Kissing Games

This weekend we had unusually warm weather, so we took off for the mountains.

We went with one of Lil’T's friends from school, Lil’ Ninja, and his mom.  Lil’T and her Ninja friend had a great time building forts in the trees and racing on our hikes.  They searched for fairies and Harry Potter wands and hunted for beaver.  C-minor was right behind them.

The last night, Lil’Ninja was overcome.  He grabbed Lil’T, pinning her arms, and began smooching her on the face.  (Ick, open wet lips…)  She froze and then laughed nervously.  We split them up immediately and asked Lil’Ninja if he had asked for permission to kiss her.  He got mad and began to pout.  ”No, I didn’t ask.  I just wanted to. “

As his mom talked to him, we talked to Lil’T about how its always OK to say no, even if you have a crush on someone.  Even if you said they could kiss you, or hug you, if you feel uncomfortable you need to tell them to stop.

Then we realized that these kids had mostly seen their parents kissing.  We’ve had a lot of practice and can read each other’s body language pretty well.  The kids don’t see this silent consent built on years of communicating in private.  It makes sense that they just copy what they see in front of them.

We’ve started asking for permission to kiss when in front of the kids.  And more importantly, we practice saying no.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Sure!  Kiss my shoulder, please.”

“Oh, I’m uncomfortable kissing your shoulder.  Can I kiss your nose?”

Last photo taken from http://www.two-views.com/article_kissing.html

I don’t care so much if she kisses someone now, although I had my first kiss when I was a decade and a half older than she is, but I do care that she is respected and has the courage to stand up for herself.  I think this will be harder (but more fun) to teach than “wait”.

Up a creek without a paddle

We went white water canoeing on the weekend.

It wasn’t exactly intentional.  My lover’s work had a family picnic and had rides for people who wanted to do a raft float down the river to the picnic site.  We had just bought a canoe (best suited for lakes) and decided to give it a go.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve gone canoeing.  I’ve loved each time and so wasn’t worried.  Usually my cartographile husband looks up maps of the routes and checks the water levels so I didn’t do any of it.

The work group left late and the raft launch was a little downstream of where we launched the canoe.  We paddled upstream for 10 to 15 minutes while waiting for rafters.  Most of the rafters were really confused and asked why we were trying so unsuccessfully to paddle upstream.  Every few minutes someone would ask if we knew what we were doing and didn’t seem satisfied with the answer that we were just waiting for them.

(Photo credit: James Tworow.  Not the same river we were on, but in the same area)

C-minor started out by throwing all of her toys overboard and then trying to stand up and reach for them.  Once we got moving she then tried to grab sticks floating in the water.   It wasn’t really helpful.

Then we hit our first stretch of rapids.  Since canoes are more stable if going faster or slower than the current we began to backpaddle.  However, that means the person in the front (me) has to steer.  I would have liked some practice steering at all, let alone doing it backwards while approaching some large rocks at a speed I hadn’t gone before.

We decided to turn the canoe around and just paddle upstream so the steering wouldn’t be backwards.  At this point the rafters passed us and were once again concerned that we didn’t know what we were doing.  I think this was the worst part of the trip for my more experienced partner.  The comments that is, not the manoevering through rapids while going down them backwards, which is a strain on the neck at least.

(Not my picture either but this is the same river)

The sun was getting lower and the glare on the water made it hard to look for submerged rocks or shallower stretches.  I said to aim us for the left side of a pier because the glare wasn’t as bad and I could look for rocks.  However, as we approached, the current wasn’t running parallel to the pier, but was pushing us against it.  As we were being pushed hard and fast towards the concrete pile, my lover called out for me to backpaddle.  Instinct took over and I paddled forwards as hard as I could.  In our fight against the current and even against each other, my partner’s paddle broke.  The shaft snapped right in the middle.

(Photo credit: By Larry He’s So Fine. This may not be the exact pier)

We slipped past the concrete pier unharmed but with only one paddle for the rest of the trip.  Since I hadn’t looked at a map, I had no idea what the rest of the river was like.  I had no way of knowing that we’d passed the most difficult parts or it wasn’t just my incompetence that made it tricky.  I had small children who wanted us to go faster or reach out for objects they dropped in the frigid mountain runoff river.  I also knew that there had been a few deaths downstream of where we were from inexperienced rafters.

(A picture of downstream where the deaths occurred, taken from a newspaper)

Because of that I was relieved to see our destination point about 2 or 3 hours after we started.  There I learned we had gone through some class 1/2 rapids.  I also learned that another woman had decided not to take their canoe down the river because although she loved to canoe down rivers, her husband had mostly done lakes.  She said it only takes one partner to put the rest in danger.

While I was feeling guilt that I had potentially endangered my babies’ lives, my partner was exhilarated.

We will do the river again another time.  After we get better paddles and I have more practice.  Likely without the kids.

Family Drama without Words

Mr. P and Auntie Sweetie

There is no conclusive evidence that prostate massage reduces the risk of prostate cancer.  However, as Pascal’s reasoning suggests, even the unproved possibility of preventing something bad may sometimes be worth the effort. Hence the welcoming of purple Mr. P into our home. As we are certain of the existence of both the prostate and cancer, Mr. P is not named after Pascal.

Our Auntie Sweetie is named after her sweet nature. She is so sweet that she dropped by this week so I could do errands without the kids. She is so sweet that she cannot watch The Little Mermaid without blushing. Or look at my breast-feeding painting at all. She is so sweet that she decided to clean my kitchen while she waited.

“I washed the dishes that weren’t in the dishwasher and started to clean the counter, but I didn’t know where everything went, so I just left some things,” she explained in her sweet sparrow voice used when children are around. I noticed that while she was talking, she was looking at her feet and twisting her long piano fingers.

I wanted to ease her obvious discomfort and thanked her for not putting anything away that I might not be able to find later. Still not looking at me, she went back to playing with my delightful children.

After she left, I went to the kitchen to put away the bowl she had washed. The crumbs around the toaster had been cleaned. I remembered something. You saw it coming?

Yes, it was he. Mr P had been introduced to Auntie Sweetie. There he was behind the cutting board, drying himself in the nude after his disinfecting bath the night before.

Ahh! Why did it have to be her? Why not someone who would make a joke about how leaving the church leads to sexual depravity instead of someone who might actually think it?

At least I hadn’t put out our Asherah pole to charge (via USB port) like I was planning.  Bwahaha!  

(For those of you who may care: the kids are too short to see anything on the counter.)

 

Sad Joke

Some people hide sadness behind smiles.  I hide my silliness behind a serious mask.

I only let the silly out when I am very comfortable.  This means I am good at telling jokes that no one recognizes as a joke.  (Or maybe I’m just not that funny.)  It also means I can keep a straight face when I want to burst out laughing.  Which does come in handy.

In a recent conversation with my girls’ Auntie Fun, I asked how her parents were.

“They’re fine,” she answered.

“That’s good to hear.  Last week when I talked to them, they weren’t doing so well.” I replied.

“Oh, well, they are having [various health problems] but that’s all because of [their other daughter-in-law]” I was informed.

My serious mask cracked a little.  ”Umm, thats interesting.  A few months ago I was informed that [those same health problems] were all my fault.”

“Well, they still are.”

I valiantly held the laugh bubble inside.  But its coming out now.  Bwahahahaha!

I’m sorry, the reason that certain people I only talk to once every few months are having health problems is only because their daughter-in-laws don’t go to the right church and have pictures of nude babies on our walls?  <snicker>

By the serious look on Auntie Fun’s face I deduced that she wasn’t joking.   Maybe the fear that we will be tormented in a infinite pit of fire is causing enough stress to seriously impact their health.  However, I take no responsibility for them torturing themselves with such unfounded and mythical ideas.

(FYI, their health is still robust enough to travel the world, hike, camp, and be very physically active.  Nothing a little lemon balm tea or rational thinking wouldn’t help; but me pointing that out- wouldn’t help.)

 

Little Activist

A while earlier Lil’T asked what a crush was and I told her it was when you liked someone so much you get butterflies in your stomach and you want to be with them all the time.  She then informed me that she had crushes on several people, including an aunt we’ll call Auntie Fun.

Auntie Fun flew out to spend a few days with us.  She is a fantastic auntie and both my kids are crazy about her.

When driving back from a picnic hike, Lil’T told us she was pretending Auntie Fun was her birth mom.  I was the birth mom of C-minor “in the game” but that Lil’T and C-minor were still sisters because Auntie Fun and I were married.

Then Lil’T reminded us loudly in case we forgot “because you can have two moms get married.”

I do not know exactly where Auntie Fun stands on homosexual rights, but I know where her parents stand and I know that they’ll hear about this.

It may seem little, but I am worried about the consequences for openly stating things we care about around these people.  Part of me, maybe the evangelical part that feels responsible to proselytize to the ignorant, wants to yell out:

I don’t believe in a god who orders genocide and has little regard for truth, women, children, non-chosen races or the world we live in.

I don’t support a church that teaches lies, obscures the truth and promotes hatred and intolerance.

I do support the human rights of all marginalized peoples, including respect and dignity. Ethnicity, class, gender, orientation, ability, size are what make us unique and beautiful, not defective.

Of course, merely saying something like ”evolution is so fascinating” or ”my friend just got engaged to her amazing girlfriend of 3 years” are not seen as positive affirmations of life by some people but as an aggressive attack.

I do not need to get in people’s faces and tell them what I am passionate about, even though I have been trained to.  However, I wish I did not feel like I need to hide those things around family.

Ironically, in hopes of a deferred nap-time, my kids are hiding in the closet right now.

 

Opera & Flu

This has been a crazy week.   Lil’T was performing in an opera that the kids in her elementary school wrote with the help of our city’s professional opera company.  I didn’t even know we had a professional opera company.

Since this year’s science theme is space, the kids made the opera about a super nova.  I nearly cried at the end when the sweet super nova explodes.   After the stars and Pluto there were, of course, artist Diego Rivera, bullfighters, and flamenco dancing aliens (the kindergartners).   I couldn’t believe these kids wrote an opera full of science, sci-fi, existential angst, loss and friendship.  The older grades, 4 and 5, were also the orchestra.  Amazing.

Then I had my four impacted wisdom teeth extracted and my lover (PNL) and Lil’T came down with the flu.  The past few days I’ve been hallucinating on codeine while trying to help the flu victims.  Thankfully, C-minor seems happy and healthy.  However, unlike her big sister who reacts to me being sick by becoming more helpless, the toddler reacts by getting into more mischief.

Throwing tantrums, throwing toys, throwing punches, but thankfully not throwing up.

Updated: We are both sick now.

 

Flowers and Cliffs

A coworker brought me flowers last week (she regularly buys flowers for people). My lover realized that he had never brought me flowers. Unless you count edible wildflowers we found on walks. Of course, he never bought me flowers because he is actually grows poppies, marigolds, yarrow and more. (Besides, many bought flowers use enough pesticides to contribute to long-term health problems to workers.)

Of course, my ex did love ‘romantic’ gestures. These generally creeped me out. He spent hours making me CDs with mushy love songs. He loved to sneak into my living space and decorate it with candles and hearts. He made magazines mimicking celebrity mags with our faces on them and cute little articles about how we had been spotted together. Usually this involved putting my face on Jennifer Lopez’ body. His nickname for me was J-llo because he said I jiggled with I ran. Somehow I could never convince him this was not flattering.

He would sing me songs. I don’t mind people writing me poems or singing me songs but they have to be either sincere, witty, or sarcastic. Sappy songs annoy me. I have nothing against being sincerely sweet, but these songs seemed as genuine as Cool-Whip.

I felt bad that I did not appreciate this romantic guy. It was my fault for being: cold-hearted, unrealistic, unappreciative, unresponsive…  The problem was that when I did not react the way I was supposed to- gooey admiration – I was wrong.  I was supposed to love these gestures whether I liked them or not.  He either did not know what I really liked or did know but disapproved and tried to change me.

That is one of the biggest gifts my lover gives me: seeing who I am and appreciating me.

He also occasionally brings me olives or finds an unexplored bike route with sandstone cliffs.

Farewell

I had a sad dream last night in which one of my uncles died.  When I woke up and remembered that he was still alive, I was very glad!  The kind of glad that makes you want to call everyone you care about and tell them you love them.   Instead of actually calling anyone, I just want to say that I am very grateful for this online community.  I really appreciate you all.  Sincerely.

Then I remembered that a different uncle died last week.   This one doesn’t deserve the title ‘uncle’, so from now on he will be called Greasy.

My first memories of him include fear.  As a toddler, I was afraid of him.  I tried to avoid him whenever possible.  Even remembering this brings back the feeling of a sunny day suddenly turned grey and chilling.

I’m sure he had redeeming qualities.  I just never knew him.  I look back on his life and see how he hurt my aunt and my cousin and I know that colours how I think of him.  If I had seen him in any context other than trying to control or belittle them, I probably could see his humanity and mourn the loss of it.  For now, I just mourn his poor choices and am unaware of his good ones.

The last time I saw him was a few years ago.  Instead of a toddler’s panic I felt sadness and a bit of disgust.  He verbally abused my aunt and limped around as if he was a bantam cock instead of a man artificially old from too much smoking and drinking.

I’m glad he is gone.  I am sorry I feel that way, but I do.  I’m relieved I will never have to see him again and I hope my aunt will finally be free of whatever hold he seemed to have over her.

Farewell, Greasy.  I hope those you’ve left behind will be better for it.

Opposites Detract

The other day we learned about things that are similar and things that are opposite.

It started when we went to the dentist, travelling south. Lil’T asked if we were going to my work which is northwest. I informed her we were going in the opposite direction. She didn’t understand.
I listed as many opposites as I could think of (hot/cold, light/dark, etc) until she got it.
We talked about being similar which meant that some things are different but a lot of things are the same.

Then she asked for a story.

I told her about Rosa Parks.

Then we talked about how some of the light skinned people used to think the darker skinned people were opposites instead of similar. Since the light skinned people loved their children, they would assume someone opposite would hate their children. If someone was nice, an opposite person would be mean. Because many thought of people with different hair or skin as opposite instead of similar, they were afraid of them and made rules to keep them apart.

Rosa and many others thought this was silly so they made a stand. They were tired of being treated as the opposite of fully human. Lil’T loves that part. Since we had watched a Disney movie about Ruby Bridges, a 5 year old black girl who went to a white school, she knew all about racial segregation.

(We started watching the movie before I realized what it was about. Lil’T loved it because in the end the mean kids became Ruby’s friends. I almost turned it off when the movie showed angry people holding black dolls in coffins as little Ruby walked into the school.

Lil’T, however, thought they were just giving Ruby presents in boxes.)

“And now we know better! Black people can go to school with everyone or sit or eat wherever they want! We’re not opposites!” Lil’T was so excited, and I immediately felt embarrassed and conspicuously white.
I reminded her the rules had changed a long time ago, but attitudes change more slowly. Maybe I was reminding myself.

Then we talked about opposites again. I said some words and Lil’T had to tell me if they were opposite or similar. She was pretty quick until we got to dog and cat.

She paused. “Four legs, furry, good pets, like to be scratched behind the ears…. similar!” She pronounced.

“What about boys and girls?” I asked.

“Similar!” she said with no hesitation.

I’m glad that she can find more in common than to separate.

I have to remind myself of this when dealing with certain people. Our worldviews may be opposite in many ways, but we still have much in common.

We may have different definitions of love, but we all want it.

We aren’t completely the same, but we aren’t opposites.