We left off in the last post with Nipples having reached a baseline level of notoriety in our community. After a minor kerfuffle, he had grown familiar with the area and had been exposed to the local religious institutions and veterinary facilities. If I could impart wisdom to creatures smaller than myself, I'd have shown him the prudence and comfort of his state in life in that exact moment. I'd have encouraged him to press the pause button ever so slightly--not on his adventuresome spirit or killer instincts, but simply on that aspect of him that pushes the envelope of "personal boundaries" and particularly "assuming one is human and/or entitled to go all the same places as humans."
I don't know that I've adequately explained the lay of the land around our neighborhood. Our community has a thing about appreciating and preserving nature. And I don't mean that the residents all happen to do those things (although doubtless many do); I mean the planners or HOA or whomever made it a formal and conscious theme of the community to appreciate and preserve nature. Dispersed among our neighborhoods are several little habitats and preserves where one can find an uncanny variety of wildlife. In addition we live directly across the street from a dedicated Nature Center, where people can visit a sampling of the local wildlife (including a resident corn snake, which was not viewable when I visited because it was getting ready to shed its skin and needed solitude. Which I was fine with), and also pick up their pool passes. Surrounding the Nature Center are a decorative pond, wooded area complete with a creek, and a small grasslands. In this same area are the tennis courts and playground, all of which provide a convenient source of outdoor recreation to anyone who visits. As the Cat Daddy says, it is Nipples's own personal Shangri-la.
All of this backs up directly to the "outdoor classroom" portion of the school grounds, so if you can envision this, you can perhaps understand that as far as Nipples is concerned, the elementary school happens to occupy the northwest district of Shangri-la.
After the first public school encounter, we had a peaceful time of maybe a week or two. Nipples turned up during recess, the teachers shooed the kids away from the cat, and all was well. One day while walking His Highness to kindergarten (with the younger two in tow), we happened to catch Nipples at the right time and he tagged along. We were our own, personal parade.
Once we were on the school grounds, Nipples veered off toward the playground and tennis courts, and I didn't think much beyond "Perhaps he has business to attend to over by the Nature Center." Enough of the other parents and kids had seen him that we had a few "Oh, that's your cat!" conversations, but not much else. The afternoon passed uneventfully, and soon the Littler One, Tiny E, and I headed back to school for the end of the day pick-up.
Now, at school dismissal there are kids and teachers everywhere. Going here, going there, catching the bus, directing cars, and so on. It is controlled, but it is busy. As we walked onto the grounds, we heard more commotion than usual, and cries of "There's the cat!" "It's Nipples!" "The cat's going into the school!" etc.
That's right. The cat was trying to go through the big, wide-open, green doors leading inside the school.
And here's where I sighed a little on the inside. Because while it was hilarious to me, I knew that it was a logistical nightmare to those in charge of keeping an orderly dismissal, and trying to protect individuals with cat allergies, and probably anyone else who might take offense to a certain curious kitty wondering where his oldest kid went every afternoon. I went over to talk with some of the staff members, a little worried about what sort of tones I might encounter. But overall the conversation was pleasant, if terse. "Yes, I will try to shoo him away from the doors," "Yes, I will try to get him to come home with me," and my personal favorite (with escalating intensity), "I understand your concern, but I really need to pick up my kid BEFORE I WORRY ABOUT THE CAT."
I grabbed His Highness before he headed off away from the school (and in the opposite direction of our home) with the rest of the walkers, and I shooed the cat away from the building enough that he headed down a storm drain to wait out the excitement, and we all headed home while I thought about ways to alleviate the situation. While every so often there are stories of cute little animals becoming unofficial school mascots/companions--and while I considered the possibility that Nipples was in fact auditioning for a role portraying the school's resident Mountain Lion--the non-cat-person portion of the staff had already shown that this would not be like the heartwarming circumstances I've read about. I sent a quick email to one of the administrators, and as a gesture of goodwill offered to provide spray bottles as a deterrent to any future attempts on Nipples's part to enter the school.
The next morning the phone rang. And I saw the school's number. And I sighed a little.
"Hi Skerrib, this is the principal."
"Hi..."
"Don't worry, I'm not calling about anything bad."
(Secretly thinking, 'it's about the cat, isn't it') "OK..."
"I'm calling to talk about your cat..."
And here is where I have to be clear that the principal was and continues to be very cool about the whole thing. Completely understanding, and even appreciative of Nipples's forthrightness, I got the feeling that if he hadn't been busy running a school he would have let me talk his ear off about my cat. Because Nipples remains awesome, and there's very little to dispute about that. On the other hand, the principal also shared about some of the heartburn as a result of the cat: having to comfort little girls who started to cry upon seeing him disappear down the storm drains, convinced that the kitty was gone forever, fending off the more uptight parents who really wanted him to call Animal Control and be done with it, and so on. It was apparent that the cat had crossed over from providing amusement to being truly disruptive to the educational environment.
I again offered to provide spray bottles, but he didn't seem too keen on that idea. He said, "I'm not even sure how to ask this, or how you would do it, but if you could somehow keep him at home during school hours, my problem would go away completely." I wasn't exactly sure how to go about it either, but I assured the principal I would indeed try my best to keep the cat in during the school day, and I thanked him for not contacting Animal Control, and we ended the conversation on a positive and pleasant note.
After talking with the principal, I went to have a stern talk with Nipples, who it turns out wasn't home at the time. So I waited until the next time he wandered in, and gave him a piece of my mind for getting into so much mischief ("I got a call from the principal, Nipples"). I told him as a consequence of his actions, I was forced to enact a Kitty Curfew, and while he could still come and go in the evening and on weekends, he would now be expected to stay in during the school day.
Less than impressed, he looked up at me from his food with slightly narrowed eyes, licked his lips, and immediately went back to eating...
Jun 2, 2013
May 17, 2013
Five Fast Facts on Friday...
1) I had a friend recommend that I put in the gadget that lets people subscribe to receive bloggy updates via email, and I was all "Huh, I didn't even know that wasn't already an option," so I was glad for the recommendation. If you are so inclined, the email thingy is over there on the right. Also, I had thought they were called widgets, not gadgets. When I am 70 I will probably be one who goes around calling everything "whatsits" and "thingamajigs"...
2) While I was nosing around for the email gadget, I found there are options for posting via email and mobile, and again I thought "technology is amazing!" Most of my posts are at least started via my phone while I'm waiting for the car line at preschool pickup. Blogger and my phone don't always get along so sometimes I have to reload pages, or write a note and email it to myself or something. I used to have a blogging app but I found it useless, and I kept thinking "maybe someday they'll get more slick about these mobile platforms." And it was right there--all sorts of widgets and whatsits to explore. Have I activated them? No. Not because I don't want to, but because my three little supervisors are bossy and start yelling at me and destroying the house when I'm on the computer during waking hours...
3) On the recommendation of Addie, I ordered a nifty devotional called Making Manifest. I'm just a few days into it, but I just might love it. If you're a creative-type, it's a really cool break from the common fill-in-the-blanks format. I'm still debating if it's too touchy-feely, but that's probably more about me than the devotional book. Did I mention I don't normally do devotionals? I actually kind of let myself off the hook of devotionals back in high school. And then again a few times in college. But this one is good. I think. More on it as things develop...
4) I am one week into a schedule shift. I'm now doing my workouts early each morning. I did this before kids and it worked well, but schedules have been sketchy for the past several years. So far so good. For me, anyway; the kidlets are still mixed on their reviews of mom having her own things that are important to her...
5) I wrote this whole thing in 20 minutes and I'm kind of proud of that...
2) While I was nosing around for the email gadget, I found there are options for posting via email and mobile, and again I thought "technology is amazing!" Most of my posts are at least started via my phone while I'm waiting for the car line at preschool pickup. Blogger and my phone don't always get along so sometimes I have to reload pages, or write a note and email it to myself or something. I used to have a blogging app but I found it useless, and I kept thinking "maybe someday they'll get more slick about these mobile platforms." And it was right there--all sorts of widgets and whatsits to explore. Have I activated them? No. Not because I don't want to, but because my three little supervisors are bossy and start yelling at me and destroying the house when I'm on the computer during waking hours...
3) On the recommendation of Addie, I ordered a nifty devotional called Making Manifest. I'm just a few days into it, but I just might love it. If you're a creative-type, it's a really cool break from the common fill-in-the-blanks format. I'm still debating if it's too touchy-feely, but that's probably more about me than the devotional book. Did I mention I don't normally do devotionals? I actually kind of let myself off the hook of devotionals back in high school. And then again a few times in college. But this one is good. I think. More on it as things develop...
4) I am one week into a schedule shift. I'm now doing my workouts early each morning. I did this before kids and it worked well, but schedules have been sketchy for the past several years. So far so good. For me, anyway; the kidlets are still mixed on their reviews of mom having her own things that are important to her...
5) I wrote this whole thing in 20 minutes and I'm kind of proud of that...
May 10, 2013
Just Admit the Fish are Dead...
I have a link to Hyperbole and a Half over there on the right somewhere. Allie hadn't posted in a loooooong time--something like a year and a half, which in blog years is probably 4 generations of blogs living and dying.
But this week she came back, and offered up what I think is a brilliant look at depression from the inside of things (language alert: some f-bombs). I make vague references on here because I'm afraid of stigmas and assumptions and how people might think of me, but the plain truth is that I deal with depression and anxiety in my life. I've had times on meds and off, in therapy and not, and I've been fortunate to have a ton of good help from both Christian and 'secular' sources.
At this moment I'm meds-free and in a good place, keeping in mind that "in a good place" doesn't mean "everything is always only good," but that I can get out of bed in the morning and face both the good and difficult, and I'm eating and bathing and getting through each day reasonably (and often very) well. I have good habits that help me to be healthy, and while I've only recently started to be more specific about it, my faith is a huge part of that. Not the only part, mind you (and I will kick the shins of anyone who starts ranting that depression is only ever a spiritual issue, because while that could be part of it, there are approximately 57 other issues that can play into depression, and saying, implying, or insinuating that someone just needs to get it together with God is not helpful), but for me a big part.
Still, it's something I'll always have to sort of look after, maybe somewhat akin to a bum knee, or the gout, or something. I'm good at managing it, and I'm getting better all the time at asking for help when I need it.
I've had a pinky toe in some discussions about Allie's post, and one thought that struck me as really important is "if my friend is depressed or [insert most any struggle here] and needs my help but nothing I say helps, what can I do?" I think that's really valid, and I know such thoughts have caused me to back away from hard situations with friends. Not necessarily on purpose, but when you don't know what to do or say, oftentimes you fall to a default of nothing.
I've read enough rants on either side of ''nothing" to know that sometimes the wrong things can seem worse than nothing. And I do think there's some truth to that, especially if you don't know the struggling person well or at all. But assuming you have good and humble intentions--and if you're in my circle and/or taking time to read this (thank you), that is my assumption--then the wrong thing will likely be more klutzy than damaging, and klutzy can be part of healing.
I get nervous about lots of things, but one of the biggest reasons for not speaking up when I should is that I'm afraid of feeling dumb. And I think a great challenge for me has been to shift my perspective a bit when it comes to dealing with a struggling friend. Maybe I'll be a klutz and maybe not, but the point is being willing to feel a little dumb if it means helping my friend know I'm there for them.
I had in mind a few suggestions to offer of helpful things to say or do/not do for a struggling friend, but as I type them out I'm struck by how individual the healing process is. Oftentimes a big part of depression is self-isolating, so it can be a really hard balance between pursuing the struggling friend while still giving them space to process. I think the most you can do is to be there for your friend, and by being there I mean to let them know what you are available to do, and offer to do it. Or if there is truly nothing to be done, being able and willing to be there even though things can be awkward and uncomfortable. Most of all, please remember that you can't fix it, and to try would be codependent, and codependency leads to greater wounding instead of healing. So don't be codependent.
--Maybe you can handle listening to their hardest struggles, without making them feel the need to comfort you about their struggles. Maybe you're really good at compartmentalizing, and helping them let out those hard things, and have a good support network of your own for when you get overwhelmed. But maybe not.
--Maybe you can handle sitting with them in a coffee shop for 45 minutes. Or 20. Or 120. But maybe not.
--Maybe you know people or places to connect them with, and you have the permission to do so. But maybe not.
--Maybe you're good at treating struggling people normally, instead of tiptoeing around them as if they have the plague or something. But maybe not. (this one is not my strong point. I get weird)
--Maybe you're good at not being freaked out when they get weird. But maybe not.
--Maybe you have a gift for giving them a break from their troubles with healthy distractions, funny stories, ice cream, something light you need help with, or anything to give a moment of normal. But maybe not.
--Maybe you know them well enough to suggest activities they might tolerate well. "Enjoy" could very well be too much to ask, but "be OK with" could be doable. But maybe not.
--Maybe you are really good at telling by asking: "Would you let me take you for coffee right now?" "Would you let me come over and just hang for an hour?" "Would you let me treat you to a mani-pedi?" (Please don't offer Skerrib a mani-pedi) "Would you come sit with me at the park and watch my kiddos be goofy?" But maybe not.
--Maybe you are good at truly praying well. Maybe you are discerning about things you can ask God for, or you're just really good at saying "God, I have no idea what my friend needs, but you do." But maybe not.
--Maybe you don't do anything. Maybe you just say simple, truthful things: "I'm sorry it is so hard right now." "Yikes, that's the pits." "I care about you." "You are important to me."
In my experience, even my closest and most trusted friends haven't "fixed" anything for me. A few have been the big counselor-type listeners and the ones to tell me hard things and challenge me. Some have shared similar struggles. Mostly though, they've been there by laughing, even when my humor gets dark. They've sent me quick little "I'm thinking of you" types of blurbs, and dared to speak even though they felt klutzy about it. They've been themselves. They let me know I wasn't alone, and that my depression wasn't more powerful than their love for me.
And somehow, all those little and big things together add up to healing...
But this week she came back, and offered up what I think is a brilliant look at depression from the inside of things (language alert: some f-bombs). I make vague references on here because I'm afraid of stigmas and assumptions and how people might think of me, but the plain truth is that I deal with depression and anxiety in my life. I've had times on meds and off, in therapy and not, and I've been fortunate to have a ton of good help from both Christian and 'secular' sources.
At this moment I'm meds-free and in a good place, keeping in mind that "in a good place" doesn't mean "everything is always only good," but that I can get out of bed in the morning and face both the good and difficult, and I'm eating and bathing and getting through each day reasonably (and often very) well. I have good habits that help me to be healthy, and while I've only recently started to be more specific about it, my faith is a huge part of that. Not the only part, mind you (and I will kick the shins of anyone who starts ranting that depression is only ever a spiritual issue, because while that could be part of it, there are approximately 57 other issues that can play into depression, and saying, implying, or insinuating that someone just needs to get it together with God is not helpful), but for me a big part.
Still, it's something I'll always have to sort of look after, maybe somewhat akin to a bum knee, or the gout, or something. I'm good at managing it, and I'm getting better all the time at asking for help when I need it.
I've had a pinky toe in some discussions about Allie's post, and one thought that struck me as really important is "if my friend is depressed or [insert most any struggle here] and needs my help but nothing I say helps, what can I do?" I think that's really valid, and I know such thoughts have caused me to back away from hard situations with friends. Not necessarily on purpose, but when you don't know what to do or say, oftentimes you fall to a default of nothing.
I've read enough rants on either side of ''nothing" to know that sometimes the wrong things can seem worse than nothing. And I do think there's some truth to that, especially if you don't know the struggling person well or at all. But assuming you have good and humble intentions--and if you're in my circle and/or taking time to read this (thank you), that is my assumption--then the wrong thing will likely be more klutzy than damaging, and klutzy can be part of healing.
I get nervous about lots of things, but one of the biggest reasons for not speaking up when I should is that I'm afraid of feeling dumb. And I think a great challenge for me has been to shift my perspective a bit when it comes to dealing with a struggling friend. Maybe I'll be a klutz and maybe not, but the point is being willing to feel a little dumb if it means helping my friend know I'm there for them.
I had in mind a few suggestions to offer of helpful things to say or do/not do for a struggling friend, but as I type them out I'm struck by how individual the healing process is. Oftentimes a big part of depression is self-isolating, so it can be a really hard balance between pursuing the struggling friend while still giving them space to process. I think the most you can do is to be there for your friend, and by being there I mean to let them know what you are available to do, and offer to do it. Or if there is truly nothing to be done, being able and willing to be there even though things can be awkward and uncomfortable. Most of all, please remember that you can't fix it, and to try would be codependent, and codependency leads to greater wounding instead of healing. So don't be codependent.
--Maybe you can handle listening to their hardest struggles, without making them feel the need to comfort you about their struggles. Maybe you're really good at compartmentalizing, and helping them let out those hard things, and have a good support network of your own for when you get overwhelmed. But maybe not.
--Maybe you can handle sitting with them in a coffee shop for 45 minutes. Or 20. Or 120. But maybe not.
--Maybe you know people or places to connect them with, and you have the permission to do so. But maybe not.
--Maybe you're good at treating struggling people normally, instead of tiptoeing around them as if they have the plague or something. But maybe not. (this one is not my strong point. I get weird)
--Maybe you're good at not being freaked out when they get weird. But maybe not.
--Maybe you have a gift for giving them a break from their troubles with healthy distractions, funny stories, ice cream, something light you need help with, or anything to give a moment of normal. But maybe not.
--Maybe you know them well enough to suggest activities they might tolerate well. "Enjoy" could very well be too much to ask, but "be OK with" could be doable. But maybe not.
--Maybe you are really good at telling by asking: "Would you let me take you for coffee right now?" "Would you let me come over and just hang for an hour?" "Would you let me treat you to a mani-pedi?" (Please don't offer Skerrib a mani-pedi) "Would you come sit with me at the park and watch my kiddos be goofy?" But maybe not.
--Maybe you are good at truly praying well. Maybe you are discerning about things you can ask God for, or you're just really good at saying "God, I have no idea what my friend needs, but you do." But maybe not.
--Maybe you don't do anything. Maybe you just say simple, truthful things: "I'm sorry it is so hard right now." "Yikes, that's the pits." "I care about you." "You are important to me."
In my experience, even my closest and most trusted friends haven't "fixed" anything for me. A few have been the big counselor-type listeners and the ones to tell me hard things and challenge me. Some have shared similar struggles. Mostly though, they've been there by laughing, even when my humor gets dark. They've sent me quick little "I'm thinking of you" types of blurbs, and dared to speak even though they felt klutzy about it. They've been themselves. They let me know I wasn't alone, and that my depression wasn't more powerful than their love for me.
And somehow, all those little and big things together add up to healing...
May 2, 2013
Thursday Deep Breathing...
Contrary Kerri is being a butt today, so I'm deliberately shutting out a lot of external cues and random thoughts.
It is Freak-Out Thursday after all, so I am taking a deep breath and choosing to believe myself as I pat my arm soothingly and say "It's really going to be OK. Your life is not falling apart, and the children--while their motives can never be fully understood--will not succeed in driving you off the cliffs of insanity and/or burning down the house. The younger two were little turkeys, staying up until friggin' 1130 last night, but their lifetime sleep patterns are not in jeopardy, and neither are your yours. I know it sucks that you gave up Coke, but remember that the last time you caved it didn't even taste very good, and you felt like poo the next day. I promise, you will feel way better if you skip the soda and junk for now. Also, you will survive the fact that you completely forgot about yesterday's preschool conference amid the terrible day from Hades. You'll make it up and they will still like you even though you flaked out. Plus, you're fit and pretty. Just hang on until tomorrow and re-evaluate, OK?"
So in the spirit of this post, here is what I have done today:
-Made sure the boys were dressed & groomed before they ate breakfast & watched Mythbusters. It wasn't anything magical, but one less thing to worry about once school time grew closer.
-Got His Highness to kindergarten. On time, no less, and with his teacher gifts. So now said gifts are off my counter--even better.
-Emailed preschool teacher to apologize for flaking out on the conference. Requested a reschedule.
-Did the Wegmans run with Captain America and Tiny E. Decided to let both keep napping in their carseats upon returning home, thereby creating a little breathing space until His Highness got out of school. They slept, I got a little blogging in on my phone; it works. (Smart thinking, Skerrib)
-Fed everyone two of the day's three meals.
-Kept everyone wiped-down and freshly diapered where applicable.
-Made a chocolate glaze for the Bundt cake we're bringing to our church small group tonight. The cake looked a little, um, rough, but tastes awesome. And now with the glaze it looks mostly passable. Plus I like saying "Bundt cake."
-Kept everyone inside on a beautiful day. A sad choice, but sometimes some of us forget certain social graces or how to tell Mom where we're going before we go. So instead we play in our room and talk with our friends through the window screens. Or so I've heard.
And here is what I will do in the hours to come:
-Grab a change of clothes for the Cat Daddy so he doesn't have to wear his uniform all evening at our small group cookout.
-Buckle the children into the car and meet the Cat Daddy at the cookout.
-Eat, drink, and connect with folks.
-Eat dessert.
-Try to leave at a reasonable hour, so we can get the kids to bed at a reasonable hour, so I can get myself to bed at a reasonable hour, because tomorrow is a jogging morning and while I HATE getting out of bed, I LOVE being up early once I'm awake. And we all know how I feel about jogging. And in case I haven't mentioned it before, Friday is my favorite day of the week, so there's a lot to look forward to about Friday mornings.
It seems like I'm seeing a whole lot of posts lately about parents (moms in particular) being gentle with themselves, remembering that it's a hard job, refusing to join the compare and compete game, and just being kinder to everyone in general. I'm not sure if it's the next trend, or just a "thing" or what...but I will go on record as saying I'm a firm believer in kindness and letting people be who they are, strengths and weaknesses included.
There is probably another blog post buried in the above ideas, but I really do need to go gather my children. I have a feeling Tiny E has found her way to the top of the bunk beds again.
Carry on, friends. Carry on...
It is Freak-Out Thursday after all, so I am taking a deep breath and choosing to believe myself as I pat my arm soothingly and say "It's really going to be OK. Your life is not falling apart, and the children--while their motives can never be fully understood--will not succeed in driving you off the cliffs of insanity and/or burning down the house. The younger two were little turkeys, staying up until friggin' 1130 last night, but their lifetime sleep patterns are not in jeopardy, and neither are your yours. I know it sucks that you gave up Coke, but remember that the last time you caved it didn't even taste very good, and you felt like poo the next day. I promise, you will feel way better if you skip the soda and junk for now. Also, you will survive the fact that you completely forgot about yesterday's preschool conference amid the terrible day from Hades. You'll make it up and they will still like you even though you flaked out. Plus, you're fit and pretty. Just hang on until tomorrow and re-evaluate, OK?"
So in the spirit of this post, here is what I have done today:
-Made sure the boys were dressed & groomed before they ate breakfast & watched Mythbusters. It wasn't anything magical, but one less thing to worry about once school time grew closer.
-Got His Highness to kindergarten. On time, no less, and with his teacher gifts. So now said gifts are off my counter--even better.
-Emailed preschool teacher to apologize for flaking out on the conference. Requested a reschedule.
-Did the Wegmans run with Captain America and Tiny E. Decided to let both keep napping in their carseats upon returning home, thereby creating a little breathing space until His Highness got out of school. They slept, I got a little blogging in on my phone; it works. (Smart thinking, Skerrib)
-Fed everyone two of the day's three meals.
-Kept everyone wiped-down and freshly diapered where applicable.
-Made a chocolate glaze for the Bundt cake we're bringing to our church small group tonight. The cake looked a little, um, rough, but tastes awesome. And now with the glaze it looks mostly passable. Plus I like saying "Bundt cake."
-Kept everyone inside on a beautiful day. A sad choice, but sometimes some of us forget certain social graces or how to tell Mom where we're going before we go. So instead we play in our room and talk with our friends through the window screens. Or so I've heard.
And here is what I will do in the hours to come:
-Grab a change of clothes for the Cat Daddy so he doesn't have to wear his uniform all evening at our small group cookout.
-Buckle the children into the car and meet the Cat Daddy at the cookout.
-Eat, drink, and connect with folks.
-Eat dessert.
-Try to leave at a reasonable hour, so we can get the kids to bed at a reasonable hour, so I can get myself to bed at a reasonable hour, because tomorrow is a jogging morning and while I HATE getting out of bed, I LOVE being up early once I'm awake. And we all know how I feel about jogging. And in case I haven't mentioned it before, Friday is my favorite day of the week, so there's a lot to look forward to about Friday mornings.
It seems like I'm seeing a whole lot of posts lately about parents (moms in particular) being gentle with themselves, remembering that it's a hard job, refusing to join the compare and compete game, and just being kinder to everyone in general. I'm not sure if it's the next trend, or just a "thing" or what...but I will go on record as saying I'm a firm believer in kindness and letting people be who they are, strengths and weaknesses included.
There is probably another blog post buried in the above ideas, but I really do need to go gather my children. I have a feeling Tiny E has found her way to the top of the bunk beds again.
Carry on, friends. Carry on...
Apr 29, 2013
Mine More & More...
I was taking stock while standing in line at the post office today. My two youngers each had a birthday this month, meaning it's been more than a year now since my second (and final) home birth. Nearly 10 months since we left Cheyenne. 2 days shy of 9 months since we moved into our house in lovely Ashburn. His Highness has one month remaining of kindergarten, and next year it's off to full days in first grade (!).
We've been at our church now for 6 months. Getting more glimpses of each others' stories amid wrangling crazies, and teachable moments, and all the stuff of have-tos before we can do the get-tos. I'm known as the mom who shows up to school functions with the cute baby girl on her back...except that cute baby girl wants to get down and run around more & more these days.
And it occurred to me, standing in line there at the post office, that I was standing in my post office. That I'm starting to say things like my church and my town. We have our doctors and so on, our favorite haunts for shopping and eating, and places where the boys do their activities. And since I do drop-off and pick up every weekday, and run across the grounds several times per week, and try to keep the cat from going in the big green doors (another post coming soon), that it's OK if I call it our school sometimes.
There's still plenty I miss; there always is. There's still the reality of next year at this time, which I have to consciously and deliberately (yet gently) set aside, lest I throw my hands up and decide that it's not worth the work of it, to make the effort of reaching out and knowing people--
Deep breath. Where was I?
Yes. It was a good moment, there in the post office. I am thankful...
We've been at our church now for 6 months. Getting more glimpses of each others' stories amid wrangling crazies, and teachable moments, and all the stuff of have-tos before we can do the get-tos. I'm known as the mom who shows up to school functions with the cute baby girl on her back...except that cute baby girl wants to get down and run around more & more these days.
And it occurred to me, standing in line there at the post office, that I was standing in my post office. That I'm starting to say things like my church and my town. We have our doctors and so on, our favorite haunts for shopping and eating, and places where the boys do their activities. And since I do drop-off and pick up every weekday, and run across the grounds several times per week, and try to keep the cat from going in the big green doors (another post coming soon), that it's OK if I call it our school sometimes.
There's still plenty I miss; there always is. There's still the reality of next year at this time, which I have to consciously and deliberately (yet gently) set aside, lest I throw my hands up and decide that it's not worth the work of it, to make the effort of reaching out and knowing people--
Deep breath. Where was I?
Yes. It was a good moment, there in the post office. I am thankful...
Apr 6, 2013
Mr. Nipples Begins at the Public School...
Walking home from school one day last fall, a neighbor kid told me "Nipples came to our school today, and we had to go inside!"
And I thought, "Oh, crap."
So as the newly-appointed publicity director for Nipples, I emailed the school. This is what proactive publicity directors do so that they can minimize the need for damage control down the road. An excerpt of the email read as follows:
"...Some of my neighbor kids were telling me that my cat has shown up at school, and that they had to then go inside...so I figured I'd better get the whole story. We live right nearby, and my cat does roam around this area (neighborhood, school, nature center, etc)--does it cause a problem for him to show up at the school when the kids are outside? I'm not quite sure how I'd go about keeping him away, but thought I'd better check on it anyway..."
I reassured them that Nipples was up to date on all of his vaccinations and overall kitty health measures. I also may have promised to have a stern talk with the cat if he became a disruption to the education of young minds.
This resulted in a cheerful and diplomatic reply from the principal, who assured me that my cat was not responsible for hundreds of young children losing their recess. He did say that they discouraged the students from touching any outdoor animal while at school, and that he would reiterate the policy with teachers, so that they wouldn't feel the need to bring their classes inside. He also mentioned that he has an indoor/outdoor cat at home, and understood my plight as publicity director (my words; not his), although he hadn't, to date, received notice of his cat showing up at their neighborhood elementary school. He didn't say anything about my promising to talk sternly to my cat, which I took as tacit appreciation for my strict standards of kitty behavior.
Things continued swimmingly over the next week or so. I would see Nipples lounging/skulking just off campus sometimes as we walked to and fro. At recess time he would come by to say hello to the kids. From the kids' descriptions, Nipples would jet out from the woods and take a whack at kick balls & such, which I thought was brilliant and daring for a cat of 12 lbs. And while I understand that some kids have allergies and fears and whatnot, I thought it mildly tragic that the teachers had to tell the kids to "Get away from the cat!" After all, playing kickball with a cat at recess is the stuff childhood memories are made of.
Nipples also expanded his notoriety throughout the neighborhood. We soon connected with the neighbor who had taken him to the vet ("Oh, that's your cat??"). They live on the other side of the school from us, and she was (rightfully) concerned with ticks and so forth. I reassured her that we were doing everything we could to minimize those things. And then we got to have this exchange one day:
For me, anyway. Nipples of course is about anything but equilibrium, and one doesn't earn the title of "Most Interesting Cat In the World" without shaking things up a bit...
And I thought, "Oh, crap."
So as the newly-appointed publicity director for Nipples, I emailed the school. This is what proactive publicity directors do so that they can minimize the need for damage control down the road. An excerpt of the email read as follows:
"...Some of my neighbor kids were telling me that my cat has shown up at school, and that they had to then go inside...so I figured I'd better get the whole story. We live right nearby, and my cat does roam around this area (neighborhood, school, nature center, etc)--does it cause a problem for him to show up at the school when the kids are outside? I'm not quite sure how I'd go about keeping him away, but thought I'd better check on it anyway..."
I reassured them that Nipples was up to date on all of his vaccinations and overall kitty health measures. I also may have promised to have a stern talk with the cat if he became a disruption to the education of young minds.
This resulted in a cheerful and diplomatic reply from the principal, who assured me that my cat was not responsible for hundreds of young children losing their recess. He did say that they discouraged the students from touching any outdoor animal while at school, and that he would reiterate the policy with teachers, so that they wouldn't feel the need to bring their classes inside. He also mentioned that he has an indoor/outdoor cat at home, and understood my plight as publicity director (my words; not his), although he hadn't, to date, received notice of his cat showing up at their neighborhood elementary school. He didn't say anything about my promising to talk sternly to my cat, which I took as tacit appreciation for my strict standards of kitty behavior.
Things continued swimmingly over the next week or so. I would see Nipples lounging/skulking just off campus sometimes as we walked to and fro. At recess time he would come by to say hello to the kids. From the kids' descriptions, Nipples would jet out from the woods and take a whack at kick balls & such, which I thought was brilliant and daring for a cat of 12 lbs. And while I understand that some kids have allergies and fears and whatnot, I thought it mildly tragic that the teachers had to tell the kids to "Get away from the cat!" After all, playing kickball with a cat at recess is the stuff childhood memories are made of.
Nipples also expanded his notoriety throughout the neighborhood. We soon connected with the neighbor who had taken him to the vet ("Oh, that's your cat??"). They live on the other side of the school from us, and she was (rightfully) concerned with ticks and so forth. I reassured her that we were doing everything we could to minimize those things. And then we got to have this exchange one day:
Her: "I have to tell you, my kids kept calling your cat Nipples and I had to correct them and say 'No, it's Nibbles.'"
Me: "No, it's Nipples."
Her: "Hm. Maybe I'll just have them keep calling him Nibbles."
Me: "I usually call him Nips for short. Most of the time I can't bring myself to yell 'NIPPLES!' throughout the neighborhood when I'm looking for him."
Her: "Oh! I thought for sure it was Nibbles because I thought, 'who on earth would name their cat Nipples.'"
Me: "And now you know. The Cat Daddy would name his cat Nipples."
Me: "No, it's Nipples."
Her: "Hm. Maybe I'll just have them keep calling him Nibbles."
Me: "I usually call him Nips for short. Most of the time I can't bring myself to yell 'NIPPLES!' throughout the neighborhood when I'm looking for him."
Her: "Oh! I thought for sure it was Nibbles because I thought, 'who on earth would name their cat Nipples.'"
Me: "And now you know. The Cat Daddy would name his cat Nipples."
It was in that moment that I began to appreciate the truth about my cat's name. The Cat Daddy has always maintained that naming one's cat Nipples serves quite usefully as a people-filter. We like to think we make friends fairly easily, but as with anyone we gravitate toward folks with certain personality traits, senses of humor, etc. There are those who hear Nipples' name and respond along the lines of "That's awesome/hilarious/crazy!" and there are those whose response is on the order of a wince or mild flinch, and tactful evasion of any further discussion. In the latter case, perhaps it's good to know up front and take the pressure off of any sort of expectations in the relationship. Not that they are bad or that we are bad; just that we probably won't be, um, bosom friends (thank you, Anne Shirley).
And so Nipples had a growing understanding with those residing in his domain. We enjoyed a little bit of minor celebrity when we were out & about with a cat following us. Strangers would (and still do) comment, "Remarkable, it's almost as if that cat is following you," and it was really fun to say, "Actually, he's my cat. He walks with us sometimes." It was a nice little niche of equilibrium in our neighborhood society.
And so Nipples had a growing understanding with those residing in his domain. We enjoyed a little bit of minor celebrity when we were out & about with a cat following us. Strangers would (and still do) comment, "Remarkable, it's almost as if that cat is following you," and it was really fun to say, "Actually, he's my cat. He walks with us sometimes." It was a nice little niche of equilibrium in our neighborhood society.
For me, anyway. Nipples of course is about anything but equilibrium, and one doesn't earn the title of "Most Interesting Cat In the World" without shaking things up a bit...
Mar 24, 2013
Going All Spiritual...
I talk a lot over here about my neuroticism, but not nearly as much about my faith, even though it is my faith that is a whole lot of why I have been able to get healthier over the years. Plainly put, Jesus gives me hope. Not fakey feel-good fluffy hope, but real, gritty, fighting hope. He's kind of a big deal to me.
As I am in the process of re-forming my social structure, I am again (and again. and again) observing how I go about making friends and forming relationships, and how we (the Cat Daddy and I as a couple) go about finding our friends and church and social niches, and how we (the BIG "we") live with and around each other. And since this is, like, the fifth time or so, I have begun to discover the things that are true about me every time (as well as the things that vary according to the journey and my place in it), and the things that are true about us every time (and the things that vary), and the things that are true about Us every time (and the many ways we are different, but even in our differences how we are relatively the same). Someone hand me a friggin' sociology degree, please.
It may not seem that Jesus and sociology would necessarily go together, except that for me they do. And somehow right now it feels important to me to put a little more out there as to where I sit with some things, and in particular with my faith. Not to proselytize, necessarily, but just to say "here I am" and share some of that part of me [but if you would like to be proselytized please let me know. I'm pretty sure we could both get some kind of bonus points or something].
It's just that every time I go to try to put it down, my thoughts go in a weird spiral. Our church here has a Baptist-esque bent, and I've been hearing about this three-minute testimony business, and I'm just not sure what to think about that. It would be great if I could get my journey into a three minute nutshell, but there's no way to do it justice, and anything less makes it sound like I'm trying to sell you something. And I promised myself several years back, after several stints in various types of sales jobs thru college and early adulthood, that I never have to sell anything ever again. Even (especially?) Jesus.
And still, when I really try to find a starting point, I end up with something like: "I love Jesus, I'm a bit of a neurotic, and I'm a little inappropriate sometimes." I've actually said this in conversation and surprisingly, it's fairly effective in conveying in a nutshell who I am. More like three second testimony--BOOM!
But it's not complete.
--It doesn't cover how I grew up in the thick of the Evangelical subculture; how I was the epitome of the goody-goody church kid, and how starting around the age of 16 God more or less showed me that I was full of crap, and set me on my journey of becoming WAY less churchy in favor of becoming WAY more real, authentic, and--dare I say--godly (capital G? lowercase G? I never know which to use). It used to be easy to describe myself in church-kid terms because--based on Christian school and youth group--I had deduced over the years what good Christians were supposed to look, think, talk, and act like, so I just tried to squeeze myself into that box (which I had created) and become it.
--It doesn't cover how, even though as a kid I got in trouble for talking in class, and was a little hyper with one foot over the boundary toward "weird," I lived with what I didn't realize was pretty intense anxiety. And also, that deep down I would turn out to be an introvert, and slightly socially stunted. Well, maybe. There are those who assure me that I am not nearly as awkward as I think I am, and that my manners are just fine. Some days I believe them, and some days I don't. But I'm pretty dang sure about the introvert-thing.
--It doesn't cover how I can give all sorts of good advice about being yourself, and I can pull off a confident demeanor, but how really I'm barely scratching the surface of learning to be fully myself in my own life (Jesus and sociology, right there).
--It doesn't cover how a people-pleaser with control issues who wants everyone to get along, dangit, came to marry a (good and honorable) guy who cares very little what people outside of his trusted circle think of him, and will ro-shambo you for most anything. And then he joined the military (SPOILER ALERT: the answer is a whole lot of character-building).
--And it doesn't cover what I hold most dear. It doesn't cover how I came to learn about and believe in God's Grace. The serious, scandalous kind. The kind of Grace that onlookers get nervous about, because they're afraid it's permissiveness and that people are going to run out and start drinking beer naked in the streets or something, but when you go deeper you find that it's anything but permissive. It's real and serious, and pretty much everything hinges on it. It doesn't keep you from living your life; in fact it frees you to the fuller life that John guy mentions in that one verse (10:10).
That last one is really what I want to talk about, but it might take a while to get there. There are other stories to tell, and for goodness' sake I can't stay in the serious forever. Plus I haven't even begun the saga of Nipples and Public School.
So please bear with me. It might get a little clunky, but hopefully it will smooth out over time. I'm not hoping for debates. I might be open to discussions, but I haven't decided yet. Feedback is OK as long as you're suuuuuuuuper nice about it. Remember, I like everyone to get along, dangit.
And I promise I won't forget the cat. His story will continue to be told...
As I am in the process of re-forming my social structure, I am again (and again. and again) observing how I go about making friends and forming relationships, and how we (the Cat Daddy and I as a couple) go about finding our friends and church and social niches, and how we (the BIG "we") live with and around each other. And since this is, like, the fifth time or so, I have begun to discover the things that are true about me every time (as well as the things that vary according to the journey and my place in it), and the things that are true about us every time (and the things that vary), and the things that are true about Us every time (and the many ways we are different, but even in our differences how we are relatively the same). Someone hand me a friggin' sociology degree, please.
It may not seem that Jesus and sociology would necessarily go together, except that for me they do. And somehow right now it feels important to me to put a little more out there as to where I sit with some things, and in particular with my faith. Not to proselytize, necessarily, but just to say "here I am" and share some of that part of me [but if you would like to be proselytized please let me know. I'm pretty sure we could both get some kind of bonus points or something].
It's just that every time I go to try to put it down, my thoughts go in a weird spiral. Our church here has a Baptist-esque bent, and I've been hearing about this three-minute testimony business, and I'm just not sure what to think about that. It would be great if I could get my journey into a three minute nutshell, but there's no way to do it justice, and anything less makes it sound like I'm trying to sell you something. And I promised myself several years back, after several stints in various types of sales jobs thru college and early adulthood, that I never have to sell anything ever again. Even (especially?) Jesus.
And still, when I really try to find a starting point, I end up with something like: "I love Jesus, I'm a bit of a neurotic, and I'm a little inappropriate sometimes." I've actually said this in conversation and surprisingly, it's fairly effective in conveying in a nutshell who I am. More like three second testimony--BOOM!
But it's not complete.
--It doesn't cover how I grew up in the thick of the Evangelical subculture; how I was the epitome of the goody-goody church kid, and how starting around the age of 16 God more or less showed me that I was full of crap, and set me on my journey of becoming WAY less churchy in favor of becoming WAY more real, authentic, and--dare I say--godly (capital G? lowercase G? I never know which to use). It used to be easy to describe myself in church-kid terms because--based on Christian school and youth group--I had deduced over the years what good Christians were supposed to look, think, talk, and act like, so I just tried to squeeze myself into that box (which I had created) and become it.
--It doesn't cover how, even though as a kid I got in trouble for talking in class, and was a little hyper with one foot over the boundary toward "weird," I lived with what I didn't realize was pretty intense anxiety. And also, that deep down I would turn out to be an introvert, and slightly socially stunted. Well, maybe. There are those who assure me that I am not nearly as awkward as I think I am, and that my manners are just fine. Some days I believe them, and some days I don't. But I'm pretty dang sure about the introvert-thing.
--It doesn't cover how I can give all sorts of good advice about being yourself, and I can pull off a confident demeanor, but how really I'm barely scratching the surface of learning to be fully myself in my own life (Jesus and sociology, right there).
--It doesn't cover how a people-pleaser with control issues who wants everyone to get along, dangit, came to marry a (good and honorable) guy who cares very little what people outside of his trusted circle think of him, and will ro-shambo you for most anything. And then he joined the military (SPOILER ALERT: the answer is a whole lot of character-building).
--And it doesn't cover what I hold most dear. It doesn't cover how I came to learn about and believe in God's Grace. The serious, scandalous kind. The kind of Grace that onlookers get nervous about, because they're afraid it's permissiveness and that people are going to run out and start drinking beer naked in the streets or something, but when you go deeper you find that it's anything but permissive. It's real and serious, and pretty much everything hinges on it. It doesn't keep you from living your life; in fact it frees you to the fuller life that John guy mentions in that one verse (10:10).
That last one is really what I want to talk about, but it might take a while to get there. There are other stories to tell, and for goodness' sake I can't stay in the serious forever. Plus I haven't even begun the saga of Nipples and Public School.
So please bear with me. It might get a little clunky, but hopefully it will smooth out over time. I'm not hoping for debates. I might be open to discussions, but I haven't decided yet. Feedback is OK as long as you're suuuuuuuuper nice about it. Remember, I like everyone to get along, dangit.
And I promise I won't forget the cat. His story will continue to be told...
Mar 20, 2013
Flailing Fish No More...
Last night I was doing P90X (cuz we do that now), and I was getting a little discouraged about how I'm nowhere near the skill level of Tony Horton, or even the extra Real People (a selling point--"Hey these are just Real People! If they can do it so can you!) they placed in the DVDs. I kept reminding myself that it's a process, that even crazy Tony Horton took years to get ripped and be able to do crazy amounts of pull-ups and whatnot. But I still felt a little down about it.
So during Ab Ripper X I made the decision that I would just do what I could do, and try as best I could to fight for proper form, and as Tony says, to do my best & forget the rest.
As we moved along through the 349 ab-tacular moves, I noticed something. I remembered back to the very first time I did Ab Ripper X, and how little of it I could do. In particular there was one exercise called Oblique V-Ups, but I renamed it Flailing Fish because that's what I looked and felt like that first time. I couldn't even get my body to coordinate itself into the desired motion, much less use it to work the intended muscles.
Well, I still look nothing like the extra Real People with their straight legs and whatnot, but I can do several Oblique V-Ups in a row now. And somewhere, deep down in there (like way deep), I can feel my obliques beginning to work.
I am a Flailing Fish no more...
So during Ab Ripper X I made the decision that I would just do what I could do, and try as best I could to fight for proper form, and as Tony says, to do my best & forget the rest.
As we moved along through the 349 ab-tacular moves, I noticed something. I remembered back to the very first time I did Ab Ripper X, and how little of it I could do. In particular there was one exercise called Oblique V-Ups, but I renamed it Flailing Fish because that's what I looked and felt like that first time. I couldn't even get my body to coordinate itself into the desired motion, much less use it to work the intended muscles.
Well, I still look nothing like the extra Real People with their straight legs and whatnot, but I can do several Oblique V-Ups in a row now. And somewhere, deep down in there (like way deep), I can feel my obliques beginning to work.
I am a Flailing Fish no more...
Mar 14, 2013
Aggravation Isn't Always Bad...
(Photo from here. Turns out they now make Aggravation in a modern verson. I like the old one better. I might be turning into a grumpy old person.)
Aggravation was one of the games I played with my grandparents when I was a kid. The rules are on the order of the game Trouble, but without the Pop-O-Matic bubble, and instead of lame old plastic pieces it uses real marbles. The opaque glass kind, that kind of look like candy or fruit, or at least they make you think of deliciously round red berries. Or maybe that's just me. Point being, even when one is not playing Aggravation, one could roll the marbles around in the trough created by the cardboard thingy inside the game box, or have marble races using the tilted gameboard, or swipe a few for one's regular marble collection, or any number of things for which one might want to use a colored marble or two.
I'm uncertain as to the details--meaning there may or may not have been thievery involved--but I now possess an old school Aggravation game; possibly the same one I used to play with my grandfolks. It has sat on the shelf for at least 10 years, surviving my increasing attempts at thinning and decluttering. Every time I'd come across it I would reason with myself that I hadn't played it in years, and that my kids probably wouldn't be interested in it (and I'm still in the stage where one or more of them want to eat the marbles for real)...but then I'd think about those colorful marbles, and the game would stay on the shelf, untouched and undiscarded.
Well. I got more aggressive than normal with the decluttering with this last move. We went thru everything, and got pretty ruthless about donating, so once again I was faced with this game. I looked inside the box and found that it was missing some marbles (I sighed knowingly--aren't we all missing a few marbles??). I looked around eBay for Replacement Aggravation Marbles and only found entire replacement games, which we really didn't need. So I changed my focus and looked into selling the parts we had, but there wasn't much of a market for Vintage Aggravation Game Boards. The Cat Daddy was all, "Come on, Skerrib, you're the one who wants to get rid of stuff. Just toss it in the recycle bin." And he was right...but I hemmed & hawed and let it linger.
So then a few weeks ago, the boys were honing their sweet skill of getting-into-stuff-when-mom-is-otherwise-occupied, and came upon this incomplete Aggravation game. We opened it up and began to play with it as best we could, and it turns out they loved it! The Littler One pretty much makes up his own rules as he goes along, but His Highness did a great job, even making adjustments on the fly as I checked the rules (it had been over 20 years, after all). "No Mom, you can't jump your own guy." "Ah, you're right, Son."
Then I had a minor epiphany (not like this one) and adjusted my search a little bit (ie: overhauled it completely), and came upon this website, which happened to have a category specifically for replacement board game marbles (not to mention most any marble you could possibly want), available in individual quantities. Kind of random, kind of nerdy, but mostly awesome. I ordered exactly what I needed, and for less than $7 my Aggravation game is now complete. The color and size aren't an exact match to the originals, but they are close enough that it more than does the job.
This is one of those little gifts that makes me happy. I love this memory of my childhood, and I love it that my kids get to enjoy it as well. I do think there's just something about marbles--being able to handle them, roll them around, and of course wish for shiny colored candy.
And now of course I'm really glad I hung onto the Aggravation...
Feb 26, 2013
Preachy Bubble Guppies...
I was so mad at the Bubble Guppies today.
In general I don't mind them. They are not a favorite in our house so we don't watch them as often as, say, Mickey's Clubhouse or Dora (gag), but they're cheerful, and not overly sugary, and their whole theme is school. There are worse things.
Today they did an episode about going to the dentist. The dental fish checked them over, told them they'd eventually lose their baby teeth so grown-up teeth could grow in, told them all about brushing and caring for their teeth, etc. So far so good. I guess.
But then the Bubble Guppies left the dentist and got all preachy with the other sea creatures. They came upon a crocodile and were all "Pardon us, but when's the last time you brushed your teeth? You've never brushed your teeth?! OH, let us tell you all about it!" And then something about clearing trash out of the water so he'd have better things to eat. And I got confused because I thought the Bubble Guppies lived out in the open ocean, or maybe near a reef or something--how on earth did they even come upon a crocodile? Plus, oral care and environmentalism? Just how many agendas are the Bubble Guppies trying to cover within a single episode??
And I was all, "This is so incorrect! The Nile has the birds who come and eat the stuff from between crocodiles' teeth, which keeps them clean(ish)! I learned this from my real dentist when I was a kid--my dentist even handed out crocodile-shaped toothbrushes! Knock it off, you judgemental little mer-kids! What the heck are you teaching my children here?! Stupid, stupid NickJr!"
This was all in my head, by the way. I didn't want to upset the Littler One. But I was seriously concerned for his wellbeing. I am not in favor of advocating for changing entire ecosystems just so the ad companies can sell more toothbrushes. Brushing crocodiles' teeth, my eye.
But I dialed it back a bit when I remembered that the Bubble Guppies, to begin with, are talking cartoon mer-people. Children of mermaids and mermen (presumably). So, you know, I'm dealing with mer-children and worried about real-life reptilian biology. It just doesn't mix.
This has happened before with Kipper. And I love Kipper. I'm all in favor of suspending disbelief, but it gets a little murky for me sometimes as to how much disbelief I need to suspend. There should be some sort of baseline rule book on children's/family programming--
Level 1: Live people in live situations. Plot lines can be exaggerated or unrealistic, but not magic or gravity-defying. Examples: iCarly, Silver Spoons, Parent Trap.
Level 1b: Space Camp (the movie)
Level 2: Live people who are in fantasy situations and/or delusional. Magic permitted. Examples: Kratt Brothers/Zoboomafoo, The Wiggles, Fresh Beat Band, Wizards of Waverly Place, Imagination Movers, Dino Dan, Small Wonder, Alf, Flight of the Navigator.
Level 2.5: Sesame Street
Level 3: Fantasy/animated characters in situations depicting or imitating real life or some semblance thereof. Some grey areas or rule-breaking possible, but generally discernible, if not believable. Sort of. Examples: Caillou (aka Cry-You), Charlie & Lola, Peppa Pig, Wallace & Gromit, Toy Story/Pixar (because they are deliberate and thorough about setting/sticking to rules, even in their fantasy universes).
Level 4: The purgatory of family programming. Where were the test groups when the setting and rules were being established here? Because grown-ups are losing sleep trying to fit these into their mental structure and it isn't working. Stop judging crocodiles' oral hygiene and go back to your reef, kids. Examples: Bubble Guppies, Max & Ruby, Gaspard & Lisa, Kipper.
Level 5: Fantasy/animated characters in blatantly fantastic situations. Some aspects may seem "real," but all rules are arbitrary and all bets are off. Even gravity. Examples: Octonauts, Jake & the Neverland Pirates, Shaun the Sheep, Agent Oso, Ni Hao Kai Lan, Pixar (because, really. Talking cars??).
To me, the disturbing part of all of this is that I have countless other programs queued up in my head, just waiting to be categorized.
How about you? What programming would you place into which categories, and why?
In general I don't mind them. They are not a favorite in our house so we don't watch them as often as, say, Mickey's Clubhouse or Dora (gag), but they're cheerful, and not overly sugary, and their whole theme is school. There are worse things.
Today they did an episode about going to the dentist. The dental fish checked them over, told them they'd eventually lose their baby teeth so grown-up teeth could grow in, told them all about brushing and caring for their teeth, etc. So far so good. I guess.
But then the Bubble Guppies left the dentist and got all preachy with the other sea creatures. They came upon a crocodile and were all "Pardon us, but when's the last time you brushed your teeth? You've never brushed your teeth?! OH, let us tell you all about it!" And then something about clearing trash out of the water so he'd have better things to eat. And I got confused because I thought the Bubble Guppies lived out in the open ocean, or maybe near a reef or something--how on earth did they even come upon a crocodile? Plus, oral care and environmentalism? Just how many agendas are the Bubble Guppies trying to cover within a single episode??
And I was all, "This is so incorrect! The Nile has the birds who come and eat the stuff from between crocodiles' teeth, which keeps them clean(ish)! I learned this from my real dentist when I was a kid--my dentist even handed out crocodile-shaped toothbrushes! Knock it off, you judgemental little mer-kids! What the heck are you teaching my children here?! Stupid, stupid NickJr!"
This was all in my head, by the way. I didn't want to upset the Littler One. But I was seriously concerned for his wellbeing. I am not in favor of advocating for changing entire ecosystems just so the ad companies can sell more toothbrushes. Brushing crocodiles' teeth, my eye.
But I dialed it back a bit when I remembered that the Bubble Guppies, to begin with, are talking cartoon mer-people. Children of mermaids and mermen (presumably). So, you know, I'm dealing with mer-children and worried about real-life reptilian biology. It just doesn't mix.
This has happened before with Kipper. And I love Kipper. I'm all in favor of suspending disbelief, but it gets a little murky for me sometimes as to how much disbelief I need to suspend. There should be some sort of baseline rule book on children's/family programming--
Level 1: Live people in live situations. Plot lines can be exaggerated or unrealistic, but not magic or gravity-defying. Examples: iCarly, Silver Spoons, Parent Trap.
Level 1b: Space Camp (the movie)
Level 2: Live people who are in fantasy situations and/or delusional. Magic permitted. Examples: Kratt Brothers/Zoboomafoo, The Wiggles, Fresh Beat Band, Wizards of Waverly Place, Imagination Movers, Dino Dan, Small Wonder, Alf, Flight of the Navigator.
Level 2.5: Sesame Street
Level 3: Fantasy/animated characters in situations depicting or imitating real life or some semblance thereof. Some grey areas or rule-breaking possible, but generally discernible, if not believable. Sort of. Examples: Caillou (aka Cry-You), Charlie & Lola, Peppa Pig, Wallace & Gromit, Toy Story/Pixar (because they are deliberate and thorough about setting/sticking to rules, even in their fantasy universes).
Level 4: The purgatory of family programming. Where were the test groups when the setting and rules were being established here? Because grown-ups are losing sleep trying to fit these into their mental structure and it isn't working. Stop judging crocodiles' oral hygiene and go back to your reef, kids. Examples: Bubble Guppies, Max & Ruby, Gaspard & Lisa, Kipper.
Level 5: Fantasy/animated characters in blatantly fantastic situations. Some aspects may seem "real," but all rules are arbitrary and all bets are off. Even gravity. Examples: Octonauts, Jake & the Neverland Pirates, Shaun the Sheep, Agent Oso, Ni Hao Kai Lan, Pixar (because, really. Talking cars??).
To me, the disturbing part of all of this is that I have countless other programs queued up in my head, just waiting to be categorized.
How about you? What programming would you place into which categories, and why?
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