4

Yesterday, Grammy and I took the boys to the Arizona Science Center for Daegan's fourth birthday. His joy and aptitude for science is only second to his amazement at the Earth and the living things which grow and move on it. Thus, the AZSC is like MECCA for D.

Now, Daegan's birthday isn't until the 25th, I know... but I have to be in class all day that day, so we are celebrating early.

First we went to the planetarium, where we saw a presentation on the planets. The lady giving the presentation handed Daegan the mike, asking him, "Do you know the names of any of the planets?"

He replied, "Sure! Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Asteroid belt (with Siris, Palas and Vesta) (*insert startled, surprised laugh by the presenter), Jupiter, Saturn, Ummm.... ummm... N.... no, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto." I think the presenter was going to die. It was pretty darn cute, his tiny voice echoing across the planetarium. She asks, still laughing, "And what is your name?" Daegan got one wrong. He said, "I love the planets!" My heart melted. What a cool little dude.

After the planetarium, we checked out some of the permanent exhibits, including the "All About Me!" exhibit which features a giant nose that sneezes foam boogers on you if you get too close (I didn't warn Grammy that would happen- you should have seen her face when she got sneezed on!), and a rectum slide which demonstrates digestion and farts when you exit it.

The coup d'etate, though, was the BodyWorlds exhibit. An artist had taken donated corpses, put them through a plasticization process, and then worked them into scientific works of art demonstrating all the systems, organs, and various anatomical details.

I had forgotten to remind Grammy that we were seeing the BodyWorlds exhibit, so when I told her, the color drained out of her face. She froze, but only for a millisecond, so as to not upset the kids. "Are you sure?" she whispered. I was absolutely sure.

When we bought the tickets for the exhibit, the cashier warned us that it wasn't really for kids under (I think she said 5 or 10,) because of the nature of the, um, exhibits. However, I knew that Daegan could handle it.

See, here's the thing. Daegan is (almost) four. He is brilliant, sure, but I knew that I could tell him one thing, and if I watched my language, he would not infer the other. In this case, if I used present-tense verbs, I could tell him all about how these are REAL muscles, bones, and organs from grown ups and kids, and he would not realize to infer that they were once living but are now dead. The death concept was not there for him. Also, being familiar with the exhibit, I knew that there was (despite the overwhelming presence of death) no real mention of death in the exhibit (i.e., the art-corpses were not victims, named, or nor was it mentioned how they died or anything about their previous life as people).

Once Grammy entered the exhibit, she relaxed. It was pretty cool and tastefully done. Unfortunately, as soon as we entered the exhibit, Daegan started misbehaving (it was well past nap time.) Logan got traded down to the stroller (where he very promptly fell asleep), and Daegan was on my back in the O&A. That was a MUCH better arrangement. It got his little feet and tired toes where I could lazily play with them throughout the time, and he could lay his chin on my shoulder as we chatted about what we were seeing.

He was so interested in the various body parts, seeing the body posed in "motion," and what each thing did. We spent about 45 minutes discussing the function and appearance of the circulatory system, the nervous system (how the brain talks to the muscles!), and he learned all about a new organ: kidneys!

It was really amazing to spend that time with him while Grammy strolled Logan around. I had forgotten how much I really love wearing Daegan, so that we can talk as people without the distraction of parenting.

As is frequently the case, we traveled through the exhibit at approximately the same pace as the people with whom we had entered. One particular cohort of these people was a gaggle of elderly women, who seemed amused and interested each time Daegan was able to name an organ, a part, or at our discussions surrounding the exhibit. They giggled when we talked about the penis and vagina on display (they were separated from their previous owners, laying on a table next to each other.) They were surprised as we discussed healthy vs. unhealthy hearts, and the things we could do to take good care of our organs.

I had been aware of their keen interest in us, but had been ignoring it (well, not ignoring, but seeming unaware but squirreling away my pleasure and amusement at their attention), until he saw kidneys attached to ureters, then to a penis.

"Mom, look! Some more kidneys! When we drink water or juice, those filter them. Then the pee goes through those tubes (me: "those are ureters"), and comes out the penis. Except, if it was  girl, it would come out the vagina. Babies come out of the vaginas, too... but... babies are from the tummy (me: "uterus, honey, a small bag in a tummy") and not the kidneys."

The ladies giggled audibly this time. I drifted next to some skinned, and again disembodied breasts. "Oooh, look, Mom! Ninnies!" (Me: "Breasts, baby.") "Those are for feeding little brothers!" (The gaggle of women: "Awww!! Little brothers! That is RIGHT!" Their adoration of Daegan was no longer veiled, and they looked at him like he was the coolest little guy in the world.) He looked straight at the women and said, "Yeah, and when I was a baby, I had ninny, too. But now I am a big boy, but my brother is not, so I shared with him."

The women looked like they were on the verge of tears now. They complemented me on having such a cool little guy. I was a very proud mama.

We exited the exhibit right on the verge of total meltdown, naptime pushed too far. It was well-timed, though, because we were all exhausted.

All things considered, though, it was a wonderful birthday celebration tailor-made for a wonderful, inquisitive little soul. I can't believe my baby is turning 4. Where has the time gone?

Happy Birthday, Daegan!!

I have a dream.

It is morning.

I wake up, the sun is shining. The kids are waking up, too. The birds sing outside the window, and I get up, brush my teeth and crack open an energy drink. We all snuggle and wake up together, talking about that night's dreams and today's plans.

Everyone has breakfast and goes in separate directions for the day. The boys go to school. I go to work.

I own and operate an art therapy studio. The morning is filled with classes, technique, analysis, art supplies and drifting from one client to the next, watching their inner dialogues get expressed in film or canvas.

Then, it is lunch time. Maybe I eat by myself and feed some pigeons. Maybe I wander through a museum and have some coffee. Maybe I work out. Maybe I meet a friend.

Returning to the studio, it is time for counseling sessions. My office, above the studio, is ready to see clients. Serious mental illness, transitional difficulty, marriage and family therapy- I want to do it all.

At 3:30pm, the boys come bounding into the studio. They sit at one of the tables, break out their homework or work on an art project. The other therapists there know them, supervise them, and very infrequently do they cause any rumpus. They enjoy an hour or so, until 5:00pm, when we pack up as a family and head home.

Dinner time.
Family time, games, laughing, talking.
Working on the house chores together- we all contribute to make the household run well.
Bedtime snuggles.

Time for sleep.

*ahhh*

One day...

Boys like flowers.

(Driving home from preschool last week.)

Daegan: Mommy, girls love flowers.

Me: Yes baby. Sometimes girls do love flowers. Sometimes boys love flowers, too. Do YOU like flowers?

Daegan: Oh yes, mommy! I love flowers!

Me: Flowers are beautiful, and they smell nice. There are lots of different types, and both boys and girls can like flowers.

Daegan: Well I like flowers. And you're a girl, so you must like flowers, because girls love flowers.

Me: And you are a boy. And you like flowers. So do ONLY girls like flowers?

Daegan: Nope. We can both like flowers. Listen, Mom. This is how it works. Girls can like flowers. Boys can like flowers. But we do different things with them. Boys pick the flowers and give them to girls. Girls smell the flowers, then they kiss you. Boys like kisses, so we like flowers. We also like them because they smell good when we pick them. But we have to give them to a girl and get a kiss.

Me: Umm... ok then. WHO are you kissing?!?

Daegan: Girls, mama. With flowers.

Waffle-Heads

This morning, I sat in church and heard a message that I have heard at every church I have ever attended. It comes with different metaphors at each location, but the idea is the same: Men are stupid.

In some messages, men are waffle-brained, incapable of maintaining more than one thought at a time. In other messages, such as this morning's, men simply lack the RAM to process the important details of an event.

I call bullshit. This is institutionalized sexism, and it is dangerous for our men and our boys to hear.

Men are incapable of social interaction.
Men are incapable of multi-tasking thought.
Men are made to hunt and gather, and leave the maintenance and support of society up to women.
Me, Man, Grunt, Grunt. 

Our pastor (who is a lovely man, and is delightfully refreshing and funny in his delivery) used this example this morning: a man receives a phone call that a friend had a baby. The wife asks, "What was it?" The man is stuck, dumbfounded that she would care... "A baby!" he replied.

This sexism cuts to part of the root of a social problem, and it works both ways. As soon as we convince our men that they are incapable of engaging on anything more than a superficial level, than we also are sending the message that they are concerned only with the most important things, and that the worries and observations of women are then, by nature, trivial.

So, our men are stupid, and our women are trivial.
How empowering.

This message tells our guys that they never have to try or engage, and that this social laziness is due to the fact that they have a penis. Ask a man to remember a baby's gender? Preposterous! Ask him to remember hundreds of sports statistics? Totally ok. Does anyone else see this double-standard?

An additional part of this conversation that must be noted is that it is highly likely that these sermons were written by men! Do they not see how they are reducing their own self hood?

Let me give you some insight behind the psychology of gender, as I have learned through all my years in academia and psychological training:

Men and women communicate differently, true. This is a cultural difference, where men are taught to communicate by other men in their lives, and NOT a biological difference. Communication differences are not consistent across cultures. Men are not, by nature, worse or better at communication.

Other than that, the differences frequently ascribed to gender actually have more to do with variations of personality- introversion, extroversion, analytical ability, empathic ability, need for structure, the preference for improvisation.

These vary between people, not between genders. Men are no more naturally introverted than women are extroverted. Some men can be incredibly creative, empathic and nurturing, and women can be enterprising, analytical and socially withdrawn.

Research on gender has never supported the notion that men and women are, by nature, different.

Nor does the Bible ever say that God created us to have inherent gender differences, or that one gender was more complete or better than the other.

It says, "God created," and "it was good."

Let's not teach our men that they are no more than modern cavemen.

What I know for sure.

I may not be very old, or very wise, or very experienced in these things... but there are some things that I know for sure.

I know that I am a special fingerprint of God- made to do all the things I am inclined to do, DNA woven, thoughts formed, cells bound by HIM. I am smart, resourceful, and stubborn, and have a special talent for seeing things others cannot see.

I know that God works obviously in my life, providing at the last second, guiding and intervening. I have never gone without when it really mattered. He instructs us not to be anxious for anything, not to worry about tomorrow.

I know that our fates in life rarely correlate to how hard we work, or to whether or not we do all the right or wrong things. I know that I have not done the wrong things. I am not ghetto-fabulous, I am not a criminal, I am not immoral, I am not a liar, a theif, or a whore. I try to live every day as well as I can, and although I do not have much, I share as much as I can with those around me.

I know that I am growing and blossoming, really, in my field. This course of study is life-changing for me, and is helping me to become more compassionate, more analytical, more everything. I have faith that I am working toward a worthy goal, and that this new road I am on now is just a different route between here and there.

I know that the real things in life that matter are not necessarily those things which are valued in our society. The real value in life is not hidden in money, status, fame, or appearances.

I know that things are not always easy, clean, or simple to understand. I know that there are things I will never understand until I see things from HIS perspective.

I also know that if I am authentically me, and if I am strong, and I perservere, and I have FAITH that HE will continue to teach me how to walk down his road, then not only will we make it through this, but we will be like polished stones.

With so many offers for help, here is what I could really use: A job: If you know of a position open within your company, please let me know. I am pretty much good at everything, and just want something reliable and consistent. Prayers: prayers that I can listen to HIS subtle directions as he carries us through this wildnerness. Pray that Joe doesn't have to sit out when we celebrate the kids' birthdays this year. Tell me how I can help YOU: I want to be a blessing in your life. Let me know if/when I can help you out.

<3

These are the days that try men's souls.

I haven't been blogging much, but that isn't because I have nothing to say. It is because the demands on me right now are so great that it is hard to get a blog in edgewise. These last few months have been almost impossibly challenging in every sense of that word- physical, emotional, spiritual, financial, educational- all of it.

Joe's health has gone downhill, and he now lives in bed. He falls whenever he stands up. He is in constant pain from the migraines, and just keeping up with the paperwork from work, the slew of doctor appointments, etc., is a full-time job.

But what can I say about that that hasn't been said? It sucks. It sucks for him- his life is on hold. It sucks for me, a single parent within a marriage. It sucks for the kids, who can't play with their father right now the way they used to.

I feel bad even complaining. But the weight it places on me is so, so heavy and I can't NOT do it because it is like I am holding up the ceiling. If I drop it, we all get hurt.

I do have stories to tell, though, things to say... if I ever get a chance to say them.