Awkward Mom vs. Star Wars Art

The Awkwards went to Star Wars Celebration 2 weekends ago, and that is a tale that I hope to tell you all one day, but I'm still floating around in joy and can't quite get it on paper. (Blog-paper? blaper?) No, this is a far less ambitious story. But maybe not.

All Super Daughter wanted to do at Star Wars Celebration was to see the artists. Those daring souls who attempt to capture Dewbacks in oils and Blurrgs in pastels, the rebels who imagine the wedding invites to the Solo wedding, the dreamers who sculpt TIE fighters and Yavin sunsets. While all Awkwards love Star Wars (we don't speak about Super Preschooler's anti-Lucas phase of ages 2-4), Super Daughter is the one who has embraced the visual delights of the world. She is the one who wants to know how to make Twi'lek dresses, Ewok armor, Rey hair styles. She's the one who doodles storm troopers next to her unicorns and mermaids and paints forest scenes saturated with swirling Tatooine yellows and deep Endor blues. She'll sit in the middle of a clone war, with light sabers inches from her head, and just trace force ghosts in the dirt. She's moved by the story, she loves the characters, she thinks the script of Episode 3 is unfortunate; she's just like us. But unlike us, there is something special in her eyes when she watches the Millennium Falcon soar or the fires of Mustafar rage. We are content to watch. Maybe discuss. Even fight about why Lando did not betray Han at all but did what he had to do for his people. (Come on, fight me. You know you want to.) We may be loud, but we're happy in the audience. Not Super Daughter. Super Daughter is an artist and she's got a X-wing to catch.

Which is why, armed with a handful of colored pencils, a homemade sketch book that says STAR WARS across it in rainbow letters, and one very prized gel pen, all stuffed in a crochet bag with a yarn llama on it, Super Daughter strides into the artist section of the convention, stars in her eyes and purpose in her feet. She looks around for a moment, and then, as if pulled by a tractor beam, finds herself in front of Karen Hallion's booth. It is crowded there, but Super Daughter gently eases her way to the front of the table and patiently waits for her artist-sister to finish talking to someone. Eventually, Ms. Hallion notices this tiny girl in front of her and smiles at her. Super Daughter meets her eyes with her own ocean ones, takes a deep breath, and says, quietly but firmly, "where did you get all those marker pens?"

Ms. Hallion looks confused, so the man with her, nudges her softly and points to the huge selection of beautiful artist markers next to her, just behind a large pile of her art that fans are rummaging through. He winks at Super Daughter and says, "you must be an artist too, to notice all these." Super Daughter smiles her slow-building smile that starts in the left corner of her mouth and rises into a lopsided grin so lovely that it has been known shatter stones. Its affect is not lost on anyone present and you can feel the collective breath hold, as Super Daughter reaches up and touches the marker tops, while whispering, "I use pencils, but someday..." Time stops and the crowd behind her does something I have never ever seen at a convention; they step back. They seemingly recognize in her the children they once were, those small spirits so moved by alien bravery in a galaxy far far away that it would stay with them long after the credits rolled and the world told them to be sensible.

Ms. Hallion reaches over and taps Super Daughter on the hand; "pick one," she encourages. Super Daughter points to a winking silver, which is pronounced "a good choice," with a follow-up, "do you like BB-8?" Super Daughter nods, and Ms. Hallion eases into her own magic. Awed murmurs rise up around us, but Super Daughter is focused on what is before her, with a laser curiosity only a fellow artist can posses. Once finished, Ms. Hallion waves the card to dry it and then flourishes it into Super Daughter's hands. Their eyes meet again, hold, and crinkle into identical and knowing smiles; they will meet again. Someday, in a galaxy maybe not so far far away.

Someday...

Awkward Mom vs. No

You wanna know the really sad part of this constant battle of mine? No isn't even bad. She's not a villain at all. No is that gruff character in the beginning of the movie who you are totally scared of, until you catch him surreptitiously feed stray cats. No is your basic Bruiser with a Soft Center. No isn't trying to hurt me; in fact, she just really wants me to stop shoving her away so she can hug me. Hold me. Make it all better and calmer. No is always trying to get close to me, but I fight her. I yell at her, argue with her, ignore her, and misunderstand her, usually on purpose. But No keeps trying, she's that into me.

The main reason I keep rejecting No is that I have it bad for Yes. Sweet sweet Yes. Yes is just more alluring, more charming, more inclusive, more in keeping with my spirit of can-do. Yes is full of energy and passion. Yes is loud and exciting and full of compliments. She's always there for me, usually with a huge pile of paperwork and a sheepish grin. "Erin, you are just so talented, could you help me with this? And that? And this other thing? Oh, you are amazing, we simply must have brunch soon." Then, she gives me air-kisses and sails out of the room on a cloud of mystery and purpose.

Yes is kinda like Professor X. (I like to picture the Patrick Stewart version but you do whatever works for you.) Yes is positive and passionate and personable. Yes is totally convinced the mutants and humans can work together. Or the stay-at-home moms and the working moms. Or the yogas and the crossfits. Or the cosleepers and the cry-it-outers. Or the Star-Treks and Star-Wars. Whoever, wherever, whatever; we are all gonna get along and hold hands and sing and I guess drink Coke? I don't know where this analogy is going, but it is starting to sound like a product placement, which is weird because I prefer Pepsi. Anywho, Yes makes you feel like you can take on the world and that you should.

Hey, wait a minute, why would Yes be keeping company with Awkward Mom arch-nemesis Should? That's very suspicious and should be setting off some alarm bells.

Oh, lovely Reader, you are so much more on the uptake that I have been for 40-odd years. It's totally suspicious. You see, Yes wants stuff to happen and sometimes to make stuff happen you have to consort with questionable allies. The ends justify the means or some such; those means being Should and Guilt and Pressure and Comparison and Empty-Flattery and Getting-Identity-From-Outside-Sources and Peer-Pressure and Fear-Of-Failure and Self-Recrimination and Caffeine. Lots and lots of Caffeine. Caffeine is like the foot soldier in the Yes army. Wait. Why would Yes have an army....

Because, basically, Yes is a Villain with Good Publicity. Big Reveal! Plot Twist! Holy Cats, Never Saw That Coming! Zoinks! I'm Questioning Everything Right Now! Is Captain America Even Good? He's In Hydra, WHAT?!?!

OK, not really. (They totally fixed Cap, no worries.) It's really much more complicated than that, but TVtropes is a really fun website if you want to poke around over there. I'll wait.

You done? It's fun, isn't it?! God bless those internet wizards. So, where were we? Oh, yes, Yes. Yes the sorta villain who you think is a hero. Hold the phone now! Does that make No the sorta hero who you think is a villain? Does that make No Magneto?  Does that mean Magneto was right all along and that the mutants should take over? Which Magneto? Because if we are going with Michael Fassbender Magneto, then I am totally on team No.

No. It doesn't mean that. But Yes, it kinda does mean that. It's complicated. Geez, complicated internal struggles regarding human consciousness and societal existence; that ol' trope. Couldn't it just be simple for once? Like mutants/human relations? I'll untangle that knot if you just don't make me face my own soul.

No and Yes are neither good nor bad, they aren't villains or heroes. They are responses of my psyche designed to work together so that the very best Erin can shine and grow. They are both there to keep me safe. They are both there to keep me engaged. No is no more a violent retreat from the world, than Yes is a creative cheerful savior we have all been waiting for. Neither is No the passionate protector of sanity, while Yes is the sneaky killer of dreams and sleep. To reduce No and Yes to such black or white caricatures limits the power of both, and that is foolish, for they are incredibly powerful when used in tandem.

Our natural personalities probably do lean more in more direction, depending on a myriad of reasons from childhood on up. Everyone most likely aligns better with the X-Men or the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, although those of you in the latter camp might want to consider a rebrand, just saying. I prefer Yes because moments of pre-adolescent isolation have made me very sensitive to inclusion and my natural rebelliousness makes me fiercely independent. It has taken years of therapy, self-reflection, and truly terrible poetry for me to realize this about myself, and it will take years for me to embrace No the way she deserves to be embraced. Maybe you cling to No because you have been hurt and rejected. Maybe you court Yes because you need validation you didn't get as a child. Maybe you say No to everything because you are saying Yes to Game of Thrones. I'm not here to judge; it's all human and it's all getting you through your life. It's just that when you say Yes to a new experience or person, you might open and let more of your shine out into the world, and if you say No once in awhile, you might find that the recharge you get refreshes you to let more of your shine out into the world. And when you finish Game of Thrones, we'll all be here to hear your secret Targaryen and mermen theories. (That link has spoilers. Well, sorta.)

Point is, Yes and No are much more powerful and powerfully good for you when you embrace both of them. Can you imagine what Professor X and Magneto could have accomplished if they worked together? I mean, together not in a Bryan Singer bloated cinematic mess that I could have fixed if anyone in Hollywood had bothered to ask me...NO, I'm not sorry I said it. See, I'm growing already!

Super Baby says NO to pictures,

and YES to upside-down reading! 

She's advanced.

Awkward Mom vs. Spring Break Flu

If August causes Summer Fever, then mid-March causes Spring Break Flu. August Expectations bring March Fevers, something like that...

Much like the Spanish Flu, Spring Break Flu is an epidemic of catastrophic proportions. It develops very quickly, is extremely powerful, spreads like a wildfire (mostly via Instagram), and is violently dangerous toward any and all expectations. Spring Break Flu craves your expectations with the hunger of 1000 teenagers after a swim meet, and it will obliterate them like a swarm of locusts. It isn't quite at Birthday Botulism or Wedding Plague levels, but, still, I wouldn't go leaving any expectations just laying around if Spring Break Flu is visiting your house.

I'm sure I've addressed Expectations before, but, just to remind everyone, Expectations is major villain in the Awkward Universe. He is a Big Baddie; Dr. Doom, Kingpin, Apocalypse (comicverse, not movieverse, obviously), Green Goblin, General Zod. You get the picture; this is Boss Level stuff. (P.S. All those links are fantastic, but Kingpin in those purple pants has got it going on like Donkey Kong.) Expectations is NOT a villain to trifle with, and yet, it is unbelievable how many of us just toy with him, expecting that everything will work out fine. (Ugh, is she gonna keep doing that? Yeah, I expect so.)

Here's how my Spring Break Flu is going this week. Expect to be horrified.

Monday. 

The only really planned event of the week was set for today. From previous battles with Expectations, I have learned over time, so I only planned one travel-based event this Spring Break. I have clearly not learned enough.

Some backstory: Super Oldest has a birthday at the end of February and all he wanted this year was to go to the Field Museum. So, we carefully planned and were all set to go to Chicago the day after his birthday, which was the day I got diagnosed with strep throat.

That plan scrapped, we carefully planned and were all set to go to Chicago the first day of Spring Break, which was the day Super Daughter got diagnosed with the stomach flu.

And by diagnosed, I mean, threw up on me at 2am. But I wasn't gonna let that deter me; I carefully dressed her, cajoled her, begged her, bribed her, and fed her sips of water from 6am-8am in an effort to show that she just ate something weird and was not, in fact, battling Stomach Flu. At 8:05am, she threw up on me again, and I was forced to admit that she would not be able to make the trip to Chicago. This left us with many options, none of them good. (1) Reschedule again, (2) scrap the whole idea, or (3) one of us take some of the children. We opted for option 3 and I was chosen to go, mostly since Awkward Dad has more medical experience and I have more experience driving in Chicago, plus marginally more self-control in gift shops. So, I gathered up all 3 Super Boys, our packed lunch, the pass to our local museum (which has a reciprocity program with the Field and you should check your local museum out for this too, Frugal Fans!), and what remained of my confidence, which wasn't a lot.

Going into the Field Museum, I had no remaining reserves against Expectations. I thought that, without Awkward Dad's boundless and often foolish enthusiasm, we would last 2 hours at the most, and I braced for a lot of fighting about which exhibits to see, a lot of whining about being tired, and a lot of demands for museum food and gift shop toys.

 Gotta love a good foreshadowing shadow.

None of that happened. Much like a Tyrannosaurs-Rex, Expectations can smell fear and foolish pride. I had none left, so Expectations left me alone to go bother a rather sweet looking family from Ohio. Their toddler broke a shoe, their 8-year-old had a melt-down over Legos, and they didn't make it past 3pm, poor loves. The Supers and I, on the other hand, rambled where the wind took us and had a happy afternoon, mostly lost in the Hall of Animals, watching art students sketch. It was utterly magical, especially the part where I told Awkward Dad not to expect anything from the gift shop and then totally bought him a book.

Tuesday.

Tired from yesterday, all I expected to do was to clean the play room, which has sorely needed it for 4 weeks. Months. Can't be 4 years, we've only been in this house 3 and a half. OK, maybe 3 and a half.... But I was confident that I could clean one room in one day. Totally doable.

Totally not doable.

Super Daughter, while not actively throwing up, was still weak and in need of snacks, Gatorade, and attention. As was Super Baby, who has learned to open the pantry to get her own snacks and Gatorade, but still sorely requires attention, as she isn't quite as skilled at getting said snacks and Gatorade into her mouth. Therefore, this required about 7 kitchen floor cleans by the end of the day. And then Awkward Dad came home early, slipped on the clean (and wet) kitchen floor, and therefore did not make it all the way to the bathroom before throwing up. I never should have told the children that I expected them to share...

I gave up expecting to clean the play room and sat on a pile of toys in there and cried, in-between floor cleanings and fetching buckets.

Wednesday.

Have you ever had stir-crazy children and a man-sick spouse in your house at the same time? I didn't expect to survive Wednesday at all.

I did survive. So, that's nice. I guess. 

Thursday.

Awkward Dad, not quite well but no longer actively vomiting on the kitchen floor, headed back to work. The children all seemed healthy enough, so I allowed a playdate with some neighbor kids, expecting this to have a calming effect on the children. Yeah, about that...

So, during a particularly important moment during Wii Bowling, Super 2nd-Grader bowled a solid strike, which would have been awesome, if the Wii control hadn't flown off his wrist and also landed a solid strike, right in the middle of the TV.

Strike! 

It's certainly not a spare...

The next 3 hours are a bit of a blur, I think Expectations got in a few head-shots and I expect I have a head injury. Super 2nd-Grader, expecting that Awkward Dad was going to kill him, locked himself in a closet. The neighbor kids vanished (nice super powers there, guys!), and the Supers were suddenly incredibly focused on cleaning the aforementioned play room. I do remember contacting Awkward Dad at work so that he could talk Super 2nd-Grader out of the closet, but after that, I sorta collapsed on the my bed and that's where Awkward Dad found me, cuddling a sleeping Super Baby and mumbling about bowling expectations.

He took Super Baby, tucked me in, took the kids out for take-out (which I had expected us to give up for Lent), and told me that he fully expected me to do nothing on Friday, except attend my therapy session. He even offered to change his spring break expectation to visit a friend over the weekend, in light of current illnesses and a suspicious coughing from Super 2nd-Grader.

Friday. 

Super 2nd Grader has been vomiting since this morning, so I blew off every expectation I had for today to write to you all. Now, I expect....No, not expect. I don't expect anything.

I AM going to read and eat Thin Mints until my therapy session this afternoon.

I like to pre-therapy for therapy.

Expectations has not left the house. I have mom-hearing and I can hear him cackling in the corners right now. He's a major villain and here for the long haul. I lose a lot of battles with him, but I will win the war. I AM going to win the war. I have support, awareness, and enough Girl Scout cookies to defend my heart until the end of time. I will beat him someday. Spring Break Flu is not a major villain and will leave soon. However, I do not expect that until probably midnight on Sunday night.

At which point, I fully expect to catch a Book Fair Cold...

Awkward Mom vs. Reboots

If my obsessive comic book reading has taught me one thing, it has taught me this: never ever plan a vacation to the Savage Land.

OK, I suppose, comic books have taught me many things, but here's the most important one: you can always reboot. You can always begin again and you can always start over. Adapt, alter, relaunch, blame it on Skrulls. Change it all; your story arc, your powers, your computer, pretty much anything goes in the comics. Captain Marvel is now a woman. How many Spidermans are there? The X-men change teams pretty much every issue. And don't even get me started on movieverse vs canon vs that weird mutant ninja turtle fan fiction some guy your cousin knows is writing. Everything is a playground of fresh starts and new eyes, just gotta get something down on the page.

So, what's my point? Am I gearing up for some massive change to this blog? Am I going to vlog makeup tutorials like a millennial? Am I prepping you for the unveiling of my gothic steampunk My Little Pony fan fiction? (You know you want to see that.) No, no, nothing so ambitious. I am merely returning to the beginning of the story. Well, not really. Rather the story as it stands now. We're just gonna start right here and now because no one has time to go back to the beginning.

Anyway, right now has doughnuts. 

I'm rebooting this blog because it's time. It's time because sometimes superheroes stop telling their stories for a little bit. They don't stop living their stories, but maybe it's time for a quick time-out in the action. You know, a pause to study with a shaman in Tibet or backpack across the US or a quick trip to another dimension or maybe a move to a new place and another baby and so you kinda lose yourself in the daily minutiae of raising 5 kids and not drowning in laundry and making new mom friends and way over-committing at the school and then getting super sick all the time because of total lack of self-care and then you turn 40 and wonder who you are as a person not just as a mother  and have a massive existential crisis and get depressed and then get back into therapy and decide to start writing again because well you aren't sure but maybe it will bring the joy back. I mean, you know, hypothetically.

So, let's get started, no need for origin stories, right? You know how superherohood/parenthood works; flailing about a lot in lots of green slime with some screaming. Caught up? Cool.

Today is Thursday. It's a normal March Thursday, meaning we are sick to death of winter and also sick to death in general. I am home today but I shouldn't be. (Should and Shouldn't still reign as Awkward Mom's biggest nemeses.) I just finished helping with the school play and am launching into the Book Fair. I am also Cookie Mom for Super Daughter's Girl Scout Troop because Saying No and I have been fighting a lot lately. She's winning.

Super Oldest also has trouble saying no. 

Super Oldest is currently at school; taking advanced math, excelling in every subject, playing clarinet, singing in the choir, acting in the school play, practicing his ballet, tap, and jazz moves, reading about Greek mythology, and winning a war on the school's recycle policy by getting them to add plastics and metal. 

He did all of that today. 

Super 2nd Grader is winning his war on no shirts. 

Super 2nd grader is currently on the couch; he threw up 6 times last night and is the reason we are home today instead of setting up the Book Fair. He is surrounded by 3 imaginary friends and they are having an animated conversation about a future trip to Mars. He has refused all offers of Gatorade and toast, saying that Invisible Grandpa gave him "a brew of herbs from the past." 

Sounds magically delicious. 

Super Daughter has zero trouble saying no. 

Super Daughter is at school and she may be principal by now, things seemed to be heading that way last night when she breezed through her homework, her brother's homework, and some of Awkward Dad's medical notes that were on the kitchen table. I'll pick her up around 3, take her to her scout meeting, softball practice, and perhaps the UN to broker peace in the Middle East. We'll see where the evening take us.

The evening usually take us wherever Super Daughter wants to go. 

Super Preschooler doesn't fight with No or Yes, he just abstains.

Courteously. 

Super Preschooler brought down a collection of trucks and cars to entertain Super 2nd Grader. That Super 2nd Grader would throw them across the room because they were "bothering Borgee," isn't something that could have been predicted. I guess Imaginary Spiders aren't into vehicles. 

Super Preschooler wasn't bothered. Not much bothers Super Preschooler. 

He just moved his vehicles to a different room and is now developing a colony of diggers that he calls "the Land of Excavators." 

We won't see him for the rest of the day. 

Super Baby doesn't say much, but she can say no. 

Super Baby is in nap prison after I caught her playing in the downstairs toilet. She was extremely distressed to be removed from her game of splashing her hands, and a nearby (entire!) roll of toilet paper, into this fun bowl of water she found, exactly at the right height, now that she can pull up. I cleaned her but haven't attempted the bathroom. That can wait until later, along with the mess of strawberries she used to color on the kitchen walls, the cereal that she threw all over the den, and the puddle of mysterious origins that has sprung up in the dining room. It can all wait. 

Everything can wait while I admire those apple cheeks. 

That's what's going on here. I mean, along with the laundry and dishes and wishes and garbage and disappointments and dreams and sheets that need to be washed and too many toys and cat vomit and fights with friends and concerns that life is passing too quickly but why won't bedtime come faster and maybe we could afford a trip to the Savage Land you know if we stopped eating out all the time and really buckled down and I guess I better make lunch because I don't think Invisible Grandpa brought past-brews for everyone. 

Nice to see you again, Readers!

Tune in next week;

It's Spring Break and, since we aren't going to the Savage Land, 

I'm sure there will be loads of home adventures for me to awkward up! 

Awkward Mom vs. Table-Standing Daughters

We’re 5 years later now and she keeps finding taller tables. Higher and higher; ever fearless, her body is slowly catching up to her soul but it’s hungry. She’s never done, never over or finished. For her spirit is an entire universe. She dances like the music comes from her very heart. She reads like written language was created just for her; delighted eyes dancing over the pages, journal nearby when inspiration strikes. She eats like a farm hand, she learns like a sponge. She gives herself away constantly; there’s simply so much of her, her fountain of gifts never runs dry. I can’t contain her. Why would I want to? I feel for Cleopatra’s mother; power this strong does not develop slowly, it explodes and you try desperately to keep it out of the road. You can not steer rockets, you can merely point them in the right direction and pray. She is my prayer. My prayer for the world and all in it.

Awkward Mom vs. Back to School

We here in the land of Awkward start school in 2 days. My friends in Michigan have to wait 2 more weeks. My friends in Indiana started 2 weeks ago. My homeschooler friends never stopped. The empty nester friends are going back themselves. Lotta different ways to school, but, however, whenever, and wherever you school, this is for you. 

Hey, Mom with the prefect first day of school Instagram pictures complete with chalkboard and autumnal filter; fabulous, keep being you!

Hey, Mom whose child got a tardy the first day, head high, you’ve got this!

Hey, Dads who pack Bento Boxes with the sandwich cut into a lion, beautiful work!

Hey, Parents whose lunch account is filled up and ready to go, Outstanding!

Loving that retro brown bag, Mom who found last year’s banana still in that Batman lunch box.

And to those of us who were in the negative during the first week; the lunch staff is kind, kids still ate, and it’s number 14 on the to-do-list and will get done sometime this September, yeah us!

Hey, Mom who irons the uniform jumpers, Rock on!

Hey, Mom who isn’t quite sure what the green stain is, No Worries! (P.S. It’s Pizza Day, circa 2015, and no shame, Friend. That shirt’s got some years left.)

I see you, Home-School Mom; that planner is stunning!

Hi, Mom who had to drive the kids today because they missed the bus and whose boss was a jerk about it; Remember, my Beautiful Iron Iris, that you are a multitasking genius who should be running NASA and he wears ugly ties from the 80s, so take a long lunch today, alright?

Nice Creedence, Drop Off Dad, kids gotta wake up somehow.

Take your time, First Time Preschool Mom; we’re here for hugs all day.

Enjoy that pedicure, They’re Finally all in School Mom!

Thank you for basically being a wizard, Mom who is also a Teacher.

I think the research is still out regarding implanted homing beacons, Oldest Just Left for College Dad, but you go ahead and text him for the 14th time, no one is judging.

Rock your bad self, Volunteered for Lunch Duty the very first day of Kindergarten Mom!

My dear, tired, hopeful, amazing Brothers and Sisters, it’s time for school and we’ve got this. We’ve got this all week long. I see you over there, being all awesome.

What? Of course, you are awesome. Your children are awesome, aren't they? And they love you, don't they? So, if people that awesome love you, it means that you are awesome. That's just math. That I learned in school. Because I am awesome.

You. Are. Awesome. 

Awkward Mom vs. Dr. Strangemom

Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Obscure References. 

There are a LOT of ways to parent, so, naturally, there are a lot of parenting books. Important parenting books written by important people; some of them are even doctors. Dr. Sears. Dr. Dobson. Dr. Spock. Dr. Seuss. (My entire parenting playbook came from that last one.) It seems every time I visit the library, which is quite often as you know, there are like 15 new parenting books. And 15 new ways I should be parenting.

Ah. There he is. That pesky Should. I knew he was hiding in here somewhere. Should is probably the villain I tangle with more than any other villain, and that includes Potty Training and What's That Smell. Should is powerful and he goes after everyone, you don't have to be a parent to be attacked by Should, you just have to be breathing. Or not. I am sure ghosts are bothered by Should too, or his twin sister, Shouldn't. I shouldn't have walked so close to that cliff edge, etc. 

I got a rock. 

Should and Shouldn't are relentless. They'll climb into your head and just knock stuff over. They're like the jerk cats of the villains gallery. "Oops, there goes Self-esteem, unfortunately it's rather delicate and completely shattered." "Oh, did you want that full glass of Self-control? Too bad, I seem to have spilled it on top of something called Random Outburst." "Well, why would you leave Confidence sitting so close to the edge of the table?" Jerks....

Anywho, back to parenting. There are LOTS of different ways to parent, interestingly, about just as many as there are parents roaming around out there. To quote one of those important doctors who wrote one of those important books: "What good mothers and fathers instinctively feel like doing for their babies is usually best after all." -Dr. Benjamin Spock (Awkward Mom impressively avoids a Star Trek reference here.) He's right and the reason I have yet to create a chore chart but Super 1st Grader has founded his first book club.

Yes, it's Harry Potter themed. 

Yes, it's glorious. 

It's also the reason Super Kindergarten knows all the words to Fat Bottomed Girls. And why Super Oldest owns more books than the local library. And why we have three movie nights a week, but no regular bedtime. And why Super Preschooler is obsessed with Nova. And why Awkward Dad calls Super Baby his little Kingpin and no one really worries about that. And it's why my decorating style leans toward nouveau-Munsters and this:

Space-themed string art is the velvet Elvis of the string art world. 

Now, I would be lying if I didn't tell you that there are still several moments every single day that I think I don't have the slightest idea what is best for my children. I should read more parenting books and Pinterest stuff and paint everything beige and maybe check those birth certificates again because who in their right minds would trust me with human lives?!?!

Should? Should, is that you in there? Stop touching that! That Self-Contentment is new, get your hands off it! Get out!

Let's regroup with another Dr. Spock quote: "All the time a person is a child, he is both a child and learning to be a parent. After he becomes a parent, he becomes predominantly a parent reliving childhood." You know what this mean, right? This means that all that time I spent chasing fireflies and daydreaming about pirates and making mistakes and eating blueberries and painting on the walls and trying to make friends and writing letters and loving stuffed animals and reading my way through my parents' library I was actually preparing to be the me that is here today, in charge of the initial development of 5 human phenoms.

Yeah, but I am sure they mean people who didn't waste their childhoods. They mean people who were serious and highly talented and truly artistic and actually paying attention, like you should've been.

Should?! Should, I see you over there! You can hide yourself with contractions all you want, but I would know your whining anywhere. Get out of there and get your hands off my memories, those are valuable!

OK, let's try this again. I'm bringing out the big guns: "Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do." -Dr. Benjamin Spock

I know how to make cute kids, 

I trust myself to do that.

I know a lot of stuff. Some of it is traditional parenting stuff, but most of it is not. Most of it has to do with movies and comic books and the Muppets and Star Wars and 1970s folk music. Is this stuff that a self-respecting modern mother should know? You know what? Yes. Yes, Should. Yes, it is. I am not the best mother in the world, but I am the best mother for my children.

Should and Shouldn't are pesky jerks, but they aren't going anywhere. I think it's part of being human to deal with them, part of being a person with conscious thought and emotional awareness. I wouldn't trade those away, so I guess I'm stuck with Should and Shouldn't. Maybe the trick is spotting them, seeing them for who and what they are and for who and what they are not. They are noise and fury, they are not truth and light. They are a pause in the music, they are not the music. They are regrets and worries, they are not hopes and dreams. They are part of me, but they are not all of me.

And I should remember that all of me 

is strange and beautiful and unique 

and capable of shaping extraordinary new life.