The Trials of Marketing Part One

OMG.

I just spent all day ordering my first ever promotional postcards.

Okay, maybe not allll day.  But it felt like all day because I had to redo the postcards so that they fit within the bleed margins.  I thought I already had, but apparently not.  Also, apparently my powers of math are weak, because they weren't quite proportioned right.  After playing with resizing the existing postcard sides, I gave up and rebuilt them from scratch.

Then and only then was I able to upload them, order them, and I then find out that with the not-cheapest but not most expensive shipping, they will arrive the day before Orycon.

!!!!!!!!!!

That's a little tighter margin than I like, but I'll live.  And they are done.  Done!  For this batch, anyway.  With the heart attack moment at the end of ordering time (finding out when they'll actually arrive) I think I would have preferred to go with a local big box instead and worry about getting the cheaper price later.  Especially since the shipping was scary expensive.  The moolah I saved I basically lost to shipping.  Assuming the quality would have been the same (I'm not sure it is) I think I would have rather spare myself the heart attack and buy the cards at a higher-per price and driven them home myself.

But, having said that, now that I'm a (scarred) postcard-creating veteran, I can save buckaroos by ordering larger batches with essentially the same shipping from the same company.

Or not.  These postcards may not result in any sales.  If not, I guess I'll be out about $60, which is not devastating in the grand scheme of things.  If so, it'll be money well spent even if it only initially sells me a couple of copies.  That'll be a couple of chances for reviews, a couple more chances for the word to get out, but most importantly, a couple of chances for the writing to prove itself (or not.) 

End of a 244 Year Era!

I heard on the radio this morning that Encyclopedia Britannica has published its last print issue this year, and then, no more. We'll still have it online, of course ...

I bet this last year's edition will become a collector's edition, and that they'll sell buckets of them.

It's a 244 year tradition. I look at that number and think, couldn't they have held out for 250? But with sales reported as being around 8000 last year, I don't think they could afford it.

There we have it, folks. A sign of the end of print books? I don't think so, but print magazines, journals, and yes, dictionaries and encyclopedias, may become casualties of this brave new age.

OMG, I really, really need to save my pennies and buy a copy of the Oxford English Dictionary quick, before they stop printing them! I have a beautiful abridged one that I adore. It's huge, with tiny print and thin pages and it has oodles and oodles of wonderful words in it and sometimes I read it for entertainment.

Just like people used to take a random volume off the shelf and read the Encyclopedia Britannica in their living room for entertainment. Alas! But it will continue, only with an ebook and the person's preferred hot beverage set below the screen level to avoid accidents.

She did it!!!!

Congratulations, my daughter.

Your teachers and every member of the tribe is so proud of you.

Especially your dad and I.

Bravo.

Love, Mom

The Milestones are Getting Bigger

My youngest child is at her senior prom. I'm at a local pub not drinking, eating good pub food and I'm desperately hoping she's having fun.

She'll never know how beautiful she is, not just to me but to everyone who sees her. I wonder if it scared her a little to see herself in makeup, with her hair up, in a formal floor-length gown. It didn't scare me. I see her as a incredible young lady whether she's dressed up or she's in grubby jeans and a stained sweater.

Meanwhile my eldest child is finding out about the work world in a way that no one likes to learn--through the frustrating process of endless job hunting in a bad economy, where people with no experience are forced to compete with people who are overqualified and desperate for any kind of income. And he's met someone his age. A couple of years older, actually, but how different she must seem from his high school friends. She has a job, is old enough to drink ... yeah.

I seldom thought this far ahead when I had kids, and I only could think that way in unfocused abstracts, especially since we had autistic kids. I think that turned into such a blessing in so many ways. I was never tempted to pigeonhole them or force them onto a track. Everything was up for grabs. Would they go to college? That was nothing--I wondered if they'd be able to make friends. Would they participate in team sports? Let's just worry about whether they would be able to stay in a mainstream school.

I don't think I ever set the bar low, or decided that they couldn't do anything they wanted. They did surprise me a lot, but that doesn't mean I didn't think they were capable. It was always about what they wanted to strive for, and I was never sure what they would want to do with the resources they had within themselves physically, mentally and emotionally.

My kids taught me how to be a supportive parent by unveiling the difficulties and exceptional capabilities given to people born with autism-spectrum stuff. If they'd been born 'normal' I wonder if I might not have turned out to be a crummy parent, that terrible combination of helicopter and controlling that only allowed them to be all they could be as long as that being was within the realms of my vision for them. I did too much of that as it stands. But they didn't, and I had to immediately let go of any kind of planned future for them.

And that turned out to be a very good thing. I'm not going to stress about my daughter going to the prom without a date or a gaggle of friends. She wanted to go to the prom, and she went by herself, and I did everything I could to make her prom night special within the context of her desires. Just between us, I'm proud of her, because I wanted to go alone but I chickened out and went with someone I didn't like so I could conform. Unlike me when I was her age, she is a true individual, and her high school class is full of like-minded kids. Amazing. I doubt they will bat an eye at her showing up by herself.

I'm not going to stress about my son not finding work either. He's taking a community college course on his own dime and looking and learning and discovering so much about what happens to a plan when it meets up with the real world. There's time yet to learn about how to work at a real paying job. Right now he's in the middle of plenty other lessons, and I can see his mind spinning and working and going into overdrive trying to figure out how to make things work. Part of that learning will involve trying to hold onto or fall back onto old habits that made life comfortable for him at home, and figuring out how well those habits serve him now.

None of this is about me, of course. But I'm going through a process too, not so much of letting go but seeing my children in a whole new way. Not as independent beings--they've always been that--but as rapidly changing beings. Like seeds growing into trees, they stay little for such a long time, and though they're growing at the same rate on a cellular level they seem to suddenly explode into so many branches and leaves that it's beyond counting.

I finally get to see them as the trees, and not just an assortment of leaves and twigs that I feed and water and nurture as best I can.

And that's a very awe-inspiring thing.

The milestones, they are ganging up on me

We had the boy overnight for the first time since he moved out to the big metro area (to look for work.) So of course he gets his first call for an interview ...

First real interview.  How kewl.  Wish him luck!  If he gets this job it'll be a great entry-level one that will teach him a lot about working and wages and all that good stuff.  It's a huge step, even bigger than living someplace other than home.  There's so much stuff about working for someone that I take for granted that he's going to have to learn for himself.  

Assuming he gets the job, of course.  I'm really proud he even got an interview, considering how the economy is these days.  I don't know how many places I applied for and got nada, even though I have quite a bit of retail experience.

Another milestone.  They're coming in faster these days.  And soon now, the girl will be graduating.  Eeeeeeee!

Mother, Son

I'm sicker today, with a long work week ahead.  Wish me luck.  The good news is that the rest of the fam is getting better.

The boy was particularly sick last night.  I stayed up, watching while he slept.  I haven't been that worried about him, or felt the need to do that, since he was about half his current size.  I expect as he goes out into the dangerous world, I'll worry about him even more.  A rational part of me understands that any sense of safety and security I feel or feel that he has while he's in our house is false security.  Still, it's a peaceful feeling, and one I'm sure I'll miss when he leaves home.

At the same time I'm excited to see what he does with his life when he's completely on his own.  This is the one area that I think he worries more than me--I think he fears he'll flounder.

I think he'll be brilliant.  Not immediately.  Even the brightest, most motivated of us had to start with uncertainty, with little or no experience, with little or no confidence.  I know I judged my own first steps into the 'real world' really harshly, comparing myself endlessly to what my parents had achieved during the various stages of their lives.  Even the way they started out, with little or nothing, left me in awe, because they escaped Communism and survived in a nation without a good grasp of English, never mind employment qualifications.

The boy has to jump some hurdles I never had to face at his age.  I think, if anything, that'll make him a better, stronger person than me in the long run.  And that's a great thing.  My DH and I had always hoped that our kids would be stronger, faster, smarter, and more adaptable than we are.  I don't think a person like that can be patched together with genetics and upbringing (though those things help.)  I think a person has to make themselves, to become the adults that they hope to be.

That's all fine and good, but last night, watching his quick, shallow breaths as he slept uneasily with a hard fever, I wanted to protect, and help, and shelter him.  That won't ever go away.  He'll always be my son.

One small step for a man ... one long leap for a chicken

It's been crazy around here.

The chicks are doing really well, but as you can imagine they're a daily (and nightly) handful.   They're too big for the aquarium, but they can't go out in the coop yet.  So they get trucked back and forth between the greenhouse and our bedroom every day.  They also went out for a field trip (literally, ha ha) and had a good time chasing bugs, picking at greens and perching in a small noble fir we have out in the grass in back.

It's been wet, or as the boy and I say, wehehehet.  Poopyheaded wet grass.  Poopyheaded long wet grass that we can't mow because it's poopyheaded wehehehet.  But, it's just as well that it's not mowing weather, because the boy had GRADUATED FROM HIGH SCHOOL and he deserves a break from work.

We're really, really proud.

It's supposed to be nicer weather later today, so I'm planning a little bbq.  Sadly, my DH is away, but unsadly, that just means we'll have to have another bbq when he comes back.  Or a broil, if it's rainy again.

It's been quite the week.  I'd like to say I'm looking forward to things going back to normal, but as I haven't seen normal in quite a few years, it'd be wiser to say I'm looking forward to what happens next.  I'm all a-quiver in anticipation, or I would be, if it wasn't so wehehehet.

Congratulations, O-bean.  Soon, all these chicken coop alfalfa bucking goat chasing days will be behind you, and you'll be able to shape your own future.  I can't wait to see what it looks like!

All My Children

We've almost gotten all the tansy out of both pastures.  That's where most of it was.  We figure tomorrow morning we'll have it all done.  Our neighbors plan to have their lower west field cleared this weekend.  It all comes together at once, like poetry, only with sweat.

O bought his first piece of furniture with his own money.  I think it'll work well for him, a kind of portable mini-papasan chair.  He's so happy and proud, justifiably so.  He got it very inexpensively, and it was love at first sight, the way lasting purchases ought to be.  It fits in his room, with his room, like it's always been there.  I suspect it will not only follow him to college, but into his first apartment and maybe beyond, one of those things his first live-in girlfriend will tell him is way past throwing out but he'll hang onto it even though it's threadbare and has a smell.

Lately, though I've been trying to be more and more frugal, it feels like money is pouring out of my accounts.  Part of that is car stuff, and part is animal stuff.  Carey, our fluff-fluff, is very ill.  She started looking a bit raggedy a couple of weeks ago.  The vet has done blood work and we're anxiously waiting on results.  She's lost over four of her original 11 pounds she had when she was at a healthy weight and fully recovered from her bout as abandoned outdoor kitty.  You can feel her spine clearly when you pet her.  The vet gave her a camelback (fluid infusion) and that helped perk up her appetite.  She ate twice today, much more than she has in a while.  She's going to be on rich, fatty wet food and restricted to A's room so we can monitor all her stats.  The vet told us one of three common things might be responsible for her rapid weight loss--thyroid, cancer and diabetes, in order of likelihood for a kitty of her age.  I didn't like to see cancer as #2.  My mom has a kitty with thyroid problems and that would be something I could deal with.  It was wonderful how quickly Lady bounced back once she was on the right meds.  

Anyway, the other animal thing is that Dakota (who is doing well, don't fret) needs a wellness check and arthritis check in order for the vet to be able to legally extend her arthritis med prescription.  I doubt he'll order any changes, but it's a necessary formality, as in if anyone catches a vet prescribing meds to an animal s/he hasn't seen within a certain time, that's considered malpractice.  Dakota has been camping with us and seemed to enjoy it.  I expect she'll hop right into the car expecting more camping fun, and will be terribly disappointed.

We're still working on getting the garden and house ready for ABBB.  It's a huge job.  Safety is the primary focus of the garden, with appearance coming second.  That's good news for the western goldfinches, who are enjoying the thistle seeds throughout the garden.  They'll be working off of a depleted supply before too long, as those are pokey plants and I don't want anyone walking the paths to get scratched up.  But mainly we need clear stairs with flat surfaces (level molehills, fill mole holes, weed wack,) mowed pathways (so that people recognize sudden changes in grade,) and blackberry access (so that they aren't tempted to lean out to get berries--I want berries in easy reach, no guests falling into blackberry patches please!) and a completely weed-free firepit area to reduce fire danger.  In the house I need the kitchen and bathrooms to be spotless, floors to be completely clear of anything trippable, all tabletops clear so we have places to put food and drinks, beg borrow and steal chairs from wherever I can get them, arrange furniture for lots of open spaces, and steam cleaning the carpet so that folks with animal allergies are a little more comfortable.  

Piece of cake.

Sometimes all that plus prepping for an important sekrit arrival to the household plus trying to have something approximating a writing career plus fretting about whether I'll get a job offer before we spiral into financial oblivion plus volunteering for a big job for OryCon (head of programming) plus trying to keep the kids engaged in stuff that'll be good for them (SCA, fencing) feels like too much.  But I haven't started drowning yet and I don't think anything has is being seriously neglected, so I must be doing okay.

Eighteen

I received lots of mixed news today.  Good, bad, weird, exciting, scary, all at once.  It's going to take me a while to settle down to sleep.

Anyway, the boy has been 18 for a while now.  He's a man.  Ish.  Like many men his age, he's both eager to meet his future but unclear about what he wants it to be.  And that's the thing.  Creating a future is a tricky thing, especially to so many young people to whom it seems things just happen.  After all, they've had their whole lives planned out and scheduled for them up to this point.  

He hasn't been cast adrift yet, but I've been more than hinting that the creation process must now begin and that the clock that measures how much more time he has to live at home has begun to tick.  To me all the possibilities are clear, and if I were him I would be exploring like crazy, researching those possibilities, discovering new ones, searching for my passion and joy and getting prepared for what I want to be.  I'm happy he's content at the moment, and I'm glad he has some plans, but they're typical tentative, small-scale, short-sighted things or so far flung (like being a colonist on Mars--not an explorere but a settler when everything's set up (he's assuming this will happen in his lifetime, a hard suppose)) that he can afford to be very hand-wavy about what he'll do in the meantime.  Normal, normal, normal.  I'm not concerned, and I refuse to start bossing him and directing him because then he'll never learn this stuff.  If I do, it'll always be forces outside of him moving him around like a puppet rather than he himself moving himself around learning what it's like to be an adult.  It's hard to watch him flop about on the ground, though, when I know he can fly.  It's the classic 'if I had to do it all over again, I would' moment in a parent's life.  

Patience, young mother.  He too will learn, and he will soar.

Sixteen

My little girl turned sweet sixteen the other day.  Three of us went on a massive shopping spree, bought far more books than clothes, had dinner at Red Lobster, looked at kitties (but didn't adopt any--five are more than enough, thank you!) at an adoption center, and spent the rest of the evening watching comedy.  Well, the kids did.  I crashed hard for a bit, then after everyone had gone to bed I worked on OryCon 31 programming stuff. 

This virus poopyheaded bug thingy, whatever it is, is still making me tired.  When I do sleep, I have unsettling dreams.  Anyway.

She's not any taller, or smarter, or more mature by stepping over this landmark birthday, and yet she is a little smarter, taller, and more mature every day.  She used to fit on her father's lap, head by his knees, feet at his belly, large, blue eyes staring up at him with her hands waving around randomly at first and then with slimy purpose.  She had a grip, this small thing, and a fascination with hair.  I got used to having slimy hair, having my hair pulled and yanked and tangled in moist, pink little fingers.  

She hid cat food under her pillow and in her closet.  It's important to have an emergency food stash in case of, well, an emergency.  She also hated clothes, like her mom.  She'd take them off at unexpected times and streak about.  

A lot of parents talk about their kids' independence.  Me too.  She decided she wanted to go home from kindergarten one day.  She snuck out, and if it hadn't been for a sharp-eyed secretary, she would have escaped to attempt to walk home.  Oh, I shudder ... we moms do that.  That was a decade ago and I still feel the same chill, and again when she almost drowned, and again when she fell asleep on the bus--that time the entire after-hours school system was hunting for her, and if it weren't for the bus driver hearing a small "can I go home now?" from the back of the bus just as he got off to leave the bus barn ...

But she's home, putting dishes in the dishwasher, enjoying her time to herself, talking to herself.  She's a private child, not quiet and subdued but she definitely prefers her own  rational, certain-of-the-future, inventive and determined companionship over that of any other being, human or animal.  When she seeks the rest of us out, it's good to know she does because she genuinely wants to be around us, not because she was lonely or bored.

There's not enough room in a blog post to share all the feelings I have, or paint even a fraction of the memories we share.  It's just good to travel through life with a daughter, this daughter, our daughter, a jewel amid the stardust in the universe.  

Independence

I got to have an excellent talk with the boy about how the transition from guy living at home to guy living on his own will work, and the various options he's got.  Some kids leave home ASAP and head out into the world w/o a backward glance, for whatever reasons.  Some continue to live at home for a while (sometimes a really long while) and go to school or work somewhere for pitiful wages until they can make enough/save up enough to get into a situation where they can support themselves.  I told him he wouldn't be staying forever, but we weren't booting him out on graduation day, either.  I think he ought to have one more summer vacation at home, if he wants.  From there ... school, military, job, or any combination thereof, is fine with me.  I think he's eager to test his wings, though.

Which probably means military.  It's the fastest way he wants to travel, and he wants in for more than one reason.  Do I worry?  Heck yeah.  But really, it's time for me to stop bossing him around.  Parental advice is all I can offer from here on out.  And I'm not really the No type when it comes to this stuff, even if it is mine to say, which in this case it isn't.  Yeah yeah I've been the doom and gloom veto artist before.  I can't shake that past.  I've decided to leave that behind (as much as I can--it's a WIP.)  I'm getting better at it.  If I wasn't, my DH wouldn't be overseas right now.  And my DH wouldn't have even blamed me if I said no.  In his case, it wasn't just his life that would be affected in profound ways.

I didn't say no to my DH, though.  And I'm not about to say no now, when my wonderful son needs to make the biggest call of his young life.  This has to be his call.  He's about to become a man.  Even if he allowed me to interfere (which I doubt he would) I'd be chaining him, tying his hands behind his back, trying to keep him safe from a life that's his to choose now.  

We raised him the best we knew how.  His grades, appalling for years, have risen a great deal and I'm deeply impressed by the progress he's made on them, pushing and sweating through bad habits accumulated from years of trying to find the 'easy' way.  (Believe me, we didn't make it easy.)  If he can defeat his own attitudes, his own self-sabotage, his own inertia and his own fear of success, he can tackle just about anything.  Just about.  The world is bigger and harsher than any one human being.  Of course I'd have to be pretty deluded if I thought I could protect him from that.  Trying would not only prove futile, but it would spit in the face of all those years and lessons and hurdles we climbed over together as a family in order to prepare him for his life.  

He won't ever really be alone, or on his own.  He'll have us, his family, in one form or another behind him.  But we won't be here to 'come back to.'  That's an illusion.  You can never go back home, not really.  But you can meet again, and again, and tell tales of where you've been, and where you plan to go to next.

Good luck, O-bean.  I'm cheering you on!

Inauguration Aftermath

I listened to the radio on the way home from the Fireside today.  You know, people can be awful.  I found it interesting that all the conservatives could come up with was an accusation of racism for yellow/mellow white/do what's right.  What the heck?  Sometimes I'm entertained by some of the conservative radio talk shows, but today I was sickened.  I couldn't listen to it.  I mean, seriously, couldn't they hear the laughter in the crowd?  Hear and see the smile behind the words?  The joy?  The release of pain?  Are Asians all across America going to be offended, really?  Am I offended by having white being rhymed with doing what's right?  Heck no!  I'm proud that a white majority nation helped vote President Barack Obama into office.  To see that rhyme as anything other than white Americans voting the right man into office despite years of racial prejudice is really reaching.  Get over yourselves, poopyheaded conservative radio people.  

And so I switched to a 'progressive' radio show.  I expected there to be good will, cheer, and hope.  Nope!  Instead I found that just couldn't let Bush go.  They had to see him face charges or America couldn't move forward (in their opinion.)  Um, maybe I'm just not getting it, but wouldn't dragging Bush Jr. tie up all kinds of time, resources, and political energy for ... what great positive goal?  Assuming he's even convicted of ... um ... whatever they want to charge him with, what will that do?  It was awful.  It was Bush this, and Bush that, Bush blah blah blah--as if this beautiful, wonderful day was all about Bush.  One guy wrote an email proudly declaring how he had Bush's helicopter for his computer wallpaper because it made him smile.  Um, guys, there's this guy named Barack Obama, and something special happened today involving him.  Maybe you should look into that and talk about that.  Oh, wait, you don't want to do that, do you, because selling hate and revenge buys you more radio time.  You'd rather put a hateful image on your wallpaper, than the portrait of our first black American president taking the oath of office.  Fine.  Be a poopyhead.

So I switched to music.  Ahhh, music.  I smiled, and sighed, and thought tomorrow at 7am Eastern time stuff is going to start to happen.  I hope it's good stuff.  It'll be wonderful to find out.  Yes, things can always get worse, but maybe, just maybe, things will get better.  Despite, rather than because of, the negative poopyheads.

Rock on, President Obama.  Rock on.  With that thought, I'll say good night with some classic Boston:

Dont look back
A new day is breakin
Its been too long since I felt this way
I dont mind where I get taken
The road is callin
Today is the day

I can see
It took so long to realize
Im much too strong
Not to comprimise
Now I see what I am is holding me down
Ill turn it around

I finally see the dawn arrivin
I see beyond the road Im drivin
Far away and left behind

Its a new horizon and Im awakin now
Oh I see myself in a brand new way
The sun is shinin
The clouds are breakin
canse I cant lose now, theres no game to play

I can tell
Theres no more time left to criticize
Ive seen what I could not recognize
Everthing in my life was leading me on
But I can be strong

I finally see the dawn arrivin
I see beyond the road Im drivin
Far away and left behind

(scholz)

Inauguration Day

I haven't been posting lately, I know.  It's been a little intense around here.  So far Beast is fine, and we're doing good.  I've just had my time shifted toward the dogs and the boy and the DH.

I don't normally get excited by political goings-on, but like most of the rest of the U.S.A. I want to watch the inauguration today.  Our main t.v. is dead (which is sort of a yay) and our downstairs backup t.v. that we mostly use for video games gets one channel after lots of manipulation with the antennae, and the best we can hope for is that we can see the content through the snow.  Because we have dialup, I won't be able to stream it.  But I'll be able to hear it, at least.  Hey, I bet it's on the radio!

That'll be my backup.  

What will the next four years bring?  I don't know, but it'll be interesting.  We're living in interesting times.  Which most human beings do, actually, if you think about it.  

Birthday musings

To me, language and music are aspects of the same thing, and they work like each other in my head.  Lately my kids have picked up something from school, a "hoo-ah hoo-ah" thingy that comes into places when they're thinking, especially organizing their thoughts, and I've picked it up from them just like a phrase from a song.  

Some birds and whales pick up things like that.  The hardwiring is primitive if birds can do it.  But the expansion and exploitation of that hardwiring is taken to its extreme in human beings.  We're good at reading each others' emotions, better than we realize and sometimes we ignore that sense in favor of logic or denial or the other kinds of self-talk we employ.  I think many if not most animals are just as good at that as we are, but without language talking them out of or into trouble.  So it's both an advantage and a disadvantage, depending on how it's used.  There are truths to be found and shared, but also lies, including ones we tell ourselves.

Language is a great tool, but it's more than that.  When I first started reading about string theory is resonated with me (pun intended) and it made me think about how integral vibration, pattern, and expression are to me.  Whether it's vocalized or read or felt on the skin, energy is communication, communication is language, and language is energy.  That's why I feel strongly that mathematics are also language, and music, and the wind.  I think that makes me crazy, but maybe in a good way.  

That's my birthday musing for today/this year.  Oddly (she said, employing her software version of the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary) the word musing isn't related to music or to the inspirational muse.  SOED6: [ORIGIN Old French & Modern French muser †meditate, waste time, perh. ult. from Medieval Latin musum muzzle.] 

Which means I'd better get back to work.

School

It's the kids' first day of school.  They should be getting home soonish.  I can't wait to hear how their day went.  Although they'd rather stay home and sleep, they were both excited to go and were all grins this morning.  

I have to say that schools have changed for the better in some ways.  I've always been a bit different than other kids--a refugee with enough cultural difference that I stood out, physically different especially with the broad shoulders and clearly Slavic features, intellectually different (ask anyone about my weird political views and off-kilter sense of humor) and so on.  I never understood fashion in high school.  I carried a violin to school most days.  

As a result I was an outsider, bullied by a few, feared by a few (which is so weird!) and admired by a few by the time I reached high school but by then I was so jaded it took a while to win me over.  I didn't make friends--they would throw me signs of acceptance until I'd take a chance (always assuming they'd mock me) and be friendly toward them.

My kids are clearly far more different than I ever was.  But the combination of local schools hammering home the acceptance of diversity, combined with the remarkable confidence their father taught them and their own tenacity and personalities that don't give as much weight to the opinions of others as I did have given them an entirely different educational experience.

I'm so very, very glad for them.  I wasn't completely miserable through every hour of all my school years, but I was afraid, and miserable for a large enough proportion that sometimes I wish I could go back and do it over.  I would have loved to have taken greater advantage of the recreational, social and educational opportunities available.  I would have worked harder at music and language, networked social groups to freeze out bullies (they're always outnumbered--we just didn't know it back then) and gone nuts with the extracurricular stuff.  I would have been less worried about what others thought and more concerned with learning and having fun.

Which is exactly what my kids are doing.  One is more academically interested than the other, but they're both taking advantage of the opportunities available to them.

I had to grow up the hard way.  It was who I was, and the times I grew up in, and going back might be a fun intellectual exercise but honestly school is for kids and I'm a grown up who needs to move on to grown up things.  Yeah yeah, child at heart, but I'm a mature child that prioritizes and can delay gratification (most of the time) and that sets big goals that most children are afraid of once they start learning about the ramifications.  I live fantasies, and that's a very fun thing.  The kids are living an enjoyable reality, and I'm excited to see how far they'll go from their very different launching points.

The Car is Tired and Happy Milestone O

I've been driving all over almost every day for as far back as I can think, which is not very far at the moment.  I want a day at home.  A whole day.  No shopping of any kind, no classes (which btw O passed with A grades!  Yay!) no meetings ...

And yet I thrive on meetings, enjoy shopping, and driving O to class turned out to be great discussion time.  I don't want to give anyone the impression that I spent the last couple of weeks or so being dragged from one thing to another and that I hated every moment.  I had a lot of fun.  I'd do it all over again.  But I do want to give myself a day off.  Tomorrow sounds good.

Today is the boy's b-day.  He's so tall and strong and smart.  I'm immensely proud of him, especially now because he's coming into his own.  After years of childhood luxury where failure held no terror and success didn't interest him, he's learned to succeed.  He's learning he's powerful, and that with not very much effort he can achieve a great deal.  He's learning that success isn't negative.  That seems obvious but it really isn't.  When failure has been working for you throughout your living memory, why in the world would success hold any interest?  Why change and grow when things are good?  People told him it would be better, but he had only our word (and the word of every adult) to vouch for success?  He knew he'd need to succeed eventually, but putting it off was easy and didn't cost him anything that he could relate to.  

The beauty part of where he's headed is that he decided to do this.  I didn't even give him choices.  We looked over his options together and this is what he decided to do instead of extending his high school education or the drawn-out failure he seemed willing to accept.  He's been given opportunities like this before, but this is the first he's made his own.

My son is becoming a man.  Now if I could only get him to stop teasing his sister ...