Women Unbound Reading Challenge

Hello blog!

I haven’t seen you for awhile and I couldn’t  remember your password when I showed up this morning to see how you have been. It’s a good thing that I take care of my daughters better than I have taken care of you over the past year or so. You’re always here though. Waiting for me to stroke you with my tap tapping fingers and fill you with my ramblings.

So you’re probably asking what brings me to you today.   Don’t worry I’m not here asking for money.  Seriously. Although if you have some spare change under a few of those old posts I’d gladly cash it in at the bank. Christmas is right around the bend.

My reading/writing has been HORRIBLE lately but I’ve been drawn to this reading challenge and I keep visiting the website and  seeing posts about it showing up in my Google Reader.

I finally decided that I’m going to do it.

Here are the specifics for the Women Unbound Reading Challenge.

Pick a level of commitment (which includes both fiction and nonfiction) and read books related to women’s issues. The definition is broad enough that everyone should be able to participate and read between November 1, 2009, and November 30, 2010  .

• Philogynist: read at least two books, including at least one nonfiction one.

• Bluestocking: read at least five books, including at least two nonfiction ones.

• Suffragette: read at least eight books, including at least three nonfiction ones.

I’m going to shoot for the Suffragette level.  Pretty ambitious for me!

My plan is to use this to weed down through my massive To Be Read Pile which consists of plenty of nonfiction books and quit a few fiction pieces that I’ve been wanting to get to for sometime.

More to come….

Maybe….

Love,
B’Mom

Harry, I’m late.

While most of my reading compatriots were enjoying the excitement over each new Harry Potter release I sat back and watched.  At the time I was in my full on reading snob mode and didn’t feel the need to lower my literary standards for the likes of a young adult book about magic and wizards, since I prided myself in reading Cormac McCarthy, Umberto Eco and Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Boy what a difference a year or two makes.  First, I have wholeheartedly joined the ranks of the “I love YA fiction” club.  Second,  while I still love good literature, I have found the joy  that fun and escapist literature brings.  I have recently jumped on the roller coaster for the most recent reading crazes and it’s renewed my excitement to read.    I  still  love good literature that challenges me but sometimes it’s a good story that captivates and engages and that doesn’t need a whole lot of my intellectual capital to get through that’s just what I want and need.

Now I can say without embarassment “I’m reading Harry Potter and LOVING it!”  What’s kind of neat is that the impetus to read it came in the form of my brilliant and wise beyond my years 9 year old.   She brought it home from school and was already 5 chapters into it when she told me she was reading it.  I found  my copy of the book that I had in a pile in the house and we settled in to read it together .    This is even better than the book itself!   Each day she asks me how far I am and because up until this point I’ve been trailing her she would give me her thoughts on the chapter I was on and give me little teasers about chapters to come.  I joked with her over the weekend that I was going to have to ground her from reading if she kept this mad reading pace up and she just laughed at me.  Our plan is to have a pizza date when we finish the book and then watch the movie again.  Our own mother daughter/book club.

I’m glad that I’m late in reading Harry Potter and that it is allowing me this opportunity to read with my daughter.  That we’re sharing this and  hopefully it’s the first of many books that we read with each other.

This morning as my daughter was packing her backpack for school she asked me how far I am.   When I told her chapter 12 she said, “MOM, your ahead of me.    Don’t read any of it today so I can get back ahead of you. I’m going to do a lot of reading today”

Who am I to complain about that?

“The Alien” Strikes Again

My 3 year old, lovingly referred to as “The Alien” by her big sister  (for good reason) just keeps getting stranger and stranger.   I love her uniqueness but on occasion she does something that is almost disturbing.   For instance her new love of deodorant.    Particularly deodorant that I have on.   I guess that the new deodorant smells “gooood” and so she sniffs my arm pits or she sticks her hands in my arm pits and sniffs them and then says, “mmmm that’s good”.    At first, it was strange and a bit funny and well I guess that it’s still damn funny and horrifically strange at the same time.

One lesson I learned recently from my 3 year old is that when a 3 year old comes up to you and asks you to smell her hand it’s probably a good thing to say,  “Le’t wash your hand first and then I’ll smell it”.    You’d think that after all of these years of working with preschoolers and being a mom  I would have learned this lesson but for some reason it eluded me entirely.

I love that my daughter is unique.  I’m pretty uninteresting in the big scheme of things and my oldest daughter is talented and smart and sweet but I’d never call her strange.

My youngest is definitely an island in the sea of our family and we’re so lucky that she is since we don’t have cable.

Strength is not a Virtue I Possess.

I just deleted a post, on purpose,  that I put a lot of time and emotional energy into.     So instead of not posting I’ll take the easy way out and post a song that’s been on heavy rotation in my ears lately.

Leave the Dishes…

Leave the dishes.

For the past few weeks I’ve been emotionally unsettled, off balance and vulnerable.    I have blamed it to the post vacation funk that I used to finding myself muddling through when I return to work after time off.  I’ve also blamed it on the added stress that I’ve been encountering in my professional life the past few months and the reality that a new program year is about to begin and with it many questions of what it will bring.   Then toss in the subject of my two previous posts it’s no wonder that I’m feeling a little off kilter.    Many questions are haunting me and I don’t feel like I’m standing on solid ground right now.

On Sunday while cleaning my bedroom and I came across a poem by Lois Erdrich, Advice to Myself.   I sat down on my bed and read the poem slowly then  set it  on the floor next to my bed.  The next morning I read it again and carried it out to my van and brought it to the office with me.  I started reciting bits of it in my head throughout the day and during the course of yesterday.    The poem wasn’t letting me go and I needed to solve the mystery of why in order to let the poem rest in peace.

Don’t keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the doll’s tiny shoes in pairs, don’t worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.

Last night as I crawled into the safe, dark serenity of my bed  a loud memory came rushing to the front of my mind.  JULY 29.  “Yes,”  I told myself, “tomorrow is the 29th.”   Then softly whispered I heard  this line from the Lois Erdrich poem…

Pursue the authentic-decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don’t even think of cleaning out.

I flipped through the calendar in my mind.   August 2, 2005, that was a date I remembered on that day  I received the call from my Dad that I had been expecting.   Mom died.

So where did July 29th fit into this and why was my mind screaming it out to me last night?  Digging a little deeper I realized on July 29th I spoke to my Mom for the last time.

My Mom had deteriorated to a point that recovery was not possible. She needed dialysis and a level of care that my Dad and I were no longer able to provide her at home and so a month earlier she left the hospital for a nursing home. The nursing home was 45 minutes from where I lived and so I didn’t get to see her every day. I had a 4 year old and an uncooperative husband. I had been losing my Mom slowly and painfully for over a year and honestly I was numb to it all. I was living in a hell that I can’t even begin to describe. My marriage was in the middle of a death spiral.

July 29th.

I remember the sun shining so bright that day. My Mom, once a strong and powerful figure in my life, lay crumpled and invisible within the folds of the the blankets. I sat in the chair telling her of the weekend trip that I had planned to visit family and how I would give them all love from her. I sat there for awhile listening to her breath and watching her sleep. Her body was working so hard just to lay there. I walked over to the bed leaned down close to her and kissed her cheek.

“I’m going to go now Mom”.

There wasn’t a stirring.

“I love you,” I whispered into her ear.

Your heart, that place
you don’t even think of cleaning out.

I’m not sure if what came next was what really happened or if it’s what I wanted to have happen.   She whispered,  “I love you too”.

I remember the vastness of  room and how it contrasted her small and fragile childlike frame.

July 29th was the last time that I saw my Mom alive.

Recycle the mail, don’t read it, don’t read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.

The Fall Out

Thank you to all who read and commented on my last post.  The whole topic is one that I’ve been quietly  struggling with for months.  I have more to write  but right now there is a press conference set up  outside my office.  VIPs are going to be arriving within the hour and I completely forgot about it until I arrived this morning.  What I did want to share was the reaction that I received yesterday from my ex about the whole thing.

The phone rang and I saw it was him.  I cringed and handed the phone to our 9 year old.  He hadn’t talked to her for a week and so I just assumed he was calling to talk to her.  *cowering behind a big stack of TBR books that I had organized earlier in the day*

9 yo.  (nodding)   “Yep we saw him and he’s SO cute”
(she listens)

Ex asks 9 yo to put me on the phone.

Me:  “Hello!”
Him:  “Paybacks are a bitch.  You better watch yourself”
(click)

I didn’t sign up for this life.  This isn’t the direction I expected my life to take.   Yet here it is.  My life with two amazing little girls that I’m trying to set an example for.  I chuckled to myself about what a jerk he is and how our daughters can see.   Actions, or more appropriately, inaction speaks louder than words.

Now back to getting ready for a press conference.

The Mathematics of Divorce

Divorce is usually thought of as a divider of families; initially that is true but as time passes those families multiply and quite possibly divide again. What used to be a nuclear family becomes a mushroom cloud from a nuclear explosion.

A few years ago our family divided. My husband continued to live in the house that we had lived in for the past 10 years and our daughters and I moved into a little duplex that has become our home. Enough time has passed and the algebraic equation is starting to get more complicated and how we as adults decide to deal with it will effect the girls for the rest of their lives.

A few months back their Dad found himself in the midst of a tumultuous relationship and at the end of it he and his live in girlfriend broke up. But not before a child was conceived.

Today I found out that she gave birth to a little boy. I looked at the picture of this helpless, adorable little guy on my BlackBerry (I woke up to a text message from my ex husband that included this little guys picture, it was one he forwarded me from his ex girlfriend) I couldn’t help take notice of his lips and how they form the same perfect kewpie doll shape that my daughters do. This baby was not a problem to be dealt with (as my ex husband would consider it) but a beautiful little baby who could quite possibly be my daughters little brother.

For men their role as a father sometimes needs to be proved to them. They take on their responsibilities only after the DNA evidence is conclusive and even then they barely do what they need to. As women we claim that responsibility as our belly grows and changes. There is NO doubt that we are a mother to our child. A child that has just been pulled from inside of us where it had been growing for months. So my ex husband and his family need it to be PROVEN to them that this is his before they are willing to get involved. I can’t condone that. In my mind this child is HIS child until it’s proven differently to me and with those perfect red lips I have a hard time believing that he’s not my ex husbands son.

I decided that if she would let me I would like to bring the girls to meet this little image of them. I know that in many cases it would be the father’s responsibility to do something like that but father and responsibility are two words that do not go together in our family. The “dad” in this instance hadn’t even called the mother back and was making no attempt to go and see this little guy in the hospital. After they broke up my ex husband decided that denial was the best course of action. If he just pretended like there was no baby maybe he’d get “lucky” and there wouldn’t be one. I gathered my girls up and off we went to the store to pick up welcome to the world presents for this little baby. The girls each picked out a toy and I grabbed an outfit and a blue fuzzy blanket. We put them in a bag and my 9 year old signed her and her little sister’s name. I have to admit that it was a little awkward for me when I realized that the ex wife of the father was the first one to hold this little guy out of an entire side of his family. The girls oohhed and ahhed over the sweet little baby skin, the long fingers and the squinting eyes and my 9 year old even had a chance to feed him.

I walked out of the hospital with the girls and thought about the example that I hoped I had just set for them; one that more adults should set. I showed them that innocent babies shouldn’t be collateral damage in the lives of grown adults. I showed them that responsibility is something we need to take on even if we aren’t directly involved. I also hopefully started a bonding process between a half brother and his sisters.

Another lesson that I hope my girls learned is that as women it is important that we support one another. So many times I see women treating other women poorly for choices that they make. We use another woman’s misfortune to bolster our own poor sense of self and as a way to deal with our insecurities. As women we can be a strong support network and most feared enemies. So I took that high road really the only road that I could take. I hugged her. I told her to call me if she needed anything. I assured her that the way he was treating her had nothing to do with her but had a lot to do with his own shortcomings as a man. I told her that she had a beautiful little son and thanked her for letting me bring the girls to meet him.

As we walked out to our van my 9 year old hugged me and told me that I am the best Mom ever. I might not be the best but at least I know that in this instance I made the best decision and I’m glad to have no regrets from today.

Some Things Never Change

Last night I attended my 15 year class reunion. I had a great time but I have a few observations.

The girl who craved attention at 15 is still craving attention in her 30s and the older you get the more destructive that attention seeking behavior gets.

The boy who had a crush on you all through high school will still have a crush on you at 33.

The friend you could have fun with and sit and talk for hours is still that friend.

The girls who moved in packs still move in packs except now they move in packs and drag their husbands with them.

Magic

Friday Harbor, WA. 2009. Photo © Bibliomom

For those who immerse themselves in what the fairy tale has to communicate, it becomes a deep, quiet pool which at first seems to reflect only our own image; but behind it we soon discover the inner turmoils of our soul – its depth, and ways to gain peace within ourselves and with the world, which is the reward of our struggles.
~Bruno Bettleheim – The Uses of Enchantment

What I Didn’t Do on Vacation

One of the things that didn’t happen while I was on vacation the past two weeks was reading.    Not everyone is a reader so not everyone will get why that’s such a big deal.  I on the other hand am a reader.  I’m not a prolific reader like some  book bloggers that I follow that seem to be able to read and review two or three books a day.  (I love reading about people reading and their reading habits.  While on vacation I noticed when people were reading and what they were reading… on the ferry, on the airplane, in Starbucks, etc)   Instead I’m a relaxing reader.  Reading, for as long as I can remember, is an escape for me and  it’s the way that I am able to reconnect with myself.  I find some quiet time and then dive into a world where I  don’t have to worry about the child support I haven’t been getting and the work I need to do and the daughters that I’m trying to raise.  Reading is a way for me to immerse myself in words and language and  solitude.    On vacation with my daughters there just wasn’t any time to read even though I brought something to read with me where ever we went.  My inability to be without a book is another habit of mine that non-readers fail to understand.

Last night, after the girls were tucked into bed, I curled up in my bed and started reading the book that I began before I left for my fabulous Washington State vacation, The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane by Katherine Howe.  I’m absolutely adoring this book and I would like to thank Jen over at Devourer of Books for the review awhile back!

Now that I’m not on vacation I plan to get back on the reading bandwagon.   I’m always at my most peaceful self when I’m reading  a book.