I'll Do It Myself!

My nephew says his version of that all the time.  It usually comes out something like, "I do it!" or "I dood is myself!"  But he's 3 and learning to exercise his independence, and I kind of expect that to dwindle in the near future.

Only to be picked up again by the time he's Noah's age.  Enter first major project of middle school.  Not only does he have to write his lab report, he needs to do research, create (or find) an appropriate experiment, DO the experiment TWICE, create a graph, then analyze his data.  And he's being stubborn.  Kids will do as little as they can possibly get away with, but they often overestimate that limit.  You don't think I'll notice that you don't understand what you wrote?  Fermentation?  Leavening?  How should I know those are important terms?

So, he's dragging his feet.  A large part of his research came not from the internet, but from books I borrowed for him from the library.  That's where he found the experiment upon which his is based, and that's where he learned about the need for a control group.  But after a particularly frustrating patch, he yells at me, "Fine!  I'll do it myself!" So, like any mature adult, I replied, "Okay, then give me back my library books!"

That'll show him, right?  That'll teach him to mess with the bull.

As you can imagine, I don't feel triumphant.  I feel petty.  Charlie's response to Noah's outburst was, "That's what you're supposed to be doing, anyway!"  And he's right.  It's because I'm "helping" that Noah is relying so heavily on me.  I'm doing more showing than guiding, which is usually fine in very small amounts, but I'm not doing him any favors today.

The books are now lying in a heap on the floor of the living room and Noah's hiding in his room.  I don't know what he's doing or what he could possibly be doing without these books or a computer, and I'm DYING to find out.  But I need him to approach me, not only to admit he was wrong and apologize, but to also give him an actual chance to do it on his own.  He might just surprise me.

I Remember

I've been upending boxes, rifling through closets, and stuffing garbage bags in an effort to clean out my space and get rid of my paid-for storage space.  Throwing my own stuff out has been remarkably easy, which is especially surprising after having held onto most of them for years.  I'm talking here mostly about my clothes that I SWEAR I'll fit into again but haven't thus far.  I took a look at them yesterday and literally blurted out loud to no one I could distinguish, "If I lose all this weight, why the fuck would I want to wear THIS shit!?"

It's like a woman I work with who can be seen sporting the same styles she first thought was cool over 10 years ago.  I can think of a few good reasons to keep wearing something so old.  After all, I still have the corduroy blazers I inherited from my dad's 70s wardrobe that I personally wore through high school.  I own and wear socks that are older than my children!  But then again, my wardrobe has always been a little quirky, so maybe that doesn't count.

But then I've also come across some of my kids' things-- like Noah's school work for 1st grade at Pearl Ridge Elementary School.  It's so funny.  I read a lot of them out loud, and we all had a good laugh at his misspellings and art work.  Did you know he wrote a paper about going to see the Bulls play a game and even named a couple of players?  I don't know where that came from, but it's pure fiction.  I just don't know how he knew those names!

And while it's so cool to look upon the past and laugh at our foibles, smile affectionately upon fond memories, and maybe find encouragement in seeing how far we've come, I realize that I don't care too much for holding onto unnecessary junk anymore.  I have 10 bags filled with clothes (not all mine!), books, and handbags to prove it.  

What I've also realized is that I horde my love for people like precious jewels.  I might not show it all the time, I probably don't express it as often as I should, but you should all know that I feel so awesomely blessed to have you all in my life.  I know some totally super cool people who possess a wide range of talents-- musical, lyrical, spiritual, or otherwise.  You all have something I envy and admire.  Those I hold in highest regard, I must admit, are those who seem to effortlessly ooze love and joy to those around them.  There are people I know who are so warm and sincere and whose verbal or written contact can feel like a hug or gentle caress; the briefest interaction bears the fullness of authenticity and singularity.  

So saying, please come to our garage sale on Saturday and share in my heritage.  Just about everything I'm selling will be priced at $.25.  Help me say goodbye to the crap that's weighing me down (in the form of amassed junk in corners, boxes, and closets), and remind me again why I love being in your presence :).  

The Difference Between Pizza and Ice Cream

In the fall of 2003, I made a near-cross country road trip with my two small children, my mom, and step-dad.  We travelled from Uncle Bobby's house in Alameda, California all the way to Lawton, Oklahoma which would be our home for at least the next 9 months.  Before I left Hawaii that summer, I picked up three remarkable cds that have been my steady companions ever since-- Go Jimmy Go's "Soul Arrival", Jack Johnson's "On and On", and Pepper's "Kona Town".  (For the record, I also bought Natural Vibes' "The Circle" that summer, too, and listened to it almost incessantly on the road trip)

It's hard now to look back on those days in Oklahoma without also associating them with that soundtrack.  I can see myself driving to pick up Noah at pre-school and listening to "Stormtrooper" on the way.  I remember listening to even more Pepper on the drive home from anywhere, driving past the Electric Cowboy, the car wash, and the drive-through smoke shop, singing, "I don't mind taking lives I find..."

And though one of our neighbors in OK had become close friends of mine from our time spent in Washington state, and though one of Matt's cohorts was married to a Filipino woman from Hawaii, I felt incredibly lonely and alone.  I grew to rely heavily on Jenna and May for support and companionship.  The goodness of Clay and Garth helped me to keep sight of myself.  And Chris gave me a gift that, had it not been given, may not have readied me to ultimately leave my marriage.

So when I hear anything from my soundtrack of the fall of 2003, I think of them.  But I do not think of May's unfortunate (but totally predictable) betrayal, and I certainly don't dwell on the all-encompassing cloud of uncertainty and deceit.  I remember that at that time, Chris was alive and the world held at least one more decent and loving person.  The world-- MY world, especially-- was better because people like Chris were a part of it. People like Jenna and Clay and Garth and Kevin.

Thinking of Chris and his untimely passing inevitably makes me sad.  I still miss him and I still sometimes cry.  But sometimes I get lucky as I was today.  Sometimes I will hear a song from that time and it will make me happy.  It will make me joyful that there was a time at all, however brief, when Chris was alive and he was also happy.  It reminds me of how thankful I am to have found that pocket of joy in such an unhappy place.  How blessed I was to have such a strong support group-- not only to bolster my strength and resolve, but to challenge me to be a better person for it.

All of which leads to exactly where I am today.  And though I wish with all my heart that Chris hadn't died, I do not regret my world for it.

64 Slices of Cheese

We had this ridiculous bake sale last night as part of Kahala School's `Ohana Night, you wouldn't even believe.  Full loaves of bread and cakes, cookies, brownies, mochi, fudge bars, smores on a stick, freshly baked cinnamon rolls- it was AMAZING.  So amazing, in fact, that I experienced an involuntary physical response to Mrs. Ikehara's Giant Chocolate Chip Cookie.  It was very Homer Simpson-like, minus the drooling.  My jaw dropped, my mouth agape, my throat uttered very primal, guttural noises.  I might have been embarrassed, especially with all the ladies around me laughing, but I think of it as a compliment to not only Mrs. Ikehara, but for all the lovely bakers who inundated my face with chocolate chip cookies.