I sometimes wonder if I'm cut out for this mommy thing; don't get me wrong...I love my girls.  However, there are days when I think I just suck at being a mother.

I never wanted kids; I was firmly convinced that I didn't need to be a parent to feel "happy" or "fulfilled", and I know plenty of childless people who are very content with their lives.  However, I was pretty much talked into the first and thought, well, I can handle one.  Truth be known, I almost didn't; the pregnancy was very hard, and I became very sick.  The strain was so hard on my system that I almost lost her at birth, and I came very close to dying from massive kidney and staph infections three weeks later.  The doctor told me no more; my body could not handle the stress of pregnancy.  That suited me just fine...one was more than enough for me.

Besides, I didn't know if I was going to survive this whole new parent thing.  I had my own battle with depression after she was born, and I was just absolutely hyper protective of this little girl.  I had made plans to return to work after she was born, thinking it would not phase me, but I couldn't do it.  I could not leave her with anyone else, and didn't for nearly two years.  Not only that, but something about my oldest caused a change in my mother; she morphed from candidate for worst mother in the world to super grandma, and she and my daughter formed a bond I have never been able to explain.  (My mother died shortly after my second child's first birthday; Isella doesn't even remember her.)

For some unknown reason, I was not permanently "fixed" after the first, although by rights I should have been.  I was given some explanation about wanting to wait until after I turned 30 (I was 27 when I had my first).  30 came and went, and so did 31.  By this time, I was sick of taking medication, and I decided it was time to get it done.  I went to the doctor at the end of January; he came back into the room and said he would be glad to do the procedure...in October.  I almost passed out.

Because of the problems with the first pregnancy, terminating the second pregnancy was discussed, but only very, very briefly.  There was no way I could do it.  So I was monitored very closely by specialists, but pregnancy #2 went off without a hitch, and along came my second daughter.  Since we already knew I was going to have a cesarean (I had an emergency one with the first), arrangements were made to ensure there were no more surprises.  (When I was on the table, the doctor asked me if I sure I wanted to have my tubes removed.  I told him for all I gave a shit he could take out the whole fucking thing and burn it.)

Now, 6 years later, I have two girls with two totally different personalities.  Eva (pronounced AVA, and she will let you know it) is my softie with  the big heart.  The girl does not know a stranger, and goes out of her way to include everyone.  She is also my more sensible and my more sensitive; I do have to be careful with how I say things, because everything is taken to heart.  Isella, on the other hand, is her mother, in spades, x 3.  She is overly confident and fearless, and she has no problem with tearing the world a new asshole as she sees fit.  To say she will be the one to give me a stroke is an understatement; I often say she is punishment for everything I have ever done wrong in my entire life...and there is plenty.

One would think I would have gotten at least a half a handle on this parenting thing by now, but I still struggle with it.  I am not an affectionate person by nature; it drives me nuts when casual friends or acquaintances want to hug me, or when people I'm not familiar with touch me.  But kids want to be loved; they want to be hugged and held and comforted, and I had to teach myself to relax and not withdraw when they wanted to cuddle up to me or climb on my lap.  I had to also learn to control what was once an extremely vicious temper, and to learn to measure my actions and reactions to fit the situation, and not just with them, but with other people...especially when they are around.

One of the biggest challenges I face daily, though, is to not let my past come through with them.  I blew up at Eva one day because she thought she was going to wear a pair of dirty pants to school when she had plenty of clean ones in her closet.  I told her no child of mine was walking out of this house without a bath and without clean clothes.  I was talking to my uncle about it later, and he asked me if the pants were really that dirty (they weren't), and if she had been clean and bathed at the time, and I said, yes.  He then asked me if the real reason I hadn't gotten so out of sorts is because I didn't want someone saying to her what had been said to me, and he was right.  When I was in third grade, I was living with my mother.  We never had money, because she was either drinking it all or snorting it, and I was lucky if there was shampoo in the house, let alonepointing out how filthy I was and how bad I stunk to the entire class.  She would stand me up in front of the other kids and tell them I was a perfect example of how not to take care of one's self.  She would tell me she wished I wouldn't bother wasting her time showing up to her class, because I would never be worth anything anyway.

No matter how hard you try to bury that kind of psychological trauma, it stays in your brain and picks the most inopportune times to pop out, and that's what happened that day.  I had to suck it up and apologize to my daughter, because I had severely overreaction to a minor situation, and while she still was not wearing dirty pants (no matter how only slightly dirty they were) to school, it did not warrant the temper snit she had experienced. 

I'm sure my learning curve is far from over; I am just entering the teenage years with the one,  and already the conversations are starting about friends and boys and school and boys and futures and boys; as for the other...she's already taken over her school, and she will either end up a politician, a lawyer or an actress, or some combination of all three.  But I think both girls have good heads on their shoulders, and in some ways, they are smarter than I am.  Even though I am far from perfect, I am trying, and that's the best I can do.

I have been told that the best validation of a parent's life is to have your child's life and accomplishments exceed those of your own, and I see nothing different for my two girls.  I am sure we will have bumps and setbacks and drama, but all in all, I know they are going to do well in life.

As a parent, I can ask for nothing more.

(I know you are all wondering what happened to the teacher...after the cops were finally called on my mother, and my grandparents were called to come get me, my grandmother showed up.  Somehow, she ended up at the school, and in the course of things, found out what had been said to me and about me.  By the time she was done, it was a wonder the school was left standing, and the teacher wasn't.)

Today has been one of those days...gorgeous inside and out.  With the exception of a minor altercation at Home Depot, it has been, for the most part, incredible all the way around.

I hate the cold, and have been dreading the onset of yet another winter; however, today I was given a respite from that dread...70 degrees with only a hint of clouds.  Today I was able to sit back and actually appreciate the blaze of autumn colors throughout the valley.  I had the time today to spoil my cows with doughnuts and ear scratches, and to even stretch out for a quick nap in the sun.

I don't have many days like this...days where I have the time to enjoy everything around me.  My life tends to be hectic and often complicated; true, I bring a lot of the complication on myself, because I am a stubborn and complicated person.  However, something has happened recently which has made me realize that it doesn't always need to be this way, and there is room for contentment in my world.

On top of all that, I also had the joy of being given far more credit than I deserve by a person who I believe is really a far stronger person than I.  This says so much about the strength of character, and the bond among friends, and I definitely consider her a friend.

Winter is suppose to sneak back this weekend with cold and rain, but for now, I can still take in this day.  In fact, it is still in the low 60's, and I am considering sneaking outside for a quick walk just to take in the night air.  Tomorrow will more than likely have it all back to normal, but for today, it's all good.

Parent/teacher conferences are tomorrow, and I have an issue I ought to address with my oldest daughter's teacher, and I'm trying to decide how to do it without sounding like a total bitch.  Normally, it would not phase me, but my child is particularly fond of this teacher, and so I want to handle it carefully as to not affect their relationship, but still get the point across.

This teacher is very religious and very, very conservative, and, well, I'm not; this disparity between the instructor and the parent has created a little bit of confusion in my child.  Bear in mind my kids do not attend a private, religious school, which means neither religion nor politics belongs in the classroom; yet both have found their way to this classroom.  While I understand the area in which I live is fairly religious and very conservative, and most of the parents would not have any real problem with what is going on, I am not most parents, and I do have a problem with it.

However, I have to decide if it is really worth bringing up, or if I should let it go.

This is a constant struggle for me, and sometimes I wonder if I should continue to live where my beliefs and my views are so vastly different from so much of the population.  I have been asked on occasion why I do live here; it isn't like I haven't lived in other places (Phoenix and L.A.), or had the opportunity to travel extensively; but this has always pretty much been home.  My grandparents lived here for over 30 years, and I still reside on a property which has been in my family since 1907; it, and another property, are mine free and clear, and that's something not a lot of people can say.  Not only that, but my children were born here, and have been raised here.  Both love the school they attend, and, for the most part, they are happy, well adjusted kids. 

But does all this make it worth staying?  Truth be known, if it weren't for my children and for the properties, I more than likely wouldn't remain.  I also have a have a home in Seattle, and I could very easily disappear into that city's framework and never cause a ripple; my views and my beliefs would never be questioned.  But the truth of the matter is that I do have children (although I am sure they would adjust to city life), and I do own properties, and whether I will admit it or not, there is a connection that I have to this place.  I'm not saying that connection could never be broken, and at sometime it just might be; but for now, it is still very much in tact, and the thought of running from here simply because of the challenges I face over who I am and what I believe seems almost cowardly.

So how to deal with this teacher who thinks Sarah Palin is just oh, so GREAT?  I guess the best I can do is address it with her openly, honestly, and directly; not in a confrontational manner, but in a way that hopefully conveys that while I respect her, and I appreciate the connection she has with my daughter, I would ask that she also show the same respect to me and to our differences of opinion.

And speaking of opinions, my daughter has voiced hers, and that is for me to not say anything, which is a very real option.  Perhaps she's right; perhaps I should just let it go and just make sure my daughter knows that if she has questions about something brought up in the classroom (Sarah Palin is NOT GREAT), she can come to me and talk it out.  Besides I want her to know that people can think and believe in different ways and still be good people, and her teacher truly is a good person.

Maybe the best thing I can do is go to the conference and see how the conversation plays out; if the opening presents itself, then I can talk it out with the teacher.  If it doesn't, then I will let it go and just monitor the situation, making sure to step in if it really starts to get out of hand.

Meanwhile, I will just remind myself how much in rains in Seattle.

Today's Bible Lesson: The First Two Chapters of Genesis

How can the Bible be the inerrant word of God when it can't even get the creation story straight?

Anyone who has actually studied the Bible knows there are two separate creation stories found in the first two chapters of Genesis. 

In one, man is created first, then the animals, then woman; in the other the animals are created first, and man and woman at the same time.

In one, all the plants are created first; in the other, man is created first, and the gardens grew after, including the trees found in the Garden of Eden.

Woman is "credited" with the fall of man; but according to the second chapter of Genesis, she was not told by God to not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, only Adam was.  Eve hadn't even been made yet (even though according to the first chapter, they were made at the same time, although there is no mention of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the first chapter, although all the plants and trees had been created before man and woman).

And I'm suppose to believe the rest of it...

Tomorrow's topic:  Noah and the Flood

The "Price" of Friendship

It is a sentiment I hear all too often, and on both sides of the scene; friendship always seems to come with a price.  It doesn't seem to matter, either, if you are on the "giving" end, or the "receiving" end of the friendship; it somehow ends up costing you, whether that cost is mental or emotional (or, least important, monetary).  This is a tough edict for me to accept, because I was always taught true friendship came without any strings attached.

My grandfather once told me that on the day of your death, if you could count the number of true friends on one hand, you would die a wealthy person, and I believe that, and I am very fortunate to say that I have that very number of people I consider my friends, plus one or two more.  For me, it is far less about the accumulation, and far more about the asset.

My oldest daughter is in the process of learning this lesson herself; she told me last night that sometimes she feels "used" by her some of her friends, because all they seem to want is for her to do things for them, but never with them.  I told her not to do whatever it is they keep asking her to do, to which she answered with what has to be a standard 11 year old response: "But then they won't like me."

I bit back my initial retort, which was basically to tell these people to go fuck themselves, because I knew that really wasn't the answer, and would do nothing to help her.  It is hard, regardless of one's age, to not be "liked"; I know plenty of adults who still go out of their way to do something for someone else just so they feel "liked".  So, instead, I asked her, "Does *this person* make you feel this way?  How about that person?"  We went through her list, and when we were done, I told her to look at the people who she felt good when she was around, and consider them as her friends, and to keep the rest at a distance.  I told her it wasn't necessary to be mean or rude, and it was fine to be friendly; however, just don't expect them to be part of her circle, and don't worry so much about whether they "like" her.  Will she listen?  Hard to say, but it was the best answer I could give.

I think part of the problem is that friendship, like so many other things, has been cheapened to the point where no one recognizes it anymore.  We've turned choosing friends into nothing more than any other TV dating show (personally, if I was Paris Hilton's "bff", I would tell her to pull her head out of her ass and grow the fuck up).  There seems to be no value in having a friend, or being a friend.

And that's bullshit.

Personally, I'm not a "cosmetic" friend; if I am going to be someone's friend, I want that person to know I will gladly put myself on the line for that person, and I don't expect anything in return.  My grandmother was firmly convinced that the only way to have friends is to be a friend, and I have no problem being that friend.  Of course I have been burned, but who hasn't?  It just keeps from becoming too complacent and from taking those I do consider my friends for granted.

Besides, who knows?  Maybe someday one of those people who I hold so close will be that friend for me.

It has been one of those days when I wonder if sometimes I am not too "tough" for my own good;  I am stubborn and hardheaded and everything else that is suppose to go with my birth sign (Taurus - not that I believe in that, either).  Saturday, a mouse decided to make a feast on one of the power connections in my stove, and the stove repaid this poor mouse by catching on fire and turning it into BBQ rodent.  While the mouse disposal, while rather cruel, was all well and good, it left me without a stove.  So yesterday I had to go buy a new stove, which I brought home and installed, and today, I had to take the old stove to the dump.

Another one of my friends promptly gave me grief over loading this stove into the back of my truck by myself and hauling it to the dump, where I unloaded it...by myself.  It is a conversation she and I have had more than once before, and it usually culminates in me being told that I need to learn to play my "woman card".  First of all, I am not sure exactly what this "woman card" is (although I have read about it), and secondly, I don't think I'd know how to play it, even if I had it; it is just not in my nature to play "weak" or "vulnerable".

This isn't to say that I don't ever need help, and wouldn't like it on occasion, but I don't know how to ask for it, and I don't want to have to ask for it.  It doesn't matter to me if it is of a physical nature, or of an emotional nature (or a mental nature, as the case may be); I am simply not the type to ask someone to be there for me, nor am I the type to expect it.  I guess I have gotten to the point where the thought of relying on another person scares me.  I have become so use to doing everything that almost everyone around me has become use to it as well, and they have become comfortable with doing nothing at all.

My friend is a princess, and she expects to be treated as such.  Granted, she does not have my physical strength, and she simply isn't capable of doing even half of what I do (a lot of which I enjoy, honestly).  But there is more than just the physical aspect; she demands respect and support from her husband (and she gives a lot back in return).  She enjoys the wine, the flowers and the thought of him drawing her a bubble bath in the evening so she can relax.  He really does treat her like a queen, complete with pedestal, and she revels in that role.

But, honestly, that isn't what I want, or need, from the man who is with me.  I don't drink wine, I don't wear jewelry, and flowers die.  Hot baths are nice, but I'd really rather share it, without the bubbles.  I also don't care for pedestals; I have found them to be cold and drafty places...I don't want to have someone looking up at me; I want someone who is right beside me.  And I need someone who is going to realize that I'm not always as tough as I seem.  I want someone who is going to appreciate me and care for me, and maybe fix me a cup of coffee sometimes in the morning.  I want a partner; I don't need a prince.

Granted, I am a smart ass and can flip shit with the best of them, but if I'm with you, I will give whatever I have to make your life better (and I treat the people I consider friends the same way); however, if I have to ask for that cup of coffee in the morning, I'm just going to go get it myself.  

I had my ass handed to me last night, and deservedly so.  A friend of mine is going through a crisis in her life, and as a means of support, many of her other friends have said, "I will pray for you," or something to that extent.  So, as I was discussing the situation with a mutual friend of ours, I popped off about how I found it interesting that everyone wants to "pray" for her, when it doesn't do a damn bit of good.  Our mutual friend promptly reminded me that I shouldn't be so harsh, because they feel like it is, and so does she, especially now that her own faith has been shattered. 

And he was absolutely right.

One of the things that has happened with my own journey into atheism, and my battles with "Christians", is that I have become very jaded toward religion as a whole, and that simply isn't fair.  Every entity has its good and its bad, and religion is no different.  My problem is I get so use to dealing with the one type - the holier than thou who swear to be God's personal spokesperson - that I become hard pressed to remember the other...those who simply live what they believe, and who were sincerely offering the prayers of hope for my friend.

Truth be known, Atheism is really no different; there are the militant type who insist everyone knows there is no God, and who willing go to very public war with the likes of James Dobson; and then there are those who are just simply content not to believe.  I fall somewhere in between the two; I'm not going to throw a major fit over the Pledge of Allegiance or "In God We Trust" on the currency, but if you get in my face, I'm going to hand your ass back to you in pieces.  (Mormon missionaries and Jehovah's Witnesses avoid my house at all costs.)

The funny thing is that I have quite a few friends who are Christian (minus the quotations), and they are incredibly good people.  Granted, a few try to talk me into going to church on Sunday, telling me that finding God will help me find peace in my life (to which I tell them I have far more peace in my life now than at any time as a believer), but for the most part, they leave me alone.  They know I don't find the same level of comfort in faith that they do, and with a few exceptions, they seem alright with that.

I think part of the reason I get so wound up is because of my own struggle with letting go of something I knew in my heart I no longer believed.  It was not an easy thing; I had grown up as a Christian, and still clung to the belief that there was something out there who was going to protect me, even as I was getting mentally and emotionally beaten by many who professed to be followers of this all powerful, all knowing and all loving God.  In fact, that is why I became a Biblical scholar; I wanted to be able to defend myself and others against these people, and so I knew what to say when I was told I was going to hell for being a bastard child (that, by the way, is very Biblical - Deuteronomy 23:2), among other things. 

But the more I read, and the more I studied, the less it all began to make sense.  I wanted to understand the purpose for striking down 42 children because they made fun of a bald prophet, or why an innocent baby was killed as a punishment for the actions of grown man.  I couldn't digest that women were nothing.  I was baffled as to why people were put to death for nothing more than saying the wrong thing...none of these things were anything we were taught about in Sunday School or what was conveyed when we sang "Jesus Loves Me".  I finally realized it was all bullshit, but I still was reluctant to let go of "God"; instead, I just blamed it all on the authors of this so called Holy Book.  In fact, I was in my mid-thirties when I finally realized there was nothing left of what I had once called faith; honestly, that realization brought far more comfort to me than anything related to religion, because for the first time in my life, I knew that I, alone, was fully responsible for who I was and what I became...God had nothing to do with it.

However, that doesn't give me the right to be so hard on people who have their faith.  It's a hard lesson to learn, and a difficult balance to achieve, that trick of defending yourself against judgment, while not becoming judgmental, and I haven't quite gotten there.  These people meant nothing bad by wanting to pray for my friend; they were just offering what they could.  Instead of being such a shit about it, I should have been hoping she could garner strength from the thought that there were people willing to ask God to help.  She needs support, and they can give her that support in a way I can't.  Oh, I can joke with her and make her laugh, and I could be on her doorstep tomorrow to be a rock for her, but I can't, and I won't, pray for her.

So instead, I will just be there for her in my way, and let them be there for her in theirs; maybe between us all, we can see her through it, and our old friend will be back to her crazy self once again.