A few days ago, while I was hibernating in my room pretending I don’t have kids, Mac walks in with Ava behind him, looking rather serious.

My first thought was “Why are you annoying me in my time of need?” But I was more curious.

He sits on the edge of the bed (I was in bed, DUH) and says very seriously “Ava has something she needs to tell us.”

Oh holy mother of god.

I’m thinking horrible, crazy sick things. I’m thinking abusive teachers. I’m thinking twisted neighbors. I’m sure I’ve finally really completely blown it and she is now going to tell me that when I’m not around she listens to Nick Drake and tries to drown kittens.

I don’t freaking know. I went nuts.

In my head.

But I held it in, because obviously I want every detail of what the bastard did to her, so I say “what is it, sweetie?” in my most supportive, non-homicidal, non-freak-out voice.

She’s standing nervously with her hand partially covering her mouth, her eyes kind of imploring.

“Um…”

She shifts her body weight. I look at Mac. I’m ready to hunt the fucker down and remove his boy parts.

Mac’s with me. I can tell.

I ask again.

She looks at me and says very slowly… “Well, I didn’t want to tell you this, but I felt kind of ‘icky’ inside, like I was keeping something from you…”

And at this point I am SURE my life is about to change and it ain’t gonna be good. I mean our family is open like a parachute, we never have “side” conversations – nothing’s sacred, nothing’s personal – we pretty much just say whatever it is we’re thinking and hope for the best, no matter who is in the room. I realize this may not be the optimal communication dynamic, but it’s the way it is. So the fact that Ava wanted this discussion in private indicated DISASTER.

But by now my heart had just swelled and I wanted to grab her up and keep her with me for, well, forever. I could tell she was really struggling with something, and what she was about to tell me had been in her head and heart for a long time.

I tell her “no worries, Ava, what’s wrong?”

And she says, “Well, the thing is…I didn’t want to say this in front of Rocket, and I hope you don’t get upset…but…well…I know Santa isn’t real. I know you guys are Santa.”

There is a God!

She knows Santa isn’t real!

Mac and I smiled at each other, as my guts returned to their appropriate locations.

Then Ava says “I still want to pretend I don’t know Santa isn’t real, so that Rocket doesn’t know, and I’ll keep playing along for him, okay? But I wanted you to know so that I didn’t hold that secret inside. It felt funny having it in there.”

As I sat there watching her speak this little truth in what must have required a big dose of bravery, I was struck by her courage and her poise, her integrity, to face us and risk hurting our feelings – in the interest of truth.

Look, I know my kid isn’t perfect. I know she probably isn’t even phenomenal, though every ounce of my being tells me she’s the most spectacular child on the planet.

But sometimes our children have abilities that blow our minds. When I was a kid, I remember knowing Santa wasn’t real for many years, and I had no idea how to “handle” it. I couldn’t tell my mom. I pretended like I didn’t know but I felt like a fraud. At the same time, I liked pretending. It was fun. I thought it was what I was supposed to do. But at the same time, I felt awkward because I knew the truth…so I just wrestled with this until I eventually outgrew it.

Not this one. She saw the situation, felt her feelings and knew exactly how to handle it.

She set herself free.

I hugged her and told her she was amazing and that she could help us (like an insider Santa team) and we laughed and it was over.

And I was proud of her.

Some kids make an excellent case for nature over nurture, cause jeez, that kid’s got some moves I can’t even fake.

1. Last night we were out to dinner and I asked Mac what he was ordering. He answered “Well, I was going to ask if the waitress would stab me in the eye with a fork.”
2. So that was fun. We were in excellent company (my brother, sister-in-law, their kids, and my mom), but there were 6 children between the two families, which is a really upsetting adult-to-kid ratio.
3. Speaking of insane, at least one of my kids has been sick each day for the past five weeks. No really. I’m not kidding. One kid gets sick then the next then the next, then we start over. I HATE SNOT. And fevers. And I’m pretty sure I’m never going to sleep again. I’m thinking perhaps I should get a little more adamant about that whole hand-washing thing. Or maybe they should all be locked in small rooms until flu season passes. If only that were legal.
4. Yesterday in the mall I heard a teenage girl about 16 years old tell her friend, after a group of African American teenagers walked into the store, “There are black people in here. Let’s get out of this place.” And I shot my head around at her with my jaw agape and my eyes burning into her skull, struck by the hatred and blatant racism, wondering what sort of messages that girl must receive at home to be so backward at such a young age. It was jarring and I haven’t gotten it out of my head since.
5. How does that shit still exist? HOW?
6. On a happier note, Ava told me this morning that she thinks Justin Beiber got big “because all the other pop stars were off doing drugs.” I don’t really know what that means but I think I like it.
7.  I get un-followed by like 5 people a day on Twitter. Luckily I get followed by about 5-7 porn spammers daily, so the numbers pretty much even out.
8. I already feel myself coming out of my annual February downward spiral (aka The Month I Regret Everything and Feel Superbly Sorry For Myself). So that doesn’t suck.
9. I read the other day that California is the most hated state in the nation. Now that’s a little harsh. Don’t you think? I mean what about Iowa. People in Iowa are always up to something. Crafty little bastards.
10. Okay I know nothing about Iowa. I just figured I’d make fun of what appears to be the most innocuous state EVER to demonstrate how weird it is to “hate” a state.
11. In conclusion (remember writing THAT in your 5-paragraph essays in junior high?), I’d like to share with you the following conversation, which occurred recently during one of my classes. I shared this on my personal FB, so forgive the redundancy, but I recently pissed off YET ANOTHER Vegan, so I figured I’d share it again…since clearly it’s still relevant.

 Me, to a woman in my class: “Nice boots.”

Woman: “Thanks, got ‘em in a thrift store. Super stoked because they aren’t leather, and I don’t wear animal products. I’m a Vegan.”

Me: “Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you my husband is a butcher at his family’s slaughterhouse.”

Woman: Silent. Dumbstruck.

Me: “I have no idea what’s wrong with me.”

*******

Happy week all!

******

Poor little guy fell asleep like this, listening to Jimi Hendrix (his favorite CD).

So that 401K post got me thinking about my experience working in a law firm in Sacramento. It was an amazing job with uniquely interesting and good people doing seriously awesome work (natural resources conservation). I was proud when they hired me right out of college (as the receptionist), and I was proud to do other administrative work for them for almost 8 years.

However, since it was my first real job and they hired me at 23 years old, I did a bit of, um, “growing up” in that place.

Alright I was completely freaking clueless, though I thought I knew pretty much everything. I was like a walking law suit with a loud voice and questionable judgment.

But I knew it ALL.

I was 23. Duh. The Age of Omniscience.

Anyway I thought I’d share with you some of the most impressive lessons I learned at that firm, not in order of importance. So here we go.

The Office Survival Guide for people who probably shouldn’t be allowed in offices.

1. Be nice to the receptionist. Receptionists are people too.
2. You think the receptionist isn’t listening. The receptionist is listening. She knows pretty much everything about you and your mom and everybody else in the office, on account of everybody assuming she isn’t listening.
3. Do not wear black bras under white blouses to work.
4. Do not wear low-cut trousers and g-strings to work.
5. “You cannot just say everything you think to the attorneys you work for.” (Yes, that is a direct quote.)
6. Copy machines have top-loaders. (Wish I woulda known THAT little tidbit before I spent that summer internship in college making copies by hand, one by one. If I ever find the bastards who watched me do that all summer without telling me about the top-loader – I’ll kill ‘em.)
7. The “reply-all” email feature can ruin your life.
8. So can your potty mouth.
9. On a related note, there is no sarcasm font.
10. If you set up your cubicle in accordance with Feng Shui principles, you will not work more productively, but everybody will think it’s cool.
11. Burning popcorn in the microwave will make it stink for the duration. Nothing will fix it ever. Buy a new one.
12. The most annoying expressions in the world are: “At the end of the day;” “playing catch-up;” and “touch base.”
13. Oh, and “paradigm shift.”
14. You will cringe when you hear yourself saying these things but you will not be able to stop.
15. Talking on the phone while chewing is not okay under any circumstances.
16. There’s always somebody who knows more about whatever it is you think you know everything about. That person is in the room with you right now.
17. Emergency drills are scary, much scarier than the ones in grammar school.
18. {In the case of a real emergency, I would run full speed out of the building giving no thought or concern whatsoever to those around me.}
19. “Lower your voice” is uniformly solid advice.
20. Extreme pressure generally turns an ordinary project into an absolute disaster.
21. If you are wondering at all if you should say something, you shouldn’t.
22. The computer is not broken. You did something wrong. Re-start it. You’ll be fine.
23. If you think the project is going to take a week, tell your boss it’ll take four.
24. Even if you have no idea who or why a person is calling you, but they claim to be “returning your call,” assume they are correct and roll with it.
25. Some people walk around with paper on their heads and do other such silly things. You cannot do these things. People already think you’re weird.
26. Take notes as if your life depended on it, even if the note contains: “10/10/07: George told me about his trip to Madagascar, detailed incident with monkey.”
27. Don’t skip.
28. People frown on skipping in the workplace.
29. Also ballet moves. Total no-go.
30. You will become the woman who shows everybody pictures of her kids and talks about them too much. You will. Because you miss them.
31. Accept that you will never become completely professional. Aim instead for “professional enough to not get fired.”

It ain’t glamorous, but it works for some of us…

Happy Cubicle Day! (It’s not actually cubicle day. But it is in my head.)

[why yes, that was a Fight Club allusion. thank you for noticing…]

So…I’ve been thinking of something to write. Usually, blog posts pop into my head like random inappropriate thoughts and form into more elaborate inappropriate thoughts, err, I mean “blog posts,” as I drive or sit in class or pretend like I’m listening to somebody. Sometimes things come to me so suddenly they actually make me laugh out loud.

I admit way too much freaky shit on this blog.

But lately, I don’t have much. I explored the cracks of my mind in search of something interesting – and after finding nothing, over and over again, realized I am officially uninspired.

Does that ever happen to you? Yeah, it happens to me.

I’m just like not enthused. Not amused. Barely even interested.

This happens to me every February. Yes, I know, weird. But I have proof (which I won’t go into because it involves my past life of drinking and rehabs. Oh shit. I just said it.)…just trust me, I hit this insane existential LOW every February. Check out the post I wrote last February:  “Dude. Sylvia Plath put her head in the oven over this shit.”

Good times.

A few people have mentioned “seasonal depression.”

I don’t know about all that. I think I have seasonal “Fuck this noise. I’m bored. And by the way, what’s the meaning of life?”

A couple days ago as I was getting dressed in the gym locker room, I heard a couple of 60-year-old women (more or less) discussing retirement. Their conversation went something like this:

“So how’s retirement?”

“Oh, it’s great.”

“Yeah? I have 6 more years with the State before I can retire.”

“Yes, I worked for 27 years then bought myself out of three so I could retire.”

“My husband’s doing that. He’s pulling from his 401K to buy himself out so he can focus on his other job while our son’s in college and put his retirement money toward that.”

“Good thing to do…”

“yeah, but I just cannot stand my job anymore and it’s so hard to think about 6 more years. I’ll be 67.”

“But retirement is so important. You don’t want to lose that money!”

And they went on and on like this discussing 401ks and retirement and “roll-overs” and all kinds of shit I should understand but don’t…and how many more years they or their partners had to put in to be free from the jobs they’ve held for 20+ years.

And because it’s February, I felt my soul shrink into the weird plastic gym mat beneath my feet (you know? The ones with the holes in it?). Alright that was dramatic. The truth is that I felt weirder and weirder as I listened intently to them talking about “staying on” to put a son through college and blah blah blah. All I could think about was 30 years at the same job doing administrative work for the State of California and holding on through all that to “retire” comfortably. To be like old and comfortable or whatever. With well-funded children.

Screw that. I’d rather be comfortable now.

And also, let me just say right now, online, in public: Kids, if I can put you through college, big yay. If not, I am not going to get a second job or sell my organs on your behalf. Rather, you will take out student loans and get grants like every other self-respecting child of the working class. I did it. Your grandparents did it. Your great-grandparents did it.

I realize that last statement officially makes me the most horrible parent on the planet, but I don’t think all good life or intelligence hinges on going to college. And I don’t think it kills a person to take out some loans for their education, thereby making a personal commitment to the deal. There are many, many ways to develop a brain – college is by no means the only way. Some would argue it diminishes the brain.

What the hell am I talking about? I get side-tracked.

In all months. Not just February.

Oh right. Here’s the thing: I’d rather be poor pretty much forever doing something I love – and never having anything other than contentment to show for it – than slaving day in and day out so SOMEDAY I can enjoy my life.

I have a 401K. At my last job, I put into it each year like a good girl for 6+ years, more than the recommended amount, and it’s at a nice healthy number right now. So haven’t completely ignored the whole thing. I just don’t obsess over it or make life decisions centering around its growth. Sometimes I wonder if I should, but I’ve accepted that that sort of thing just ain’t in me. I will never be the person with a fat retirement.

[I will, however, most likely have a kick-ass collection of existential literature.]

The way these women sounded…it was like they were LIVING FOR THE END OF THEIR JOBS. Like life was going to start at retirement – when they’d finally be free. It was horrible.

Somebody should tell them they’re free now. And always were free.

(As long as they’re willing to be poor.)

It all makes me wonder what this is all about…life can’t possibly be 30 years at a job with one 2-week vacation a year, holiday bonuses, the occasional raise, and cubicles – then retirement. It can’t!

Dude I’ve written way too much. Sorry.

Guess I did have a few things to say.

The good news is that for me, this crap passes. It always does. And to be honest, I don’t think it’s all bad to feel gray and dull and bored sometimes. This world tells me I should be entertained and stimulated and motivated all the time – and if I’m not, there’s something wrong. I better go buy that new gadget to entertain me, or run out and get that pill to fix me, or drink to amuse me. Or eat to pleasure me. Or do whatever…something!  to make it right.

How about just sitting with the wrong until it’s right again? How about pulling from the deepest recesses of my person to find meaning and strength, until it rises again to the surface?

I know that doesn’t work for everybody.  I know anti-antidepressants saved my life at one point. But this? Ah, this is just the universe opening me up for the good that’s on its way.

Cause it’s coming. It always does.

1. Recently I said this: “Mac, in the future, when you ‘dress’ Georgia, please actually put clean clothes on her rather than just layer clean ones over the dirty ones. Kthanks.”
2. True story, ladies.
3. We went to a fair in Sonoma County – a small town fair. I ate part of a funnel cake and wanted to die. However, I got an excellent idea for how I’m going to make my millions: open up a traveling rehab that follows fairs, for the benefit of the tweaker carnies.
4. I know, I’m a thinker. And something of a humanitarian, clearly.
5. Speaking of brilliance, sometimes, when I’m playing Scrabble against my phone [whilst bored outta my mind], and my phone wins, I play again to show him who’s boss. I am also not joking about that.
6. While at the fair, we watched this juggling/comedy/guitar-playing show (um I said it was small town) and they asked for a volunteer. Of course Ava’s hand shot up like lightning and of course they called her up. They asked her to step between the juggling, um, pins (?) when they tell her to, and started teasing her, making all kinds of jokes about getting hurt, etc. The woman at one point said “Well, don’t worry about it, Ava, since they say one person’s pain is another person’s pleasure.” And Ava looks right at her and says “Um what. Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Perfect delivery. Everybody roared, and I was struck by the poise of that kid, cracking jokes up on stage in front of at least 100 people, at 10 years old. She’s something I tell ya.
7. Georgia has been eating most of her meals standing on a chair at the kitchen island. No worries though, we totally don’t let her use a fork.
8.  After Ava burped in an incredibly appalling manner, I commented to Mac that it’s like our kids were raised by wolves. Rocket then stops what he’s doing, gets a far-away look in his eye and says “wow, that would be so wonderful.”
9. So it’s comforting to know my kid would prefer ravenous wild animals over Mac and me.
10. Also, do any of you guys ever attempt side conversations in the front seat of your vehicle with the kids in the back? You know, when you lean in to one another and say something inappropriate for little people, thinking maybe, perhaps THIS TIME FOR ONCE they won’t catch it with those demon bat ears? Yeah, we do that. It’s never worked successfully once. Ever. More on that later.

Also, wanted to tell you people how much I love you and send big cyber kisses your way. (wow. That was cheesy.) No really, thanks for sharing my Valentine’s post. I got like 2,000 hits on it that day, which is a big deal for a no-name blogger such as myself. I was flattered. Thank you.

Here’s Ava up on stage…please excuse the crap quality. I don’t have Instagram to fix my photographic deficiencies. Or even an Iphone. So anyway. [Okay but seriously, Instagram is amazing. It makes good photos look freaking spectacular and crap photos look, well, almost cool. I’m getting an Iphone one of these days, so my crap photos can look less crappy and more hipster.]

Have a great week.