describe your (parenting style) in three fictional characters

Last week, many took to social media to describe themselves in three fictional characters, so I thought because I'm always a week or several years late to the au courant meme du jour, I would make this week's Mom.me post a fun one, wherein we describe our unique PARENTING STYLE(S) with three fictional characters...

...And so. Without further ado, here are mine: 

Three Fictional Characters that Describe my Parenting Style: 

1. Mr. Keating, Dead Poets Society

Every night, before bed, I climb onto a dresser and PREACH POETRY AND REBELLION...BECAUSE, MY CHILDREN, WORDS ARE YOUR WEAPONS! QUESTION EVERYTHING! LISTEN TO THE POETS! WHAT ARE YOU WRITING TODAY TO CHANGE TOMORROW!? POETRY POETRY POETS AND DEAD POETS AND LIVING POETS AND SLAM POETS AND QUESTION EVERYTHING. IF THERE IS ONE THING I CAN TEACH YOU, IT IS THAT. 

I realize I am nowhere near as eloquent as Mr. Keating, but I certainly believe that parenting IS teaching and that standing on desks, tables, dressers, beds, the hood of my car is a GREAT way to call attention to the subjects that are most important to discuss. I also believe that is my job to inspire my kids to be the best versions of themselves and to feel fearless when it comes to speaking their truths and LISTENING to the truths of others. WHAT WOULD MR. KEATING DO, in my opinion, should be a thing ALL educators (and that includes parents) should ask themselves. 

2. Sue Ellen, Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead

Over the years, it has become increasingly clear to me how much of my parenting style has been inspired by Christina Applegate's 1989 "I'm right on top of that, Rose" DIY sister-mother ...  I think more than anyone, she is probably the most accurate representation of who I am as a parent AKA more of an "annoyed older sister type" who despises preparing meals (here's a bowl of cereal with four spoons!), smokes sometimes (don't yell) and loves a good shoulder pad. She also loves her children unconditionally (and yes, her siblings are basically her children), is frustrated by having responsibilities (ugh! the worst) and really HATES the idea that children should have to wear uniforms that aren't neon-colored and radical. 

3. Clark Griswold, Vacation/Christmas Vacation/all the other Vacations

EVERYTHING IS AN ADVENTURE! COME ON, KIDS! PRETEND LIKE YOU'RE HAVING FUN ON THIS EIGHTEEN HOUR ROAD TRIP WHERE NO SCREENS ARE ALLOWED AND THE SCENERY IS SO GORGEOUS. LOOK AT THAT DEER! ISN'T IT AMAZING!? ISN'T EVERYTHING AMAZING! OH, LOOK! WE'RE GETTING PULLED OVER BY THE HIGHWAY PATROL FOR SPEEDING! WHAT AN ADVENTURE, WE'RE ON! LET'S GO DANCE BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON, HAL, GRAB YOUR GUITAR, WE'RE ON AN ADVENTURE, HOLD ON I THINK I MIGHT PASS OUT FROM OVERENTHUSIASTICITIS BUT DON'T WORRY I'LL WAKE UP SOON AND THEN WE'LL KEEP GOING I'M OKAY EVERYTHING'S OKAY, OKAY? 

You can read my entire post today on Mom.me. Also, please join us (Hal, my mom, my dad, and my grandmother!) in describing your parenting style in three fictional characters! You can leave them in the comments, here. Or on Facebook. Or twitter. Or wherever. Hashtag #parentingstyleinthree. Or, if you're already over this meme because so last week, that's also totally cool. Good day, sirs and madams. Good day. 

for my brother and his son

Revi meets her first cousin for the first time. 

Eight days ago, my brother became a first-time father to a beautiful baby boy named Zephyrus. This song, which I have played 68798789 times since Archer was born, will always be one of my favorites. And so, my dearest brother, who I adore, this one's for you.

(P.S. Thank you, Alyssa and David for making my kids cousins (!!!) and me an AUNTIE BEC!!! WE LOVE ALL THREE OF YOU WITH ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING.)

#BlackLivesMatter #TerenceCrutcher #KeithLamontScott #Enough

#terencecrutcher (image and text via #leftsentthis, tweeted by @kaepernick7 WHO IS TAKING A KNEE BECAUSE OF SHIT LIKE THIS. ENOUGH.) Terence Crutcher should be alive. Instead he was shot and killed by officers who refused to even COME TO HIS AID as he bled out in the street. And for what!? Because, in the words of the officers, moments before they shot him in the back, "he LOOKS like a bad dude." Huh. And what does "bad" look like exactly? What does "bad" in the United States of America look like? Today, in an essay penned by John Pavlovitz, he writes, "white friends, if your immediate response to the shooting of Terence Crutcher is to try to justify why he's dead, instead of asking why he was shot next to his disabled vehicle by those charged with as protecting and serving him, you may be the problem here... If you aren't moved with compassion for the way scenes like this repeatedly kick people of color in the gut, you need to ask yourself some difficult questions about your own patriotism, your own appreciation of freedom, your own civic responsibility. You need to ask yourself whether you're really for Liberty- or just white comfort." Saying nothing to defend those who have been brutally murdered while criticizing those who peacefully protest on their behalf is deplorable. #blacklivesmatter infinitely more than standing for an anthem.

A photo posted by Rebecca Woolf (@girlsgonechild) on Sep 20, 2016 at 11:21am PDT

***

John Pavlovitz's entire post is, here. It's well worth a read. 

***

EDITED TO ADD: Keith Lamont Scott was gunned down by law enforcement earlier this afternoon. He was disabled. He was reading in his car. He was black. 

how to raise a better rejector (and be one, too)

If you were to search "the art of rejecting," which I have just now done, you will find 34,700,000 results. The only problem? They're mostly about how to deal with "REJECTION," not how to be a better "REJECTOR." This is problematic to me.

It's problematic because, like many other human beings out there, I have struggled my whole life with SAYING NO. I am actually really good at it now but only because I HAVE WORKED and WORKSHOPPED and matured into a scrappy no-shit-taker in my old age.  In fact, I'm experiencing a bit of a NOPE-AISSANCE in my ability to reject things/people/ideas I think are full of shit. I am also still recovering from many of the instances I should have said no but said yes. That said, my inability to say NO was, for many years, a struggle for me.

Because...

A. I didn't want to hurt any feelings.
B. I didn't want to burn any bridges.
C. I was afraid people would think I was a bitch/too cool for school/the worst

I have seen many people post about the importance of raising "nice" kids... and while I agree WHOLEHEARTEDLY in modeling empathy, kindness and preaching GOODNESS above all else, I also believe that children must also be taught that IT'S OKAY NOT TO BE NICE SOMETIMES. And it's our job -- as parents -- to equip our babies with the tools to REJECT.

At the same time that I am working on being a better No-er, I am helping my kids find ways to be better No-ers, too.

Peer pressure is a huge fear of mine -- specifically peer pressure in these modern days of social media.

What happens if someone sends you a naked picture?

What happens if someone TELLS you to send a naked picture?

What happens if all of your friends are sending naked pictures?

What happens if your friend is asked to send a naked picture?

What happens if you overhear a group of people trying to convince a girl to send a picture?

My son recently got his first phone. He's 11, in middle school and wanted to be able to communicate with his friends without using my phone. Over the summer, at the height of the Pokemon Go craze, he came home from camp and asked if he could download Pokemon Go.

I asked him why he wanted to.

"Because all of my friends have it," was his answer.

That opened up a very long, very (in my opinion) much needed dialogue about ALLLLLL OF THE TIMES he's going to THINK he wants to do things because EVERYONE ELSE IS DOING THEM.

We talked about how POWERFUL group think is and how challenging it is to step out of line and think for oneself. Especially when you're a teenager. I told him about the many times I asked for things because I thought I should -- all of the times I did things because everyone else was -- and all the times I went along with things because I didn't know how to say no or worse, I didn't WANT TO SAY NO and risk offending, embarrassing, making someone else feel uncomfortable.

I gave him 24 hours to come up with a better reason to convince me.

He did.

I explained to him that I will only consider saying yes to something he wants  if it is really something HE WANTS --not something he feels he needs to get because others have or want it.

That said, it's one thing  to talk about peer pressure and quite another to actually access the tools needed in order to bow out of a not-okay moment. One must have basic training in order to know how to handle people and situations that NEED TO BE REJECTED.

One must be willing to deal with the ramifications of being called  "a bitch" or an "asshole" or a "pussy" or a "loser" or a "fraud."

ED: I was recently at a coffee shop, having a meeting with a colleague, when a man approached us and interrupting our conversation, asked us if he could buy us a piece of coffee cake.

"It's THE BEST coffee cake, " he said. "You two can share."

"I'm okay," I said. She agreed.

"No thanks!"

We rejected him in the MOST polite way possible and while he was clearly NOT OKAY with the rejection, he walked away.

AND THEN CAME BACK.

"You don't understand," he said. "IT'S REALLY GOOD COFFEE CAKE."

That's when something shifted in me.

"NO, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. WE DON'T WANT YOUR COFFEE CAKE, DUDE."

"Well, I'm just going to buy it for you anyway. You don't have to eat it..."

"PLEASE LEAVE US ALONE."

It occurred to me later that day that even five years ago, I would have taken the cake. I would have eaten the cake as not to offend or make a scene. I would have said yes to something that made me feel uncomfortable because, well, it's easier that way.

That broke my heart.

I thought back to all the times I had eaten someone's shitty coffee cake to make it EASIER ON THEM and hard on myself. I thought about all of the times I chose to be "nice" instead of real. I thought about all of the times I was unable to reject even when my body was SCREAMING for me to do so.

I can't change the past. I cannot take back all the times I got into cars I shouldn't have. Wandered off with strangers when I didn't want to. Ate the cake when I didn't want to eat the cake. But I can do everything in my power to empower my children to be OKAY, or at the very least MORE OKAY THAN I WAS, at saying No.

Because:

A. It's okay to hurt someone's feelings if it means standing up for others and yourself.
B. Sometimes bridges must be burned in order to forge new paths.
C. You will never be liked by everyone. Someone will always think you're the worst.

And so. Here is how I'm attempting to raise artists of rejection.

you and you and you and us: five

"This is the beFOUR, I say," tucking you into bed. 

You look at each other, like, whut?

"Get it. Because you're about to turn five? Befour. Be four. You be four NOW but not four long?"

"Um. Okay, mama."

"Silly mama." 

I stretch out my fingers and you place your hands in mine. One in the left and one in the right. We've been doing kissing hand before school starts and now before bed, I kiss your palms and you kiss my palms and I kiss your palms and you kiss mine. 

We lie down in a pile, your bodies stretched out like cats against my chest, hangnails scratching at my knees, and I think, "this is perfect, this is magic, this is... 

Suddenly a fist whirls by my face and then an elbow coming from the other direction and soon enough I'm the mat and you're the wrestling match. You scream and you cry and then you are both screaming and crying and she kicked me first no you did no you did no you. 

... life."

You wake up like a shot and come barreling down the hallway. You're not dressed yet because you don't want to get dressed yet. Because getting dressed yet is what everyone else does and you want to do things differently. You want to go right when everyone else goes left.  You want to crack eggs before the sun fills the house with light.

I look for you, half asleep. The trim of my sweat pants dragging through a puddle you don't even know you made.

"Bo? Are you drinking La Croix at 6am?"

You take a swig of Pamplemousse and shrug.

You are making your own breakfast in your underwear. You stand on a chair and crack the eggs against the burning pot. You're singing as you scrape the sides of the pan with the spatula.

"I'm making eggs," you say, when I ask what you're doing. "I'm making a momelette."

You offer me a sip of your soda water and I drink it -- because, okay, sure, why not. For five years, I've happened upon scenes just like this one. It feels perfectly normal to drink fizzy water and watch you flip eggs before I'm even fully awake. Being your mother is like living LIFE WITH THE VOLUME ALL THE WAY UP. ALARM CLOCK ON HIGH. BEEP BEEP BEEP.

I'm up! I'm here! I'm alive!

You make me feel alive, you know that? 

"Can I help you?" I ask, watching you fish an eggshell out of the pan.

"That's okay," you smile. "I got this under control."

You always say that to me. You say that to me while attempting to carry an entire table by yourself. You say that to me when I try to hold your hand in the sea, the ocean waves swirling around your waist. You say that to me when you're loading the dishwasher, carrying cups of water outside, bombing a hill on a skateboard, unfurling the garden hose to fill a bucket by yourself.

And yet. Somehow...

- even when you fall down face first into the surf
- even when you drop the table
- break a glass
- spill the water
- skin your knee
- break the hose on accident

... I know that you do.

I know that you have it under control. 

So I clean up the mess in the hallway as you sing ROW ROW ROW YOUR BOAT at the top of your lungs. I throw away your egg shells. I ask you to please get dressed after breakfast.

And even though you throw your shoulders back and roll your eyes to the ceiling, I know you hear me. I know you get it. I know, eventually, when you realize I'm not going to press you on it again... you'll go get dressed. In mismatched socks and hot pink cowboy boots. And a dress that is either too small, or four sizes too big.

... And when I call your name from outside, your sisters echoing your name LIKE COME ON WE'LL BE LATE, I know that you'll come bounding through the front door, twisting and twirling and dancing and karate chopping the air.

Exactly as you always do.

Every morning.

***

You tip toe to my bedside and ask if you can cuddle. You say please, even though you are already under the covers by the time I say, "of course." You've had a bad dream and you want to be close. Your body is sweaty like it was when you were a baby and you smell of powder even though we've skipped baths the last two nights. You play with my hair as you drift asleep -- a reflex you have had since infancy -- a need to take care of others, even when you're the one who's scared.

You burrow into my arm, your hair matted to your forehead with sweat. You tell me "I love you" over and over and I tell you I love you back until our words overlap and fade into each other. Until we are both asleep, belly to belly. Until a loud noise rattles me out of bed the next morning and you roll over onto your back, open your eyes and say, "good morning. I love you. Good morning."

You say good morning to your father. Your brother. Your sister. You hug everyone with both arms, make sure everyone knows they are loved before they head into the kitchen for breakfast.

You examine your clothes, delicately placed in piles by the foot of your bed, socks folded in shoes, everything carefully selected from your closet the night before.

You take your time getting dressed, decide on a different pair of socks -- a twirlier skirt. I call for you from the kitchen and you think long and hard about what you're going to eat.

"Avocado toast," you finally say. You hug your sister and tell her she looks beautiful as I put the bread in the toaster and wait for it to ding.

And then, out of nowhere, as everyone is eating their breakfast, you say, "Wouldn't it be so weird if a baby had huge boobs? Like a really small baby with boobs like a mama? Wouldn't that be hilarious."

I'm crying I'm laughing so hard. Archer is choking on his cereal and Fable has fallen out of her chair. You laugh, too. Bo is slapping her knee like an old man at a hoedown and we all can't believe we've lived this long as people without imagining a baby with boobs.

A baby with boobs!!!

Later on, as I'm driving you to school, you'll give me unsolicited advice when I tell you I'm the worst with names.

"If you don't know someone's name just call them 'hey you' and they'll turn around," you'll say.

And then you'll flash me a thumbs up and an "I love you so much."

And I will thank you and tell you that every time you say that it feels amazing. It never gets old. And you'll smile and kiss my cheek before getting out of the car after your sisters...  turning toward me as I drive away, the only one who looks back.

***

Underneath your flailing bodies, I'm yelling at you to stop.

"You love each other, REMEMBER? THIRTY SECONDS AGO WE WERE ALL KISSING EACH OTHER'S HANDS!"

"You're not coming to my party," you say.

"Well, you're not coming to MY party," you say back.

"Fine!"

"FINE!"

"YOU JUST UNINVITED EACH OTHER TO YOUR OWN DUAL-PARTY."

Dual party. Duel party. Dual party. 

You look at each other and start to laugh, like can you believe this shit? IF WE UNINVITE EACH OTHER TO OUR OWN PARTY THERE WILL BE NO PARTY. BEING TWINS IS THE WORST... 

"I don't want to be twin sisters with you anymore," you say, forcing a pout.

"Well I don't want to be twin sisters with YOU anymore," you say, sputtering to keep from smiling.

And then something happens, as it so often does -- your push-apart becomes a pull-together and everything is suddenly forgiven -- like a balloon you must fully inflate in order to let go.

And then...

You take your kissing hand and stretch your fingers out in front of your sister and you hold your hand up against hers , palm to palm and it takes you a minute to line up your fingers just right. Your fingers are longer and your palm sticks out under your sister's hand. You shift your hands trying to get your five fingers to touch in a way that suits you, your giggles on medium, then high, then super XXXL -- until, finally, hands clasped, you fall over laughing.

Happy Birthday to you.
(And you.)
And you --my glorious, laborious girls. You are my heart and I love you with everything.

278/100

image via 

Put on your headphones and MEET ME ON THE DANCE FLOOR, LADIES, CUZ THIS ONE'S 4 U.

Let's make this week THE BEST. ONE. EVAAAAAAAAAR.

dance. dance. dance...



(dance.)

278. Music is my Hot Hot Sex
+ Let's Make Love and Listen to Death from Above by: CSS 

the month in moments: august

PEACE OUT, AUGUST!  (A week late.)

...Thanks for being relatively chill.

An open letter to anonymous NFL execs, with respect to Colin Kaepernick

Image via Getty Images/Michael Zagaris

Hi. My name is Rebecca Woolf and I am a mother of four living in Los Angeles. I am married to a passionate Jets fan, grew up surrounded by Chargers fans, and am the mother of a very excited and newly-minted Rams fan, who is currently, as I type this, helping his father organize this year's fantasy football team.

It has always been my understanding that athletes, specifically football players, are role models for the young people in our country, which is why I'm writing this letter.  Kaepernick's unwillingness to stand for the national anthem is not only patriotic, but a symbol of solidarity to THE PEOPLE -- in this case, people of color who continue to be systemically oppressed, slaughtered and disrespected at every level and in every neighborhood in these United States. 

The thing is, sometimes in order to show solidarity for people who are struggling, you have to turn your back on the ideals of others --not to disrespect them but to show respect for those who have been systemically disrespected. As a white woman, I will never understand what it's like to be a black man in America, which is why it's that much more important for me to listen, to learn, and to stand up for Kaepernick's right to say THIS ISN'T RIGHT. And...I was disappointed to hear that you don't take a similar stance. 

Role models are people to look up to. Role models are people who speak for those who cannot, who are unafraid to lose friends, fans, popularity in order to do and say WHAT NEEDS TO BE SAID. Role models align themselves respectfully with those who have been disrespected. Role models give voice to the voiceless, even it means offending a majority. Role models stand up to a system that will bully the entire schoolyard if someone doesn't risk doing SOMETHING.

This is what I want my children to see, to witness and admire --  a man who is willing to RISK his reputation as an athlete in order to MAKE A STATEMENT and ignite change--a man who can say his piece, do his job and wake up the next day to do the same. 

My goal is not to raise children who are the best in their profession of choice, but rather to raise children who stay TRUE to their hearts and are fearless with their ethics--who are able to see the bigger picture with a willingness to risk reputation and, yes--even their career--to do what's right, even if that means going against the team. The coaches. The owners. The executives who comment anonymously...

Rumor has it that Kaepernick's behavior has been a "thorn" in the side of the NFL and I get it. I don't agree with it but I get it. Distractions are THE WORST. Disruption is SUPER ANNOYING. 

But not as annoying as being killed for being black in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Or getting raped by a police officer in your home.

Or getting shot while trying to calm down an autistic patient. 

Or  getting shot and killed for holding a cell phone.

And and and and andandandand...  And. 

Ijeoma Oluo, in her recent Guardian piece, writes: 

"You can be a professional football player, an accountant, a politician, a teacher – if you are black, you cannot escape the harmful and even deadly effects of racism in America. Colin Kaepernick is black every minute of every day of his life, and his money and his fame will not remove that blackness. Nor will they keep him safe when he’s out of uniform.

What Kaepernick has done with his simple protest is brave. He has risked his privilege, his fame and his very career to stand with his fellow black and brown people against the systemic oppression that is literally killing us. This is what team spirit looks like when you look beyond jerseys. This is what American values look like when you stand for all Americans.

***

I believe wholeheartedly in the power of protest -- I always have. Dissent was how I found my power as a young person, and building a platform without using it to stand on is, in my opinion, a completely worthless endeavor. I believe that everyone with a voice should be using it to incite change and open up much needed dialogues. And as a parent and as someone who writes about issues that pertain to parents online, I wanted to let you know that Colin Kaepernick is exactly who I want my children to look to as a role model...

...Jose Vilson writes in his must-read Medium essay:

"... what does it mean for a citizenry that uncritically demands patriotism from everyone in this country while simultaneously insisting this country is best for its freedoms? What sort of message does that send to our students?...

... In our classrooms, students are constantly asked to think deeper about the presented information, but simultaneously, our schools are structures for American obedience and compliance. Saying the pledge of allegiance before any learning happens means that any learning from the end makes the pledger assume that the learning happening shortly thereafter is part of this set of lessons that is impervious to critique and dissent. Every book, every equation, every piece of work that’s provided by every adult in the classroom is not worth amending or correcting because these are all American, and, if it’s American, it can’t be wrong. Obedience. Compliance..."

***

The rest of my post/letter can be found here. Solidarity and respect to Colin Kaepernick and the athletes who have since joined him.

277/100

"If you believe in yourself
 you can free your soul... "



 Happy weekending, friends. xo

***

277. Shuggie by: Foxygen