This is it

Do you ever realize in the middle of a totally normal day, "This is my life"? Not an exciting, unusual day, or a bummer of a day, but a completely par for the course day. This is it! I'm living my life.

I had one of those moments yesterday. I think I was cleaning the kitchen while my kids ate breakfast. I do this every day. If I were some kind of zen master I could probably hold that consciousness all the time. As it was, I had a little blip of awareness and then Marie spilled her cereal all over the floor and I lost it (the awareness not my temper).

It is strange getting very near 40. I mean, I am OLD now. Do you remember when you were a kid? Forty year olds were way up there! Now it is just strange. I keep thinking I had really better start squeezing all I can out of life. I could be half way through!

Playing Peggle is probably not a good way to get all I can out of my life. I mean, I don't think I'll be lying in the old folks home reminiscing about all the wonderful Peggle levels I mastered. You know?

I wonder what I will remember. I don't remember much even now. Too much...well, my kids might read this some day, better not say why my memory is less than it could be.

Hopefully I can remember the important things, the joyful and funny things. My girls rolling around on the floor together laughing. The way my son always taps me on the shoulder - its our secret way of saying "I love you". How great it is to snuggle into bed with my honey at the end of a long day. Speaking of which.....

Pegglicious

We are becoming Peggle addicts! My hubby and two eldest kiddies are having a Peggle tournament this evening and it is intense!

If you've never played before, it is a silly game in which you shoot a ball at circles and squares - trying to eliminate all of the red pieces before you run out of balls. Of course there are super graphics, silly & surprising sounds and Beethoven's Ode to Joy bursts out when you complete a level. Each new level has more pieces, harder to reach but with more secret weapons to help you get them.

The pressure is on.
Round 1 - I am the champion - yes!
Round 2 - I am in 3rd place ):
Round 3 - my turn is coming up soon - can I do it? will the pressure get to me?

My hubby had words with me for being harsh w/ my daughter - she gave me lame advice and I took it! Arg! I totally could've gotten more points if I had done it my way. POINTS! POINTS! POINTS!

But she is totally sweet.

"Good job Mom!" she says whenever I do well.

When I complain she keeps saying,"Trust your luck!" optimism.....hmmm.....

My family doesn't realize how dangerous it is to get me back into compute games. I haven't played in years - ON PURPOSE! Now it is 9:15pm and past their bedtimes and we're still going. My competitive, addictive side definitely shows up in the computer game realm.I hope I win! I hope I win!

And how do I save face if my seven year old daughter beats me?

What a way to start the week....

Full Body Experience

Tonight I had the most amazing singing lesson.

My voice is usually thin and quivery which makes me feel less than confident up on the stage singing at church. It doesn't help that the worship leader often tells me to smile more and to "go up to hit the high notes." To top it off I am usually about a head taller than any of the other singers on stage which brings up my height insecurity. So there are many reasons for my singing anxiety.

But tonight my voice was rich and full. It sparkled. It resonated! It was vibrant!!! I couldn't believe it was coming out of my mouth. My teacher had me do all these crazy exercises to get my body involved in singing. Surprisingly, singing is a full body experience. He says my head is not well connected to the rest of my body (which doesn't bode well for me in other arenas of life...)

I sang standing with my back against a wall. I sang while pushing with all might might against a wall. Hands on my head. Hands pressing air down like I was pushing myself up out of a pool. Arms swinging and gesturing like a shakespearean actor. That did the trick. As long as I throw my arms around wildly and imagine I'm singing out the back of my head I sound fantastic!

Truly, I sang like I have never sang before. It was thrilling. And yet I felt so vulnerable at the same time. Singing like that is like opening yourself up and sharing something inside of you that, at least for now for me, feels pretty intimate. I never thought singing would be this intense.

Can you picture me throwing my arms about on stage with the worship team? But, you know, baby steps, baby steps. For now I guess I'll just sound fantastic in my room and at my singing lessons. Until I learn how to embody the whole shakespearean thing without whacking the vocalist next to me.

Bees need disco

I read an article the other day saying that bees are dying. Lots of them. Millions of them. All over the world little honey makers are keeling over. Why? Oh, yeah, global warming no doubt...snore...snort..huh?...what? Oh yeah, bees dying.

So if this is really happening, then do you know what this means? NO MORE HONEY! At least that is what my 7 year old daughter concluded. My conclusion was much scarier. Who is going to pollinate our world's crops? What is going to happen to our food supply? Seriously folks - this could be bad.

Those poor bees. Maybe they forgot how to dance. Did you know they dance to show each other how to get back to the flowers? Maybe they need a little disco soundtrack to help them get their groove back. Shake your groove thing, Shake your groove thing, yeah! heah!

Is it time to stock up again on non-perishable foods? (remember Y2K?) Should I clean out my old plastic food-grade buckets and fill them with beans and corn meal? Time to rotatill the front lawn in preparation for planting our own food?

Think about it....

What I want

OK, I am going for the gusto. I am creating a list of gift items I would like on any special occassion. At the risk of offending a certain someone (who usually gives wonderful presents!) I am going out on a limb to make my desires crystal clear.

Drum roll please.......

- 24 carat gold or sterling silver hoop earings 1in. diameter
- Leonidas chocolate: dark chocolate with ONLY CHOCOLATE GANACHE, COFFEE, MOCHA, RUM OR BAILEY'S FILLINGS (certainly not cream or fruit filled and for goodness sakes no nuts!)
- anything from Anthropologie
- NO ELECTRONICS (unless it is a Mac laptop - whatever they are called these days)
- a night out on the town
- tickets to see/hear Beethoven's 5th symphony
- a weekend getaway with no kids

That's it - I can not think of anything else that I would want.

I am really a simple girl at heart.

Dear Mr. Rousseau

Jean-Jacques Rousseau April 10, 1763
Montmorency
France


Dear Mr. Rousseau,

Having just finished reading your essay, The Social Contract, I feel compelled to write to you in the perhaps vain hope of persuading you of the errors in your reasoning. Mayhap you will perceive my attempt as arrogant or rude, though I certainly hope as a man of learning you will be willing to open your mind to the thoughts of one who has read not a little bit on the subject and who cares deeply about it.

Beginning your endeavor with man in a state of nature and attempting to deduce human nature from this situation is an allowable and familiar starting point for political thought. John Locke (have you read his Second Treatise of Government?) began in the same place, though ended up with results quite different from your own. I perceive that your assessment of that state is mostly accurate, that “no man has any natural authority over his fellows and force alone bestows no right”. However, I disagree with you upon one point. You hold that an individual has no right to property before entering into the social compact, and only claims possession. This I cannot accede to for the right to property is a natural extension of the right to life which preexists government, but more on that later.

You rightly conclude that self-preservation leads men to join together in a social contract. The error occurs in your account of how they join. In your essay you describe the union of individuals into “a people” as “the total alienation by each associate of himself and all his rights to the whole community”. Here, sir, lays the difficulty.

I hold that we are each of us endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable rights including, but not limited to, life, liberty and property. These rights exist in a state of nature (though they may be violated therein) and are based upon human nature. Since our life is a gift from and the property of God, we have no right to destroy our own or any other human life. The great Locke offered these words on the matter; “No body can give more power than he has himself; and he that cannot take away his own life, cannot give another power over it.” Even were I not to appeal to the Almighty as the foundation of human nature, I would have to insist that in all questions of morality, life is the standard of good. The preeminence of the will to survive in human nature negates the possibility of one giving up the right to life.

The rights of liberty and property are the logical extensions of the right to life. For how can man preserve his life if he is not free to act as he best sees fit? He must own his life in order to maintain it. And when, in support of his existence, his labors accrue value to land or materials, they become his property. How would he be free to, say, grow crops for sustenance if he is not entitled to the harvest? It is inconceivable that man would give away the right to the fruit of his labors. To deny man the right of property is to deny the rights of liberty and life.

The logical extension of your premise, that life is a gift “received conditionally from the state” is not only absurd it is blasphemous. Only God creates and gives life. And, if self-preservation is the motivation which draws men into the social contract, why would they desire to give away their right to life? It is preposterous!

According to you all rights are exchanged and placed “under the supreme direction of the general will”. I cannot but foresee disastrous results arising from this unsound foundation. If the people retain no rights, there is no defense against the abuses and usurpations of the majority (which, as you say yourself, is not always enlightened), no safeguards can protect them. If the general will need not be unanimous on all votes, then what is to stop the will of the majority from abusing the minority?

Please don’t tell me about your enlightened lawgiver who will do the Herculean task of producing a body of law so enlightened, so beatific as to never allow for corruption and abuse. Where is this man? Who is he? And what mystical occurrence accounts for his superiority over the rest of the people who, though sovereign, aren’t enlightened enough to know what is best for them?

No, I predict that your incorrect reasoning upon this matter will lead to a totalitarian government that abuses its citizens in the name of the general will. To discourage relations between individuals whilst encouraging relations between individuals and the state is a corruption of human nature. What kind of man would have stronger sympathies and affections towards an amorphous mass called “the sovereign” than towards his own family and friends? If such men existed, it could only spell doom for humanity.

You must forgive my vehemence upon this matter. I submit my candid thoughts to you with respect and implore you to give them due consideration.

Be please to accept Sir a tender of my cordial and respectful salutations.

An American Thinker

Happy Anniversary Honey

Our fifteenth anniversary was the best - we spent a week in Hawaii alone. No kids! It really was paradise; eating, sleeping (wink, wink), reading on the lanai, surfing, snorkling, turtles, dolphins, whales.....aaaah.

Now it is our sixteenth anniversary. You bought me my favorite chocolates, bath salts because I love taking baths, and a nice, metal travelling coffee mug so I don't die from toxic poisoning from melting plastic. You are so sweet. I haven't bought you anything yet. I do not have my act together. All I want to do this year is take the kids to the Mission Santa Clara where we were married.

I still remember walking to class so early in the morning with my hippie beanie on my head and birkenstocks on my feet and seeing this guy with big hair walking the other way. You said "hi" every time. Not everyone said "hi" to me.

We officially met at a party at the Dives. I was pretty drunk. I don't think you were. You showed me your surfboards and never touched me. Hmmmmm.....that was different.

At first I hated driving in your baby blue convertible bug, because it was so noisy and didn't go very fast. Later I loved it. You taught me how to drive a stick shift. I remember the warm air of summer blowing over us as we drove to a bowling match with my brother and his girlfriend. We lost.

I cried and cried and broke my heart when I left for Spain. I almost went crazy with missing you.

Remember fettucini? and Dove bars?........

You proposed on Mt. Diablo on a sunny spring afternoon. You had written a note on each flower you gave me, one by one, telling me how the flower symbolized your love for me. Wow. What a guy.....

We were such kids when we got married. I didn't even know everyone at our wedding because me parents invited all their friends. But it was a beautiful ceremony. I was so happy walking back down the aisle afterwards. "Yes! We are married!" It felt so right.

In the first years we struggled quite a bit. You going to grad school. Me being a demanding, controlling, spoiled girl (well, maybe I exaggerate but seriously! I was a pain sometimes). But I had a good side too. Remember the party I threw for you when you finished grad school? You said it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

We waited five years to get pregnant. What a huge life change! Can you believe we have three now? Isn't it strange to still be the kid you have always been, but also be someone's parent?

Remember when Richard was a little guy? Remember how happy and proud your Dad was to finally have a grandson? Richard was so huge and round and chubby! He talked so early and has been ahead of the game mentally ever since. Now he writes papers on Da Vinci and figures out how the make the computer compute all the prime numbers from 1 to 1,000,000.

Then Rose came along. Born at home in Montara. Remember walking in the hills the day I was in labor. You kept saying, "shouldn't we get home now?" She is so sweet and has a huge heart. She inherited your math mind; sees patterns everywhere.

Of course so much other stuff happened in between all those years: lay-offs, new houses, Kayumari, new jobs, trips, parties, hard times, good times. There is no way to sum them all up.

And now we have Marie. She has changed her outfit twice since I've been writng. She is in her dragon costume presently. She makes us laugh.

I may figure out something to purchase for you today - hopefully something you'll like. But I felt like I really wanted to write about us today.

Happy Anniversary honey, I love you!

Sue

Oh God of Potty Training,

Please let my daughter potty train soon. Please fill her with the desire to put her bodily wastes in the toilet, and the conviction that she can do it.

Oh, hear my cries for no more poopy diapers that get poop on my hands no matter how hard I try. Oh answer my plea to never again experience poop dropping out of the diaper, down her leg, onto her shoe and smooshed all over the floor at Cost Plus World Market. Let your grace fall upon me so I can just say, "Go to the potty before bed, please," instead of the nightly trudge to the changing table.

I know you are a merciful God of Potty Training, and all children learn at some point.

Please end my misery soon.

Brain at Capacity

When I was younger I was pretty darn organized. I was easily able to keep track of things, remember dates and I was never late. Now I realize that my brain was not yet filled to capacity - I hadn't had kids yet.

My first baby was only mildly disruptive to my overall sense of having my act together. I do recall "breast milk brains"; my thoughts just didn't range to deep or wide during that first year of nursing. But in general I was still pretty on top of things.

Now I have three children, ages 10, 7 & almost 3. And being the non-mainstream, slightly controlling person that I am, I've chosen to educate my kids at home. I am the teacher, the yard nard, the principle, the curriculum planner, the counselor, the facilities manager, the bus driver, the special ed. teacher, the cafeteria cook and the janitor. This in addition to being a wife, a church volunteer, a friend and a human being who wants and tries to a) continue her own education and b) train enough so that she doesn't die at the triathlons she has signed-up for.

The realization has been slowly creeping up on me that my brain is just about at capacity. When I had only once child I tried to explain what it was like to a friend who was then childless: You know when you go on a long hike, you have to prepare. You get your trail mix, water, jacket, sunscreen, hat...etc. When you have a baby you have to do a similar process every time you leave the house plus carry a squirmy bundle along (with a lot heavier equipment).

Homeschooling three kids is like that but exponentially more complex. My thoughts from the moment I wake up until I write this blog are almost completely occupied with thoughts about my family. Another way to say it is that I rarely get time to think about just ME! This blog is an attempt to make that time.

Even as I write my toddler crawls in and out of my lap, trying to type along. I have to bribe her with pens, PENS!, so she'll go color on a wall somewhere and leave me alone. I may never see that pen again, or I may find it in my shower tomorrow.

Here is a snapshot of my crowded brain at midday:

"Mom! Come look at the new website I made!" (have to adequately appreciate my son's brilliance - and care lots about Lord of the Rings)
"Mama I'm stuck" (have to help daughter with intricacies of multiplying fractions)
"Up, I want uppieeeee!" (have to pick up or distract...with what? what?)
"What's for lunch?" (I have no idea - what have we got...let's see....corn...bread...)
Need to sweep floor (sweep floor - daughter cries "Don't sweep up my hair clips!")
Go to bathroom (baby always present, pulling toilet paper off roll)
Change diaper (yuck, yuck, yuck - can't wait for potty training)

Sadly, my house has become one where things have a high chance of getting lost. Unfortunately, I have not mustered the energy to stay current on Iraq, global warming, and most important world threatening issues. I feel so dumb sometimes when I talk with people who somehow manage to be conversant and have opinions on these matters.

I do manage to read quite a bit. That is my saving grace. Lately it has been a very fun science fiction series called the Ender series. I also read lots of classics that I should have read in high school and college but somehow never did. (what's up with that anyways? my folks paid a lot of money for my college!) Last year I even spent time reading books on constitutional history and quantum physics and biographies of famous mathematicians. I want to get back to that, but I just don't have the umph right now.

So what is the point of all this? Just to say that I am maxed out! It's not that my brain is full, it is just slow because of too much information coming in and running around inside. I know there is a computer analogy here somewhere but I'd probably get it wrong. (ever notice how people married to techies are pretty lame themselves at technical things? or is that just me?)

It is fitting that I have no idea how to end this blog.

So there.

New Territory

I can't write about my grandma's death process yet. Maybe someday, maybe never.

But I can write what the first day is like. The first day when I am alive and she is dead.

Yesterday she was breathing. Yesterday I held her hand. Today I unexpectedly and spontaneously cry for 20 seconds and then stop. The sorrow sweeps over me and then leaves.

Little reminders pop up. I called my uncle this morning and saw her name above his in my address book. I opened the drawer to find a pie cutter tonight and there was the one she made for me. My kids were laughing about how Wile E. Coyote never gives up trying to catch Road Runner. "In real life he'd die of starvation" I said. My grandma hadn't eaten for weeks.

It is hard to adjust to the reality that someone who has been there your whole life is gone. Strange and new territory for me. A friend who lost her mom once told me she was afraid if she didn't feel the pain over her death she'd lose closeness with her mom. Now I know what she meant.

Goodbye GranNina

Goodbye GranNina

Goodbye fancy lady who always had her hair done, her jewelry on and her nails painted.

Goodbye funny lady who had a boyfriend in her nineties.

Goodbye old fashioned lady who made jam for us each year. I always loved pushing in the wax seal.

Goodbye my namesake, who only had one name. You used to say, "I guess they ran out of middle names by the time they got to me."

Goodbye silly lady who could never explain what "trump" means in bridge. I always laugh when I hear you say, "Trump is TRUMP!" as if that would somehow make it all clear to me.

Goodbye southern lady. You always called me "NinaSue" with that adorable southern drawl.

Goodbye lovely lady. GranDaddy was so in love with you. I was shocked when I read his letters to you.

Goodbye quick lady. For most of my life you walked faster than I did.

Goodbye rich lady who always wanted to wear St. John's outfits - you looked fabulous when you did!

Goodbye crafty lady. We all love your hand sewn quilts and crocheted afghans. They keep my baby warm at night.

Goodbye smart lady who played bridge until she was 97.

Goodbye traditional lady. I loved Christmas at your house as a kid. I could spend hours looking at the dolls from all over the world on your Christmas tree. And I loved playing charades even when my brothers didn't.

Goodbye old lady who was born almost a century ago. My kids love hearing about you going around with your father the doctor in the horse drawn buggy. Your family had the first car in your town. Your mother's name was Ara. I always thought that was a beautiful name.

Goodbye proud lady. You asked for lipstick and nice clothes on your way to the hospital the day before you died.

Goodbye matriarch. You so loved seeing and hearing about your grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Goodbye mother of my mother. You may not have always been a perfect mother. But I know you loved your daughters and that love flows on through my family.

Goodbye GranNina. You were the matriarch of our family. You were a one-of-a-kind southern belle. I will always remember you with love.

Love your granddaughter,

Sue

Why I could never be Catholic

I recently attended my grandmother-in-law's funeral. It was actually a happy time since she was 96 and ready to go. Plus we got to have a family reunion and see all those who live far away and drink lots of wine together.

I came away from the experience strongly convicted that I could never be Catholic. I think you have to grow up Catholic, or spend a whole lot of years as a Catholic to not think that it's pretty wierd. Stand, sit, kneel, repeat with lots of "and also with you"s and occasional mumbled responses that no one but the Catholics can understand. And don't even get me started about Mary being enthroned as the Queen of Heaven. Where is that in the Bible? NOWHERE!

So, while I completely respect my in-laws devotion to their church, I breathed a deep sigh of relief that I never converted. I almost did right after Joe and I got married, but the Papal Infallibility Oath was the deal-breaker for me. No can do on that one. Phwew!

I think praying the "Our Father" is the only memorized poem I can go for, since it is the one Jesus himself taught.

Proud Mama

Is it strange that one of the proudest moments in my life was not for myself, but for my ten year old son? I mean, I have had some pretty decent accomplishments in my life: many, many swimming awards, the top Spanish speaker in my high school, birthing my three children at home. But I don't recall having my heart swell with love and pride quite as much as last weekend when I witnessed my first born come in 2nd place in a fencing tournament.

Let me put this in context. We had signed Richard up for this tournament in Pasadena and schlepped all five of us in two cars down the six hour drive, stayed at a crappy hotel just so he could have this experience. I had been praying that he would do his best, have a great time and come away with good memories. Getting into the top 8 in his age group would have been quite an accomplishment, and I was hoping for that.

There were hundreds of fencers on probably more than fifty strips (fencing lingo) in the Pasadena conference center. I did my duty as the fencing mom; following my son around with his equipment, handing him water and snacks in between bouts and being generally supportive. Mind you, my hubby and I were also keeping an eye on our two year old daughter, making sure that she didn't run across the strips during a bout, changing poopy diapers when needed and generally wandering around with her (as two year olds are incapable of staying in one place for more than a few minutes). Rose, our seven year old was perfect and only required minor watching.

As a relative newcomer to the world of fencing, I am still quite baffled by the rules and judging that goes on. Richard has tried to explain it to me but it is obviously over my head. So after each of his bouts at the tournament, I would ask, "How did you do?" I never could tell if he won or lost.

Turns out he got third place in the pools. This is the time when all the fencers in an age group fence all the others and then get ranked. Third place - pretty good! So while first place and second place fencers got to rest during the direct elimination portion (DE's), my beloved son struggled mightily, bout after bout, winning again and again. Granted, he is a head taller than all the other boys, but some of those little ones are quick! Grandma and Grandpa showed up to watch, noooo pressure.....

On to a confusing and scary bout in which an equipment failure allowed Richard's opponent to gain 3 points and win the first round. After ten minutes of umpires or referrees or judges or whatever you call them standing around arguing about whether to start over or let the points stand, they decided to let them stand. And still my boy came back to win! Hooray!

Then a short man with a big nose sidled up to me and said, "So, your son against mine for the championship". Then everything went into slow motion.

"Huh?" I mumbled. "What do you mean?" My vision blurred. My brain struggled to...make...the...connections...It was a surreal moment.

"Weeellll..." he said, looking at me like I was pretty lame, "if your son wins, he gets the gold. If my son wins, he gets the gold."

The GOLD? That means that Richard got second place no matter what? YIIIPPPEEEE! YAHOOOOO! Who cares what happens in the next bout, my son got SECOND PLACE! For the rest of the day (and he did happily lose to the little bugger in the last bout) I walked around with my heart bursting. I was so full of pride in my son!

So, does this mean that I truly, but secretly, am a super-competitive aggro-Mom? Or was I just so relieved that Richard didn't get clobbered and discouraged and want to quit fencing? Do most Moms feel this way? I am choosing to believe that I am very happy for him, that he is so proud of himself for achieving something big all on his own.