Category Archives: kids

Update to a tragic story

A brief update to this post.

They’ve locked the website that had her journal entries regarding her child’s medical condition, so that link no longer works.

I think everything I talked about, no matter what the true situation with this mother allegedly trying to suffocate her child, is important is view of our developing medical technology and its ethical application to the suffering and dying.

However, none of it may be applicable in this case.

A possible theory is that the mother has Munchausen’s by proxy. The website I’ve linked to here may not be the best presentation of the “disease,” but it’ll give you the gist.

I felt a certain compassion when I thought the mother may have been attempting euthanasia out of desperation to end the suffering of her baby. But to suppose for a moment that it is Munchausen’s, that the baby may never have been ill or had any birth defects in the first place… unthinkable.

I think of the times when I have accidentally hurt my child… I think the worst one was when my oldest daughter was about one, in my haste I accidentally caught a bit of her belly when I was zipping her footie jammies. There was the tiniest little cut, and she wailed for about three minutes, but the guilt went on for days, until the little owie had healed and went away. Okay, that’s not true, I still feel a little guilty. But I never made that mistake again.

Even having to say no to my child — when we can’t go to the park, when it’s too close to dinner to have another cookie, when I have to finish the dishes and I can’t read a book right now — and seeing them be genuinely sad as a result is difficult for me.

I cannot even fathom hurting a child ON PURPOSE. Your OWN child. Causing your perfectly healthy child to suffer.

I’m not sure I’m going to be able to find any compassion on this one.

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“Baby Food”

I recently found, in the Jan. 19, 2009 issue of The New Yorker, an article entitled, “Baby Food” written by Jill Lepore. I got to this quote and it just about made me cry:

“When the babe, soon after it is born into this cold world, is applied to its mother’s bosom; its sense of perceiving warmth is first agreeably affected; next its sense of smell is delighted with the odour of her milk; then its taste is gratified by the flavour of it; afterwards the appetites of hunger and of thirst afford pleasure by the possession of their objects, and by the subsequent digestion of the aliment; and, lastly, the sense of touch is delighted by the softness and smoothness of the milky fountain, the source of such variety and happiness.”

No offense, I swear I’m not a genderist, but I can’t believe it was written by a man; in 1794, Erasmus Darwin (Charles’ grandpappy) included this passage in his “Zoonomia; or The Laws of Organic Life.” I feel like it so beautifully expresses the whole, multi-layered experience. I realize it is written from the perspective of the child, and I wasn’t ever breastfed, and most of us wouldn’t remember it if we were, but it reflects so well the feeling of total satisfaction and well-being that pervades every aspect of existence when a child nurses.

I really don’t understand bottle feeding.

And the gist of the article is how many women now decide to bottle feed their breast milk. Yes, I know: work, partying, vacation sans enfants. But I’ve had to use a pump (my first baby was premature) and lemme tell ya, it ain’t fun. It is the worst of both worlds.

Whereas, in my opinion, breastfeeding, you know, out of the breast, is the best and easiest.

Anyway, if you have the slightest interest in breastfeeding or children, check out the whole article.

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Close-cropped progeny

I can never resist a request for pics (macbeck – is that you my dear artist friend?)

So here’s the little ones pre-infestation and then what I did to them to facilitate eradication of the nasty-crawlies:

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Mathilda, right?

 

Then little dude before:

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And post-buzz:

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Those parasites may be able to suck the blood from their scalps (I’m making myself itch again just thinking about it) but they can’t make them stop smiling!!!

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Further lessons in humility…

Heaven knows I’m sure I need them.

We found lice eggs on my baby son’s head, so it was time for the buzz.  He’s 20 months old and had just grown in the sweetest curls.  But he’s too squirmy to have to search through his head all the time, and I hate the thought of putting poison on his baby head, so we just buzzed him.  It made me sad.

Even sadder, I keep finding eggs and bugs in my littlest daughter’s hair, and she has never had her hair cut (only bang trims) in all her 6-1/2 years.  Her lovely brown ringlets went all the way down to the small of her back.  But enough is enough.  Luckily she and her Dad just finished the Matilda book and movie, so she is thrilled to have a cute bob just like the lead character’s.  And it does look sweet.  But me and my sentimentality, I had to shed a tear first before chopping it off.  

I feel totally drained.  Every morning this week has been spent/wasted dealing with bugs.  I poisoned all our heads Monday, but today I still found bugs in my little girl’s hair.  Back to the store, more poison, more expensive stronger brand.  Damned if there weren’t still LIVE BUGS in her hair an hour after treatment.

Sigh.

I’m going to try the oil treatment tomorrow, see if something more natural won’t do the trick (oil is supposed to suffocate them if you completely saturate your hair and leave it on for a couple hours.  And it’s not poisonous!)

Anyway, enough bitching.  Just in case anyone wondered why I haven’t had anything intelligent or insightful to say in a few days, it is because my critical powers are focussed on searching every strand of hair for bloodsucking parasites, and my eyesight has been encompassing nothing of interest.

Hope to be back in the game soon.

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Monkey pics…

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These are photos I took at a really cool park in Eugene, Oregon about 2 1/2 years ago.  It had the neatest rope climbing structure, among other things.  Joy made a nice comment about the bit I used in the header, so I thought I’d torture y’all with the whole series.  (Blame Joy!  😀  )

 

 

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The first photo was of my son, Garth, about 10 at this time.  The pic above is of Livi, who was round about 4. 

 

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I was trippin’ on the shadows, if ya couldn’t tell.

 

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More proof no thinking person needs that we are somehow related to the chimps.

 

 

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This is the rest of the Monkey Toes header photo… definitely incomplete without the shadow of her on the ground.

 

 

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My boy.

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In the True Spirit of Halloween…

I am about to commit an act of unspeakable evil. But since I admitted it ahead of time you have to forgive me!!!

A REPOST!

I am sure this is breaking the cardinal rule of blogging, but in my defense, when I first posted it a year ago, NO ONE and I mean not a single soul on this or the other side of the veil of tears read my blog.  Okay, maybe one person stumbled onto it by accident.  But now that I have some wonderful readers I cannot resist the temptation to entertain them with this holiday-appropriate article.  I do hope my sinful act is not in vain…

Halloween: Not Just for Kids

I’ve always loved Halloween – a pleasure that was condoned until I was 13. Now, at the ripe old age of 30-something, some people want to know, why do you still get into it? Well, I’m not alone. Sixty-three percent of Americans celebrate Halloween, with 30% of the adults joining the kids in costume, according to the National Retail Foundation’s Consumer Intentions and Actions Survey. Americans spend more than $4 billion a year on candy, costumes, cards and decorations for Halloween, and the holiday’s popularity has been spreading internationally. Halloween became popular in Britain after “E.T.” arrived in theaters and demonstrated the unbeatable fun of trick-or-treating. Germans see fit to blow more than $100 million a year on the holiday. And in Romania, home of the Dracula myth, revelers brave the haunted night to attend parties with vampire themes.

But the question remains in some people’s minds: why would adults enjoy participating in Halloween?

 

I have to admit that, for me, candy has a lot to do with Halloween’s appeal. (And by “candy,” I mean “chocolate.” I’m one of those for whom any candy not involving chocolate is really more “trick” than “treat.”) ‘Tis better to give than to receive, as they say, and I do enjoy opening the door and depositing a sweet in each child’s bucket, so much so it might seem I had stock in a dentist’s practice. But I’ve always got a private stash of my favorite candies close at hand and, because it’s Halloween, I can indulge to my heart’s content, though often this involves my stomach’s discontent.

Since becoming a mother of trick-or-treaters, I never have to worry about running out of candy; I always know that very soon, my intrepid young treasure-hunters will return with bags of sweet plunder, replenishing my dwindling sugar supply. The key is to talk up the Tootsie Pops and Sweet Tarts – just to distract them as I snag some of their M&Ms. (I’ve also found it useful to encourage the belief that coconut is just this side of poisonous, thus ensuring that the Mounds will all be mine.)

To the untrained eye there is an apparent inconsistency in my delight in Halloween; I won’t go anywhere near a horror flick, and indeed will scream and hyperventilate if my son creeps up behind me and says, “Boo!” in broad daylight, so why do I enjoy the creepiest of holidays? The thing is, when Halloween first started a few thousand years ago in ancient Celtic communities, it was the night when dead folks or demons were said to wander among the living. The idea of a scary costume was to frighten them off, or at least to blend in among them and not appear to be a vulnerable living target. Being the scaredy-pants I am, I can get onboard with that.

Plus I love the attention. When I was seven I dressed as an alien in a homemade green fur costume with a tinted motorcycle visor mask and twisted copper wire antennae – I got applause at every house I went to. Often the door-opener would call to other people in the house to come and see the Martian that had landed on the front stoop. That kind of childhood glory can be seriously addictive.

The creativity of costuming is a good chance to turn my imagination loose. The National Retail Foundation reports that in 2006 the most popular children’s costumes were the princess and the pirate, but I like to get a lot funkier than that. (I find that sampling the candy I bought for handing out helps stimulate the creative process.) Our family disguises have included a bellydancer, Tigger and a sorcerer, all handmade by me. It’s one thing to have a child select a pre-made costume from a rack at the big box store, but it is even more fun to have them select a pattern, fabric and notions for a custom outfit.

Even better are the get-ups whipped together five minutes before the doorbell starts ringing, like the year I was a scarecrow wearing a plaid flannel shirt, my jeans and a straw hat. To complete the effect I blackened my whole nose with an eyeliner pencil, teased my hair until it looked like a bird’s nest and grabbed some long brown grass from a neighboring field so it could stick out the ends of my sleeves and collar. My neck itched all night but it was worth it; the neighborhood kids’ eyes bugged out to see a grown-up joining in their game with such abandon.

The artistic side to Halloween continues with the decorations, especially the Jack-O-Lantern, which is derived from the ancient Celtic custom of making a lantern out of a hollowed turnip. This tradition is based on the legend of “Stingy Jack,” a swindler and a drunk who got in trouble with the devil and had to wander about with a candle in a carved-out turnip. When the Irish brought their Halloween celebrations to the New World and found a plethora of pumpkins, they upgraded this particular practice and now we have the fabulous works of art that sit on front porches with faces that beckon or threaten, depending on whether you are a trick-or-treater or a mischievous spirit. This may be my favorite part of Halloween; after all, which other holiday’s decoration preparation involves wielding a sharp knife to gut a monstrous gourd that will end up as a one-of-a-kind candle holder? (And if I find myself getting discouraged, a quick dip into the candy stash provides just the right little pick-me-up!)

Though the US Census Bureau reports that there are 109.6 million occupied housing units in America, all potential trick-or-treat stops, I believe that Halloween means more than trying to get our share of the available loot. In today’s mobile society, a lot of us get the chance to interact socially with co-workers, church groups and at school functions, but because we tend to move a lot, we seldom get to know our neighbors. Americans have gotten further and further away from the basic human need to know the folks that inhabit the same territory as we do. Halloween gives us the opportunity to accompany our kids as they knock on everyone’s door for a brief, friendly exchange.

And what a better way to greet a neighbor than with a chocolate bar!

This article was first published in The Lake Magazine

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Self-awareness

It never ceases to amaze me that at such a young age, we are aware that people are looking at us and that they think we are awesome.

Eventually it starts to mess with us, because when we go out into the world, we can’t be sure that people think we’re all that great.  Maybe we start to feel painfully self-conscious, maybe we are just making an extra effort to blend into the wallpaper, or maybe we get off on the attention.

But that pure joy of a little kid who knows he is surrounded by people who love him, who gets that smug little grin because he knows everyone thinks he is too cute… that feels so good.  Makes me feel like all is right with the world.

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What a Wonderful World

My Joy

Happy Birthday to the Joy of my life.

 

May all your dearest wishes come true.

 

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Halloween: Not Just For Kids

I’ve always loved Halloween – a pleasure that was condoned until I was 13. Now, at the ripe old age of 30-something, some people want to know, why do you still get into it? Well, I’m not alone. Sixty-three percent of Americans celebrate Halloween, with 30% of the adults joining the kids in costume, according to the National Retail Foundation’s Consumer Intentions and Actions Survey. Americans spend more than $4 billion a year on candy, costumes, cards and decorations for Halloween, and the holiday’s popularity has been spreading internationally. Halloween became popular in Britain after “E.T.” arrived in theaters and demonstrated the unbeatable fun of trick-or-treating. Germans see fit to blow more than $100 million a year on the holiday. And in Romania, home of the Dracula myth, revelers brave the haunted night to attend parties with vampire themes.

But the question remains in some people’s minds: why would adults enjoy participating in Halloween?

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Hot Dogs

Why do we call them “hot dogs” and expect kids to eat them?

One of the first words my daughter learned was “hot,” which of course was associated with “No!”, “Don’t touch!”, and “Run for your life!” So when a plate of food was set in front of her and Mama said, “Blah blah blah HOT blah!” she would certainly have nothing to do with it.

Then she learned what “dog” meant, with its close ties to “kitty,” “bunny” and “dolly,” so as expected she looked at me with horror when I suggested that she eat one.

Two strikes, in this case, and you’re out.

I’ve started to call them “weiners,” a la Oscar Meyer.

We shouldn’t run into any trouble there for a while.

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Facebook Freakout

A couple of thoughts in response to criticisms I’ve read about the latest craze.

Facebook arrives at the backlash stage.

Or maybe it really has just gone to hell the way people are complaining. But they complain in the same pompous, elitest tone that the aristocracy would use if the gardener crashed their party; “Who let HIM in? Pshaw, harumph, grumble…”

So it’s gone from the college uppercrust to the proletarian underbelly. So they’ve added a build-your-own-graveyard and a way to bitch slap your friends. I see where the critics are going with this. It’s become juvenile. People are having too much fun.

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Defining different approaches to learning

I would like to define some terms so that those who are not familiar with alternative educational movements can get an idea of the differentiation between the approaches, and those who are familiar with alternative education will know my particular take on it. I recognize advantages and disadvantages to each approach, which I will explore more fully in future essays. My objective now is simply to have a starting point and an overview.

Traditional School — studies are compulsory and involve a predetermined curriculum, though some subjects may be elective in nature; grades are almost always used; exams are a fundamental tool of evaluation; classes tend to have more than 10 students; the teacher is the expert and the authority to be obeyed, mimicked and accepted absolutely; the process of learning is tied to a building, location, establishment

Homeschool — purposeful education not tied directly to an establishment; can involve grades, worksheets, exams, an authoritarian facilitator; if there are classes (e.g. large families or homeschoolers getting together) they would be much smaller than in traditional school so that students get more individual attention; generally still involves the idea that a grownup has decided that there is a subject that needs studying and the child is convinced, by whatever method, to learn it; some type of evaluation is necessary to ensure that the target subject matter of the curriculum is successfully acquired

Unschool — what might be described as “accidental” education, meaning the learning is driven by student curiosity without bounds (other than safety and appropriateness of subject matter); subjects combine in an organic fashion so that a sudden interest in frogs might lead to biology, measurement, reading, and/or art; basic skills are learned not for their own sake but because they are vital tools to explore a chosen subject; the facilitating adult often learns just as much as the student; the idea of evaluation becomes irrelevant because there is no predetermined body of knowledge that must be acquired; the authority becomes the subject matter/reality which all participants are willingly exploring/analyzing/studying or whatever their approach happens to be, absorbing input without focussing on the act of learning itself

Free School —(sometimes even called “Free Skool”) A combination of all three approaches, wanting the advantages of a pooling of resources, community, and a set location provided by a traditional approach, the smaller classes and individual attention of a homeschooling approach, plus the open possibilities and student control of unschooling. From my experience with an alternative school as well as accounts I’ve read, such as A.S. Neill’s book “Summerhill,” I envision classes offered that students are free to choose or reject, with each class coming to their own understanding of grades, exams, etc., as well as free time and resources to explore, study and/or work on whatever the individual is inspired to put their energy into

I admit having had in the past, with vestiges probably visible presently, a strong aversion to traditional school, though personally I was highly successful in that environment. As my older children have entered public school I have seen firsthand the advantages of this setting for them and have tried to minimize the disadvantages. This on the heels of having my ideal of a free school come into serious question with my experience at an alternative school. I believe I am moving toward a somewhat detached objectivity, realizing that nothing is perfect, though we must always strive for perfection. I know that my love of this world has only grown, and my joy of learning and of being present for others’ discoveries about this world will always keep me interested in trying to work out the best process and environment for education. For those reading this who share similar interests, I hope we can exchange ideas, dreams and experiences to enrich each other’s understanding.

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The Adventure of Homeschooling

I homeschooled my oldest until she was 12, my second child until he was 10. My five year old I am keeping out of kindergarten this year to have at least one more year with her. I have always loved learning and the greatest joy of parenting for me is being there when my kids follow their curious natures and end up in a place of wonder. This can apply to something as seemingly insignificant as “discovering” a new bug they’ve never seen before to something as necessary as a fundamental understanding of addition. To me it is all important and wonderful. Even though two of my kids are in traditional schools this year, I am still involved as much as I can by helping them study and giving whatever support I can.

My background in education is pretty varied. I have tutored numerous times, done an internship with a middle school Spanish teacher, spent two years as a French instructor at a major university, for three years volunteered many hours every week at an alternative “unschool,” developed curriculum for language education, plus many hours dreaming of the ideal learning environment and process, which to me is an infinite task since we all approach the world differently and thus need a slightly different presentation.

My major problem with traditional education is how much it limits the students through evaluation, literary canon, impersonal standards, just a general attitude of authoritarian implementation of limited subjects. Ideally I think that learning should be fueled by the natural enthusiasm and curiosity that children are born with and will retain if this spirit is not crushed early on. However, I am old enough to realize that my ideals must be tempered with realistic expectations so that they can best serve real needs in the real world.

The major obstacle I have encountered in my experience with homeschooling is that, at a certain age, a child’s natural need and desire to separate from their parents makes every lesson a torture. The kids want to explore further, they want to interact with adults that might be more compatible with their temperaments, they want to differentiate themselves to be their own individual. Their parents still have a lot to offer them, of course, they always will, but at a certain age they need other (safe) people to interact with and learn from/with. They just get too much direction and controlling oversight from their parents all day long, and it becomes too much. (I recognize that a lot of this may just be a result of my personality!)

In addition to other topics I explore, I will be writing essays reflecting on my experience with education, exploring various philosophies and ideas about learning, and also just dreaming about the possibilities for the future. I welcome questions, comments, ideas, and feedback.

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Adolescence

How depressing is it to watch this generation have to go through the same internal tortures and external conflicts that we went through. I remember being a teenager, it sucked ass, pardon my language but such a state of being requires strong language, in my opinion. (One of the most nightmarish songs I’ve ever heard is by Nirvana and has lyrics something like, “You’re in high school again…” NOOOOO!!!)

I remember being a teenager and vowing that if I had kids, when they were teenagers I would be perfectly understanding and that would keep the strife down to an absolute minimum. Fat chance. It is not enough to be understanding when someone’s job is to get out from under your absolute control, find their own way, their own interpretation of the world, to become independent of your approval. The strife is, perhaps, unfortunately, a necessary component of this job.

I swore I would let my kids make their own decisions, let them take their own consequences, let them shape their own lives. This is a noble aspiration, totally realizable when they are 18, but how much before then? When you know that you are legally and morally responsible for someone’s well-being, for giving them the best possible start to their adult lives, which mistakes do you let them make? How serious can these mistakes be? You as the parent can claim that the consequences are theirs alone, but really, everything is your responsibility until they are truly adults. Certainly, midnight of their 18th birthday is a random and essentially meaningless moment for this advancement to magically happen, I acknowledge this, but if not then, when?

In what other job besides parenthood does the person you are “working for” despise you when you do what you truly believe in your heart is the right and good thing?

It is difficult also for me to accept that, to this young person, my more experienced perspective as an adult and a parent mean precisely shit. I have suffered and struggled, thought and reasoned, felt and hurt, and to have that all be of no use to anyone is sad and discouraging. But looking back, I didn’t give a crap what my parents had learned, what they thought, or how any of that would shape my life if I let it. Again, the necessary move to independence.

I truly believe that the village should raise the child, and the child should have a lot more exposure to (safe, known) adults who would be more compatible, both in interests and temperament, who could act as mentors. Because children are not going to listen after a certain point to their own parents, this is contrary to the primary project of their development. And so we are all stuck, Mommys and Daddys in a box, with our own naturally rebellious children, with no healthy interchanges between families and generations, because we are so afraid of our neighbors and so attached to our idea of the nuclear family, even if it blows up in our faces.

I saw an elderly lady at Walmart yesterday and she cooed at my 5 month old for a few minutes, and she said, “I wish you lived next door, then I could rock you and sing to you.” I thought of all the times during the day when the kid is fed, changed, fully attended to, but still cries for interaction while I stare at the dishes piled up, laundry reeking, books unread, older kids scrambling for attention, and I thought, if only. If only I could hand the baby off to a grandma or grandpa person for an hour or two, both of whom are dying to coo at each other while I am dying to get things done. If only teens could go over to someone’s house who could teach them some skill they wanted to know, and maybe learn how to live at the same time. If only we could all, babies, adolescents, adults at all stages, be there for each other and get what we need from each other, besides just a passing moment in a stupid store. If only.

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A new experiment with an old profession

Not the “oldest” profession, of course. Why is prostitution considered the oldest profession? Because motherhood and homemaking are not considered a profession. They are givens, unpaid and disrespected, something one has to do because they love their family members too much to neglect them. I am currently in the middle of Life Experiment #2, attempting for the second time to walk the path of mother and homemaker without an outside “real job”, balancing the needs of six people, one of which is my own self soul, who periodically begins to whine and pine for some attention and spoiling.

It is always interesting to me the attitude of the social workers, whose assistance I have always had the misfortune to require (but the fortune of being able to attain). On the one hand they don’t want you to abandon your children under a dumpster, so they talk up the joys and wonder of motherhood, handing out an entire trees worth of pamphlets telling you how to coo at them and immunize the hell out of them. Out of the other side of their mouths they will ask you, don’t you want to be sterilized now, and demand to know what birth control you will be using, and don’t you think you’ve played at this game long enough. Far from being acknowledged as the biological objective of our entire existence, which I agree can and should be circumvented if an individual does not desire to participate, parenthood is in our modern world a hobby, and if you can’t afford it because there are no jobs with living wages available in our capitalist system, then you should just sterilize yourself and go back to flipping burgers.

Even more interesting is going out with the baby, and having people ask me if it’s my first, and then seeing their eyes go buggy when I say, “No, my fourth.” Four? Why in God’s name would anyone want four? Can’t you control yourself? But they don’t say anything out loud, maybe because we are in the polite South, they just smile, move slowly away in case it is contagious. But to answer the unspoken questions, what else is there that is even half as fulfilling as parenthood? (I fully realize and accept that some people could come up with a long list of things, and I appreciate the diversity of our individual experience.) To see them learn something new, to see them swim deep in their imaginations, to hear the wise words they use to describe the world, to see their satisfaction at a new achievement, to see their amazement to observe something I have come to take for granted. An addictive hobby, I must say, but one that requires every ounce of passion and dedication, and then we still don’t do a perfect job. I am doomed to screw it up and be despised by each of them from the onset of teenagehood until approximately age 25 when they begin to realize that they are adults and have the power and responsibility to do as they will with their own lives, despite any of my mistakes. Hopefully they will realize that their mother did the best she could, and they will do even better.

Maybe that is the point, the desire to move into the future in the only way possible, recreating your own flesh, which you infuse with your own knowledge, dreams and ideas, to which the new individual adds and subtracts with their own unique imagination and drive until the connection with their parental origin is only the tiniest umbilical thread, impossible to sever. We like to pretend in this modern world that we are alone in the universe, but behind each one of us is a huge crowd of ancestors, a legacy of individuals, now mostly faceless and nameless, who spent a good portion of their life energy ensuring the survival of the next generation. Picture your favorite deceased grandparent and imagine how much they are pulling for you in this world, then multiply that infinitely back through time. What if the momentum of these centuries of striving to succeed could be claimed and harnessed, and we could do great things with this wind at our backs?

And if I stop wanking poetic for a minute and just admit the truth, these four kids are the four coolest people I’ve ever met. Why wouldn’t I want to make hanging out with them my job?

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