Q14: The Cabin

If I were a house I'd want to be Aunt Theo's Cabin.

Traded in the divorce papers from a rageoholic to an alcoholic,

  then painted like a kaleidoscope in a fit of redemption.

Crammed with color and quirky and crazy,

   with a thousand books,

 and the memories of two kids, four grandkids, and three broken marriages.

All the secrets of seventy years.

It sounds like bossing and cooking and a wood fire burning.

    In the morning, it's quiet, but only long enough for you to catch your breath. 

It doesn't give a damn about your approval but will stretch to its seams for your comfort. 

"How are you?" it says. "And you better be telling me the truth." 

Q13: A Quote

"Is it true that King David in ancient Israel
     really wrote such sad-happy doubtful-hopeful
     back-and-forth maybe-someday
     no-not-maybe
     these-are-promises absolutely-definitely
     but-we-have-to-wait
     songs?"

Margarita Engle, The Poet Slave of Cuba 

Q12: 4&7iv

I beat the crap out of 4 and 7 in Tic-Tac-Toe.

We play on those big plastic boards at the playground.

4: "I'm the boss of O's!!!!"

7, I will destroy you every time. Even when it's the eighth game, and it's worth all the numbers in the world of money, and it's the championship of the championship of the championship. Because it's the only way that you're going to learn how to play. (Also, if both of you are going to enact your fantasies of getting rid of me by calling me "Big Bowser" and throwing "Hot Lava Power" at me, Tic-Tac-Toe is all mine.)

I'll beat you, and beat you, and beat you, and then one day, you will realize that there is a reason why I always put my first X in the middle. And you will have learned, fairly and from experience, how to win Tic-Tac-Toe.

Because beating your head against something confusing has some value. You realize you're doing something wrong. And you ask for help.

And somebody helps you realize that your personality, your genetics, and your practiced negative thought patterns have lined up. Tic-Tac-Toe, three in a row.

But you can do something about it. You can take a deep breath and put your first O in the middle. You can stop running up to the board, flipping everything around to X's, and deciding that the whole world is against you.

Because, apparently, if you make up the bad things you still have some control over them.

But that's not how the game works.

I'm learning to play it a new way. My O's include talk therapy. And burned CDs labeled "Session #1." And corny, corny Christian music. And an app called "Relax (Free) with Andrew Johnson" (Andrew Johnson is Scottish. He says things like, "Let your feet become a li-tahl he-vi-ah." Sometimes I wish it was like , "Hello, my name is David Tennant. Take a deep breath." But then I probably wouldn't be able to relax, so Andrew Johnson it is). And something psycho called "heart breathing" which basically means "take deep breaths while focusing on a strong, positive memory." So, it's a Patronus charm.

And I'm still winding up in the corner of the closet, or the shower, or under the blankets, silent screaming about how life is not fair and how everyone wishes they didn't have to deal with me.

The Patronus doesn't work every time. I guess I just need more practice.

The biggest piece of it is grace. Understanding that Jesus, and my parents, and my friends can love me while I'm sobbing on the playground grate. They don't see me that way. And because of that, I'm learning not to see me that way either.

Q11: Popcorn and Theology

"I used to say things like, 'Are you producing fruit?' I was all, 'Where the hell are the bananas?' And now I know that I didn't know what I was talking about."

And we get there late and there are only four of us and there's popcorn and Gabby reads the Bible to us and asks us what we think.

And we swear and we talk about our jobs and how nervous we are. We toss around our theology. We toss around our identity. We toss around our problems.

"I think I've been depressed for the past two years."

"My life is a total shitshow. This is the hardest thing that has ever happened to me."

"My boyfriend and I have never had sex. We almost did once. It was the worst day of my life."

"My counselor handed me this list of anxiety traits, and I have every single one. I'm embarrassed."

And then we laugh and we pray about it.

Q10: 4&7iii

7: "That doesn't mean the next one will be bad!"

Background - I've been with just 7 for the past three mornings. Monday: real golf, Tuesday: mini golf, Wednesday: we're-only-doing-things-that-are-free-don't-ask-again-olf. 7 loves golf. He is not patient, so it's more like speed golf. And he wants to re-try the shots that he doesn't like. So, teachable moment, right?

Me [during the nine holes of real golf (he played, I walked) and the 36 holes of mini golf (he beat me 100 to 101)]: "7, just because that shot was bad doesn't mean the next one will be."

And today, he generalizes the concept! BOOM! I can't even remember what the new context was, but he moved it from mini golf to whatever we're doing when he says that.

I feel like a teacher, and I feel like I'm wise.

What is it like to be seven? Well, also to be 7, but what is it like to be seven?

There are so many questions. Things hurt really bad sometimes. Friends hurt. Parents hurt. Movement is necessary. Boredom is terrible.

So, being seven is like being anyone.

I asked 7 what it was going to be like to be seven (7's birthday is next week. He's actually six. Who knew.)

"I'm gonna get PRESENTS, and I'll do whatever I want, and I'll get to stay home by myself while Dad and 4 are gone..."

So, I immediately take that as an offense. He'd rather be by himself? When we went to the park and played baseball and went to the fountain and splashed and went to the playground and spun in circles?? When he generalized the "that doesn't mean the next one will be bad?"

And then we painted. And he painted a sign that said "BABYSITTER" and had a big black slash through it.

What is it like to be someone's parent?

Everything you have is not enough.

So, being a parent is like being anyone.

Well. This doesn't mean that the next one will be bad.

Not that this one was bad. But it kind of was. Maybe I just need to steel myself against the comments (and artwork) from people under ten. Or all people. Gah.

Here's 7's painting:

Q9: 4&7ii

"That's the stupidest park there is. I don't want to go to that stupid, stupid, stupid park. It's a stupid park."

4 has a favorite word.

"Guys. Get your swimsuits on, get your shoes on, we're going to the park to play in the fountain. Now."

10 minutes of naked dancing, timeout (four minutes), and whining later, we are IN the car, IN carseats, and we even have towels. And we are driving. Success.

7: "Who invented roads? Did the Indians invent the roads?"
Me: (Thinks. Decides to try her best) "People came from all over the world while the Indians were already living here. The people already knew how to build roads, so they built roads in the new place."
7: "Where did they come from?"
Me: "Have you ever heard of Europe?"
7: "Is that in Asia?"
Me: "Close! It's right next to Asia. Europe is a continent, and there are lots of countries in it. Have you heard of England?"
7: "Yes."
Me: "And Spain?"
7: "I hate people from Spain."
Me: (Decides to let it go) "Well, people from all over the world came to Amer - "
7: "Did they come from Indonesia?"
Me: "Yes. I mean no. I mean, maybe, but I don't think so."
7: "Like, the Indonesian rainforest?"
Me: "Well, they came from lots of places, and they brought lots of things that they already knew how to make that were new to the Indians. Like roads."
7: "It's not very nice to come and take somebody's country and put roads all over it."
Me: "No, it's really not... but we, I mean, people did it."
7: "Roads cause pollution."
4: "THE BEETLE FROM CHINA TAUSES POLLUTION!!!"
(About 4 - the hard "k" sound that c makes is equivalent to a "t" sound. E.g., "What's your favorite tolor? NO, TOLOR. LIKE A TOLOR!! LIKE BLACK OR RED!!!")

I think I'm starting to love my job.

That could change if they ever pull the "let's make a mud pit in the backyard!" again.

Q8: At the end of the day...

You've got stories and prayers. 

Hopefully, the stories are good and you mean the prayers. 

Q7: Procrastination has many different forms...

But this would be one of my favorites...



Netflix, thanks for the memories.

(Yes, Sarah, I did just blog a farewell to your Netflix account... maybe we can get a free month off of one of my credit cards next year...)

Time for some real life adventures.

Q6: 4&7i

I'll just call them 4 and 7, because that's how old they are.

And taking care of them is going to be my source of textbook, study abroad, and food that isn't caf food money.

So, today, while I'm peeling the muddy shirt off of 4, and he's talking to me, "You know, you're stupid. You are really, really stupid. You're stupid. You're stupid. You're stupid."

I'm like, inside my head, "Textbooks. Study abroad. Food that isn't caf food."

And I'm terrified that 4 and 7 are going to tell their dad, "She's the worst ever we hate her we never want her back."

And I'm like, "4, get inside the house. Now. Take a shower, and then we're going to the park."

And he looks at me. 10 yards between us. He takes a deep breath.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

Somehow, 4 gets inside the house. He's taking a shower. Good, I can rinse off their muddy clothes with the hose. And I hear screaming.

So I run inside, to find 4 in the shower, "RAIN, RAIN, GO A-WAY, COME A-GAIN A-NOTHER DAAAAAY."

And then we went to the park.

Oh, we went to the park.

On bikes.

Across a busy street.

4: "NO. My dad says that I do NOT have to wear a helmet on short rides."

Me, after a short and fruitless struggle: (Carries helmet while holding onto bike for dear child's life and hopes that the people in the cars aren't judging too harshly)

But you know what? After we spent about 12 minutes at the park, and I taught 4 some of the rules for tic-tac-toe, and it started almost raining,

4 LET ME PUT HIS HELMET ON HIM FOR THE RIDE HOME.

I'm putting this one down in the books as a VICTORY, folks.