Library books my kindergartner picks out at school

 I quickly just have to document this, and wasn't sure how or where to.

Today was my kindergartner's third Friday at school, and therefore the third day he's had "library" special class. It struck me today that having observed three library books he's brought home, a pattern, or perhaps lack thereof, more a critical mass that could be representative of his interests/personality, could be emerging.

Here are the books he's picked out in chronological order:

1. Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes by Eric Litwin, ill. by James Dean

This book at some point was set to music (or was it song before it was a book?), which we somehow came across and it subsequently got stuck in all of our heads. It's the kind of song/story that gives us the San Diego vibe that we miss so much (where Rajan spent age 6 months-2.5years). I'd never seen the book before, but his eagle eye picked it out on his first trip to the school library! 

2. Creepy Carrots by Aaron Reynolds, ill. by Peter Brown

I'm already sad we had to give this one back. I mean, I couldn't imagine a more perfect book for Rajan to pick out. A) he eats carrots almost obsessively, B) he loves spooky silly stuff like this, and C) as I only now discovered, the illustrations are by Peter Brown, who is the author of the Number One most loved books in our house: The Wild Robot and The Wild Robot Escapes. The last fact is unbeknownst to him, but subliminally perhaps that's what drew him to it. The familiarity, the loving and silly portrayal of anthropomorphized creatures and vegetables, even the monochromatic colors and animation style.

3. The Hello Goodbye Window by Norton Juster, ill. by Chris Raschka

Rajan was excited to tell me which book he brought home today. He proudly pulled this one out of his backpack with a twinkle of recognition in his eye. He knows this one already, because we read it at my parents' house this past August, where we stayed for two weeks after a long 20 month wait to travel cross country to see them during the pandemic. And it's also fun because we gifted this book, along with other grandparent-themed stories, to my parents way back when we announced our first pregnancy.

It may be only me that is getting a kick out of this. But I can understand why at least I am for a few different reasons. The first is purely because of this new thing called my kid growing up and going to formal school. He is out there, in the world, on his own, making his own learning now, without me. Every day for the past five and a half years till now, I was the one guiding him almost every step of the way. But now it's all him, and this wonderful, though imperfect, institution we have in our society that is public education. The second, tough maybe it's just another way to say the first point, is how I have been dragging him to public libraries his whole life now, and bringing home towering piles of books. Books have been piled up in every room, and my addiction has only grown stronger. Each new place we live, and we've lived in quite a few in the past six years, I brandish my new library card with pride and use it the way I viewed it as a kid, as the most prolific window into other worlds that could ever exist. And now, now, he gets to do it on his own. Make his own singular selection, once a week, a book that calls to him from the shelf, and for some reason resonates with his curious, individual mind. 

So I hope to keep track of this one thing, though there have been very few things in my or his life I've kept good track of. Can't wait to see what he brings home next!

Oh and P.S.:

I think by coincidence? His class created art today inspired by Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes. And I think it's my favorite piece of art he's created :-) :-) :-)

wabi sabi

There is a thing that we all ignore in life, or more than ignore: we actively hide, dissemble, lie, stretch the truth, fib through omission and subterfuge, and desperately pretend is not there: it's imperfection. 

Imperfection is avoided at all costs in the age of social media. Even the social media exhibited to show realness is at the most just picking the most attractive or likeable imperfect moment of the day to share. 

But when you shuffle together all those imperfections at once you suddenly arrive at a chaotic humiliating mess. And when you remember this, it becomes an assault on your whole ego and self perceived identity.

There is a word in Japanese that I'm starting to learn: wabi sabi. It means celebrating the imperfect. I say that word and see the image of glued-together ceramic plates that accompanied the article where I first read about it, and my whole body relaxes. I breathe out in a big sigh, the way I've been craving and forcing and practicing with anxious effort for days, but this time it is spontaneously calming. Sweet relief.  

I thought, I like that, and a smile formed in my heart, but I didn't view it as more than a nice passing thought. Now though, I'm learning. Really learning. With some fantastically wise and real souls sending out these gifts of wisdom in virtual nuggets, somehow they are sinking in now. 

It could be a phase I'm having. Each new thing I learn becomes a religion I'm dying to follow. Nevertheless, any human professing this great truth that the imperfect actually IS the good is now someone I'm instantly drawn to. 

OK, maybe I need to walk the talk and perhaps give some real world evidence. I had a shit day. I couldn't sleep last night, up thinking in anxiety loops about disaster situations happening to my kids and family. This happens every time on the first night of my period. Then I'm sleep deprived all the next day. 

Today: I am crying buckets at the Mars rover landing and meanwhile my kids are fighting over a toy, and I ugly yell at my son to not hurt his sister. I'm scatterbrained all day and accomplish not much, ordering groceries, switching the laundry from machine to machine, ordering food for a friend. Wiping down countertops, sweeping floor, doing the bare minimum of tidying the random objects my 2yo leaves in every nook and cranny (tongs, spatulas, bandaids, baby dolls, playdough pieces). I ignore the entire family room, letting it go to ruin as I focus on kitchen/dining areas (I'm assuming- isn't this the strategy of moms everywhere? Sacrifice one room to clean barely one other?). I begrudgingly drag them into carseats to do errands then begrudgingly follow them around while they play with neighborhood kids. 

But then: I joyfully eat my takeout thai, sip my wine and sneak away to "the room", the only one that locks and keeps out prying hands, demanding voices. So tired am I then that I don't feel guilty about not attempting "good self care" like exercise, hygiene, journaling, planning, organizing. I just unapologetically watch netflix. Later, I've heard the signs that hubby and kids have made it upstairs and are doing bedtime things. Even later, I'm curious why there hasn't been banging on my door, and it's strangely quiet. I emerge, peek at them, and the door isn't even locked, isn't even closed. All asleep, beautifully. 

I skip downstairs. It's so early! I'm free! I go into the first floor bathroom, look around, and just stop and laugh. To the left of the sink, clean dishes are piled drying on a towel where I had instructed my son to put the plastic dishware he so eagerly wanted to wash himself. To the right, the small training potty my daughter selected herself from the garage storage so she could start going poopoo on her own (and inside, a small shard of poo speaking to her success). 

Why is this funny? While I was busy fretting and feeling burdened by my imperfection, my kids were just getting on with doing the amazing things they do. And to be truly honest, I don't have a whole lot to do with it, other than getting out of their way and not breathing down their necks at every moment in their day. So while I was busy crying about Perseverence, shuffling back and forth being bored with my chores, and generally worrying that I am not doing enough, there they were just carrying on, beautifully!

I think there is a win and a learning here. Win: I let the kids just be today, for better or worse. But also, because of that, I felt aimless, and therefore found myself with too many choices and opportunities to judge myself for making wrong ones. And there is what I learned: It's ME that needs to figure out what to do with myself that is as calming, fulfilling, and challenging as the playing and bickering my kids did all day. I need to look at the mess and love it even while cleaning it, look at the issues before me and appreciate them even while tackling and planning them. And also, I just need to stop trying so hard once in awhile, like when I abandoned my kids and husband, locked myself in a room to watch netflix, and then they all magically and peacefully fell asleep at an early hour. 

In that moment, I realized that I would love more ease in my life. And now I'm thinking that easiness will come only when the *imperfect* is the goal. Not perfection. 

So I'll continue my quest to learn the ways of wabi sabi, and its corollaries. I'll be ok with religious zealotry once in a while. I'll make those mistakes and move onto the next ones. And also, I'll try to keep talking up to friends (and strangers on the internet) how amazing messiness and awkwardness and imperfection is. Not amazing, though, it's better than that. It's fucking beautiful. 

How do you explain that you left because you became a mom and it's hard to know if you're even the same person anymore?

To get past this petrifying roadblock of first post back after 4+ years, I will bullet point the things I am thinking about.

My almost 5yo has been impersonating animals lately, very very thoroughly, convincingly, maddeningly. Yesterday it was a raccoon ("I can't put on hand sanitizer because raccoons don't wear sanitizer." Knocks over bucket of animal seed, "Raccoons are always knocking things over!"), today it was a mouse: "Squeak squeak squeak. Mama, that means come help me build my house," he translates for me.)

My 2yo recently went through a significant dental surgery to put crowns on her front four teeth, which required anesthesia. The emotions around this ordeal are taking quite some time to process, including the implications around cause. Was it because of breastfeeding? Genetics? Diet? Hygiene? All of those? It was hard not to try to find a way to blame myself for putting her in that chair, so little. But the very next day, she's back to herself in every way, all the best ways, and an even more beautiful smile. 

I am burnt out from being the majority caretaker 24/7 for the past 10 months as the pandemic rages on. 

In a lot of ways, I'm the same person as 4yrs ago, but in mom form: we go out in nature frequently, I prefer to be outside as much as possible as a mom because everything is way easier for everyone, and it's easy to get confused in your purpose especially in these early years when everyone has opinion and the internet is infinite. 

I've found solace in a few virtual communities, and am pining for the days of being WITH people again.

And I've come closer to knowing that there is a void in most of our lives, and that void consists of something spiritual, something more closely connecting to nature, and something certain ancestors and indigenous cultures hold a lot of keys to, which we could learn from if we were serious about filling the void and bringing these pieces together; and further, the soil is especially fertile right now for this kind of rejuvenation and healing, after the year we've had that is like no other in living memory.

The question that has haunted me more than ever over the past four years is, who should I be now? How should I be? Do I try to filter myself the way it seems most other people do nowadays? And if I don't, will everything be OK?

Not that I want to start here in this messy place of grappling with identity as I finally revive this little blog, but I kind of feel like I have no choice, if I really want to find a direction that is meaningful and meaning making.

Well, here we go. I have no idea where we are headed. But consider this a start.