Fly Your Freak Flag or Time to Live What I Preach

“Mom, they call me weird.”

I knew there was no way I’d get away parenting without having to deal with some name calling, teasing, bullying. And I guessed it would happen to my Squirrel, who has always marched to his own drummer. He’s someone we’ve had to defend against adults who thought it would be “helpful” to tell me how much he needs a haircut or should change his clothes. This always pissed me off because his appearance reflects his personality and telling me my son needs to cut his hair is like saying who he is just isn’t good enough for you. And while I may just gently tell you to mind your own business, in my head I’m telling you to fuck off. The fact that how he looks bothers you so much you think you need to tell me he needs to conform to your version of acceptable tells me more about you than him. So needless to say, I knew he’d be called names eventually.

How do I explain that weird is awesome? Inventions, art, music, science, books – all of those things come from people who think differently. If you act like and think like everyone else, you will do what everyone else does. And I have big plans for my kids. I need them to think about things differently so that they can change the world in ways no one else has before, because no one else has had those thoughts and ideas before. Weird makes change. Average does not.

But…that’s a pretty ten-thousand-foot concept. And when you are in second grade, you are thinking about what people are saying to you right now, not that being unique means you’ll invent the latest technology, solve world hunger, or write amazing music when you are older.

What is reassuring is that I’m not alone. Pink’s daughter is bullied for her looks. Her kickass mom made a speech to her at the VMAs, telling her she’s beautiful and amazing, no matter what other people say. If Pink is going through this, then I’m in good company. I don’t have an awards show to make a public declaration of affirmation so I’m going to have to go for frequency.

But frequency is just not enough.

What’s tricky is that as an adult, how many times have you talked about someone because they are different or “weird”? How many times have we spent time with someone only to turn around and gossip about their short comings to someone else? Can we get real? I’ll admit I’m guilty of this. I’m guessing you might be guilty of this too. What an ugly, shameful side of me. I want my kid treated with respect to be his own person and I am one of the people who judges others for being different. We share blogs and memes about how you should be unique and that one small act of kindness can change the world, and in the next moment, we are trolling someone’s Facebook page with our passive aggressive comments.

I have a friend and when she catches herself talking about other people, she stops herself and says, “That’s not fair. I’m just saying that to make myself feel better.” Oh my goodness, she is my hero. Because deep down, I’m saying things to make myself feel better about my own choices and when your choices are different than mine, I’m inclined to judge you because what if you are doing it better than I am? Time to cut you down! It’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s exactly what the kids on the playground are doing. And it’s time to stop.

If we model the kindness and love we want our kids to show to others, what would happen? Would they learn to treat others with respect, even when they are different from us? It’s so easy to tell our kids about bullying and how awful it is, but we forget that as adults we do it too. We say shitty things on people’s social media pages and behind their backs. We don’t count it as bullying because we are adults! Adults don’t do that. We only say what needs to be said. Plus we are old enough now to know that it shouldn’t hurt anymore.

Except that it does. Each week we witness a new horrific act of violence and hatred and we say, how could that happen? How could someone drive a car through a crowd of people? How could a madman gun down people at a concert? How could someone threaten to shoot up a school? This world needs more kindness. I don’t know what motivates these people. I’m guessing a lot of mental illness, which is a whole different blog. But I’m guessing a lot of hatred too. What if this person experienced just a little more grace and kindness instead of judgement and hate? What if there was one person who showed them a smile and did something helpful – would that be the tipping point to convince a madman that the world really wasn’t all that awful? Maybe that’s just way too simplistic. But what does it hurt to try? What if we could all be a little weird and embraced for our differences? Would that change our mental and emotional DNA?

The other day I passed a panhandler and handed him some dollars. Then I walked to my destination. And I realized that I did not look this man in the face when I handed him the money. I kept my eyes down, as though asking for help and giving help were shameful acts. What a bitch. I was fortunate to walk by him on my way back to my hotel. I looked him in the eyes, smiled and wished him a good evening. (Side note: This is ridiculous. As I type, I realize I am telling you a story about how I made the conscience effort to treat a man like a human, with dignity. That should not be newsworthy. However. We treat people who make us uncomfortable like they don’t deserve respect and kindness. But there’s more to the story.) He didn’t say anything back. So I walked on. Honestly, he didn’t owe me anything. I was the one who treated him like nothing in the first place. Humanity as an afterthought can often be too little too late. As I kept walking, I heard “Hey! You have a good night too!” He was talking to me. I’m not sure if he was just slower with his response or just surprised that someone talked to him. I can’t assume to know his life. But I do know that I caught myself withholding kindness and decency because someone lives a different story than I do. It’s time my life involves more kindness, even if it feels a little a little stilted, a little uncomfortable. I saw a side of me that I didn’t like and I can change that. I owe that to society. I owe that to my kids.

So yes, I’m still going to tell my Squirrel all the time that it’s okay to be weird and different. Weird and different are the definition of creative. And I’m going to remind my kids to be kind to others, to talk to the kid that has no friends, to smile at someone who has a blank expression. But I’m going to do it too. I’m going to recognize that sometimes my knee jerk reaction to others is because I’m trying to make myself feel better. We can feel good about ourselves without stepping on someone to bring us up. I’m going to remember that everyone is a person and should be treated with dignity. Is this going to be easy? Nope. Our culture is to climb on others to make ourselves higher. But nothing worth doing is easy. Will I see a change in the world? Maybe, maybe not. Does it matter? We don’t always have to witness the good to be a better person. I challenge you to join me. Let’s make the world a better place. Fly your freak flag and mind your words. As they say in “The Four Agreements” (great book), be impeccable with your word. Sometimes it’s all you have control over. 

No One Told Me or My Truths About Parenting

No one told me these things would become my truths as a parent. Or maybe they tried to tell me but I didn’t GET IT until I had kids. And now I look at young couples and say things like, “Oh, just wait. You won’t know love until you have children,” and they say “I’m sure.” And I think, oh you really have no idea. You don’t even know. You don’t even know. But you will. Just like I did. Sometimes you just have to live it to know it.

No one told me that having children would feel like having my heart outside of my body, walking around, making decisions on its own, subject to the craziness of the world.

No one told me that love for my children would feel like blood in my veins, constantly pumping and flowing.

No one told me that being a mom is like being in junior high again, complete with the clicks and gossip.

No one told me how much more fun Halloween, Christmas, birthdays and the zoo are as a parent.

No one told me how stressful it is to throw a successful birthday party.

No one told me that the best part of ice cream before dinner is not because ice cream is better than spaghetti but because your kids will think you are the coolest.

No one told me that I would be the one doing most of the cleaning, laundry and cooking.  And that these tasks feel like you are trying to dust a house that is swept up in a tornado.

No one told me that I’d be puked on, peed on and occasionally pooped on. And that  eventually I wouldn’t even bat an eye when it happens. I may even still go to Target in said clothes.

No one told me how tired I’d be. Oh my gosh.

No one told me that I would accidentally coordinate my outfits to match my kids.

No one told me I’d have to relearn math. Shocking. You really don’t need geometry. I knew it.

No one told me that I would feel unsettled unless all of my children are in the same room with me. Unless it is the bathroom. I just want 2 minutes to myself then.

No one told me that being a mom means I will feel like I am constantly living in a barrel of octopuses. Someone is always hanging on me.

No one told me that I would be judged for every single decision I’d make as a mom. Going back to work, staying home with a sick kid, the clothes they wear, how they wear their hair, you name it. Everyone has an opinion. And none of them actually matter.

No one told me I'd have to be a walking encyclopedia. So many questions. 

No one told me that the word “lice” would literally strike terror in my heart.

No one told me that I’d repeat the phrase “fuck it” multiple times a day. In my head of course (most days.)

No one told me that my kids wouldn’t be invited to parties just because I didn’t become friends with the parents.

No one told me that some of my favorite people I would meet are my kids’ friends’ parents.

No one told me that I would still feel like I should be a size four, even though I am much older and have had two kids. Excuses.

No one told me that I would be more invested in middle school sports than I am for college athletics. And I love college athletics.

No one told me that the best part of my day is lying in bed with my kids reading to them. And I get to do this every day. Just please no Magic Tree House. Give me Captain Underpants over Jack and Annie any day.

No one told me how awful kids cartoons would become. I just found one called The Day My Butt Went Psycho. I rest my case.

No one told me how awesome kids’ books really are.

No one told me that I’d see hope for the future because of my kids.

No one told me that PG movies from the 80’s are really R rated movies today. Oops.

No one told me how little sleep I can function on. It takes a few days before you get delusional. If you aren’t there yet, then you are doing good.

No one told me that I would become attached to my kids’ favorite stuffed animals too.

No one told me that parenting is like Fight Club – the only rule is that there are no rules.

No one told me that everyone is doing a great job, even if it is the complete opposite of what I’m doing.

No one told me that I still need 8 hours of sleep to function properly. Unfortunately, I don’t know what that feels like any more. You can be Super Mom but the basic rules of being a human still apply. Good luck with that.

No one told me that I’d get selfish with my time with my children, not wanting to share them with anyone else when we are all home.

No one told me that I’d learn how to like Brussel sprouts because my kids like them. Lima beans are another story. My kids don’t even know they exist.

No one told me that I’d miss my kids every day I’m at work, even 13 years after my first was born.

No one told me that I’d go to work just so I could feel competent once a day.

No one told me that I would honestly never get tired of talking about my kids. And I only 

sort of feel bad for becoming one of “those” people.

No one told me that while glitter is very pretty, do not let it into your house. Glitter is the craft cockroach. Once it’s there, it will never go away. It will live on after the apocalypse.

No one told me that I’d never get enough down time or self-care to feel like a refreshed adult again.  Two hours of quiet will not fill this deficit. It’s okay to not be miraculously refreshed just because you got a pedicure or a 20-minute nap. 

No one told me that I’d learn so much from my kids. Thank goodness because I missed most of my history classes.

No one told me that once I had kids I literally would never have money again. What did I do before kids? Burn my extra cash for heat?

No one told me about snuggles. Snuggles could bring world peace.

No one told me that even if I am out with friends, all I think about are my kids.

No one told me that I would become someone who doesn’t mind paying hundreds of dollars 

for extracurriculars. Well, maybe I don’t love it but I don’t bat an eye anymore.

No one told me that I would feel like I'm losing my mind most of the time. I want to be around my kids 24/7, yet I need a break. I want to stay home with them forever and I want to go to work. 

No one told me that an extra cup of coffee solves everything in the short term. It either wakes you up or gives you a brief moment to think. Sometimes that's all you need.

No one told me that I would learn which wild animals are more prone to rabies. FYI, provoked ground squirrels (emphasis on provoked) usually don’t have rabies, even if they bite you. This lesson was brought to you by the ER. I’ve just saved you $500.

No one told me that I would never know what I’m doing. Ever again.

No one told me that you could do anything to me and I wouldn’t notice. But the moment you involve my kid, I will lose my shit.

No one told me that I would have a firm knowledge on which weekend walk-in clinics have x-ray machines. Tip: only use the walk-in clinics with x-ray machines.

No one told me that my children would become my legacy. And I’m okay with that. That is enough.

No one told me that no matter how hard you try to avoid it, you will be able to sing Raffi songs verbatim. Down by the bay, wear the watermelon grow, my ass.

No one told me that I’d be able to intelligently discuss ear infections, respiratory viruses and the virtues of different over-the-counter medicines.

No one told me that I’d miss the baby stage. It pulls my heart out of my chest.

No one told me that I’d love the teenage stage. So so enjoyable.

No one told me that I really would not be able to remember life before kids. Seriously. What did we do? Watch black and white tv and go for walks? I don’t remember! 

No one told me that when my pediatrician retired, I’d feel it like a loss in the family.

No one told me that I’d start considering canned green beans as part of a healthy dinner. I do draw the line at ketchup. This isn’t the Reagan era.

No one told me that my kids really would be more technologically savvy than I am. And I’ve learned to embrace it because I just don’t have the time to keep up. Plus it’s nice to have little tech wizards readily available.

No one told me I wouldn’t be able to breath if I don’t know exactly where my kids are at all times. Don’t get me started on public restrooms with boys. I literally sweat. Especially if I think they are going number 1 and it ends up being number 2. There should be a mom waiting area for the men’s bathroom.

No one told me I’d have to talk about poop, pee and farts so much. See above. Ugh.

No one told me that I would wake up in the middle of the night in a panic attack when I realize my kid is going on a field trip to the zoo that day and what if he is taken by a stranger. It takes everything in me not to wake them up right then to cover Stranger Danger again.

No one told me that my nightmares would change to horrible things happening to my children.

No one told me that I wouldn’t think twice about getting my kids’ oxygen masks on first before mine in case of an aircraft emergency. I know what they say. Tell that to my mom instinct.

No one told me how hard it would be to teach someone to tie their shoes or blow a bubble with gum.

No one told me how much fun coloring is.

No one told me that some of my favorite movies would be Pixar. Inside Out’s Bing Bong makes me cry every time.

No one told me that travel wet wipe packs would become a permanent fixture in my car, years after we left the diaper stage.

No one told me that parenting every single day is different. And once I learn how to deal with one age, it changes.

No one told me parenting would be so much fun and crushing at the same time.

No one told me to stop taking everything so seriously. The only way through parenting is with a strong sense of humor. Laughing is always a better first reaction over yelling or panicking.

No one told me that I’d try my best and fail constantly. And that’s okay.