The Crotchety Persons' Road Guide

Hello loves,

Well, I have been a busy girl this summer. I changed jobs, dealt with some health issues, and got to drive the length and breadth of the entire state of Alabama while training.

Since I drove 1000+ miles in August, I have seen some things. I feel like we need some rules.

1. A mattress on top of a car is never a good idea. A mattress on top of a car on an interstate is always a bad idea--many new mattresses on the side of the road. (Collecting a mattress off the side of the road? Also a bad idea, just sayin').

2. Stay in one lane if you're riding a motorcycle, not on the line between two. Also, just stay away from me(Cerulean Rav-4), it's too stressful for me. I am constantly worried that I'm going to squash your head like an errant watermelon.

3. Speaking of watermelons, I will stop at your farmstand if you give me fair warning. Maybe you don't want tourists, but a handpainted sign 250 yards in front of your corner is not enough. I need a mile, with a half mile reminder. The last sign needs parking directions. I don't want to park on someone's lawn and get shot. Ditto for antiques and jams and jellies and pickles.

4. If you know you have bad tires or an unreliable car, don't drive 80 in the left lane. Duh.

5. If you're going to smoke, don't throw your cigarette out the window. Gross. If you don't like the smell of cigarettes in your car, buy some nicotine gum.

6. If you are driving a semi and you want to change lanes, use your blinker. You have a sign on the back of your trailer that says "if you can't see my mirror, I can't see you." I'm assuming that means if we've made eye contact in your mirror, you do see me and merging into my car IS NOT COOL. Also, get rid of those naked lady silhouettes on your mudflaps. You are neither Smokey, nor the Bandit.

7. When I see a truck with a pair of testicles hanging from your trailer hitch, I assume those are yours and you had them surgically removed and bronzed for posterity. Why, I do not know, but nobody wants to see that. Calvin peeing on anything is so 90's and why do you need 17 Realtree stickers on the back of your car?

Also, regarding trucks, why do you bother to buy the camouflage package when you have no muffler and a jet engine? The animals know you're coming from three counties away. I guess it's easier when the black smoke you're belching is making the doves just fall in to the truckbed.

8. When one is at a gas station, please turn down the radio. I don't blast "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" or "Fresh Air". I don't want you to accidentally learn something, I'll feel less superior. I am certain you don't want me to sing your song back to you, with my mom voice. Oh and PLEASE DO NOT SPIT WHERE I HAVE TO STAND TO PUMP MY GAS. There is nothing more foul. Your mother would be so disappointed. If you must, find some grass, or at the very least, spit in the trash can. **Once you are out of the 7th grade, no one is impressed by your ability to spit long distances.**

9. When everyone on the highway has stopped for an accident or roadwork and you drive up the shoulder and try to work your way into traffic, do not be visibly annoyed that no one will let you in. You are a jerk. Unless you have blue lights flashing, or a women who is breathing through one-minute-apart contractions in your back seat, keep your pants on(btw, pregnant people, learn breathing techniques. If you find yourself in a weird labor situation, you'll thank me).

10. Acknowledge roadway kindness! If some poor sap takes pity on you and your shoulder-driving ways and lets you in, wave. Smile even. It is the right thing to do.

My darlings, please send me all the rules you would like to add. We'll call it the "Crotchety Persons' Road Guide."

All the love,
Corks
 

please be kind.

OH friends,

I have sat down to the computer about 5 times over the last month to try and make sense of everything and each time I've been left with nothing. So, I'm trying again. It may just be a bad idea, I'm not sure, but 2.5 units of Chardonnay says,"give it a shot!"

There is so much ugliness and hate swirling around these days. It feels like the summer heat has caught us in an updraft of anger and no amount of air conditioning or pool water will dampen it. People are dying because of this anger and there don't seem to be any real attempts to put it out and, honestly, how would you? This is no ordinary anger. It's been fermenting for years. People feel alienated from each other and scared of each other and like they are being used. And then white people blame brown people and brown people blame white people and Republicans blame Democrats and vice versa. But it's not the actual people themselves, it's the idea of people that we hate. I'll be honest, when I think about "Republicans," I roll my eyes because I can't understand why anyone would EVER think like that. But if I think about some of the most lovely people I know, who also happen to be Republicans, then, of course, I feel more kindly toward them.

There is a thing that came to the surface in 2008, that really flabbergasted a lot of white liberals, like me, who live in a very comfortable world of love and equality and that was blatant racism. WOW, electing a black President really scared the pants off of a lot of people and the internet gave them the ability to say anything anonymously that they would never say to their neighbors. Having moved away from the DC area and the news that is both local, national and international(it's different out here in the weeds, DC friends), the Georgia/Alabama line is not a friendly place for a black President. Do you wonder why I say that? Maybe because I have had so many, many, many people tell me how awful he is in the most superficial of conversations. Also because I make the mistake of reading the comments on our local newspaper's FB page.

Here is a funny thing about me: I adore people with style. I really do. No matter what kind of style they have, if someone pulls it off with poise and a little je ne sais quoi, I am hooked. No surprise then, that I am, completely superficially, in love with President Obama and the First Lady, without even thinking about politics or intelligence(although they are both incredibly smart and do things that make sense in my frame of thinking). You can imagine, then, how crushed I was the first time I saw Michelle Obama referred to as "a gorilla in an evening gown" in some internet comments section. And then I saw references to her "African"ness and how she should leave and go back to Africa, even though she's from Chicago and her dad was a postman. NAIVELY, I was stunned. I mean, those were comments from the 50's--the George Wallace era--not the new millenium.

Suddenly, racism is cool again? I hear the code everywhere. I work with an amazing young woman, who has a BS in Biology and an MBA, and she recently went on an interview where they told her they were impressed with how articulate she is. She's also literally African-American(her dad is from Ghana). ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHY WOULDN'T A WOMAN WITH AN ADVANCED DEGREE BE ARTICULATE? Customers tell me a look is too "urban" for their child. People tell me they won't go to the mall because of the "element" that shops there. Ugh. Enough.What is driving this racism? It's fear, of course. I think white people are afraid of losing their majority. What are the stats? In 30 years, we'll be a majority brown country. What ever will we do? Uh, deal with it. Because, by then, almost everyone will be related to a person of color somehow, someway and it won't be scary anymore. SO, how do we overcome this fear-based hate for the next thirty years or so?

I know that it won't come from alienating the world community or each other. I know that politics that focus on the fear of the other isn't going to make it any better. Our forefathers knew, inherently, that choosing one religion over another was a bad route for a country of immigrants. Our ancestors came here to escape many different types of persecution: racial, economic, religious. We cannot be the generation that turns its back on the promise of freedom and equality that the United States of America has represented for 240 years. The only things that will undo racism and hate and fear are kindness and morality. We know right from wrong. We know that hating someone because they look or act or believe differently from us is wrong. Most of our mothers and fathers told us to "do unto others..." or to "be a friend to the friendless" or not to "judge a book by its cover." We know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of a kindness and what it feels like to be judged and still...

I come to the same conclusion that I come to every time I think about things. It all boils down to doing the right thing, to choosing to recognize the humanity of the person you are afraid of instead of trying to dehumanize them. Not hard at all...until the other does something stupid or awful or takes a stance that is the opposite of everything we believe in. Be nice anyway. Find a way to extend the olive branch, if only for the growth opportunity. Just do the kind thing. Please.

Love,
Corks

My Head in the Clouds

Howdy folks,

I've just come back from a week in Texas, where I saw my beautiful niece married to the very nicest man and I got to spend loads of time with my lovely mom and her siblings. I come from a family of VERY liberal Democrats and when we all get together, we talk about the horrors of the world(Donald Trump) and how kindness, virtue, a helping hand and {gasp}higher taxes might be all it takes to solve a world of problems. Also, as Democrats are wont to do, we get a little overwhelmed by the sadness of the world and the meanness of the world and we get worried about the state of humanity.

After a week of family and wedding and philosophizing and a whole lot more carbs than I am used to eating(recently), a big storm was blowing through and as our plane took off among the clouds, I was feeling kind of melancholy. I had lucked into a window seat despite my B36 position on Southwest, and I watched all of Texas shrinking into view and I realized that even though Austin is barely recognizable from just 10 years ago, a whole lot of Texas is still relatively undeveloped. I saw forests of pines and rolling pasture and tons of swollen creeks as we made our way East. The cloud cover took my view for a while, but about 20 minutes in, I could see the many, many swamps, creeks and what I imagined were alligator-filled bayous as we flew over Louisiana. I made eye contact with the little boy whose seat was in front of me. He was watching out the window, too, and looked at me--brown eyes, long lashes, incredulous at the whole world beneath him--then looked back down to gaze some more. His brother was equally interested, peering over his little brother's shoulder, and in that moment there was none of that boy-jostling that we're all waiting for on planes. They were quiet and enraptured and delighted.  I was reading a short story by Bailey White about "The Imagination Game" and how she could never see anything when it came time to imagine, except for big, giant chicken feet and I thought about how these boys didn't need imagination in this moment, because they were living in real time.

It reminded me how often I live in some other time: the time of what's to come, which is a time of fret and worry and the time of what's behind, so often sadness and regret. This time, this moment,  is inescapable, but I work so hard at escaping. And then I'm reminded of Omar Khayyam's admonishment:

Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

oh. 

This moment IS my life.  As I'm peeking down at planet Earth from my winged perch, my life is happening. And those little boys in front of me, they are reveling in it and I am starting to revel in it, too, to the point where I want to offer my seatmate a quick peek at the glorious planet. I turn to her and she pulls her coat higher up her shoulder and turns up the volume on her phone, where she's watching Southwest-provided TV.  Well, that would be kind of weird. I mean, normal people don't offer strange, grown people a quick look into the beauty of the here and now. It's just not how we do things.  Plus, these moments don't translate well to adults. Kids can say, "look at how the river looks like a snake through those trees and you can't see any houses and it is nature and it's so cool." and adults say (think Ben Stein's voice when you read this)"the remarkable beauty of nature." I settled back down in my seat and went back to reading my book and the next time I looked out there were puffy clouds forever. And then we came back to civilization, as the sun set, the lights came on and Georgia was illuminated by organized neighborhoods and happenstance neighborhoods and clustered neighborhoods and 5-acre lot neighborhoods. The roads were the snakes, with streetlights, stoplights, all the city lights that go on for miles. Of course, the boys in front of me were overcome with the beauty of the lights and the expanse of the city, and they continued to stare in quiet awe until they broke character and yelled "BUMP" when the plane touched down. 

It's that BUMP that brings us all back to Earth--literally, of course.  It jogs us awake and sweeps out the cobwebs and wakes us from our reverie. The lights come on and the people stand up("All Rise..." our flight attendant said)and we all start to strategize our move to the aisle and we forget about the books we read and the scenery and the only here and now is "GET ME OFF THIS PLANE!" On to the sea of humanity, hoping you don't get caught in a crushing wave of a thousand people rushing to the next gate or away from that gate or into a giant school of Starbucks patrons. This moment is our life.

I don't know. It was just a moment, up there in the sky, but it felt important. And I was happy and it was my life. I want more of that moment. Guess I have to take more plane rides. Where do you want to go?

Love,

Corks

Because Nature.

Southern Magnolia

Lemon-scented goodness!!

Native Magnolia

Hello My Loves,

Sweet Bay Magnolia

It's getting more like Springtime every day, here in beautiful, downtown Midland, and there are so many plants blooming in the backyard. We have a Southern Magnolia, with the dark glossy leaves that are fuzzy underneath and the big saucers of lemon-scented goodness. We have some sort of native little booger that has glossy, light green leaves and isn't blooming yet, and then we have the Sweet Bay--aka, swamp magnolias--diminutive teacup flowers with the most glorious perfume of lemon and jasmine. And then there's the actual Jasmine, which releases her scent at dusk. It is a scent of sweetness and melancholy and allure, that you wouldn't expect from a blossom so white and demure. There is a reason that Southern writers are so often reflective and dreamy. They are lost in a reverie of flowers. Because along with all of these fragrant beauties, this Spring, we've seen lemon lilies blooming and the purple and gold iris and both white and coral azaleas and even orange squash blossoms out of the compost heap. The morning glories are starting to wind their way around our moss-covered, warped wood fence, next to the tiny pink-yellow blossoms of the lantana, that self-seeded from our neighbors' yard. It's all rounded out by the pink abelia and lorapetalum flowers on the shrubs that line the yard.

Abelia

I don't know if you can tell, but I love flowers. I mean, LOVE, flowers. I haven't even gotten to the sunshine-colored daylilies by the mailbox or the coconutty, perfumed perfection of the creeping gardenia by the front door. When I was four, I named my first dog--a shaggy gray Old English Sheepdog/Black Lab--Tulip. Since then, we've had Daffodil, a golden mix, and Pepper Daisy, a shepherd/corgi mix, and an orange kitty cat named Marigold. In fact, we nicknamed our daughter after a flower.

But why? Why am I so enamored with flowers? As a child, I loved the beautiful Victorian flower fairies and I imagined meeting them under toadstools and in the kind of scary, spider -filled playhouse in our backyard in Silver Spring. Even the patio, with it's ant-filled stump and hollyhocks and glads shooting up along the fence, and the brick patio, shaded by a giant, old fir tree,where I remember discussing the merits of ketchup or mustard or mayo on a freshly grilled hamburger, was the perfect place to find a stray fairy.

Jasmine

Then we moved to the farm, and I could walk along the creek and find the stinky-when-crushed skunk cabbage and a wayward lilypad and moss-covered rocks under a giant-leafed sycamore, like the one where we scattered some of my Dad's ashes. There were ferns with their ancient, spotty spores on the underside of their chartreuse leaves and pitcher plants waiting for junebugs and mosquitoes. I could walk in the woods in Winter and see the beautiful silver-barked birches and the craggy oaks and the leaves of the trees and wonder, truly, if a tree fell in the forest, did anybody hear? I did. Once. It was a small tree and it was LOUD. I can't imagine if a giant, old oak fell in the woods. It would have been deafening.

In the Winter,  when it snowed, the forest where I lived was silent, aside from my own footsteps. The birds had fled South, where I now live, and the animals were tucked up in trees and underground, waiting to hear the first,  grating croaks of the bullfrogs that lived at the edge of the very murky pond by the amphitheater where so many calico print- and flower-bedecked couples were married. Flowers are in my blood. I love to be in Nature. I am not a fan of mosquitoes, of course, and I might have a bee phobia, but I love to be surrounded by leaves and green and quiet and heavenly-scented flowers. I love the lushness of Spring and the scarcity of Winter. God's glory is represented in every Season.

I worry that the future will bring destruction to the luxury of Nature. I wonder what would happen if we all took a day to revel in the wonder of nature, be it animal, vegetable or mineral? How can we encourage each other to feel more connected to the world we've been given? How can we feel compelled to protect her?

Look. Smell. Listen. Feel.

Love,
Corks

Internet Malaise **decidedly political(I yam what I yam)**

Oh friends,

I had the day off today and I spent too much time with the internet. It made me sad. Because what I read and saw was all about unkindness. I read about the AFA (American Family Association)sending men into Target's women's bathrooms to prove a point(what point, I'm not sure) and how 1.5 million people had signed onto a boycott all because Target said people can use the bathroom where they feel most comfortable. Target didn't say people are welcome to commit crimes in bathrooms. They said "be who you are" to people who haven't always had that luxury. And I can't understand why someone would want to make life harder for someone who has suffered to become who they feel they need to become(please don't start telling me about people who marry goats or plastic dolls, those are sensationalist stories told to distract), but clearly many do.

Next, I watched a video that shows a woman berating a man who is buying food for his family at a Wal-mart with food stamps. She tells him that she is paying for his food with her tax money and she doesn't want to--while his toddler sits in the shopping cart in front of him. On the video, it doesn't show any bystanders telling her to knock it off or interrupting her, just this obnoxious woman and the man doing what it takes to feed his kid, trying to defend himself. I wondered why someone didn't ask her if she knew that often soldiers' families have to use food stamps to make ends meet?  Or ask what happened to her empathy? Or at least ask her "WWJD?"*

Stupidly, I read the comments on articles talking about Malia Obama's admission to Harvard. So many of them implied that she would never have gotten into Harvard were it not for her race, and that somehow it was easier for her to get in. Some merely talked about her race in the most base and vulgar terms.  And many questioned whether she would have gotten in if Barack Obama hadn't won the Presidency in 2008. Who knows? Why would her ability be questioned? Her parents are Harvard grads, she's gone to the best schools, and she has had a unique experience as a participant in big history headlines. What school wouldn't want her? These hateful comments prove once again what so many of us have thought since 2008--that we had been pretending that we were a postracial society--when racism is still alive and well and seething with rage. And as many times as I remind myself that

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”--MLK

I wonder if we are going to last until the arc arcs? Our society's unkindness seems to know no bounds. We offer no empathy to those who suffer misfortune, whether it's at the hands of others or their own. We hide the sick and the slow, we cut off the needy and the infirm, we scorn those who are mentally ill or drug-addicted. And we celebrate Donald Trump, who promises to give power to people who feel powerless, but it's the falsest promise of all time. Donald Trump didn't become Donald Trump by sharing the power, but Barack Obama did.  That's what really scares people. And scared people have a hard time with empathy. They are thinking about fight or flight or they are paralyzed and they can't think at all. So what do we do, to start recognizing our shared humanity? How do you feel compassion for a father using food stamps or a girl going to college or people who just want to use the bathroom without a fight? How do I learn compassion for those that pick fights with the downtrodden or denigrate good people? I think it takes kindness--just a smile and a gentle reminder to walk in each others' shoes for a ways. It's going to take a long time, like MLK said, but maybe, someday, we'll meet each other at the bend.

Be sweet, y'all. 

Love,  

Corks

*Hey 90's, I missed you.

 

Apologies to Tennyson,**a profanity alert**, Complexity

Saallluutt(think Hee Haw)!

It's Spring and this girl's fancy is turned to thoughts of vacations and sundresses and espadrilles and the sun on her face and the wind in her hair, and may not be so focused on cars that are slowly driving past her driveway as she backs out, lost in thought. Allegedly.

What thoughts had me so consumed(allegedly)? Let's see if I can list some of them:

1. Do I need to sew that little piece of hem of my dress that is coming undone, or should I wait until it's really bad?
2. How fat am I today?
3. Did I complete [insert project here]?
4. Am I good enough?
5. The lyrics to"Waterfalls" by TLC
6. Incomplete lines of poetry by Keats, Ashbery, Tennyson, Shakespeare, Auden, Yeats.
7. I learned lots of parts of poems at GMU.
8. Why did that guy in my awful, awful communications class hate me so much?
9. That guy was an asshole.
10. Super excited I straightened my hair last night.
11. The lyrics to Talking Heads "Once in a Lifetime": Same as it ever was, Same as it ever was
12. Would I know if I had ovarian cancer?
13. Did I turn off the light in the bedroom?
14. ugh, Donald Trump. I can't.
15. I mean. I can't even.
16. What an asshole.
17. I bet that guy in my communications class is voting for Trump.
18. Would I know if I have melanoma?
19. How could I get a job with One Foundation?
20. Would I get to meet Bono?
21. Did E brush her teeth?
22. Did L brush her teeth?
23. Did A brush his teeth?
24. I should have flossed better.
25. Espadrilles are my favorite summer shoe.
26. OMG it's sangria season.
27. I should have cleaned the kitty litter.
28. Which kid can I get to clean the kitty litter?
29. I can't believe we have a cat.
30. I want a Great Dane puppy.
31. Do deer eat lavender?
32. Black-eyed Susans would look great in the front yard.
33. The lyrics to Maryland, My Maryland.
34. The lyrics to "Mon Beau Sapin, Roi des forets"(same tune as 33, aka O Tannenbaum, but en francais)
35. I hope someone comes to the Guild of the Christ Child meeting on Sunday.
36. The sky is so blue.
37. The birds are singing...

So, that's SOME of the thinks I was thinking for the 20 feet I was (allegedly) backing out of my driveway toward someone else's car. And really, any given day, at any time. I walk around lost in thought all the livelong day. Some of it is important and most of it is space junk. And apparently, I'm not the only one. Not only have some of my very smartest friends and coworkers admitted to me that they, too, have struck a car in their own driveways(allegedly), but maybe more than one. Or two. So, darling husband, No. I am not going to win the Guinness World Record for Most Cars Struck in One's Own Driveway. Yet, and allegedly. But there's a reason for it. I have a complex brain.

Don't believe me? Then, science: Women Have Complex Brains. I can't help it, complexity is my biological destiny and yours, too, fellow women. There is a reason for our distraction and our forgetfulness and for our kids having to pull us back from Neptune by repeating, "Mom, Mom, Mom. MOM, MOM, MOM. MOTHER! COURTNEY!!!!!" We should be absolved from all of it. And given more mornings to sleep in quiet rooms.

Please be safe out there. Don't add distractions to our busy brains while driving--turn off the cellphones; don't twerk in the car; give the children big wads of bubblegum to keep them quiet. I love you all! Even the(alleged) bad drivers.

Love,
Corks

I love you. All of you. Even the jerks.

Well, hey there,

I have been facing down some serious writer's block recently, so I have started and rewritten 12 different posts this month. Nothing is working for me. So I'm going to let it all out. HANG ON.

I try really hard not to be a judgey person, but it's a struggle. I have so many strong opinions and I am quite convinced of my "right"ness, but I will listen and I will try to find common ground with anyone who will have civil discourse with me. The problem has been that I encounter so many people with whom I can't engage in conversation, who say the most bombastic things and walk away(mostly at work). Like a little old guy buying a gift card for a relative, who told me he was a Vietnam vet and if he had the ability he would go to Washington and take care of the problem in the White House and let me know who he thought the problem was. Or a Grandmother shopping for her granddaughter who told me that the Mexicans were the problem and Trump was the solution. Or the police officer who responded to a call to my store and instead of taking my report, prayed for my protection and said to one of my coworkers, "I thought you might be one of those Muslims,"and made a face implying he wasn't a fan.

The thing that troubles me is that people are willing to say these things to me, a stranger. What are they saying in the comfort of their own homes? Or at their churches, or their jobs, or with their friends? What about the parents in Kennesaw, GA who don't want their children "indoctrinated" into Hinduism because they learned that "Namaste" means "the light within me recognizes the light within you." How have we gotten to this place where we pray for France and Belgium and wash the world in their flags(I've done it, too) and not for Turkey or Cote d'Ivoire or Pakistan(52 people killed by suicide bomber today in Lahore) or Syria? God bless the Syrians. I pray for the Syrians every day. How would we react if our modern worlds were reduced to rubble and we could only escape by boat to drown or to arrive and be rejected at the border? How would we feel to be trapped by sniper fire and  carpet-bombing in our city, knowing that our children were starving and we would be making dinner out of weeds that grow in the cracks on the roofs of apartment buildings? That international relief might be carried off by black marketeers and terrorists and our babies wouldn't have milk because their mothers could barely produce it? Have some people lost the ability to imagine themselves in the shoes of others?

We don't understand the poverty of war in our country(unless we've experienced it elsewhere) because it has been 150 years since our last run in with a real war on our soil. Some like to feel like we are fighting for our American way of life(whatever that means) because it is good rhetoric and it keeps the adrenalin going, but I go to sleep most nights--and I bet you do to--with the knowledge that I will wake up and my house will be standing and my children will be in their beds(or mine) and I will go to my job and my paycheck will come on alternate Fridays and I will buy fresh, organic vegetables at the grocery store and have the luxury of being on a diet. Imagine also, that some people are so amped up on anxiety and adrenalin, they would like to start a war within our country. I'm thinking of those fellows in Oregon who took over the wildlife refuge, or that person who murdered the churchgoers in Charleston in cold blood. And then we have candidates for President who are feeding this culture of anxiety and disrespect and disenchantment when. we. have. it. so. good. All is not perfect. The President is not perfect, nor is the Congress, nor the Supreme Court, nor the Armed Forces, nor any single one of us. But we are American and our lives are so blessed. Why can't we be charitable to each other and the world? Why, if we have this group of people who are so focused on the teachings of Jesus who demand to have a voice in our democracy, aren't we doing what he said: Love God and Love your neighbor. Today, as Christians, we celebrate Easter, the day when our sins are forgiven and we should go forward without fear into the world to do what Jesus asked us to do. Love each other.

That's Matthew 22:37-40, btw.

We may not agree with our neighbors, but we can love them, by recognizing our shared humanity. Because really, if my light can recognize your light, and we can let them shine together, that sounds pretty amazing.

Let's light up the world, friends.

Love,
Corks

Hippocampus. It's the best word ever. Also, kids.

Hello there!

It's been a long time! I have been busy this month being busy. You know the feeling--nothing much is going on, but there is so much to do. This morning, I've been thinking about what it's like to be a mom and how parenting happens. I have really packed in the parenting this morning. I've walked into one child's room and told them they need to go outside for 15 minutes today because the computer/video games are not a natural source of Vitamin D. See, I'm looking out for my children's health! But that's only one child. One sassy customer was sent to their room, but not before they complained that they needed food. I, of course, did not give in and that child is now starving. I was informed that they would probably die, and I confirmed that suspicion. Those are some real critical thinking skills and I'm glad I can reinforce the hypotheses. Lastly, the smallest person in our home informed me that she never wanted to be a wife or mother and that she will live with me until I die, at which point she will live alone. I am raising independent children!

All parents can have amazing parenting interactions, as you can see. I try to pack in all the knowledge I can every day by telling my children everything they already know, which is everything. I  came to this conclusion because every time I say anything, my children synchronize their eye rolls and bellow, in chorus, "I know, Mom." It IS funny how the things they don't know are always presented to me at 8 o'clock at night with tears and wailing and they almost always have a deadline of the next day and they almost always require effort on my part, like social studies fair projects and elaborate outfits that need to match with friends for Spirit Week, and nothing we own in the house is acceptable. Those are actually some of my favorite moments because I am creative and I have lots of ideas and I like working under a deadline! OF COURSE, my children pooh-pooh every idea or suggestion or solution, because children are jerks. They don't mean to be, but their brains aren't completely developed and apparently, the last part to develop is the appreciative zone, somewhere deep in the hippocampus(please don't google that, but please do think about the word hippocampus and then think about those Fantasia hippos in varsity jackets and swinging ponytails). It takes years of maternal clucks and reminders to develop children who appreciate a few of all of the crazy things you've done to make them happy or not make them happy, but to make them functioning members of the human race.

Why would any sane person have 5 children? Or two? Or even one, especially if you've been subjected to any other person's annoying children--that's a whole other story--or been in the company of any child ever for more than 24 hours. It's the craziest thing. But we all know the joy we feel when any tiny baby cracks a smile at us. Or when we distract a screaming toddler from their tantrum. Four-year-olds and their quirky sweetness are a saving grace in life because they give us a break from the devious, sassy Threes they once were and give us sweet, sweet memories to look back on fondly once they have become melodramatic and weepy Fives. There are payoffs to this parenting thing, like seeing your children emerge--slowly--from the terrible, terrible, terrible, terrible teen years and become adults with real brains that work that want to do things that make the world better. And there really isn't any better feeling than knowing your child wants to live with you forever, even though she's 5 and won't want to in 7 years(thank goodness) until she turns 16 and then she does again because the real world seems too scary and then doesn't again when she's 18 because she hates the absolute sight of you and anything you've ever perceived. But that moment of being her Number One is enough to get you through 1,000,000 moments of teen angst. Well, that and wine.

I'm never going to be a June Cleaver mom or even Elise Keaton. I am nothing if not short-tempered and sarcastic, but I cherish these 5 people I've been entrusted to mold and guide, even when I don't want to supervise the writing of another research paper or I'm stuffing my mouth with an entire pack of  bubble gum so I don't get kicked out of a soccer game for being mouthy. I love those jerks.

Parenting is relentless.We're doing the best we can!

Love,
Corks