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Love The Process!
Hey hey! I spent all last night looking at amazing self portraits on instagram, twitter and Facebook (tag yours with #fplphoto so I can find yours!). I’ve also been reading messages that talk about both the exhilaration and intimidation of self discovery.
It’s kind of like hopping into a time machine and revisiting adolescent angst, yes?! ha!
If you are following along on the 52 week challenge, then you’ll hit some road blocks…some of you already have. You may feel self conscious, a little afraid, a bit out of your comfort level. These are actually all great things, because it means you’re pushing and stretching yourself.
One of the things I wanted to do for myself was to learn how to hoop dance. Not hula hoop like I did when I was 7, but really groove with a hula hoop. It’s been 3 months so far, and I feel ridiculous still. What 39 year old hula hoops?! Well, I do. I’m not perfect and it’s not super graceful, but I went for it anyway. My other kids picked it up and now we all hoop together, which is so much fun!
When I was first starting, I watched a video by Safire called “Love The Process”. She made it as a kind of manifesto for her practice and her life, and I think it applies equally well to anyone trying to do anything:
I hope you are loving your process the last couple weeks. I’ve been loving seeing it happening for each of you who are on board with a more joyful, playful, free life. Don’t get caught up in the negative, fearful, self conscious feelings…just know they’re important in letting you know that you’ve hit something deep and need to stay there for a while. The more of those feelings you can release, the more space you’ll have for the good stuff to fill it back in.
Keep playing. Keep asking for what you need. Keep thinking about what you want. Keep seeing yourself for who you are. Love your process!
Share Tweet5 Tips To A Badass Self Portrait!
Starting along the path of self portraiture is intimidating, to say the least. Staring down a camera lens takes some serious balls. Especially when you are also the one snapping the shutter. It’s like, all of a sudden, every insecurity you’ve ever felt comes pouring out of you. But I wouldn’t be asking you all to do it if the rewards weren’t fanfuckingtastic. You will be in good company on your journey…so far over 400 women have joined the self portrait group I set up in flickr, 52 Weeks of BAM!
What is BAM? You are. Not because of what you look like, or wear, or say, or do. Just, simply, you. You put the bam in ‘bamtastic! And you’ll see this start to shine when you can capture all that in a self portrait. First you have to clear away some insecurities, doubts, esteem “issues”, uncomfortableness, and sheer panic. The only way to do this is to just keep on clicking the shutter of the camera with your face in front of it. Stare into the lens and be fearless. BAM!
Here are 5 tips to a badass self portrait that I’ve learned in the 3 years I’ve been doing this (year 1, year 2, and year 3 are here…)
TIP 1:
Take lots and lots of pictures. For every one self portrait that I’m happy with, I’ve already taken probably 30 that I don’t like. This isn’t uncommon, and it’s not a sign that you are failing. You know that image of a photographer taking a million pictures of a model? Ya, it’s not because he wants a million pictures of her…even models have unflattering angles and take bad pictures. He’s taking that many in the hopes that at least ONE will turn out! And you also know, in that same image of the professional photographer, that the model constantly changes her expressions & body movement. While you are taking picture after picture, also change yourself up. Click and move, click and move, click and move. You will either be laughing or crying by the end of it. Maybe both! Treat yourself to some wine and consider it a job well done!
this one simple pose? Just a picture with me beside it?! I had probably 55 outtakes. grrrrrrrrr….
TIP 2:
Talk to yourself like a best friend would. If you had a professional photographer around, s/he would be saying things like, “perfect!” “wonderful!” “yes! stay just like that, the light is perfect!!!!”. When I take portraits of people, part of my job is to relax and encourage them. Make them feel awesome and totally comfortable in their own skin. You aren’t going to have anyone there to do this for you, so it’s something you’ve just got to learn to do on your own. Talk to yourself they way you would talk to your best friend if she was trying to get all dressed up and pretty for a night out. If there’s one thing self portraits can bring out, it’s alot of bitchy, negative self talk. Be mindful of it, and gently change up the tone and negativity as if you are trying to talk your friend out of hating on herself. This is actually part of the magic of self portraits. Pretty soon, you actually develop a really nice attitude towards yourself.
at first all I saw when I looked at this one was, “omg I have no boobs, my forehead is wrinkly, my hair is oily, my nose is crooked, my bed is unmade…why did I even take this?!” and now I see a woman with a happy smile and gentle eyes. Often we find grace through self portraits.
TIP 3:
Start out by taking your picture in a reflective surface. There are a few different ways to capture yourself in a self portrait.
You can use a tripod and then hold a remote shutter in your hand (or set your in-camera timer to 10 seconds, which makes you do the “10 second dash” to get into position before the shutter releases):
you can hold the camera at arms length and turn it around to face you:
Both of those require a rather advanced level of self possession. However, if you are taking a picture of yourself looking into a mirror, then most of your face is covered anyway, so it’s less intimidating. You don’t have to stare down into a camera to do it.
A great place to find your perfect reflection shot is in public bathrooms. Among photographers this shot is called “Damn Hell Bathrooms” or DHB for short. (My friend Jessica’s are classic!) I mean, you’re in there all the time anyway. Or at least, I am with my kids either pooping or washing dirty stuff off or whatever. Bathroom self portraits are a great way to pass the time.
TIP 4:
Be you. Even the most mundane thing like housework becomes something special when you take the time to document it. Erika has some of the best everyday life selfies! To you it may just be the same old same old routine and totally unworth a photo. But it’s more than that. It’s proof of life. “Here I am! Kicking ass and moping floors!” and “Fuck yeah diaper changing!” Eventually that won’t be your routine anymore, and you will look back at this time in your life and actually feel nostalgic for it. Take it from someone that no longer is nursing or changing diapers…I wish I’d documented more of it. Not enough to have another baby to actually document it, mind you…
TIP 5:
Give your camera to your kid and ask them to take a picture. Then, instead of looking into a camera, you can instead focus on the kid behind the camera. And that will bring out something special in both of you. You will get to see the special smile that your child sees whenever you look at them, and they get to feel special that you are trusting them to work a camera (which feels oh so very adult when you’re a kid). And when your child says, “why do you want a picture of you?” you can say, “because I’m a superfly bad mofo!” By standing up for yourself, you are also making it OK for your child to feel like they are a superfly bad mofo, too.
If you are sharing your self portraits and family (with you in them!) photos on twitter, use #fplphoto so all of us can share together! If you are sharing them on facebook, you can tag @freeplaylife and they will show up on the freeplaylife facebook page.
Now go forth and take badass self portraits!
Share Tweet52 Weeks To A Freeplaylife: Week 2
“Once you know who you really are, being is enough. You feel neither superior to anyone nor inferior to anyone and you have no need for approval because you’ve awakened to your own infinite worth. ~ Deepak Chopra
I’m not gonna beat around the bush for this next week’s goal. I’m gonna come out and say it like a gansta. This next week, in addition to continuing to speak up for yourself, you are also gonna represent.
GET IN THE GAME!
SHOW UP!
BE SEEN!
A lot of the feedback I got from last week was that sometimes even when you asked for what you needed, no one listened. It’s a very invisible feeling. If being invisible was a feeling, which it’s not. But you know what I mean! It’s always nicer to feel like someone really sees you, and listens when you talk. So lets go back a step. Before expecting other people to see you, first you have to see yourself. And for this week’s challenge, I mean that in a very literal way. Oh yeah, bitches.
IT’S TIME TO GET IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA!
For this week, instead of the one taking all the pictures with your iphone/point and shoot/DSLR, I want you to hand it off to someone else to document YOU interacting with the people you were going to take a picture of. This can be a spouse, friend, and even one of your kids. Age doesn’t matter, even if it’s your 3 year old doing the snapping. In fact, some of the best pictures EVER are from the younger set. EVER!
And, not to be pushy, but also just turn the camera around and take a couple self portraits for good measure. I’ll share some tips to a great self portrait tomorrow. For now, just think on it. The more you don’t want to do it, the more you should. I promise. I talk about all the reasons why taking self portraits is one of the best things you can do for yourself and your family in great detail here…it’s really worth a read!
I was going to take this picture of just the kids, but instead made it a quick little self portrait shot of all of us. It’s fun to switch from being the documenter to being a part of the adventure!
Here’s an example of what I mean…a video by Jessica over at Bohemian Bowmans. She’s teaching herself how to hoop dance (basically, getting jiggy with a hula hoop and doing awesome stuff with it!). One night she was practicing, and I can just imagine the exchange that happened next between her and her preteen daughter–”Hey, will you take a video of me hooping?” You can hear her in the beginning of the video saying (proudly) “This is my mom”. By the end of the video they are laughing together. And if that’s not a freeplaylife moment, then I don’t know what is.
But first she had to say the words. “Hey. Take a picture of me!” Unsaid was ‘..because I’m worth it.’ ‘…because I’m proud of this.’ ‘…because this is worth documenting.’
Other people will see and respect you only as much as you see and respect yourself. So take some time this week to really see yourself.
Are you down with it?!
Can I get a hellz yeah?!!
Happy snapping!
If any of you are doing iphone photography, I highly recommend the totally FREE instagram app. If you have it or are getting it, I’m freeplaylife…come find me!
Share Tweet2 Things Never To Buy At Target.
I know this week is all about getting what we want. Step one of embracing a freaking awesome freeplaylife starts with figuring out what we want/need and then speaking it. I hope you all have stood up for your needs like ninjas so far! A bunch of us are having a party over at Pinterest by creating a “What I Want” category and filling it with everything we think is awesome.
Sometimes, though, when we get something that we want we realize it’s not what we want at all. That’s OK, it’s part of the process. It’s better to live and learn than to opt out altogether in fear that we’ll make the wrong choice! Carpe the fucking diem, bitches!
Except for these two things from Target. Never ever make my mistake and get these things that you see in my pan. Which would be this style bra and spatula.
I used to get my bras from Victoria Secret and Frederick’s. And then I had kids, my boobs deflated, and I realized I could outfit all 3 kids in clothes for an entire season for the price I’d pay for 5 bras. Sooooo, Target it is! Which is usually not a problem except these cute colorful ones are no bueno. For some reason, my nipples keep popping out. Being as small as I am, I’ve never had this issue before. I mean, busty cannot be used to describe my chest and nipples popping out is an entirely new thing. It’s waaaaaay annoying. I’ve talked with other women that I know shop at Target to see if they’ve gotten these bras and if they have a nipple problem in them and they all do. I’m thinking there’s gotta be a class action lawsuit we can file. In any case, do not buy cute colorful bras like this unless you are well versed in tucking-nipple-back-in.
And while you’re avoiding that, by all means avoid all Giada De Laurentis cookware. It’s super cute and super colorful, and it looks innocent enough. It’s also coated with something that keeps it from scraping the hell out of nonstick pans. Which is why I got this spatula. However, note that while the bottom is coated, the handle is metal. All the cookware is like this! I didn’t notice it until the first time I touched it after leaving it resting in the pan while the eggs cooked. When I picked it back up again after a minute, I had a nice burn waiting for me on the part that grabbed hold of it. If you think this kept me from making the same lean it against the pan/pick it up and get burned mistake, you’d be wrong. I pretty much do it every day. There was probably a lawsuit potential there if I would have stopped after the first burn, but now that it’s a habit I’m too embarrassed to draw attention to myself. In any case, save yourself a burn and get a handle that is insulated.
Now that you have room in your cart, all is not lost. If you have a kick ass Target around you like I do (it’s basically a full bar with housewares and groceries attached) then you’ll be able to find juice boxes for moms (and dads!).
As the comments over on the facebook page informed me, these special juice boxes are great to take places where full wine bottles aren’t very convenient…luggage, movies, horrible Nick Jr. live theatre, beach, pools, playgrounds, church…
So there you go. Live and learn. Sometimes we get things that we need and they are awesome! Sometimes we get things that we think we want and they end up exposing our nipples to the free world. If you don’t try, though, you’ll never know and you’ll miss out on some pretty great shit.
Share TweetPardon While I Clog Up Your Pinterest With Octopi…
When I was 8 or 9, I read a story about a Native American boy who found out his spirit animal was an eagle because the bird came to him in a dream and they soared around together really majestically. For a while after, I would lay in my bed and will myself to dream about a wild horse that would visit me in my dream and then we could gallop around together really majestically. But…it never happened. And with all the bitterness of a crushed dream, I forgot all about totem animals.
Until!
I was chatting with Tara last year, who not only has a totem animal but has a son with one and a husband with one as well. And my long lost dream of connecting with an animal guide came back to me. I complained that the horse wouldn’t come to me in a dream, so she instructed me that you can’t choose your totem animal…it chooses you. Also, that you have to be really good at following your intuition to be able to recognize when your animal totem showed itself to you. This was at a time when I was doing more “putting out fires” in my life and less “listening to myself”, so I knew I was fucked. My totem animal was going to elude me again!!!!
Eventually, all the “putting out fires” resulted in me feeling “sick and tired unto dying” and I just kind of let a lot of stuff go that was out of my control. I had been so wrapped up in the move, the separation and getting divorced, the child sharing, basic living, etc., and had forgotten how to just BE. Be happy. Be content. Be enough. Be me. I was afraid. Scared I was hurting the kids because of the divorce. Scared to be alone. Scared I couldn’t do it on my own. Scared I wasn’t enough. Ugh. It was dark days indeed.
And then one night, I had a dream. Usually my dreams involved me dying of suffocating in some way. Some nights I was ejected into space. Other nights I was sucked underwater. One night I even dreamed I was being tickled so hard I couldn’t get a breath and was dying. Nice, right?
But this night I found myself dreaming I was in a roller rink. I had on old school skates, like the kind I wore to 6th grade roller skating parties! I was skating around and around in my rainbow socks and skates, while the disco ball turned and threw prisms of light everywhere. I was having so much fun!
And then a guy got on the microphone and announced it was couples skate, and anyone who was single had to get off the floor. My heart dropped as I searched for an exit…I didn’t want to stop skating just because I didn’t have anyone to skate with. As I exited the rink, I felt a tap on my shoulder and a voice ask me if I’d like to be his partner. I turned around and saw….a big octopus. Huge. Taller than me. Somehow, this was OK in the dream and I didn’t object to his octopussiness.
Instead I objected to being partnered with anyone. “Oh no, you don’t want to skate with me. I’m clumsy. I fall a lot. I can’t do anything cool, I really don’t know any tricks or anything. I don’t think I’m good couple skate material. You should go find someone better than I am…”
The octopus laughed and cut me off. “You don’t understand! None of that matters! Look at me…I have four tentacles on the ground (and here he wiggled four tentacles with skates on the end) to help me stabilize us! And then I have four tentacles (and here he waved the other four tentacles) to put around you so you never have to worry about falling! We’re perfect together! Just trust me.”
So I did. And we skated together. He ended up being the perfect partner. He flipped me up high, dropped me down low, and flung me around until I was dizzy; but I always felt a tentacle or two around me and never worried about falling or hurting myself. I just laughed and played and skated until I couldn’t skate anymore. We ended up winning a bunch of trophies for best couples skate. It was pretty epic.
When I woke up, I kept the feeling of security and happiness with me. My dreams of dying via suffocation stopped. Whenever I’d start getting myself all worked up over something, all I had to do was think back to how I felt roller skating with a disco octopus and that stable whimsical feeling would come back to me. Skating through life is more than it’s cracked up to be!
When I visted Tara to document her head shaving, I told her that I thought my animal totem had visited me. “But Tara, I thought it would be a little bit more of a sacred, majestic experience. Soaring with an eagle or something like that! Instead it was a disco skate octopus party!” She laughed at me and said, “He’s perfect for you.” And yes, he is.
So, I love looking at octopi. I have an octopus necklace that Tara gave to me, and an octopus purse that Sara sent me and I really can’t get enough of them. They will always be connected to that feeling I had while rollerdiscoing with one. And if that isn’t all kinds of awesome, then I don’t know what is!
Sacrificing isn’t Martyrdom
Oftentimes the biggest obstacle to getting what we want in life is…….our kids. And I say that NOT in a “isn’t it terrible and aren’t they assholes!” kind of way, but in that special parenthood way of knowing that we wanted these precious kids in our lives and will do anything for them to keep them safe, happy, and thriving. Sacrifice is such a big part of parenting love…but martyrdom is not.
Sacrifice says “I’m willing to do this for you as a gift of love, and let you be who you are.”
Martyrdom says “Look at all I’ve done for you! I expect certain behaviors/actions/words/respect in return!”
Big difference!
If you’ve ever thought, “if you only knew how much I do for you around here”, then you’ve done too much. The more of your personal needs you give up, the more of a martyr you become. The more you respect your wants and needs, the more emotional stockpile you have to give in sacrifice. (Incidentally, the older the kids get, the more wise they are about personal boundaries–my preeteen and teenager are totally good at understanding and respecting the fact that I need some things (wine and quiet time) just like they do (sweet tea and ipods)).
For everyone who is stressing out and thinking, “what if that makes me selfish?!” I have a rule of thumb I think applies. The people who worry about being selfish will never truly be pathologically neglectfully selfish. It’s the people who never worry about it that you have to watch out for.
Kids can really push us to our limits of tolerance. On twitter the other day I read a tweet from Amanda Palmer of Dresden Doll fame (she is so freaking fantastic on twitter!):
and I laughed and laughed and thought…that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to mommyhood! Concerts, hot food, clean clothes, movies in an actual theatre, movies at home, personal space, sleeping in, and 485034985 other things immediately disappear when the cord is cut and the tiny baby is placed in your arms. It’s for this reason that I am a strong advocate for making sure motherhood is a win/win. If you can get little bits of what you need on a daily basis, then you’ll have a big reserve of awesome to help you through the long, poopy, vomitous nights.
A friend on mine pm’d me after monday’s challenge and is letting me post it here as long as I don’t give out where she lives or her security code. Which I NEVER would over the internet…but come over with a 12 pack and watch “Lost” with me and I might let it slip. Anyway, our discussion went like this:
So far she’s reported that when she engages Austin in rambunctious play (tickling, etc.) at the times that she has more energy, then he doesn’t sneak attack her at night when she’s worn out.
When dealing with kids it’s important to respect that they are acting on their needs, and to also respect that you need to act on your own needs. If you can do that while maintaining a sense of humor then things go much smoothly. If your sense of humor left you to take up with someone else who was getting a full night’s sleep, then you really need to protect and preserve more of what makes you happy. Get a babysitter. Order in. Do nothing at nap time but polish your nails or nap yourself. Take care of you with the same patience and love that you take care of everyone else.
You. Are. Worth. It.
and your kids will thank you.
Meet Our Cat. She Doesn’t Give A Shit.
This is our new cat. We rescued her in Utah. Her whole family was taken out by asshole raccoons, but she survived by hiding and staying quiet.
We took 2 weeks to come up with a name for her. Kit Kat was really popular for a while. Stripey was also in the running. Golfer thought “Daddy Fat Sack” would be the best. name. EVER. We took our time really getting to know her before deciding. We wanted her name to reflect who she really was and what she was like.
Finally, after 2 weeks of cathood, we all came to a unanimous decision.
Please, say hello to Honey Badger! Or not. She doesn’t give a shit. Her namesake, of course, is the Crazy Nasty Ass Honey Badger of youtube fame.
Within the first two weeks of adopting her, she’d made all of us bleed due to her sharp claws, pointy teeth, and surprise sneak attacks. She came and went as she pleased, without regard for any of us unless she needed something like a scratch or warm lap. We noticed she didn’t really do the things that dogs do (aim to please, obey commands, love us unconditionally, etc.) which might be obvious to some people but I’d only ever had a dog and figured that all domesticated animals would generally act the same way. Ha!
Cats are a whole different world entirely. I really dig that she was immediately litter trained. I really don’t dig all this attitude she dishes out when all I really want is to love her and have her love me in return. In my off moments I’ve been known to chase her around the house yelling, “Don’t you know I saved your life?! That you’d be dead without me? Can’t you just love me without being all pissy about it?!!!?!” This makes the kids say things like, “She’s not gonna like that mom! That’s not gonna make her very happy with you!” I’ve had to learn the hard way that she doesn’t give a shit. She just wants what she wants.
I recently posted on facebook:
On the one hand, it’s good to know that I’m not the only one dealing with a Crazy Nasty Ass Honey Badger. On the other hand, I wonder why even own a cat when the relationship is so one sided. Her sided. I have the scars to prove it! So please, if you have a cat, you must share with me why you love it so much. Or why you love to be annoyed and sneak attacked and ignored so much!
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weekly challenge update: Have you joined in the freeplaylife fun? Have you asked for what you really wanted so far this week? Have you made yourself a “What I Want” board on pinterest? I have! So far, what I want is VW Vans and old Ford trucks! If you need to be sent an invite to pinterest, let me know in the comments or on the freeplaylife facebook page and I’ll send you one!
Share Tweet52 Weeks To A Freeplaylife: Week 1
I’m not someone people look at and say, “Man, she’s super talented!” I’m OK with this. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t tried: 9 years of piano lessons and I can’t play a tune. A year of gymnastics and I can’t even do a handstand. 7 years of french and I can’t even order a croissant. However, what I lack in talent I make up for in sheer, unadulterated whimsy. If being whimsical and joyful were an olympic sport, I’d get the gold.
I’d never thought of this as a talent, but then people started offering to give me lots of money to take their kids and let them unschool with us. When I’d ask why they felt they couldn’t do it themselves, I’d hear stories full of fear, insecurity, and the heavy burden of being overwhelmed.
As much as I love money and kids and am tempted to create a little Freeplaylife Academy, I think it’s so much better if kids and parents, together, can learn to embrace life and explore all the amazingness it has to offer!
And so, I’m starting up a little weekly challenge for 2012 that will lead you towards a more freeplaylife. A life full of affirmation, resilience, confidence, security, laughter, joy, openness, connection and tons of pure fucking awesomeness! When you integrate these things into your life, it can’t help but rub off onto the people around you.
And so, to begin our first week….challenge #1!
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Speak your needs.
or, said another way…
Ask for what you want.
Remember when Priceline Negotiator helped me realize I had a fear of asking for what I wanted? Well, I kept at it. I Priceline negotiated the shit out of Colorado and Texas when we traveled through there. At one point, I got 67% off my stay at a Marriott…paying only 40$ a night…but only because I had the balls to ask for that price. It felt wicked good! So good in fact, that I started Priceline negotiating even when I wasn’t going through Priceline. I’d show up at hotels, they’d give me a price, and I’d cut it in half in my head and then tell them I really only wanted to pay “X” amount. And you know what? It totally worked. This has bled over into my normal life, too. Where once I was afraid to point out that a food order was wrong, or speak up, or draw attention to myself, or ask for something different that what someone wanted to give me…now I have very little problem doing any of that. It feels much better to respect my own needs rather than accommodating what someone else thinks my needs should be.
Every time you speak a need or verbalize a want, you are standing up for yourself. You are telling yourself that you are important, valuable…that you matter. No one can do this for you, because you are the only one who can look inside and know what it is you need. If you look inside and aren’t quite sure that you know what you want, then start small. In fact, start at Pinterest! You can “pin” things that you see all over the internet into little categories, like I’ve done on my page. Make one called “Things I Want” and fill it up with all sorts of things. Pictures of sunny skies, rainbows, smiling people, hands held tightly together, a little cottage, an old camera…this is what would be in mine. Once you know what you want, you can start asking for it.
There is a direct correlation between how much of your own needs you are fulfilling and how patient and tolerant you are to other people’s needs. The more fulfilled you are, the more patience you have for others.
And let’s face it, kids are the neediest bastards around town. They ask and need and ask and need and ask and need and whine and cry and need and need all the freaking day. And night, too. Parenting is a 24/7 job. Kids are experts at going balls to the wall to get their needs met. At one point, you were also good at it…until The Man took you down. We are socialized to stop being good advocates for ourselves with labels like “selfish”, “bratty”, “obnoxious”, and “too loud”.
When I start feeling impatient and annoyed with how much I have to do for them and everyone else, I know that I haven’t been listening to or acknowledging what I need. And when you are unhappy or have needs unmet, then that’s the energy you give out to your family. Whenever I hear people say to their kids “you can’t always get what you want” or “don’t be a brat” or “I’m going to tell you no once and you have to just be quiet about it”, then I know that they have a serious deficit and aren’t getting what they need out of life.
It’s easy to put yourself last when you have kids/job/spouse/friends all taking up your time and energy, so I know this challenge will take some serious effort. However, if you can balance you with the rest of the free world, then you gain a magical ability to be more patient and resilient with everyone else. Because you are meeting your needs then you are happy to help others meet theirs.
You will also be modeling a really valuable tool for your kids–how to make themselves a priority and be able to make themselves happy. The older they get, the more this enables them to be less dependent on you. win/win!
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I hope you’ll join along on this 52 week journey towards a freeplaylife, and share it with your friends/family who want a little more fucking awesome in their lives too. Then, instead of just me making a small Freeplaylife Academy with only a few kids in it, you can be a part of creating an entire community of happy, joyful, connected, playful, whimsical parents and kids living the shit out of life!
Share TweetThe Birth of A Homeschooler!
You guys!!! We have the rare opportunity to watch the birth of a new homeschooler. Naturally, it will be a home birth. And my good friend Jen, who is both doing the birthing AND being born, has invited us all in to watch the process happen! She’s already been laboring for a good 4-5 years now, doing that dance with the school system of both trying to fit your kid into something that they don’t while also trying to encourage your kid to be themselves. While also trying to keep from going crazy. While trying to maintain a running household. While trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
Support is such an important thing when shifting into homeschooling, so I wanted to create a space for her new endeavor here so we could all encourage, offer insights, even ask our own questions about things. The world of home education is a great big vast area, and she still doesn’t know where she’s going to end up…with a curriculum? Without one? Back in a charter/private school?
What is your advice for a new homeschooler? Leave it in the comments or on the freeplaylife facebook page!
We’ve got our very own reality TV show right here, ladies and gentlemen!
Take it away, Jen!
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Sooo…what happens when a Type A first-born ungodly organized linear thinking mostly-
conformist former music teacher finally breaks down and decides to homeschool her
twice-exceptional Type A first-born ungodly disorganized visual spatial complex out-of-
the box son?
Beats hell outta me. And it’s my life.
I met Tiffani a few years ago through our blogs, then learned we lived in the same
tiny little town outside Boulder. She was homeschooling her three kids, living in the most
gorgeous house in the world (sorry Tiff, still love your house), and had hair. Long hair.
Lots of it. I was nowhere near homeschooling. My sons were doing well in public
school…mostly…and while I always kept homeschooling in mind as a OMFG LAST
RESORT, it was so far off the radar as to be invisible.
She invited me to a math morning at her house one day, and I went, just to see what
homeschooling could look like. It was, as you might imagine, awesome. Eclectic
learning with They Might Be Giants on YouTube and building elaborate geometric
creations from marshmallows and toothpicks. And hot chocolate. Because it was cold
out.
Another day, two-odd years ago, my boys and I met her and her crew at the Denver Art
Museum (or as my oldest likes to say, DAM…so he can “swear”). And what I most
noticed was how laid-back all four of them were about the day. I was prepped to drag
my boys through various exhibits, show them some art (sorry, I grew up in Chicago and
went to the Art Institute, DAM couldn’t compete), and probably end up with a van of
grumpy people heading home. They were engaged in laid-back, but not lacking,
learning. There was plenty of learning going on that day, it was just…relaxed. I may not
be relaxed…yet…but I like relaxed.
Fast forward to today. Tiffani is now living in California, we’re all living in Chicago. The
new school here was unable to accommodate our son and his (see the description
above) challenges. They tried, God love his teacher she tried, but the situation was
getting uglier by the day. I’m certain that if we’d continued with the district’s special ed
evaluation he would have “earned” an Emotional Disorder label. In fifth grade.
No thanks.
We’ve just begun this Great Homeschooling Journey, and already the stress level in the
House of Chaos has dropped. While we’re still in the deschooling stage, I can already
see my son coming out of the box into which school shoved him. The child who so
hated writing that he would have preferred to de-skunk the dog with his tongue has
written a story two days in a row. He loves that it’s quiet, and that he can concentrate,
and that learning is fun again. His younger brother? Still in public school. He’s doing
well there, and frankly, he needs the opportunity to be known as someone other than
“A’s little brother.” Jury’s still out as to when or even if we bring him home too.
Tiff has asked if I would mind being the “face” of a new homeschooler here, and have
you all follow along on this journey. Dude, get on board. This is new and exciting, but I
am also terri?ed that I am totally going to screw up my kid. I mean, even more than I
already have. While I have researched the hell outta this, it’s like giving birth. You can
read all the books you want, but the kid hasn’t read them and wouldn’t honey badger
give a shit if he had.
So there ya go. I’m looking forward to meeting all of you, maybe picking your brains
(brrraaaiinnnnssss…), and giving my son a more personalized education than the one
he was getting.
Oh, and for P.E.?
Hooping. Naturally.
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Jen writes over at Laughing at Chaos, where every day is just a little crazier than the
day before. You can also ?nd her…sometimes…on Twitter.
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Don’t forget to leave any and all words of wisdom for a new homeschooler in the comments or on the freeplaylife facebook page!
Days of High Adventure
Sometimes, when you meet strangers, you say a quick hello…share a smile…then walk away. Or sometimes you make a little quip about the situation you find yourselves randomly in together (omg I’m so so bad at quips. I usually say something so off the wall strange that it causes the other person to startle a little bit, maybe walk away a little faster, and it reminds me that hey Tiff! Not everyone has the same thought process as you!). But sometimes if you sit together long enough you end up with a story that shifts how you view the world in profound and long reaching ways. I’m gonna share one of those stories, because why have a blog if you’re not going to share epic shit on it?!
Back about a year ago I took a big breath, packed up all the long socks I could fit into a backpack, and took the train to a 10 day silent meditation retreat in Washington. Remember that?! The actual retreat was a life changer fo sho, but unexpectedly so was the train ride. My trip took 33 hours to get from LA to Centralia, Washington. That meant about 7 meals. And on trains, they have communal seating for meals, meaning, you are forced to sit with 3 other people at a table. People you don’t know. And maybe forced is too harsh a word. They don’t strong arm you or push you around or anything like that. It’s just, if you want to eat, you eat where they put you. And if you’re traveling alone like I was, that means at a table full of strangers.
Believing totally in stranger danger this of course gave me panic attacks at every meal, but soon the love of food overcame my aversion of strangers. Win/win!
Anyhoo, it was on one such meal that I met S. We both were a little late, so ended up missing the dinner rush and had a table to ourselves. S. had been an expat artist living in Canada for decades. He looked like a character out of a Kerouac book, and then when he started talking about dropping acid with Allen Ginsberg I literally started pinching myself to see if I was dreaming. I mean, girls who grow up in a fundamental religion don’t often meet acid dropping artists who have personal stories about main players of the Beat Generation. Granted, not many of those girls would want too, but again, not everyone has the same thought process as me…
S. grew up in the bay area, and we just happened to be passing by there on the train while we dined. Not only did I get stories about drugs, counterculture, and pianos that turned into flaming tidal waves…but then he got quiet and started telling me a childhood memory of his.
One day, when he was about 11, he and his best friend decided to make a raft out of spare trash and driftwood. They were going to ride on this raft down a waterway until they reached the actual San Francisco bay. So that’s what they did. Constructed raft. Two boys. Sack lunches. Big dreams. No real clear plan on how to get back or what to do once they reached the bay, but sometimes those things aren’t important when you’re 11 and going on a high adventure! Also not important: letting parents know what’s going on. So they set sale for the bay completely on their own. They figured they’d be back before anyone knew they were gone.
What they didn’t plan on was how far away the bay really was, or the raft falling apart at the seams. And while they were mostly successful at getting themselves close to the bay, they ended up being stranded, wet, and quite a ways distant from getting back home. S. said it took them the better part of a day to get where they ended up. He also said that back at home both sets of parents had figured out their boys were AWOL, and then pieced together what they were up to, and then immediately had visions of the boys being swept away into the Pacific by a strong current…or dashed to their deaths against rocks…or drowned in the deep cold water. And so, while the eventual homecoming was sweet, it was also punitive! I can’t even remember how they managed to get back home because what came next in the story made me forget the unimportant details.
After getting home safe and sound, both boys were grounded…maybe spanked. Regardless, says S., it was the best adventure either of them had ever been on for their entire 11 years on the planet. “It was a real Huck Finn/Tom Sawyer kind of thing!”. Watching his animated face underscored just how amazing their exploration had felt. Just two boys on a raft going to the Bay.
He looked out the window as he paused the story for a little bit. And then he said, “I’ve had a lot of adventures since then. But that one stands out. That one was special. Not just because we got into so much trouble for doing it, either. The thing is, my friend ended up getting sick. Not just a cold, but something more. He just felt bad and kept on feeling worse over the course of the next year. It ended up being cancer, and by the time he was 13 he was dead. He was housebound the last year, and so really his only adventure was the one we dared to take together. That was his one big adventure in this life.”
What do you say after that? There’s nothing. At least, nothing that I could find words for. So we sat quietly across from each other, looking out at the passing scenery. It was going by so fast, so that if you looked at things close to you they were a blur. It was only by focusing on things that were distant that anything made sense, or seemed to stand still. This too fit the story. At least, the way I interpreted it. And maybe that’s only because I was also thinking of my own loss, both of my daughter and almost of my life. That same disoriented feeling. The same blur and clarity all in one view.
Living life is a rush of little things…chores, obligations, patterns, responsibilities, etc. But what’s the point? What’s the big picture? In the little view, this boy’s adventure meant he got into trouble. He was probably called naughty or bad or disobedient or something. It shifts a little in the long view though, doesn’t it?! All of a sudden being responsible isn’t the point, and going on a high adventure is TOTALLY the point. In the long view, isn’t high adventure the priority while the rest of the little stuff just kind of gets in the way?
Those were leading questions. Ha. I’m totally leading you to see it my way, and if we were in a court of law the other attorney would object. Not everyone has a near death experience to help clarify life, I know, and those are big thoughts in a little blog post. But hey, I HAVE had a near-death-see-the-light-(I literally did! See the light! It was awesome!)-moment, and let me tell you something. When you’re about ready to head off into the great wherever you are going, the only thing you’ll remember about making your kids brush their teeth (or some other thing that brings a particular conflict into your life with them) is how sad you are that you spent all that time fighting when you could have spent it loving.
Eventually S. and I started talking again. We had a delicious dessert selection to choose from and then we had some cocktails. We made a toast to his friend. We watched the outside pass us by quickly and slowly all at once. There’s really no end to the story, there’s no way I can wrap it up in a tiny little blog. I think about it often…especially when the little stuff starts rushing by and I don’t feel like I can keep up or deal with it, and especially when parenting seems like an impossible overwhelming job…I refocus and think to myself, “What’s the freaking point, Tiff? What really matters, and what is just bullshit I’ve been conditioned to do because that’s how it’s always done? Is this potential fight over clothes/hair/food/bedtime really worth it? What can I do right now to encourage a grand adventure?” And then, the answer to those things is what I do. That’s freeplayliving in a nutshell.
If you haven’t already, try it. Do epic shit now! Let your kids do epic shit now! Choose your own path…let them choose theirs…fill it with happiness, love, and joy. Life’s too short not to!
Share TweetNo, I’m Not Crazy. Yes, I Shaved My Head.
I did. I really, really did. Shaved! My head! To 1/8th of an inch! It’s true!
First, I watched Tara, aka The Organic Sister, shave her dreads off. I was there taking pictures to document it for her, and it was an amazingly awesomely touching experience. I made a timelapse video using all the still pictures I took over the course of 2 days:
Both of us found ourselves in the same place, mentally/emotionally/spiritually. A place of renewal, release, energetic shifting, transformation, rebirth. These are all internal feelings that found a perfect outlet in a shaved head. I know not everyone feels driven to shave all their hair off…especially women…but I know I did. As did Tara…so…it was the only reasonable thing to do! Because she was the expert after shaving her own head, she helped me shave mine. It was a pretty awesome feeling of sisterhood, I gotta say.
I did this for me. This whole last 2 years has been me trying to reconnect with my voice. My intuition. My self. I mean, once I understood what it really felt like to be so disconnected from my self that I was numb…like, truly completely unable to figure out what I want/think/need to make me whole/happy/joyous/connected…once I felt that I had to do something to connect again. I did this by really finding my intuition and giving myself permission to do things because I wanted to, or felt a stirring of emotion towards it, or a feeling deep down that I need to somehow connect with it.
If any of you are feeling a pull to reconnect with yourself again…something I highly recommend…sit down, put your seatbelts on, and get ready for the ride of your life! Because your intuition?! She’s gonna be a crazy awesome beyotch! In the last year alone of listening and acting on intuition alone I have:
*been painted gold and ridden on a hippogriff in front of thousands of people
*driven the length of Route 66 on a solo trip across country
*started hoop dancing with a hula hoop
*spent 3 days and nights in the middle of a desert listening to music around the clock
*colored my hair red (back when I had hair). After going platinum and short.
*ran my first half marathon
I’ve learned something about intuition. She’s pretty whimsical. She’s fun. She’s outrageous. She doesn’t give a shit about ‘what if’s’. She exists in the present moment. She doesn’t make any sense. She knows what is best for you, deep down. She doesn’t judge. She wont force. She’s quiet, like a whisper. She suggests in dreams and feelings. You may feel angsty and freaked out thinking about what she’s suggesting:
but deep deep down you also feel excited, invigorated, and badass.
Listening to her is a life changer. And never boring. My one friend ran a 40 mile personal course because she woke up one morning after reading a book on barefoot running and heard her self telling her she was going to start training to run a long distance. She still doesn’t know the who-what-when-where-why of it all…it still doesn’t make sense in the normal “why are you doing this” way…but she is wise enough not to put off intuition and gained a lot of clarity and balance because of it.
I still don’t really have a clear knowledge of my own voice yet, but I do know that the best way to understand myself is to listen to my intuition. And that soft, still whisper was urging me to shed my hair for 2012. I don’t know why my hair. Or why shaved…it was already so short! But I’ve learned intuition is either listened to or not listened to. She doesn’t give a shit if I do it or not, it’s my choice. But to not do it, i’ve learned, is to miss out on understanding something vital and important and happy about myself.
So I did it. And I laughed and laughed and it. is. awesome.
Thank you intuition, for knowing just what I need especially when it’s the last thing I’d ever think I’d want…
A Foolproof Way To Not Say Psycho Shit To Your Kids
There’s something about parenthood that I’m trying to keep hidden from my kids…which is, how terribly fucking crazy it makes me. I mean, being a mom has quite a few side effects…situational ADD (like when do I ever have time to focus on just one thing at a time?), terminal insomnia, and post traumatic stress syndrome (if people rush up behind me, I’m constantly afraid I’m about to get vomited on) to name a few. But insanity, the kind I suffer from, is the most alarming and pervasive because it springs out of the vast love I have for these 3 awesome human beings that have sprung from my loins. (Can I use that expression? Springing from loins seems more like what the dad’s do, technically speaking. I mean, yes, there is lots of springing forth from dad loins to make the babies, but not so much when it’s time to have the babies…)
Anyhoo…crazy train. Yes. Because of love. Yes yes. When I say love, I mean I’m constantly veering back and forth between two kinds.
The first kind is the kind of adoring, tender, sweet, humbling, tear inducing love that leads to finding enjoyment just watching your kids while they sleep and not even getting upset when they barf all over you or the car or the couch or the carpet instead of the tile that’s just a few steps away (again…hello PTSD!). It’s an unconditional feeling that doesn’t go away no matter how many times you get hit in the face with a matchbox car, or how many shitty diapers (and blowouts) you change, or the level of whine you hear on a daily basis. It’s rooted in the indispensable truth that nothing on earth was ever created with more awesomeness than your very own child. This kind of love I share as often and ongoing as I can. It’s like the sun and rain to a growing seed…nourishing and lovely.
But the other kind of love…not so much. It’s a little more…ominous. I say this because never did I understand why Lenny, in Mice and Men, would love something so much he would smother it to death….until I had kids. Sometimes when I’m hugging them and start thinking about how precious and valuable and awesome but most of all how fragile they are, they start squirming and tell me I’m holding on too tightly and I get this paranoia that I’m slowly turning into Lenny. If the first kind of love is rooted in awesome, this kind of love is rooted in fear. Fear of loss, abandonment, guilt. It’s tinged with greed, insecurity, entitlement, martyrdom and possession. It’s whiny, and not pretty at all. I wish it weren’t there, and this is what I try to keep to myself. Well, myself and the group of friends I have that are already familiar with this parental induced psycho love. And now, you!
It kinda works like this:
Kid: “I lost my tooth! My first tooth!”
Psycho Love Me (thinking): Oh. My. God. First your first tooth. Then braces. Then you’ll be off to college with your pretty smile and I’ll be left here still paying your orthodontist bills. While you’re having fun and NOT thanking me with phone calls every day…
Real Me: “This is so freaking exciting! Let’s put it under a pillow and hope the Tooth Fairy brings you some glitter and a bunch of quarters!”
Kid: “I can do it myself!”
Psycho Love Me (thinking): But, if you don’t need me here to do it for you, then what good am I? Do you know I gave up a good job and now have NO certifiable skills, and you think you’re gonna push me out of this job already?!
Real Me: “Yes you can! Mamma’s going over there to take a nap…let me know if you need help…”
Kid: “I’d rather go in my room/listen to my ipod/be by myself than hang out with you right now.”
Psycho Love Me (thinking): Are you saying I’m not cool? Because I’ll have you know I’m SO COOL. So freaking cool! I have, like, 300 friends on facebook! Because I’m so fun, and cool, and maybe if you took your earbuds out of your ears every once in a while you’d KNOW THAT…
Real Me: “Cool. I’ll let you know when we’re doing something fun or that you might be interested in!”
Kid: “Can we snuggle?”
Psycho Love Me (thinking): Of course we can. Because I’m the best. THE BEST! You will never in a million years find anyone who loves you more than I do or treats you better, I can guarantee you that!!!
Real Me: “Of course we can. I love being around you so much!”
Kid: sick and in bed, throwing up everywhere.
Psycho Love Me (thinking): I’m gonna clean up this mess and be at their beck and call for the next 48 hours and no one’s going to say thank you but I’ll do it anyway. I’ll do it and I won’t ask for anything in return even though for anyone else they would owe me BIG TIME.
Real Me: “I’m so sorry you don’t feel good. Call for me anytime. I’m a mom, it’s what I do!”
On the days when the real love shines I feel so calm, peaceful, connected and happy. On the days when the psycho love comes out I hit the bottle early and take a vow of silence. Usually, this occurs most often when my raging PMS makes an appearance so I find if I can nip it in the bud with an IV of white wine things go much better.
If you find that you also have these two forms of love pitching around your psyche, I have devised a foolproof way to keep from saying psycho shit to your kids. Are you ready? Here it is! Remember Kathy Bates in the movie Misery? The most freaktastically effed up story in the whole world? And because it’s so terribly terribly frighteningly scarring I’ve remembered most of the lines in that movie. Sometimes, especially now that I have pre/teens in the house, her dialogue veers eerily close to things I think in my head. For instance:
Annie Wilkes: Anything else I can get for you while I am in town? How about a tiny tape recorder, or how about a homemade pair of writing slippers?
Paul Sheldon: No, just the paper would be fine.
Annie Wilkes: Are you sure? Because if you want I can bring back the whole store for you!
Paul Sheldon: Annie, what’s the matter?
Annie Wilkes: WHAT’S THE MATTER? I will tell you “what’s the matter!” I go out of my way for you! I do everything to try and make you happy. I feed you, I clean you, I dress you, and what thanks do I get? “Oh, you bought the wrong paper, Annie, I can’t write on this paper, Annie!” Well, I’ll get your stupid paper but you just better start showing me a little appreciation around here, Mr. MAN!
So now I think about what I’m about to say to my kids, and if it’s something that doesn’t seem out of place for Annie Wilkes to say, then I just zip it. And have some wine. Then rethink, and then try again. I find this sufficiently keeps my kids calling me good ole non psycho “mom” instead of “mommy dearest”.
Share TweetAre you a cat or my preteen son?
We recently acquired a kitty. We rescued her from certain death. She found us on a very traumatic day, which is why it’s still hard for me to talk much about her. Or him. Apparently it’s hard to tell the sex of cats when they’re little unless you’re a doctor or something? I don’t know, my cat knowledge is very limited. Anyhoo, she or he is the first cat we’ve ever owned. And it’s been….different…from having a dog. Way way way different. And then one day it struck me that owning a cat is just like having a preteen in the house.
For instance, am I describing my 12 year old son, or my little cat (which, for these purposes, we’ll assume is a boy):
*walks around the house ignoring that anyone else is around.
*doesn’t react when his name is called. In fact, has no visible indication that he even knows he has a name.
*wanders around all night long, getting into stuff…and then sleeps for a big chunk of the day.
*looks at me right before doing something I know he knows is not cool. Not cool at all.
*will hound and hound and hound and hound me to do something for him by whining and generally getting underfoot until I finally do it.
*has a general attitude that my whole existence is to make him happy. Or know why he’s not happy and fix it.
*runs away howling if I get too needy and clingy.
*this makes me want to run after him pleading, “But don’t you know how much I love you?! I’ve done so much for you! Why can’t you be nicer to me!”
*walks up at unexpected times and kinda leans against me, needing some love and affection and sweetness. A scratch on the head, or a back rub, etc.
*needs a fair amount of alone time when he wants it. Also needs a fair amount of time with me, on his terms.
*is delightful and charming and endearing and whimsical and funny and comical and oh so very lovable.
If you guessed I was talking about my little kitten, you’d be right.
If you guessed I was talking about my 12 year old son, you’d also be right.
They are one and the same, separated by opposable thumbs and the ability to walk upright. Otherwise they are the same in virtually every way. Hairy, moody, curious, self assured, quirky, and awesome.
Here they are playing video games together in the minivan on our way across Texas.
See? One and the same.
Share TweetAbsolute Truth and Roadtripping With Kids.
There’s an absolute truth about doing anything with kids. Mark me well when I say: There is what we want to experience with our kids, and then there is how we want to experience it with them. NEVER DO THOSE THINGS MATCH UP. I shouldn’t say never, sometimes the stars align and for a brief moment all is right in the world. But most of the other time? There’s a little bit of a discrepancy. Mostly because we have one agenda, and kids have their own, totally separate, ideas. This lesson repeats itself over and over to me, most recent on my roadtrip around Texas last month. It was an epic trip that took 2 weeks. What I wanted was for my kids and I to see new things and share experiences together that would last a lifetime. How I wanted it to happen was by visiting every fort built in Texas, talking all about nerdy history while driving (and driving and driving), and then reading library books when we’d stop at night.
The truth is, we did have a good time and awesome experiences…mixed in with all the other stuff that happens when you have a 7, 12, and 15 year old on board. Truth in this case meaning whining and complaining and overall sour attitudes. I think, in the past, I’ve skipped over all that stuff because the positives more than make up for the ‘negatives’. This has inadvertently lead some to believe I’m a saintly superwoman with abilities that are so awesome, I never have to deal with cranky kids or meltdowns in the middle of stores. This is clearly not the case. At least, the not having cranky kids that melt down part. The saintly superwoman part is pretty accurate. But even I, in all my awesomeness, still have to navigate the perilous waters of the discrepancy between what I want and how I want it to happen. In fact:
*Golfer cried for a good 30 min. before we left because the thought of spending 14 days on the road was too much for him to bear.
*Sassy was refusing to go unless she had an ipod full of music/apps and headphones so she could zone out.
*Both of them wouldn’t budge until I agreed our newly rescued cat could come with us too. The cat no one knows about yet cuz I haven’t blogged about it…
*They spent most of their driving time playing HALO or Assassins Creed in the backseat of the minivan, thanks to Golfer hooking up the Xbox.
*At night I made sure to check in to a hotel with wifi so they could watch youtube videos (instead of read all the nerdy library books I checked out on Texas and other historical things surrounding the areas we were driving to).
*Golfer frequently would look around at the tourist places we’d stop at and announce, “Well, this looks like a big waste of my time…”
*After all the awesomeness we saw and did, Golfer said the best thing about the trip was driving into our driveway because “it meant the trip was over!”
I obviously had a different idea of how I wanted our trip to go. In my fantasy land, we’d have been listening to history podcasts and NPR while discussing Texas history. Instead, the kids were hell bent on denying to themselves they were on the road by trying to recreate their home routine anytime they could. Thus…youtube, xbox, ipod, etc. It drove me crazy. Probably as crazy as I drove my dad when he took my family and I cross country in a VW Vanagon and all I did was read and listen to tapes of the radio station from my hometown in California.
I dealt with my frustration in lots of ways.
For one, by bringing a six pack up to the hotel rooms and pounding a few before chillaxing with the kids watching youtube videos of Halo Reach fails with them. This maybe wasn’t HOW I wanted it to be, but the end result was totally vibeing with the WHAT I wanted…together time creating happy memories. We still talk about the funny stuff we watched (on the nasty motel sheets. It took me a beer just to be ok with touching them…).
I hooped with my hula hoop. A lot. If the kids didn’t want to go anywhere and I did, I took my hoop outside and hooped around to my music.
We stayed with friends in Austin, and while I went out and about discovering the city and capitol building with Naturalist, I let the other 2 decide to stay at my friends house with their kids. This was Golfer’s second favorite thing, “staying inside and not having to do anything”.
If we did go anywhere nerdy and history minded, I budgeted in trips to gift shops and ice cream parlors. Sassy’s favorite memory from the whole trip was getting a machine to stretch out her penny and stamp Jim Bowie on it.
So I had to give up on a lot of my HOW’S in order to stay true to my WHAT’S. If I would have forced Golfer to do things he didn’t want to, then my what’s never would have happened. All that family togetherness would have gone up in flames. By compromising a little (all of us!) we maintained a good win/win balance. They compromised by letting me drag them all over hell and all of Georgia. I mean Texas. In exchange, I gave up on doing a lot of my own cruise ship-like agenda and went with their flow a little more.
I was still a little frustrated by the end of our trip…we ended up skipping lots of things I wanted us to see (like Big Bend National Park) and I felt like I’d failed in achieving both my what and my how for the roadtrip. But then I went through all the movie clips I took on my iphone (8 mm app!) and what appeared was exactly what I’d wanted in the first place…connection, experience, happiness. Togetherness. And even though you can see that Golfer is cranky for most of it (he is, after all, 12) I caught him smiling TWICE. And that is success in my book.
Share Tweet5 Tips For Badass 2012 Resolutions.
I’m back, bitches! I know you’re probably wondering what the freak happened, but that involves Russians, hackers, viruses, and lots of html code. And while it sounds like the plot to the next Bond movie, it’s not all that exciting. It’s so not exciting, I don’t even want to talk about it. It was terrible having a forced sabbatical for 2 months. So let’s just say, I missed you! You all missed me so much you cried every night, I know. But everything is OK now, and I’ll never leave you like that again!
Anyhoo….let’s instead talk about resolutions!!!! Fuck yeah, right?! Or maybe no. I mean, resolutions are a double edged sword. On the one hand they promise that if we can just do these few things, then we’ll be better. Do better. Feel better. For one short period of time we have hope that we can solve our problems by cutting out sugar, going to the gym, meditating 3 times a week, and not yelling at our kids at the end of the day. Thinking about how great we’ll be if we manage to keep up with our resolutions is a bit like walking out of The Container Store with a shopping cart full of organizational objects that will singlehandedly make our lives perfect. Except, they rarely do. And we end up with hundreds of dollars of plastic crap and the same issues we had before we walked into the stupid store.
I want you to be successful in your resolutions, whatever they may be. I don’t want you to end up in mid-Feb feeling hopeless and lame because you’re not meditation/going to the gym/cutting out sugar/etc… I want you to create space for things in your life that you are so happy with, you continue them well into 2013 and the rest of your life. So, here’s some tips that I find helpful:
Tip 1:
Don’t call it a resolution! “Resolutions” are for Founding Fathers and lawyers. “Resolutions” are chores. Burdens, by the end of February. “Resolutions” are kinda boring. But if we go for, lets say, experiences, then that’s a totally different thing. Experiences are fun, life expanding, adventurous! And that’s exactly what we want 2012 to be, right?! So instead of resolving to do boring shit, kick it up and decide to have epic experiences in 2012! Don’t just vow to go to the gym. Boring! Sign up for a half marathon! Vow to summit a nearby mountain! Backpack for a week along a trail. Sign up for Warrior Dash or Muddy Buddy. (all these things can be with or without kids…) Make your experience something awesome and not just a means to an end!
Tip 2:
Get fun! Now that’ we’re not dealing with tedious things that are “good for me” we can embrace things that are freaking awesome! It’s the difference between eating frozen peas just to get it over with, and finding a delicious frittata recipe with a bunch of favorite veggies cooked inside. Don’t resolve to go to the gym every day if you don’t love going to the gym. If getting in shape is the end game, though, then skip the gym and find other options…zumba, aerobic burlesque & pole dancing (yep, this exists. and yep, it’s fun!), hula hooping for 30 min. a day (great core workout!), etc. Take your normal ‘resolutions’ (yawn!) and then kick them up a notch. Find out of the box ways to get them done. Join local groups for rowing, or running, or cooking, or anything. Become a certified scuba diver! Swim every day in preparation for a snorkeling trip where you get to swim with dolphins. Make your experiences worth having!
Tip 3:
Be invested in it! Find things that are emotionally, physically, and/or spiritually meaningful to you. WHY do you want to do something routinely if it’s not something you value? For every experience you invite into your life, ask yourself why you want to do it. If it’s not something that totally resonates with you, then move on. Right now 2012 is like a genie in a bottle, just waiting for you to verbalize your dreams into existence! So don’t waste your time with things that aren’t absolutely fulfilling and meaningful!
Tip 4:
Emotions are experiences too! Don’t look outward for things to experience so much that you neglect what’s inside. Experience emotions. And the more emotionally connected you are to yourself, the more nurturing, intuitive, and accepting you will be of the things you need in your life. For instance, “I want to lose weight” usually carries with it some emotional baggage. Instead, think about how you feel when you are at your target. Energetic? Happy? Sexy? Free? Make feeling those the focus of your experience…not just by losing weight but by doing things in your life that make you feel that way. You may discover that you are actually really happy without losing weight, that what you really wanted was the emotions that are available in other outlets. Or you may discover that you really do want to lose weight, and when you go after it because it makes you feel so good, then the early morning gym times won’t feel *quite* as burdensome!
Tip 5:
Don’t do anything to change yourself. It’s all too common that the roots of wanting to change oneself spring from seeds of frustration, shame, anger, guilt, or embarrassment. And that will grow nothing but more frustration, shame, anger, guilt, or embarrassment. (ie., me by mid March after bailing out on all my well intended resolutions…) If you are sitting here reading about resolutions and thinking that there are so many things you would change about yourself if you could, then probably the best experience you can have is to make 2012 all about accepting WHO YOU ARE instead of WHO YOU WISH YOU WERE. Experience you. All of you. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Start a self portrait project. Take yourself out on dates all by yourself. Get to know you and become your best friend. Face your monsters and invite them to your pajama party. From what I hear, you can really party!
To make 2012 more badass than ever, then you need something more badass than boring resolutions. You need awesome experiences and the will to follow through with completing them. So lets do this thing!
Share TweetTrying to schedule in a 26 hour nap….
So you know how sometimes you are so hungry your entire core aches from it, and all you can think about is food food food and drink drink drink and you get all cranky and emotional and may even lash out at people because the lack of sugar in your bloodstream has turned you into a temperamental zombie? And then other times you have a feast (or buffet, yes?!) in front of you with every kind of food imaginable, and you are able to eat eat eat and drink drink drink all you want so you taste a bit of everything and a lot of some things and even more of the desserts until you fall onto a chair or couch in a haze of contentment?
Yeah…my last couple weeks has been like the feast scenario. I wish I could have kept up with the blogging in real time, but the trip carrying Laika the robot around for Robot Heart Stories was a 24/7 endeavor. The drive from Rhode Island, where my plane landed, until LA, where the trip finished, was in total 5083.51 miles. All that in 12 days. At times it felt like an endurance race, but I’m so glad I had the opportunity! That kind of mega roadtrip is right up my alley! I have so much to share about it and everywhere I went, but hardly the time to share it all right now. So I’ll skip it for now and summarize what else is going on…also awesome….and also tiring!
I went to my first DIY Days at UCLA. This is a
“roving conference for those who create. Past stops have included Los Angeles, San Francisco, Boston and Philadelphia. FREE to participants and organized by volunteers – DIY DAYS is about the accessibility of ideas, resources and networking that can enable storytellers to fund, create, distribute and sustain.”
A lot of the chatter I heard around the conference was about experiential education, incorporating passion and play into learning, and respecting kids as capable and confident learners in order to foster long term societal change. You can imagine how in heaven I was. This conference also had too much awesome to share right now.
The reason why it’s all too much to blog is that I’m packing up….actually, I’m not even unpacking since arriving home last night. It’s more like, I’m packing up the kids and heading to Durango, Co., so that Naturalist can spend a month (MONTH!) living in a hostel with 15 other kids and a few badass adults…writing a novel. While she’s there, the other kids and I will tour around Colorado…learning, exploring, having fun, discovering, and hopefully sleeping a little bit, too.
By the way, if you haven’t met Blake Boles or seen any Unschool Adventure trips that he runs, go check him/it out!
So while I’d like to plan a 26 hour nap, it’s not in my near future. In a bit I’ll pack everyone into the car and off we’ll go to Flagstaff. Where I was just 3 days ago, coming the opposite direction, lol.
It was nice to get back….
But it’s also nice to go adventuring (again).
If I have to chose between feast or famine, I’ll choose feast anytime!
read morerobot travels
It’s been a few days since flying cross country and starting a robot adventure in Montreal. So far we’ve been pulled over (twice), stopped at border patrol (twice), car searched (twice), and in between all that seen lots of lots of beautiful Canada. From Montreal we hit Toronto, then up and over the Great Lakes until we ended up back in the US.
Another long drive, around 10 hours, will put the Robot smack dab in Minneapolis, Minn. And from there? Who knows!
I’m in love with this little robot. The kids in Montreal named her Laika, and because my camera lens is her eyes for this project, I have become like her. Seeing things fresh, from a new perspective. Questioning everything, knowing nothing, seeing things for the first time. It’s been really magical. What I’ve seen and what she’s experienced is up on her travel blog, here.
Also, if you go here and click on the hearts, you can read more of her story as she travels.
Not on her blog is all the “being pulled over” and “car search at border patrol” or even “getting a little drunk with a friend in Toronto”….those I’ll have to fill you in on when I’m not on the road, not dog tired, and not having to drive 10 hours.
I <3 Canada!
I <3 the US!
It’s nice to be back 
ùhello from ùmontreal!
ùièm typing this on a french keyboard! ùin a city that speaks french! As you can see, there are some differences…like, ùi have no idea why this keyboard (which looks very different from my american one) is putting weird letters in places ùi donèt want them to be! But ùièm keeping it like this so you can feel a little of the displacement that ùi do right at this moment!
ùi flew into Rhode ùisland and quickly drove through ùnew England, stopping to spend the night with friends last night, eventually ending up here in ùmontreal. We were detained a bit at the border into Canada…ùi was driving and as soon as the Canadian guard at the border started questioning me about my visit to Canada ùi panicked and got all freaked out. I always feel guilty by implication (and the way he was looking at me I knew he thought i was up to something or trying to hid something!!! ùi just knew it!) and was ready to confess that ùi did whatever it was he thought I;d done…in the pantry with a wrench. So…yeah…ùi thought he thought ùi was guilty so ùi got all guilty looking which made him suspect ùi was guilty. ùit doesnèt help that ùi get very forgetful when ùi get nervous, so when he asked :have you ever been to Canada; and I say no, and then later remember that yes ùi actually HAVE been to Canada and so then say ;actually ùi HAVE been to Canada;, they get a bit curious as to why my story keeps changing. They donèt believe that anyone can really be my particular kind of stupid in these kinds of situations, and suspect some subterfuge is going on. So. They searched the car and interrogated us some more before letting us go.
ùoh, and also, ùi got pulled over in New Hampshire (again! for the 17th time) and thought my perfect traffic record was screwed. But interestingly enough, my particular kind of stupid in THAT situation always works like a charm and I just got a warning (again). Yeah, y.all!
Damn, itès hard to type English on a French keyboard! But hello to my high school and college french lessons…ùi figured that .nouvelle fenetre. was ;new window; and opened up another website on the internet. now if those classes would only have taught me how to type on a french computer!
pictures and interesting stories to come later, after i,ve had some rest, some food, and some time to take photographs of the cutest little robot anywhere.
I;m so excited for Robot Heart Stories to kick off tomorrow! Itès being debuted here at the ùmontreal :Festival du nouveau cinema; which is where ùièm blogging from. Soon i will head out into the big city and start asking for the only thing i can cobble together from my rusty french…some delicious cheese and a coat to eat at the library, please.
Share TweetRobot <3 Stories
I’ve been all quiet on the blog front while being all frantic and spazzy on the homefront. In a few hours I’ll be taking a red eye flight to Providence, RI., where I will hop in a rental car bound for Montreal. That will start a 12 day epic photographic adventure back to Los Angeles…filming a cute little robot along the way.
Why a robot? Why Montreal? Why a car? Where am I going?
Short story: a robot has crash landed in Montreal!
Long story: read all about this project here at robotheartstories.com. Basically it’s a project that
“has paired a classroom in Montreal and one in Los Angeles and charged them with working together to transport a robot back home to outer space. En route to Los Angeles, the robot will travel to whatever destination the students choose, with the classes tracking its progress through GPS. “If the kids want to take the robot to Mount Rushmore to have tea with unicorns, a team—one photographer and a documentary filmmaker (hey hey! That would be yours truly and Mike Hedge!) will physically move it there,”
Lots of people are already talking about it, like in this article, even though the project doesn’t actually launch until the 17th. Lance Weiler has been thinking about doing it for a long time, fueled by his own childhood memories.
“When I was in elementary school we tied a note to a balloon and let it go,” says Lance Weiler, a Philadelphia-based storyteller who’s worked on several films and TV projects. “It’s those kinds of moments,” he says, “where kids fundamentally connect with something beyond themselves.”
Weiler says that kind of connection is missing in our test-score focused modern education system, and he believes Robot Heart Stories, a 10-day experiential learning project designed to spark the imagination, could reignite students’ passion for education.
I love so so so much about this project, and am really excited to be a part of it. But it’s not just for me or the students in the two classrooms! YOU can get involved to, in one of my favorite aspects of the whole thing. The robot is fueled by interest and passion (hello! So am I!) and when the project launches you’ll be able to download your very own “heartpack”…a little robot with space on it’s heart for you, your kids, your neighbors, your coworkers, etc., to write something that you love and are passionate about. These fuel the robot to help get it to Los Angeles, and for every 1,000 heartpacks that are sent in, money will go to creative writing programs in schools.
Look how cute the heartpacks are!
I.
Am.
So.
EXCITED!!!!!!!
So from here on out, or at least until the end of the month, I’ll be updating from the road with my little robot friend. I finished up the Tour d’Awesome just in time to head on out for the Tour d’Robot!
Tigger Children
When I was growing up, my family nickname was Tigger. Because I liked to bounce. Everywhere. Ev. very. where. I remember one particular restaurant that *might* have been in Maine…it had the longest row of seats at a counter that I’d ever seen. We’d been traveling in a VW vanagon, exploring the United States, and that day we’d probably driven quite a few hours already. If you take someone who already has a reputation of being…rather…energetic, and then stick them in a car for hours and hours, it’s a fact of nature that the kinetic energy builds and builds. So when I was unleashed from the van and then saw those stools, I bounced up and down that row, sitting on each seat for approximately .2 seconds before bouncing onto the next. As disruptive as it probably was to have a 9 year old spastically butt bouncing on a series of plush bar stools over and over again, my parents simply repeated this as they watched me:
“The wonderful thing about tiggers, are tiggers are wonderful things.
Their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of springs.
They’re bouncy bouncy bouncy bouncy, fun fun fun fun fun!
but the most wonderful thing about tiggers is you’re the only one!”
It was something they repeated often. Either as a phrase: “you’re bouncy bouncy bouncy bouncy!” or “your bottom is really made out of springs today!” if I was mildly annoying them. Or the whole flipping song if I’d reached DEFCON 6 on their “What did we do to get a child like this” meter.
The thing is, it was fun to be a tigger child! Turns out, it IS totally fun fun fun fun fun when your tops are rubber and your bottoms are springs! I put the RAN in errands, if you know what I mean. Pure unbridled enthusiasm and energy. Inappropriate sometimes and in some places, as it turns out. But I’m glad my parents never made ME feel inappropriate for having a Tigger personality. I’m glad they let me bounce down the line of chairs, and bounce instead of walk, and run instead of sit still.
My sister’s little boy is almost 2 now, and starting to talk up a storm. One of his favorite words to say is, “hop!” As in, we’re walking down the sidewalk and he bounds past me in a hoppy little stutter step while yelling out “hop! hop! hop! hop! hop!”. He never walks. Always hops. He doesn’t like being strapped into high chairs. He laughs at just about everything. When he sees something interesting he doesn’t just say, “Oh, look.” he says, “OOOOOOOOHhhhhh! LOOK! LOOK AT THAT! LOOK AT IT! LOOOOOOOOOOOOK!!!!!!!!!! AHAHAHAHAHHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!” My sister, bless her heart, is exhausted at the end of a day with him. He’s agogogogogogogolaughlaughlaughlaughlaughyelleyllyellyellyellrunrunrunrunrun kind of kid. He’s a tigger child, alright!
Popular parenting advice advocates teaching these kids how to be “civilized” and “well mannered” and “appropriate”. How to “sit still” and “focus”…I said “FOCUS! oh my god why can’t you just FOCUS!!!!!!”. And if all else fails, take ‘em to a doctor and medicate ‘em.
bullshit!
Respect who they are right at this moment. Embrace their personality.
Let them loose. Get them involved in parkour. Go hiking more. Go on more field trips with lots of open space. Hold off on a lot of organized sports for a bit, or find ones with the right kind of coach. You might also have to hold off on restaurant dining, unless you don’t mind a recreation of my bar stool bounce. Find a drum circle, karate class, drama/acting coach, big rocks to boulder on. Give them lots of space and lots of time to develop their personality.
I promise, one day Tigger children do grow up, and are mostly well behaved. Believe it or not, I don’t hop down rows of barstools anymore. I still do have a bounce in my step, but instead of bounding all over the place, I focus and just jump a couple times wherever I go.
If you call them anything (and we all know there are lots of things that run through your mind when you’re at your wits end but your child’s energy is only escalating…) make sure it’s something nice and positive.
Like Tigger!
Because tiggers are wonderful things….
And so are kids, and they deserve to know that their wonderful comes from who they are.
Thanks For Sharing!