was not very good at being a tooth fairy.

For one, she was always getting lost. 

One time the address on the Tooth Pick-Up List said 201 North Walnut Street.
Penelope got mixed up and went to 201 South Walnut Street.

Instead of collecting Jonah Rodriguez’s bottom front incisor, she returned to Toothtown, Fairyopia with grumpy old Mr Pollock’s false teeth that were soaking in a jar next to his bed. She thought she’d won the jackpot with all those teeth!

Luckily for Jonah, his grandma discovered the tooth still under his pillow the next morning and replaced it with a coin of her own. She was unhappy with the tooth fairy though.

Unluckily for Penelope, the Toothtown’s legal council, Molar, Molar & Smith, had to settle the case in court when Mr Pollock sued over his “stolen” teeth.

Another thing is she was always running late.

Once she was a whole day late. Eden Martin woke up the next morning expecting a coin under her pillow and found her tooth still there. She cried all day and stopped believing in tooth fairies at once.

Penelope got in BIG trouble for that one.

Finally, she is always counting money wrong.

The worst time was when Penelope accidentally gave Elizabeth McDonald two coins and had no money left for Ollie Baker.
She left Ollie an acorn instead with a note explaining the mix up. Ollie decided tooth fairies were not worth the trouble and told his whole kindergarten class to stop leaving  teeth under pillows. That unbalanced the entire National Tooth & Trust’s fiscal year budget.

And this is why the Board of Directors finally fired Penelope.

And this is why Penelope is sad.

You see, the reason Penelope is always getting lost and running late and losing money is because Penelope’s true calling is not collecting teeth.  Penelope’s real talent is fashion design. Pajama fashion, to be exact.

When Penelope should be checking the daily Lost Tooth Alert System  for collection assignments

or studying the maps of neighborhoods (to make sure she stops at the RIGHT houses)

or learning how to count out the correct value of coins per tooth in math class

Penelope is doodling frilly nightgowns or practicing new stitches or calculating how many yards of fabric it takes to make a pajama set.  Despite her mistakes in counting coins, she is very good at counting inches and centimeters.

Penelope was not a good tooth fairy.

But she is good at other things.

It’s also worth noting that Penelope is not sad because she got fired.

Penelope is sad, because she loves the children.  Penelope has a good heart.

When she thinks of Eden and Jonah and Ollie and Elizabeth, a tear slips down her cheek. She will never see them again.

Or will she?

Penelope has an idea!

Penelope quickly starts to sew.
She knows that Eden loves spaceships, and Ollie loves cats.
She knows Jonah’s favorite color is purple, and Elizabeth likes polka dots.

She knows which children like fleece and which ones like satin. 

She knows who prefers nightgowns, and who likes pajamas with feet.

Lovingly, Penelope designs and sews each of the children a very special, unique pair of pajamas.

It takes her all year to get everything just right.

Finally, it is Christmas Eve.  Penelope is ready. She gets special permission from the Fairy Transport Office to view the neighborhood maps again. She wants to make sure she goes to all the right houses.

While Eden is shopping with her mother for last minute gifts, Penelope slips through the window to deliver the spaceship nightgown.

While Jonah is having Christmas Eve lunch with his grandma, Penelope lays a new pair of purple fleece pajamas on his bed. (She even made the bed for him.)

While Ollie is driving around looking at Christmas lights with his family, Penelope drapes the cat footsie pajamas over his desk chair.

While Elizabeth is in the kitchen peeling potatoes with her dad, Penelope folds the polka-dotted satin pajamas on top of the laundry pile.

With each pair of pajamas, Penelope also leaves a note apologizing for all the tooth mistakes of the past.

Penelope flies back to Toothtown, Fairyopia, and waits.

The children are all so surprised! They each read the notes as they put on their new pajamas.

Penelope’s heart beats fast and a smile spreads across her face as

Eden starts believing in fairies again.

Jonah’s grandma forgives the tooth fairy.

Elizabeth placed her extra coin under her pillow with a note that said “RETERN TO SENDER”.

Ollie promises to tell all the kids in his class to trust tooth fairies again AND to start believing in “Pajama Fairies” too.

Now Penelope has children all over the world who believe in her.
She spends all year making pajamas and delivers each pair on Christmas Eve.

Penelope has found her true calling.

Penelope is happy!
She is a happy fairy!

Penelope is not a tooth fairy anymore, but this is okay.
Penelope is now who she was always meant to be.

A pajama fairy!

5 Reasons I'm Still Supermom

GLOSSARY

SAHM: Stay-At-Home-Mum

WAHM: Work-At-Home-Mum

WOHM: Work-Outside-Home-Mum

I remember the days in the not so distant past when I was the kind of mummy who wore my babies in slings, breastfed beyond two years, practiced baby-led-weaning, and swore by co-sleeping and never CIO (crying it out). I was the kind of mummy who sat around with her friends drinking tea and talking about the best way to gently discipline without spanking, why attachment parenting is the best way to go, how to prepare the best home remedies for minor ailments, and where we could find fluoride-free toothpaste. I was the kind of mummy who did crafts with her kids, read them books before bedtime, made gorgeous bento box lunches to send with them to school, and took them on playdates to the park with other SAHMs and their kids for some good old fashioned Vitamin D.

I liked being that mummy. I admire that mummy. She was pretty all right.

Now I'm the kind of mummy who forgets to send back signed forms to the school, who runs out of clean uniforms before Friday because she hasn't done the laundry, and who packs pre-packaged food in disposable, non-environmentally friendly bags for lunch.  The mummy who lets them watch too much TV so she can catch a break and shouts way too much when they get unruly.

It's so easy to compare the SAHM me to the WOHM me and see the latter as inferior.  I idealize the former and remember her as certainly far more serene than she actually was, while criticizing the latter. Here's the deal: I need to give the current me some credit. I need to stop comparing and cut myself some slack.

So instead of dwelling on all the things I'm not doing so much anymore, it's time I look at the bright side of the new WOHM me.  Here are five things I am doing right as a mother:

1. I'm modeling feminist empowerment.
This in fact is what I've been doing all along. As a SAHM, I showed my kids that a woman can do whatever she believes is right for her life. I modeled positive feminist values by choosing to stay home with my kids, while my husband supported us, because it was what I (we) believed in.  As a WAHM later down the line, I showed my kids that a woman can start her own business and be creative in finding ways to make money and support her family. I showed them that a woman can both take care of household jobs and run a business and be fulfilled in all these activities. Now, as a WOHM, I am demonstrating that a woman can have a career and be a mother, that women can be as successful as men, and that if a woman wants to work outside the home, she should do so. A woman can do whatever is right for her at whatever stage of her life she is in.  Whether she is a SAHM, WAHM or WOHM, she can be successful and fulfilled in all she does.

(As a side note, Scott has also been modeling feminist values to our children by supporting and agreeing with my work choices all along the way. He shows our son how to respect a woman's capabilities and personal autonomy, while also showing our daughters how a man can and should respect a woman's capabilities and personal autonomy. My husband is a seriously awesome feminist.)

2. I'm not afraid to say I'm sorry.
When the kids act mean or rude, I expect them to apologize. When I act mean or rude, I apologize too. Often times my fuse can be short, and I react no better than a child. When I blow things out of proportion or throw a hissy fit, I am not afraid to say I'm sorry to my kids. I'm not perfect, and if my kids haven't already discovered this, they will soon enough. Teaching them to apologize by example is a life skill I am able to teach on a regular basis! It is not a sign of weakness for a parent to apologize to a child when the parent is in the wrong; it's a demonstration of maturity and humility.

(Side note. Scott is awesome about apologizing to the kids too. We also say we are sorry to each other in front of the kids anytime we have a fight. Apologies aren't just for children.)

3. I talk to them openly about social issues and current events.
We listen to NPR in the car nearly everywhere we go (and when it's not NPR, it's really good music, which is also something we're doing right), and our kids ask us often about the news they hear. We talk openly about the current events and social issues that are discussed. Whether it's a white police officer who shot a black man for no reason, a gay couple being refused a marriage license, the presidential debates, Syrian migrants, or religious freedom, we talk openly about it. We ask the kids to think these things through themselves and encourage them to come up with their own solutions and opinions. We do our best to make our kids aware of the larger world around them and to see themselves as activists who can make the world a better place. Between our three kids, we have a future President of the United States, a schoolteacher, and a Power Ranger. How more activist could they get?

4. I laugh with them.
All these "I I I"s should really be "We We We"s. Scott is 100% all of these things too. As a family, we make a point of being silly as often as possible. We're a bunch of sarcastic so-and-sos who tease the crap out of each other and play silly pranks on each other and make jokes about everything. Sometimes things have to be taken seriously, but we make a point of being lighthearted whenever we can. Life is short and laughter is free.

5. I read.
They say one of the best things you can do for a child's academic success is have books in the home. We are rebuilding our home library after selling everything, and we make it a priority to give the kids plenty of access to books for themselves. Besides just having books in the home, we aim to actively cultivate a love of reading in our kids. We may not have the same perfect routine we used to have of reading books every night before bed, but reading is still a huge part of our family life. My youngest loves being read to, my middle is discovering how exciting it is to sound out the words and read for herself, and my oldest is never further than arm's reach away from a novel twice the size of her. And besides just encouraging them to enjoy reading, I often have my nose in a book too. Without even trying, I am demonstrating a love for reading. I carry one (sometimes two) books with me everywhere I go, and I simply love to read. Actively instilling this in them as well as modeling it in myself is a parenting win. I may not cook organic meals, but I will read the crap out of some books then pass them on to a kid.


READERS:
What is something YOU are doing right in your life? When the easiest thing to do is see all the things you're doing wrong, take a minute to jot down some of the things you are doing right, and share them here!

Just A Couple of Kids

They were just kids really. Barely able to vote, barely able to drink. Nineteen and twenty-one, chasing each other around the car park laughing, her on his knee flirting, both of them so charming, so fresh, so young. His teenage long hair straight and silky enough to entice her to reach out and touch it before thinking. Sitting close enough in a car that their barely brushing knees could ignite a wild flame of excitement and desire.  The shy pinkie fingers in the movies, so close, so close, the intensity of non-touch. The hands that finally clasped at the top of the nature trail at Cornalees. Sprawled out on a blanket outside, lying head to head, staring up at the clouds on a rare bluesky day, both silently thinking, "This is different. This time it's different."

They had so little knowledge of the grown-up world, yet there was a wisdom there, a seriousness beyond their years. When his first careful, thought-out "I love you" was followed with "I love you properly... I want to spend the rest of my life with you", he had considered those words long and hard before uttering them.  When they acknowledged that marriage involved more than fiery feelings and longing and more than even love itself, but compatible directions, goals, plans, and values, there was something a little less childlike in the works. But they were still children.

And when love and marriage involved huge life changes and personal development that took them from the young people they had been into the grown-ups they were about to become, they fought for each other anyway. They recognized that the person they married had grown into someone else, but they decided to accept each other no matter what strange new people they became.  They grew different but not apart. They grew independent but together.

They waded a lot of muddy waters and plowed a lot of snow. They stretched on warm, sunny beaches and strolled on cool, cloudy days.

Today, they snuggle close as they gaze into the horizon, wondering what the future holds, but they are so in love, they are not afraid.

Today, they look back on twelve years together, eleven years married. They smile at each other. In a way, they are still really just two kids with so little knowledge of the grown-up world. But they are together, and that's all it takes to make them happy.

'Til death do us part..

... or the fights over the remote.

Tender moments...

...and kill each other moments.

Partners in crime...

...partners in life.

But no matter what...

...I'll always dance with you.

Happy anniversary. xx

New House New Town New School

Well, we've kept it pretty quiet until it was a done deal, but this past weekend we MOVED! We moved out of Nowheresville into Somewheresville.  It's not quite the city, but Target is a five minute drive away, so I count that as a major step up in the world.

We rented a cute four bedroom house in a cute neighborhood with a cute neighborhood school and a cute-slash-awesome daycare. Instead of taking 45 minutes to get to work, it takes us 15. It's incredible.

When the house gets less boxy and more decorated, I'll take some pictures. It's an older house than the one we left, which has its advantages and disadvantages. The closets are much smaller, the bathrooms are smaller, and it's got old features like popcorn ceilings and wooden panel walls and drafty doors. BUT it's also got some adorable quirks like a wet bar, a wood burning fireplace and a Harry Potter-esque room under the stairs which will double as a fantastic storm shelter in case of a tornado.

The kids are loving the new space. It's such a big house that sometimes I actually can't find someone. Usually though, it's a cat I can't find. They are having a difficult time adjusting to their new digs. I'm trying to teach them to use the toilet instead of a litter box, with modest - very modest - success. More often than not, Sassy pees in the bathtub, but hey, it's better than the carpet! And I'm proud to report there HAVE been some poos in the toilet litter, which means it's starting to sink in on some level. If all goes according to plan, I'll have potty trained kitties in about, oh, three to four months. Worth it!

Today was the kids' first day of school at their new school. I am LOVING that they wear uniforms again. I think uniforms are a great thing for kids, at least young kids. It's easier on parents, it looks neat and tidy, and it levels the playing field for kids across the board.

Jaguar also started in his new daycare. We loved his old daycare and will miss the wonderful people there, but this daycare is super-cool. I told Jaguar they had pet guinea pigs in every classroom.  He laughed in my face and said, "No! Dinosaurs!" I had to explain to him that the daycare did not have pet dinosaurs, just guinea pigs. He didn't really believe me until he saw for himself today.

So now that we have hot water, a fridge (had to buy our own), and internet, the place is starting to feel like a home. Now we just need to stock up our wet bar (we live in a wet county again! No more driving out of city limits to buy wine!) so I can have a nice wee night cap before bed.

Things are looking up!

P.S. We have a guest room now, so if you out-of-towners want to come visit....

The Difference Between a Screen Door and a Porch

A beautiful and wise friend left a comment on my "Screen Doors" post recently. I started to reply in the comments section, but her words said so much, I decided to post them here before replying.

When you were a Christian, didn't you sometimes feel that you had to hold back about expressing your beliefs, for fear of putting a huge block in your relationship with your atheist friends? We all make mistakes and (I think) just stumble along in life. I can be quite critical of others until I realize how many time I put my own foot into my own mouth. So I am not trying to defend anything here, and I figure for every person with fairly clear thinking and fairly good motives, there may be a completely muddled and selfish person, Christian or atheist alike. But I'm trying to say that I think maybe a screen door is an attempt to avoid building a brick wall. I say this because my youngest son hit a faith crisis right about the same time you declared your atheism. I don't think he'd say he's an atheist. I think he believes there is a God; he just doesn't particularly like God right now. Between the two of you, my world has been rocked with a massive sense of loss. Yet I have hope in my Lord, and I pray for Him to reveal His light and beauty and grace. When I held my tiny baby boy and felt all that mother-love for him, when I nursed him and burped him, washed him and dressed him, cared for him and delighted in how cute he was and the funny things he said and did, I never imagined that we would be here at this point today. I still love him with all my heart, but there are many things I cannot say to him. To me, this is my screen door: I am open to him, I long to have a full relationship with him. I pray for him multiple times every day. He is always welcome in my home. I love to be able to cook for him, or do his laundry, although he rarely allows me to. When he wants to talk, I am ready, I respond. But I have to wait. I have to wait for him to open the door. My screen door is unlocked and I stand behind it watching the horizon for his silhouette, hoping like crazy that he will come home and turn the handle.

First, let me say what a beautiful picture she just painted. It brings tears to my eyes. I remember lying on my side in the still and silent hours of the night, cradling my nursing infant son in the crook of my arm and crying noiseless tears over the enormity of my responsibility to him.  As I struggled with my own faith during those days and months, I prayed with all the strength of my being that he would grow to love God and that he would be saved. Nothing frightened me more than the idea of my perfect baby boy (or either of my perfect girls) rejecting Jesus as their Savior and spending eternity in hell. I remember the passion, the pain and the desperation I felt as I begged the Lord to spare my children, to spare this innocent child at my breast, to give them all life everlasting, in spite of my own shortcomings.

I remember like it was yesterday.

And I can only imagine it gets harder with age, as these young people develop into their own selves, and create their own identities and pursue their own paths. For a believing mother to watch her child struggle with faith or turn from it completely must be heart-wrenching agony to say the least.

But to respond further to what my friend said, let me say that I don't think she has put up a screen door at all.  Judging by her words, it sounds more like she and her son are both sitting on the porch swing, sipping a glass of iced tea together and trying to understand.  They've met in the middle.

I feel like this with my own mom. I know it kills her that I'm not a believer anymore. I know her heart aches, and I know the number of tears she has shed is uncountable. But she's not hiding inside behind a screen door, keeping me out, waving to me from a distance. She has stepped outside, feeling a little out of her comfort zone, to meet me on the porch. And I too have had to step out of my comfort zone to join her there. It's not comfortable for me to face the pain my unbelief causes her, but I do not want to walk away or avoid her. I would rather walk up those steps and join her on the porch, both of us feeling a little unsure of what to say but allowing love to fill the silences.

I think that's where I used to put myself as a believer with unbelieving friends.  They weren't in my church buildings or on my mission trips, and I wasn't exactly where they were. But we met in middle. I wanted them in my church, perhaps, and they probably would've loved for me to living free and easy where they were "in the world" (as I'd have considered it). But if Christians. or any other version of believers, hide behind their closed doors or screen doors, they will never touch the lives they long to touch, and they will miss out on relationships with amazing people. And if non-believers stay off the property of believers, wanting nothing to do with them, they will miss the love and friendship of some wonderful, beautiful people. There is discomfort on both sides, and there is sometimes misunderstanding or miscommunication. But if we can join each other on the porch, we can learn to speak one another's languages and start to understand. There can be love freely given and freely received.

For me, it's uncomfortable sometimes to feel like someone's mission project. Sometimes, taking those steps up onto the porch is daunting. I am confident in what I believe (and don't believe); I don't want to preached at or "reached out to". However, until I join you on the porch, I'll never know if you've just got a religious agenda to "save" me or if you truly, genuinely care about me.

For you, it's uncomfortable to feel judged or ridiculed for your beliefs.  Taking those steps means you might be vulnerable to someone's scorn or rejection.  You might be vulnerable to your own pain and worry for them and their souls.  You don't want to be mocked or attacked, and you want to guard your heart. But until you join me on the porch, you'll never know if I just have an atheist agenda or if I just truly, genuinely care about you.

My friend, you haven't just left your screen door open and unlocked for your son.  You have confronted your discomfort and have stepped outside to meet your son on the porch. I hope he has joined you there.  I hope that it is there, in the slightly humid air, on a slightly stiff swing, that the two of you can feel the cool evening breeze of understanding and love that makes sitting on that porch worth the uneasiness that such a fundamental divide stirs within the both of you.

Dinosaur Splash! Jaguar Turns Three-osaurus

I wish I could've had the time to write some beautiful, meaningful, heart-wrenching words regarding my youngest child turning three last weekend, but with my new job and trying to throw a birthday party with next to no planning, I just didn't have the time or the energy. I also just can't face it. If we were still in Scotland right now, this little boy would be starting Gaelic nursery next month. (Never mind the child is only just starting to speak English! Speech therapy has been awesome.) To think that this baby...

... is now this kid...

... is pretty much incomprehensible. Where did those years go? He has had one busy life in his eensy weensy three years. 

So last Saturday was his birthday, and we wanted to indulge his obsession with dinosaurs while also keeping the children from dying of July heat exhaustion, so we put on a Dinosaur Splash party for him.

My amazing friends Victoria and Brian lent us use of their incredibly awesome inflatable water slide, which seriously made the party. We had paddling pools too, but only the babies were interested in those. Everyone else went bonkers for the water slide.

We tried to make it as dinosaur themed as possible. Starting with the invitations I never sent out.

(These are actually purple, not blue. Jaguar was adamant that he was having a "puhple didor" party. It had to be PURPLE or else.)

We may have never sent the invites out, but we did at least manage to make him a purple dinosaur cake. Thank you, Pinterest!

Even the inside was purple. Jaguar freaking LOVED it.

I also made a few dirt cakes with plastic dinosaurs stomping about in them. The plastic dinosaurs may or may not have been food safe, but just shhh. We don't need to talk about that.

And I even went so far as to order a dinosaur piñata. Which of course the kids had enormous fun bashing to death. Sadly it wasn't puhple, but the Boy didn't notice.

(The best part about this piñata was how the candy flew out of it's mouth when you hit it. Even I sort of squealed the glee the first time a Tootsie roll projectile vomited out of its mouth.)

I found some cute dinosaur cups on Amazon too, which I filled with dino tattoos, stampers, candy, and more probably-not-food-safe-but-whatever mini dinosaurs. I didn't get a picture of these though, because I almost forgot to even hand them out. They never made it out of the house into the backyard, actually. I hope everyone took one home anyway. If you didn't, I still have a whole box of them in my kitchen.

Can you guess which was Jaguar's favorite?

So, despite lacking my usual over-preparedness, the party was still a smash - or shall I say a "splash"? Everyone had fun celebrating my little boyosaurus's third birthday.

Fifi apparently needed goggles.

So did Lolly.

Thanks to everyone who came over to celebrate Jaguar turning three and for making his dinosaur party a hit.  We love you!

A very happy birthday boy. He slept great that night
amongst a huge pile of new plastic dinosaurs.