Oh no; I just pulled a Mom move

Just now, Malcolm came in to tell me that the scene in Disney/Pixar's Cars where a group of cars comes up and messes with Mac (Lightning's tractor trailer who transports him to races) while he's nodding off has become a recent meme. Apparently when those cars come onscreen, people love it because it looks so cool. You might remember that Malcolm used to have die-cast cars of every major, minor, and incidental character in all of the movies and those cars were some of his favorite.

I asked, "What was the name of their gang?" Mal said, "I don't remember." I offered, "I think it was something like the Rowdy Ramblers." Malcolm was skeptical but didn't care too much and went about his business.

I did care, so I looked it up and they were the Delinquent Road Hazards (or just Road Hazards, for short). It cracked me up so much. What an old mom thing to do!

Rowdy Ramblers ride!!

Malcolm and Problem-Solving

Yesterday, after our Tuesday library group disbanded, I wanted to walk down to the lake to see the water level, which is full for the first time in years. The kids had elected to stay at the library both hours because of the heat (we usually go to the park after), and Malcolm was not interested in going with me on my little jaunt. 

I gave him the house keys, reminded him that our door is a little tricky to open, and gave him the secret move to make it work. I told him to text me when he got into the house (he only has an iPad so couldn't communicate with me until he was inside), and I walked down to the park.

Nice! A picnic at the lake... rather IN the lake.

After I looked around a bit, I contemplated walking to the far end of the park to check things out, but it had been long enough that Malcolm should have made it to the house. While it was possible that he'd forgotten to message me, I had a mental image of him lying on the day bed on the porch, being very hot and frustrated, so I decided to go on up the hill.

As I rounded the corner to our street, I saw our across-the-street neighbor walking from our driveway to her house. When I got home, I asked Malcolm if she'd unlocked the door, and he said yes. 

Apparently, "[i]t wasn’t working and it was scorching out so I got [her] to help."

We're going to practice unlocking the door (something I've done with D but hadn't gotten around to yet with Malcolm) so he can do it on his own, but I was pretty pleased to know that he didn't just shut down and flail. 

Today, he's supposed to go to a thing and has made sure several times that I will drop him off and not stay. I can't say I'm offended. I genuinely enjoy his growing independence. 

He's saving up for various LEGO sets he wants, and has been doing jobs around the house, like dusting and picking up sticks in the yard before I mow. I'm going to really encourage him to try to find a job as soon as he can.

Super proud of my big kid!

Guess where I am.

Did you guess? If so, congratulations! You just won an all-expenses-paid trip to the next paragraph!

I am at the mall on this very rainy Saturday.

But I'm not shopping because I'd rather stick a toothpick in my ear.

Rather, I'm sitting in the food court whilst these two kiddos do their kiddo thing.

I believe it's both of their first time to be let loose without family to window- and birthday shop on their own.

I'm fortunate in that Mal is a pretty mature kid, and he has some mature friends. I wouldn't trust every tween in this way, but these young 'uns got it.

It brings back memories for me of walking around Central Mall in Fort Smith, Arkansas, as a teen. I loved Coach House Cards and Gifts. They had such beautiful trinkets that I could never afford; but I still enjoyed staring at the figurines with the crystals and dragons and mermaids. Also, I LOVED humorous gift cards. There was also a big "pool" in the center of the mall with four separate fountains. It added some ambient noise to quiet the hubbub of the masses, and it made the whole place smell vaguely of chlorine.

Before that, when my mom would go shopping at Walmart, she'd give me a couple of quarters and I'd play the PacMan arcade game in the entry vestibule for half an hour or so.

We're at that stage where it's time to give Mal some slack to play with. One of his friends recently moved into our neighborhood, and he's walked to their house to hang out a couple of times already. That was after his solo excursions during the icy few days we had last month. He'd walk around for half an hour, check in, and go back out. He's showing himself to be pretty responsible in that respect.

By this time next year, I'm really hoping that his youth group (all kids roughly the same age, +/- a year) will be pretty fully autonomous. I enjoy the parents in that group (as opposed to all of the parents I ignore at most of the other places we go; not because there's anything wrong with any of those moms, but because I've already seen that when a homeschooled kid grows up, I'm not likely to be friends with many of those other parents), but I think giving the kids the opportunity to make their own decisions, take some risks, and even make bad decisions in a pretty safe environment is definitely the move.

Checking in with Mal

Hi, friends!

I thought we could check in with Mal this morning (now night; all I got to this AM was adding the picture, then we had to go).

Mal recently turned 11! He would be in 5th grade (because his birthday is late in September).

Almost every day, he has video calls with a couple of homeschooling friends, Caleb and Kona, who have named their group The Cool Miners. They play Minecraft, "board" games (like Battleship and Azul) on buddyboardgames.com, share silly predictive text creations, look through each other's old files, and generally just have a fun time.

He is still meeting with his Sunday friend, Ryan, but since they're kind of outgrowing McDonald's (though Mal says he will NEVER outgrow McDonald's), they've started meeting every other week at a park. This weekend, Mal can try out his new-to-him scooter which a lovely neighbor gave us after the stand board split in two on his older scooter.

We have just started the FOURTH year of our weekly library/park homeschool meetup. We'd gone from 6 kids to 5 to 4 when one kind of aged out and another moved to the west coast (but he's in The Cool Miners, so he's still kind of around). But this summer, another kid joined us and he's fit right in! So we're back at 5, and these kids get along great. I love seeing how their friendships have grown and deepened over the past few years.

In fact, Mal wants to throw a Christmas party for the group at our house in a few weeks. He's been thinking of gifts to give, and will be selecting a menu soon. He also has ideas about what to do for his dad's birthday and Christmas, and it's so cool that he's thinking about ways to make other people happy.

Mal has decided that he's ready to take a break from the one-day-a-week school he's been going to for 2.5 years. I think there have been a lot more kids join, which is good for the school but stressful for Mal, who seems to like having a couple of close friends around rather than being in a big crowd.

I don't know whether I mentioned this or not, but the second time he tried to go to the kid's club on our last cruise, he had the counselor call us to get him because he was overwhelmed by the chaos. When James arrived, Mal dissolved into tears. Poor kid.

That said, I feel like early puberty is upon us. Mal has started having lots of big feelings about things, after having taken a break for a couple of years. I'm trying to talk to him about it; preparing him; telling him that big feelings are normal and that whatever he is thinking about, if he wants to talk to us, he can do that without worrying that we'll be angry or think he's a weird-o (I mean, he is a weird-o. We all are.)

Today (the morning after I started this) is school pictures, a mystery shop stop for lunch, then Urban Air. Good times!

An Open Letter

Hey, you. 

You randomly popped up in a dream last night (specifically, I was picking you up from jail after you'd completed your sentence??)... well, the you from more than 15 years ago. Would I recognize you now? Would you recognize me?

I can't even begin to detail how much I've changed in the years since I moved to Austin. 

When I first got here, everything was mostly the same. I tried to build a life that was familiar, like the lives we had in north Texas. But pretty quickly, that manner of living started to crumble and without knowing it, I was building a totally different way of life.

Superficially... I have wavy hair now. Can you believe it? All of that time and effort I spent trying to curl my hair. I know you liked it better straight; I guess we always want what we can't have. Anyway, my morning routine was never cumbersome, but it's so much faster now: spray hair to reset waves. Get out. It's pretty great.

Also, I'm not trying to be skinny anymore. You'd probably "still love [me] in spite of it," but, with all due respect, eff that noise, friend-o. I'm happy with myself, and my body has never been healthier. I've seen the future and know what I need to do to maintain maximum ambulation for as long as I can, as far as it is in my power to maintain. I move more and with more joy than I ever have before. And I also unapologetically enjoy the food I've always loved. No shame. No one watching me or my body change. It's amazing.

I have more tattoos (with another in the planning stages), and got my nose pierced a couple of years ago. I believe you would have hated this. It's probably good that things ended up the way that they did.

In fact, there are bigger things that make me grateful that we're not still in each other's lives. Much bigger.

You'd likely hate me now. I don't think the same way or believe the same things that I did back then. You'd think I had back-slidden or been influenced by something dark... but, man, when I read my blogs from 15-24 years ago, I do not like that person. I was a closed-off, judgy, occasionally humorous know-it-all.

I no longer vote the way I voted before. I remember when I first moved, and a mutual friend called me a loyalist to a particular political party as an insult. It worked. I was upset that she would say that. Now? Guilty as charged. What changed? A lot. So much.

You know what has pushed me to change the absolute most? My kids. They have been a blessing, and they have been challenging... and even that has ultimately made me a better person, and hopefully a better parent. If they ask me a question today, I probably have an opinion, but I don't feel like I have to give a pat answer with absolute certainty that it is and I am right. 

I will err every day on the side of throwing the doors wide open and embracing people, and life, and happiness. I wanted this before, but was so limited by unnecessarily strict boundaries that someone else convinced me needed to be in place.

I made so many mistakes, and I hurt so many people. Heck, I've even done that in the past 15 years, despite my best efforts not to. But at least when I do so now, it's because I'm messed up and not because I think I know the only right way and insist that other people do certain things because of what I believe.

All that time I spent trying everything I could think of to make us work, and you absolutely refused to budge. It was that realization -- that you cared more about your own self-preservation than you did trusting me enough to step out on a ledge and try to fly -- that made me leave. And now I see that you were correct. We were NOT right for each other. We would not have worked. We would have gotten to a point just a few years later where things would have come up that would have caused us to implode, anyway. 

So I guess I'm saying thank you for making me so miserable that I couldn't stay in the same place for another day. Thank you for pushing me away so hard that I ended up never seeing you again for the rest of my life. It was a protection to me, and to my kids (one for obvious reasons as he wouldn't exist). 

And try not to get arrested, because I can't come pick you up.

Laura

Favorite --------> Most Hated!

D was a hard kid to buy clothes for. Mal is a hard kid to buy clothes for.

They both have sensory issues -- no bands, tags, or anything very fitted -- and have had STRONG opinions about what they want to wear from a very young age. 

I was so sad three summers ago when Mal said he wasn't going to wear tank tops anymore. I tried calling them "muscle shirts," but he wasn't buying it. He also swore off of v-neck Ts about the same time.  He will not wear denim of any shape, form, or fashion. And anything shorter than basketball shorts is "too small" for him, regardless of fit.

D was also a fan of the "long short." It was hard find them shorts that fit well, were the right length, and were comfortable enough to pass muster.

In mid-2011, I found what I thought was the answer to everything for D! At a Goodwill in Sherman, TX, they had a pair of corduroy shorts in both blue and green! D tried one of them on, they fit, and it was a go! I looked back on the rack and -- gasp! -- they also had orange, brown, and pink! We bought FIVE pair of identical shorts that I knew D would wear! YAY!

It was so easy; D wore a different pair of those shorts every day. 

Every. Day.

Every day until they started wearing out.. TWO AND A HALF YEARS LATER. 

I had loved them and been so happy to have found them, but by the end of those two years, I hated them with a passion.

 

Now, I did learn something from that ordeal, though, and I typically order Mal the same pair of shorts or "fancy" joggers (that hopefully don't look like sweatpants) every season. He can usually wear them for two seasons before he outgrows them, but he's getting to be the age D was when their growth took a break for a couple of years.

But it's okay, because I already have an article of clothing that I bought Mal last year and ADORED that I literally never want to see again because it's almost all he wears.

 

This is a sentimental one for me, because it's the only wearable souvenir we got on our trip to California: a T-shirt from the awesome Museum of Making Music in Carlsbad. Maybe I just notice it because it's such a bright color. But he LOVES it and puts it on the minute it's gone through the washing machine.

Objectively, all of these articles of clothing are fine, cute even! 

I wonder what I wear over and over again that ticks off the people around me. I think I'll ask... I'll report back later!

Deja Vu

Did I mention that I'd started mystery shopping again? 

Well, I did. Restart, I mean. I genuinely don't remember whether I wrote about it or not.

As before, it's not enough to pay bills or anything, but it's a free meal here and $30 for a half-hour tour of a school there. It adds up.

Thursday, I had a fast food shop, then Mal went to open gym, and then we went to a child photo session (I'm splitting the pay with Mal: I get the free photo and he gets the money). 

As we were driving a bit to get to the photo studio listening to "The Order of the Phoenix" audiobook, I had a deep sense of "This feels familiar!"

Because that's exactly how D and I spent many hours of many days 15 years ago: driving to shops and listening to the Harry Potter audio series.

D on one of our many mystery shops at Buffalo Wild Wings.

Things have changed so much -- Rowling has made "enjoying" her series bittersweet by her rabid and unnecessary TERFdom, I'm older and find my mind isn't having as easy a time noticing and then remembering all of the things I need to know and remember to be good at this, and Mal isn't quite the pro that D was at his age -- but they're still so comfortable and pleasant -- hanging out with my kid a little more than usual, enjoying something together that he'd said before was "more D's thing" but I was sure he'd love if he gave it a chance, and earning a little bit to help offset our lack of income.

Altogether, it's a fun enough development.

I've had one shop that got declined because I misunderstood what I was supposed to take a picture of. Not bad, as I'm otherwise batting 900.

Hopefully I can find more things like the educational panel I did a few weeks ago where I was able to join a Zoom call and just give my opinions. 

I used to be fun

I was sharing a funny old (14 years) photo with my family this week, and it reminded me of this old (30 years) song by Rockapella:

This song has always reminded me of someone specific in my life (from the picture that cracked me up) and it got me to thinking about something...

I used to be somewhat of a goof.

I had a reputation as someone who was funny, and in fact would often do unwise or immature things because they amused me.

I was never mean (except for maybe that one time I put toothpaste in a sausage for a specific person to eat, and if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't) and usually the joke was on me, but... It was kind of my "thing."

Remember that time at my 20th high school reunion when I had gone to the trouble of memorizing the entire dance scene from "You Can't Stop the Beat" in "Hairspray" the movie and I requested the song and did the dance all the way through even though no one joined me? (If you watch it all the way through... yes, I was getting tired at the end, but that floor was SLIPPERY. The fact that I didn't land the cartwheel was a great personal disappointment that stays with me to this day!)

Or like that time that a cold snap hit the Sher-Den area and when I was driving by the newish giant bust of Eisenhower, I thought, "He looks cold. He should have a scarf." I told several people about my idea until it landed with a talented seamstress, Juanita, who took YARDS of fabric and made a scarf (wisely with weighted ends so we could put it on and it would stay), which another friend, D, Juanita, and I all tossed on the former President in the dark of a chilly evening.

The talented aforementioned Randy Sedlacek took this shot a day or two later.
Stately AND warm, no?

I don't know. My habit is: I have a stupid, silly idea and after I have it, I just do it. It happens because my thinking something odd makes it a reality that there's no denying.

Or at least that used to be the case. 

What happened? 

I was married to someone I embarrassed a great deal with my exuberance, mischief, and general loudness. Now I'm married to someone who would absolutely revel in any silliness I might come up with, and I just... don't? Why?

When I was mowing the other day, I had the thought that my life used to be similar to a person at a funeral: I absolutely should not have been laughing, but it was a coping mechanism. And maybe now I'm just happy and don't have the highs and lows? 

Or like when I had an eating disorder and LIVED for vacations, when I let myself be free and eat whatever I wanted: I'd plan meals down to the menu item, and almost cry at every meal because everything was so rich and tasty. Now that I eat whatever I want to, I still enjoy food, but not like that. The scarcity is gone, and somehow that blunts the joy of "forbidden fruit," I guess.

Maybe this is just a natural outgrowth of maturing, and if that is the case, I HATE IT. I can extend my sincerest apologies to the target of my ill-conceived meat/toothpaste prank while also acknowledging that most of the time, my humorous impulses were a lot of fun for me and the people around me.

Can't think of a good way to wrap this up, so... Mal's up and I'm out. Miss me!

Holes

A lot of my sock have holes in them. Not tears, but actual holes. Places that have broken apart before, and I've sewed them, and a micrometer to one side or the other, they've burst open again. They're pretty old. I should replace them. But I don't. Why?

The other day, I was getting dressed when I dropped something. I leaned over to pick it up and James said, "Wait a minute... there's something..." and walked over to me to see what was going on with my drawers. I already knew. "It's a hole," I said. "Remember I told you I needed to buy some more?" WHY DON'T I?

This happened a few years ago when all of our towels were unraveled and messy; but they still did the thing, which is drying us off. It was a trial for me to bite the bullet and just get new towel sets.

We are not poverty-stricken. But James and I both grew up in homes where we didn't have much extra beyond what we needed. I hadn't thought about how that might affect my attitudes toward replacing daily-use items until he mentioned it this weekend. I'd asked, "I don't know how rich I'd have to be before I stopped feeling icky about spending money." He said he didn't think either of us would ever feel that way and tied it to our respective youths. He's probably right.

Here is a holeless sock. Is it monogrammed for me??

Edited 1/20/24 to add: Also, James's car's trunk handle is broken so to get into the trunk, we have to pull down the seats inside the car. And my car's driver side door handle is broken, so to get out, I have to roll down the window and open the door from the outside. WHY don't we get these things fixed? Just feels like a lot of work! And expense. And we are working around it, so... *shrug*

A Brief History of Christmas (for me personally)

My mom was telling me about the Advent series her church is doing, and mentioning how different that was to what the church of Christ (coC) has historically done.

When we were growing up, the coCs we attended all but ignored Christmas, since "it's not really Jesus's birthday, anyway," I guess? If Christmas fell on a Sunday, we went to church and heard a sermon that might be about Paul's travels, or about Nebuchadnezzar, or Jesus's friendship with Mary/Martha/Lazarus. There was some cognitive dissonance that I did not understand, but got the message that it was disingenuous to pretend Christmas was about Jesus's birth, since we know he wasn't born in winter at all.

I remember one winter when I was in 5th grade, we were drawing pictures in art class. We were supposed to draw a nativity or something, and I told my teacher that I didn't think I could do that. When she asked why, I guess I mumbled something about it being like lying, acting like it was Jesus's birthday. My friend Cindy Cole responded with, "Oh, Laura, don't be a fool," as she drew a spectacular three-dimensional star.

Later that season, I was asked to write a bit for the last school newspaper of the year. I barely remember anything about it, except that I ended it with: "We look forward to a break where we can celebrate  Christmas and remember the birth of Jesus." 

At some point later, my parents had received the newsletter and asked me about it. They might have just been interested to know why I'd written what I did, but since I was just a kid, I remember feeling like I was in trouble. So I did what I always did when I thought I was in trouble: I lied. I said I hadn't in fact written that, that I'd ended it after "celebrate Christmas" and that an adult in the office must have added on the end bit.

It never occurred to me as a child that my parents could very easily fact-check my story. But it never made sense to me that for some reason, a church would be anti-remembering the birth of their savior.

As an adult, I've attended a few more liturgical denominations, including Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, Episcopal, and United Churches of Christ (which is decidedly NOT affiliated with the churches of Christ). And even the non-denominational churches in Las Vegas and Sherman had an advent season.

This year, I'm not taking part in any religious services as I've stepped away from church indefinitely. The further I get from it, the more I realize how traumatized I was/am by the way I was treated and the way other women have been treated by the way the church is structured and how "church discipline" is handled and how charismatic men can get away with murder, practically and maybe probably literally? And I get that none of this is Jesus's fault, but it's healing for me to walk the path I'm walking now so thanks for respecting that.

Speaking of the main man of Christmas, here's another one: Santa Claus.

Growing up, we did not believe in Santa. We LOVED Christmas, and it was a magical time. We always got a present "from" Santa but knew it was my parents. They still snuck around and saved the best surprises for Santa to creatively leave out for us to discover. We left milk and cookies out for Santa, and they'd be mostly eaten in the morning. We knew it was Dad who ate them, but it was a cool touch. This seemed an ideal way to treat a Christmas icon, so I did the same thing with my kids.

D was fine. Mal, at the age of 4ish, decided that there WAS a Santa, despite my telling him that Santa Claus is a fictional character based on Saint Nicholas, a gentleman who wanted to help children and needy families. I told him that Santa Claus is the embodiment of the spirit of Christmas, but not a real entity. He insisted that he was.

Last year, he straight up asked me, "Mom, tell me the truth: Is Santa real?" And I said, "This is NOT fair! I always told you the truth, but you insist that he is real, and now we're at this place where I have to break your heart by telling you the truth. THIS is what I was trying to avoid!"

Cut to this year; Mal is 9 and at the age that a lot of kids start growing out of Santa. I don't know if he blocked my revelation out or what, but he's still going strong. He wrote a letter to Santa and put it in the mailbox a few weeks ago. When I've mentioned that some of the stuff he's asked for is pretty expensive, he's said, "That's okay. Santa will get it for me!" (He's lucky because the most expensive thing he wanted WAS gifted to us by a friend who had an extra one lying around. Ho ho ho, Christmas miracle and all that.)

The Lucky One

Sometimes I think about what it must be like... just to walk away and have zero responsibility for a child you brought into the world.

All of the hard times and tears you've missed. All of the difficulties. You just live your life as if you never had a child. And maybe that hurts, but you're still protected. Protected from receiving the vitriol and anger. Protected from having to figure out what to try this time. Protected from hoping the next thing you try actually makes a difference.

You haven't invested thousands of dollars in care, in clothes, in food, in insurance, in medication. You haven't wrestled with how to love someone well who carries so much resentment toward you. You haven't had to watch your child struggle with needing and loving you when they so do not want to.

You live your life. You pursue what you will. You might have the occasional nagging thought of "what if..." but you never act on it. Not one time. You are your own world.

But I am the lucky one. I am the one who abides. All of the battles that child and I have fought, all of the words that have landed softly here and explosively there, the days of silence, the unexpected hugs... They're all mine.

You've missed so much, and I don't think you have the capability to care. I feel sorry for you.

Mal's Birthdays

For those of you keeping score, you'll know that Mal is turning 9 next month! I took this picture of him yesterday, wearing his 8th birthday shirt and we're going to have to retire the shirt soon!

A couple of weeks ago, Mal said that for his tenth birthday (yes, in 2024; he has had party themes lined up for almost a decade since he was 5), he wants to go to California. The things he specifically requested were: Super Nintendo World, Disneyland, and Hollywood.

I really had to think for a while about what he wants with "Hollywood," because I'm not sure what that means to him. When we lived in Las Vegas, we went to LA at least once a year, and during those times, we toured the NBC studios, where we saw sets from some of the shows we usually watched. We went to live tapings of "Home Improvement" twice (thanks, Dad!). We drove past the houses where they shot exteriors for Beverly Hills 90210 and Brady Bunch. We went to a small, quaint amusement park called Universal Studios Hollywood (which was only 30 years old at the time... and when we go with Mal, it will be 60 years old... which means that I AM OLD) where we got to see props and set pieces from familiar movies.

The thing is, Mal watches YouTube, cartoons, and a few live-action shows that James and I choose (oh, and every Star Wars show, which we all agree on). He doesn't have the "everyone has seen this" experience that I did when television was three channels plus PBS, and most of the movies we see now have sets courtesy of CGI rather than huge, sprawling creations like the Psycho hotel (which apparently is STILL there, even though we're probably two generations removed from being able to assume that anyone has viewed that particular pelicula).

However, after some time, I had worked out a perfectly-crafted trip incorporating things I felt Mal would consider iconic, as well as moving into some more of that nature that California is famous for so that James and I would feel equally catered to.

Then a couple of days ago, Mal decided that we HAVE to go to LEGOland. HAVE to. Before he turns 13. Because you can only drive the little cars where you get a LEGOland driver's license if you're under 13. 

We'd planned to hit LEGOland first thing for our planned (and paid for ) April 2020 trip. In case you don't remember what happened in that far-away time, I'll refresh your memory: Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome Coronavirus-2. Remember that thing? 

Mal would have been 5 for that trip, and even then, I thought we were reaching the end of the part of his childhood when he would find LEGOland interesting. One thing might be that he does NOT like thrill rides, so everything here will be his speed. But also, LEGOs. Or, more correctly, LEGO bricks. I know that's the proper way to say it, but it's so awkward. "Yay! Let's play with LEGO bricks!" Sorry, LEGO. It's just "LEGOs."

Anyhoo, I explained to him that I'd already planned a perfect trip that did not go that far south, and that trying to get that far south would mess everything else up. You might be thinking, as he did, "Why not just take one day and do it?" Well, if you're thinking that, then you're not the kind of trip planner that I am, and I'm not sure that I can make you understand.

But I'll try.

1) Have you ever heard of "crowd planner" websites? They're great. They let you know how busy theme parks will be on any given day, in general, your mileage may vary. I use them because I enjoy being able to have the most fun while avoiding the busiest days, thus making my big bucks that I spend on a trip go further. Because of those sites (my favorite is TouringPlans.com, and I'll join up just as soon as we're within a year of the trip so that I can get my personalized plan!), I know that in September, Disneyland has its Halloween party several times a week. On those days, if you don't have a ticket to the party, you have to leave the park at 5 PM. We did the Mickey's Not So Scary Halloween Party at Disney World in 2018 and it was fun, but I don't think we're interested in this one. SO that means that we need to hit either Magic Kingdom or California Adventure on either Monday or Wednesday. Those are the only two days of the week that we will want to be in a Disneyland park in September.

2) We don't want to go to ANY theme park on a weekend.

3) We don't want to take any flights on Friday-Monday.

4) We don't want to visit a state or national park on the weekend.

5) Some hotels in high-demand places have 2-night minimums during weekends or certain times of the year (like if it's a college town and you happen to want to stay there on parents' weekend, which I've only learned because I PLAN EARLY).

6) Since we're going to be bopping around so much, we will need to wash our clothes a couple of times on the trip (wash AND dry, because we'll have to pack them every or every other day), so I need to know that we'll have access to a guest laundry or nearby laundromat.

7. We're planning one night in a very popular national park that opens up reservations 366 days in advance, and they often sell out. Once I lock that reservation in, my ability to move things will be extremely restricted.

SO.

I happened to wake up at 4:30 Saturday morning, and my brain was telling me to get up and figure out how to squeeze LEGOland in. I worked out first, and then got to work. Two hours later, I had added, cut, and rearranged until I had another beautiful (if more road-heavy) trip worked out.

The night before, Mal had literally been sobbing about not being able to drive those cars before he turned 13. I try to treat my son as a fully-formed human with feelings that are worth of care, because he is and they are. But his crying about a still-pretty-hypothetical trip a year away (our last CA trip was canceled within 4 weeks of when we were supposed to go*) was a little much for me to absorb.

However, I felt he'd be so relieved to know that his good old mom made a way! So when I told him the next morning, he said, "Oh, okay." I was like, "WHAT? You were IN TEARS last night!" He said, "Huh? I don't remember that."

And that is why I'm not having any more kids.

Also, as aforementioned, I am old.

But also, he DID remember; he just thought I was saying that he cried in his sleep, and he didn't remember that.

But but also also, my early morning strategy session was greatly under-appreciated so I'm telling you in order to have my glorious accomplishment in writing forever, or at least as long as the internet lasts.

*Something interesting: James's brother's family had a trip to California, and LEGOland specifically, planned earlier this year. They got to the airport and soon after, Delta canceled their flight. They were able to find a flight 2 days later, but then Delta was unwilling to change their return flight without charging them, so they just got full refunds and bummed around their home state for a week. We decided that this might mean that California doesn't want anyone in our family there -- and specifically LEGOland, which wouldn't be in play if my original plan still stood. Are we cursed? Will we actually get to California? Set your reminders to check back in 15 months and we'll see!

Yet another installment of Things Mal Said

My sister texted me yesterday as she was watching "Shiny Happy People," a docuseries about the Duggars  specifically and the IBLP more broadly. Although we didn't choose to homeschool because of the reason a lot of super conservative Christians did, I was certainly adjacent to the Quiverfull movement and swam in the waters of top-down authority (like God, Father, Mother, kids; or God, male church leadership, female church leadership, members, etc.). And although I might have paid lip service to authoritarianism both as a parent and within the patriarchy, I always chafed against it and was pretty bad at submitting myself to basically anyone.

In honor of this most recent exposure of Bill Gothard and this whole establishment (I'm not linking because, honestly, let's not give them any more eyeballs), I wanted to share two things that Mal said this weekend that these people would consider a failure due to my parenting. Have I ever been more proud? It's hard to say.

Friday, we were at Urban Air with some friends. The kids pick a table where they can enjoy snacks and hanging out when they're taking a break, and the parents sit together at a different table. Mal had been jumping and come back with one of his friends for a drink. An 11-year-old girl was sitting where Mal had been sitting earlier, and he asked her if she could get up so he could sit down. She moved to a different table alone, and he just plopped down at the edge of the booth. 

I said, "Mal, will you scoot over so that Abby can sit back down?" He just looked at me like I'd asked him to stab himself, and turned back around. I said, "Malcolm, you need to move over so Abby can have her seat back." Mal announced, "Mom, I'm not listening to you." I said, "Hopefully you'll start listening to me soon or you're not going to have any friends because you're being a jerk." He said, "Mom, I've listened to you my whole life, and today I'm just not going to do it."

After he left, the mom of the girl he had asked to move said, "I know it's not funny, but it's also so funny."

The next day, we went to see Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse (so good!) and at one point, I thought I saw something fly in the air in front of the screen. A couple of minutes later, I noticed it again and it was just a moment after Mal had gotten a piece of popcorn. I realized he was eating around the kernel then just tossing the kernel into the row in front of us (where someone was sitting!) I said, “Mal, you can’t throw stuff like that.” He looked at me pointedly and said, “You’re not supposed to talk during a movie.” I said, “DO NOT THROW ANYTHING over there. If you have a kernel, just drop it in the floor and they’ll sweep it up after. Okay?” He just blinked and said, “You. Are. Not. Supposed to talk during the movie.”

I'm almost certain that I would have gotten a spanking for responding either way to my parents when I was Mal's age. It just never would have occurred to me. And I guess some people might say he's being disrespectful and shouldn't talk to me like that. But for me, the problem behaviors were the ones I was addressing, and I don't want to take focus from those by insisting on a perfect response to me, at the expense of having him think about what I was actually telling him. In the case of the movie, anyway, he didn't throw any more popcorn. 

Plus, I don't always respond to people in a completely measured way, and I don't actually have a problem with his being frustrated with me and expressing it. So I guess I'm failing as a mom, but it feels right. I'm going to keep doing it.

Summer School

Mal will be nine years old soon, and would be going into third grade if he were in school (his birthday is late in September, so he'd be one of the oldest amongst his grade cohorts). He loves homeschooling and unschooling specifically, and has so far resisted any suggestion I've made about taking ANY kind of class, even something fun like dance or martial arts. In his brain, "classes" equals "school" and he wouldn't then be a homeschooler. He has little idea that his homeschool friends have at-home curricula and structured enrichment programs.

I am fully confident that he knows that he needs to know at his age, and he's obviously happy and opinionated about his educational path. But recently D has expressed quite a bit of resentment about how they feel I just threw my hands up and "Jesus, take the wheel"ed their later school years (which isn't how it went on my end, but I know that intent isn't the same as impact, and I am very sorry and regretful that I didn't, I guess, push more forcefully... which was my bent as a mostly "authoritarian" parent at the time, and which seemed to be making our relationship worse... but I digress. I should also add that I'm fully confident that D can succeed in anything they want to do; but they are on very insecure footing because of how I conducted things). 

Also, I've been thinking a lot about how Mal is just quickly dismissive of trying things that he thinks sound "too involved" or of sticking with certain things. So James and I decided it would be a good idea for him to take something, anything, just A class next fall. Once a week is fine. And he freaked out when we told him. I brought up dance again, and he said, "I know how to dance!" I told him, "Sure, but there's something neat about learning specific steps, practicing them with friends, and then getting to perform a whole dance together." He was unconvinced. 

He's since told me that he'd cry every single day of his life once he was enrolled in a class, which sounds exhausting. He's said that he doesn't want to take any classes until driving school (which is ironic since D just practiced with James and me and otherwise was self-taught). He has asked me why I want to ruin his life.

However, recently he's taken an interest in, of all things, flags of the world.

I think it all started when he'd seen a YouTuber "rating" various countries' Emergency Management System alarms. That got him to look up the countries and see their respective flags. Now he has so many countries' flags memorized.

When we were Montreal, we saw flag shops everywhere.

We dropped into a little pizza shop on the McGill University campus, and it had a bunch of international flags hanging from the ceiling. Mal was able to name just about 70-75% of them. Then yesterday, we went to visit Nana and Pappy; they pulled up a video on YouTube where you try to guess what country a flag is from, and he was able to peg 37 of the 50!

So he has said that if I can find him a geography class, he's interested in that. He's very into continents, where countries are in relationship to each other and their continents, which countries are allies and which are enemies, and other things like that. Please keep your fingers crossed that we can find a robust elementary-aged geography class in the fall!

Also, just because I was curious, I bought a Brain Quest 2nd/3rd grade summer bridge activity book. D used to love Brain Quest books, and we did a lot of them (pretty much every one through 6th grade). Mal's completed the first section so far and he's actually enjoying it. I just call it his "activity book," and he has some of the same hang-ups D did ("Why can't I do it this way instead?" Doodling all over the place so it's hard to see what he actually did. Kid stuff), but he's able to do everything easily. Even things like commas and apostrophes, which, again, we've NEVER "studied" because we don't, he understands how to use them. We'll finish the book because he's having fun, and so am I. I did get to spend quite a bit more hands-on time with D as a kid because of our "doing school" a couple of hours a day.

All of that to say: The kid is all right. It's fine. I actually got him to go to an "open gym" by basically making him (I've asked all semester and he always said no, so I just did it), which he liked a lot. This week is the last session until fall, but that's another thing he can look forward to. 

Our summer is getting busy, already. Lots of activities, movies coming out, musicals, fun stuff. Hopefully it all involved a lot of a/c or a lot of water to get into, though!

Stupid Cat

We have ways of ranking our cats. For instance, Carol is D's favorite. Mal thinks Aish is the cutest, and Carol is in second place. Also, Carol seems like she's the smartest, the most agile, and probably the deadliest. Aish is the most interested and vicious with the laser pointer. Except for the laser dot, though, she also seems to have the worst vision. We tend to agree that Rudy is easily the stupidest. He's also the oldest. 

Lately, Rudy has taken to sleeping like a freaking log lately. Everyone in the house has noticed it. Sometimes, I really pay attention to make sure he's still breathing. Because when he's out, he is OUT.

Today, though, Rudy did something that surprised me, in terms of brain activity.

I was on my way to the restroom when Rudy zipped past me into the room. I told him, "You're not going to like this!" as I locked him in.

He walked around for a few minutes, kind of checking out everything in the room. Then he walked over to the wall and looked up to where I have a beach towel hanging up. He stretched out up the wall and started scratching at it. After a few moments, his claw caught the bottom of the towel and he started pulling. 

Quickly, he had the towel on the ground. Then he made a nest out of it and plopped down.

It's like he knew he was going to be in there for a hot minute, and he wanted to get comfortable. Maybe he's not as dumb as we think he is?

The Second Most Consistent Male Presence in My Life

There is a slightly older gentleman who came into my life when I was 12 years old, and who has had, outside of my father, the most meaningful impacts on my life. I will never forget when I first realized that we were going to be something special...

When my sister and I were in elementary school, we had to go over to someone's house after school for the 45 minutes to an hour before my mom got home from the school where she taught. In 6th grade, that house belonged to our caddy-corner neighbor, Eugene Kersh.

It was toward the end of the school year, in early 1984, that we were eating popcorn and throwing it to Eugene's doberman (who would snatch it out of the air) when Eugene put on the 45 (RMP record, for you youngsters) for "Weird Al" Yankovic's "Eat It." Of course, I had heard that song on the radio. It was pretty funny, and a dead-on spoof of Michael Jackson's iconic "Beat It." When that was finished, he turned the record over to the B side and... "We all used to call him 'Jimmy the Geek.' He was a dumb-looking, scrawny little four-eyed freak. He never used to hang around with the guys; he'd just sit in the corner attracting the flies..." The catchy little tune went on to talk about Jimmy's many social foibles but how he had one redeeming quality: He could dance. By the end of the song, he's living the dream with his own TV show and tons of attention. Something about this original song with its tight lyrics and silly mental picture caught me. I wanted to hear more of it.

It took a while for me to save up some money to get a tape player (or maybe I got one for Christmas), but by the next year, I had my very on boom box. And the first tape I remember buying to play on it was "Weird Al in 3-D," which had both of those songs on it, as well as a send-up of the Rocky theme "Eye of the Tiger," some other parodies that got radio play (mostly on Dr. Demento's Sunday night show), a couple more great originals, and the first of his smash-up polkas I ever heard: Polkas on 45. 

I distinctly remember thinking that the combinations of pop songs (not all au courant, but recent enough that I knew of most of them) was extremely entertaining. I played the song for my mom, who suggested that I play the song for my aunt Norma, who might find it more amusing than she did.

After that, I bought every new Weird Al-bum that came out. I would often pop a tape into my Walkman and go to bed listening to the songs. "Slime Creatures from Outer Space" was one of my favorites. Thinking about listening to it in the cool dark of a winter night gives me extreme nostalgia in a way that little else does (maybe watching "Scarecrow and Mrs. King").

You've probably noticed this about me, but in case I need to state the obvious: I don't think about the world the same way a lot of people do. I find myself often wondering, "Sorry, am *I* the crazy one here?" And we probably all know the answer to that question. But something about bopping along to "Everything You Know is Wrong" helped me feel more centered, and more like I wasn't the only one who was, to be super corny and on-the-nose about it, weird.

Tonight, I was lucky enough to score a free pass to go see "Weird," a movie that is allegedly about the life of Alfred Yankovic (although it isn't; not the real version, anyway) that I suspect was borne out of this joke trailer from Funny or Die almost 10 years ago.

I haven't been able to make it to his past couple of concerts... the doors open so late, and there's usually an opener.. and, yeah, since I have a little who doesn't sleep a lot, I'm a giant wimp about it.

The first Weird Al show I attended was in Las Vegas at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in 1996. I remember waiting in line at the box office to get tickets the day they went on sale (this was before internet ticket sales!) and assuming that everyone else in line was doing the same thing. Then the guy in front of me asked, "Who are you going to see?" I told him and he looked surprised. "Are you kidding?" he asked. "No! He's awesome. I'm so excited!" The guy just shook his head and turned around. Whatever.

I saw another show in Las Vegas at the now-demolished Aladdin Hotel and Casino in 1998 or 1999. Then when I lived in North Texas, I saw him in Austin at the FunFunFun Fest in 2010. A year or so later, a couple of friends and I went to see him in Dallas at the Nokia Theater. Then in October 2013, James, D, and I went to Tulsa for the 25th anniversary of UHF. They had a day tour of filming sites, and then a concert in the evening. That was a lot of fun.

Pretty soon, we'll be at 40 years of fandom, and so far, this is one dude who hasn't let me down. So I'm looking forward to rubbing elbows with fellow freaks this evening. 

A Surprising Dinner with Mal

Every Friday (mostly), Mal meets some friends at Urban Air for a couple of hours of trampoline jumping and playground fun. 

James and I had planned to meet for dinner afterwards last night, our first family dinner out since before the pandemic. I had told Mal we were going to do this, at a restaurant James and I had selected, and that I knew they probably wouldn't have any food he'd like, but he could just hang out and drink soda.

When I mentioned this to my friend, she offered to take Mal home with her so our kids could play together and James and I could have a date night. I asked Mal, and he preferred to go with us. First surprise.

After he'd played a couple of hours, we went to the restaurant, where James was waiting. Second surprise: Mal ordered food. Chicken tenders and fruit.

The plate came, and a very hungry Mal was extremely happy about the fruit.

He ate some strawberries and grapes, then picked up a little piece of cantaloupe. "What is this?" he asked. I said, "It's a melon, like watermelon, but it's called 'cantaloupe.'" (Yes, we've had it at home before and, no, he's never tried it.)

Mal stuck his tongue out and touched it to the cantaloupe. I guess it passed the tongue test, because Mal popped it into his mouth and rolled his eyes in ecstasy. He then ate more of the cantaloupe. MAJOR third surprise. Major. He actually ADDED a food to his palate instead of removing a food from it. I honestly could have cried (if you have one of these eaters, you get it; I didn't before... it's a lot).

THEN, Mal pulled off the tip of one of the chicken tenders. I said, "That's just coating. You should eat some chicken." But he ate the fried batter, then reacted. "It's hot!" and drank some water.

Normally, that would have been the death sentence for the chicken making further encroachment onto Malcolm's taste buds. But this time, he pulled out his knife, cut off a slice of chicken, and ate it. Water. Again. And again.

Eventually, he'd eaten everything but a few grapes! And he didn't even have ketchup until the last tender.

Sometimes in parenting, we have to really celebrate what might seem like small milestones. This was a HUGE deal to us. I'm proud of Mal for trying new food and for keeping with something that normally would have put him right off! Maybe there's hope for him to expand what he'll eat over time, after all!

Melting Down

Yesterday was Father's Day. In the morning, we'd gotten out our "ironing bead" set for Mal to make something for James.

Mal used the beads to make this all by himself in December 2020. It's the universe.

He'd decided to make a heart, but was having a difficult time actually shaping a heart. So I told him that I would do the outline, and he could fill it in and decorate the rest of the form; then I would iron it, of course.

He added about a half-dozen beads, then left the project. A couple of times throughout the day, I asked him if he wanted to finish it up so I could iron it, but he said he'd do it in the break after church and before he went to the park for a play date. (Our church meets at 4 PM and his friend was going to be at the park around 8 PM... hey, it's really hot in Texas right now, and this is one of the only acceptable times to be outdoors doing movement.)

On the way home from church, Mal remembered his project. He said, "Mom, you're going to have to help me finish it." I told him I was going to iron it. He said, "No, you have to help me put the beads on. I can't do it." I said, "Sure you can. And the gift is from YOU, so you need to do it. I made Dad some tin roof sundae ice cream, and tomorrow morning, I'm making some pumpkin French toast that he wants. Those are my gifts."

Mal got very upset and said, "YOU HAVE TO HELP ME! I'd rather DIE than do it!" I told him that if he were that stressed about it, that he could just not do it and it would be fine. But he insisted that he needed to give his dad something and that it was my responsibility to make sure it got done.

When we got home, he kept bugging me about it, and said he wanted to ask his dad for his opinion. James was outside working on the back lot, but when he got back in, Mal quietly mentioned that he wanted me to finish this project, and wasn't James on his side?

Mal was both surprised and disappointed that James didn't agree with him. But he decided to start on adding more beads. He was complaining to me that he couldn't find any more pink beads. Then he said that he thought the heart was misshapen and he could take 3 beads off of the top of one of the halves and it would look better. After he did that, he realized that it looked very lopsided. So his fix for that was to start over. He dumped the tray off, throwing the beads back into the box. Making the heart in the first place hadn't been easy, and I guess my face conveyed the shock I felt.

He started yelling, "That was YOUR FAULT! All you had to do was say yes you'd help me. But you said no, so YOU ARE THE ONE WHO DID THAT!" 

Mal has this thing about blaming other people for situations he's in. We talk to him about it a lot, and it's very difficult for him. Sometimes, he tries. Sometimes, he'll say, "I want to take responsibility for my actions, so that was my fault." But it has to be low stakes. If it's important to him, negative occurrences are never because of his own decisions.

While he was complaining, James came back into the room. Again, Mal mentioned that he'd rather die than do the thing alone. As I had before, James calmly told him that if he was that stressed about it, he just shouldn't do it and it would be fine. Mal screamed, "But I want to give you something for Father's Day!"

Mal cried, then he kept repeating, "Mom, this is all because of YOU. You were being so mean, and you wouldn't help me, and YOU are the reason that we have to start all over!"

He said it so many times, and I was so tired for him and for me, that I said, "Mal, you need to stop talking about it."

Something snapped. He started shaking and yelled through clenched teeth, "YOU. MAKE. ME. SO. MAD!" He got up from the table and started for his room. "That's it! I am so mad right now, I want to hurt you! You don't care about me, and I don't care about you! I regret every time I told you I love you! I'm going to slam my door, and I'm going to lock it!"

He did slam his door and lock it. Then he yelled from inside, "I'm not even sorry I did that!" A moment later, he opened his door and said, "I am sorry, God, for saying this, but Mom, I hate you! I hate you so much and I am NEVER going to deal with you again!" Then he slammed it again.

He was in there for about 10 minutes and came back out. He was crying and yelling. I tried to go hug him, but he pushed me away and said, "NO! I don't want you!" But then he just started crying like a baby again. I approached him to hug him, and this time, he leaned in and hugged me back. Then he went back in his room and would issue a scathing diatribe every few minutes. 

Fortunately, James took him to the park pretty soon after, and I put the beads away so it wouldn't be a visual reminder.

When they got home, I told Mal that I was very glad he felt free to express his feelings when he was mad. But I also told him that no matter how much he might want to hurt someone when he's mad, he can't do it. I told him not only was is just a bad thing but that it was assault and against the law. He was all breezy and saying, "Oh, of course not. I'm not stupid!" 

It was so intense, and I feel out of my depth for how to help him handle those big feelings. He cries almost every day about SOMETHING, and he often gets SO mad at me for what he thinks are injustices I enact upon him. James and I both try to let him know that we love him no matter what, and in calmer times try to explain to him why the way he's operating isn't sustainable... but, man... parenting is HARD, y'all.

Unlearning Bigotry

This morning, I was listening to an interview on NPR. It was their morning news program, and they were talking with a (possibly retired) brigadier general about the invasion of Ukraine by Russian forces. To the first question, the general began responding and had a prominent speech impediment. It wasn't a stutter per se, but it was a pretty overt frequent verbal pause "uh, um, um, uhhh..." to get from one part of a sentence to where he was going. For a fraction of a moment, I tensed up; then I reminded myself to listen to what he was actually saying, and for the rest of the interview, I heard HIM and his message and was able to completely filter out the tic.

My initial catch was an ablist left-over from growing up both with an educator (grammar is important) and a broadcaster (professional presentation is important, even better if it can be flawless; and nothing is a cardinal sin like dead air). 20 years ago, I might have entertained the thought, "Why would they pick this guy to put on the radio answering questions?" because of how I had to adjust my ear to truly listen to him. The answer is, of course, that he's brilliant at what he does and is an extremely accomplished military leader. That is THE important factor in the equation.

In truth, I adore that everyone on the radio isn't expected to sound like Dan Rather or Walter Cronkite anymore (my dad does, though). That expectation is elitist, sexist, racist, nationalist, and a whole host of other "ist"s. That humans can report news or interview notable people competently while still retaining their own natural speech is refreshing.

But when you have grown up with a certain expectation, it takes some self-reflection and discipline to unlearn and stop mentally trying to enforce those arbitrary rules.

Real Talk About Parenting

Maybe I should never have had kids.

I have thought this over the years, but recently especially because as of last month, both of my children have expressed to me that they doubt that I love them. I know, kids can be dramatic. I know. But I also know that the world is chaotic, and the one thing that a child should have as an absolute is that their parents love them.

I was a wreck when both of my kids were newborns. I chalk this up to being a control freak. Neither of them was the "sleep right through the night" happy-go-lucky infant that some people seem to have. D was hard, but then I had Mal and realized that D was actually easy. Both of my kids' dads got low-key (and maybe high-key) frustrated (or angry) with me about my emotional deficiencies when our kids were fresh.

Ken's breaking point was when he walked into the living room when D was a few weeks old and saw me just sobbing as the baby's body jolted with hiccups. His helpful advice: "You have to pull yourself together."

With James, it was that one day, when Malcolm was very tiny, James was at work (for reference: Mal was born on a Thursday afternoon, and James's bosses contacted him Friday and said, "No rush, but just so we can know what to expect: When do you plan to come back to work?" He went back on Monday.) and Mal just would not stop crying, as per usual. I was sleep-deprived and near the end of my rope. There was nothing to do, and nothing makes me feel crazier when there's nothing to do. I was scared of myself. Not scared that I'd just run away or even hurt the baby or anything. Just overwhelmed by the weight of the responsibility that it felt I was expected to bear on my own. 

I called James in tears and said, "He won't stop crying, and I don't know what to do. I need you to come home." By the time James got there, maybe 25 minutes later, Mal and I were on the porch and he'd calmed down. James sat with us a while, then went back to work.

Later, he admitted that this was the one time in our whole relationship that he'd been frustrated with me. He thought that the baby was hurt or that something was out-of-the-ordinary wrong, when it was just the normal stuff, but waves upon waves of it. Apparently, there was a meeting at work that had to be rescheduled because of my neediness. I was honestly shocked there weren't other times he'd been mad. I'd been a selfish jerk quite often and wouldn't have resented that. This baffled me. I needed... something.

Everyone needs something.

And something no-one tells you when you try to blend a family, especially if only one of you has kids, is that it feels like you're the single one who has to make sure that everyone's needs are met. It's your responsibility to make sure that no one feels inconvenienced or hurt by the decisions you made, because if they do, then it means that it's your fault and that you brought this on them.

So if you're a perfectionist like me, you try to manage. You try to manage resources and environment and activities. You try to anticipate needs and meet them in advance so no one feels left out or overlooked.

Then when you make a decision for your own life or even for the family unit as a whole, if one person doesn't agree with it, it feels even more fraught than if you'd started off all on the same page for the kids' whole lives. 

When I was married to Ken, I exercised my empathy until it was flawless. It was codependent and unhealthy, but I tried to operate in ways I knew wouldn't stir the pot. I assumed that when I got out of that relationship, things would get easier.

I was right, in terms of having an unconditionally loving partner. But what I didn't realize is that I took my empathy with me, and when D started having issues with the trajectory our lives were taking (unfortunate side effect of being a kid is that you get dragged wherever your parents' choices take you), I would start to pour all of that energy into maintaining normalcy as much as possible for my kid.

Once, when D was in therapy when I was expecting Mal, I met with D's therapist to discuss some things, and the therapist told me, "You're addressing this practically, but you're not addressing D's feelings about it." And recently, D has told me the same thing: I meet their physical needs, but not the emotional ones.

But, damn it, I don't know what else to do. I have two kids who have various sensory/sensitivity things that James and I both deal with, but I'm the day-to-day person who tries to manage things like sounds, fears, hygiene, food preferences, appointments, pet interactions... and maybe I'm just the kind of person who doesn't have a lot of emotional energy left over after all of that.

So maybe I shouldn't have had kids.

It doesn't seem to be something I can handle.

My kids deserve better than that, and I'm tired.

So... where do we go from here?