I admit fear and feeling powerless

I am thinking this morning about the role of fear in our lives.  How does fear impact the conscious choices we make?  How does fear trip up our unconscious circuits?  I am a chronic procrastinator, and fear of failure both paralyzes me to get started, and motivates me to get finished (often right at the deadline).  How does that parallel the way I live my whole life?

Yesterday, I was sitting on the steps of our front porch, watching Willa and Henry play with their new friends who live 2 houses down.  That family is fairly reserved, and the kids have been painfully shy until a few weeks ago.  Suddenly, a switch has been flipped, and their 7 year old daughter and 4 year old son love to play with our kids.  While the kids were tracing the hula hoop with chalk on the driveway, a commotion started down the street.  Two cars were speeding along and honking.  They stopped, side by side, in front of our house.  One guy got out, the other yelled through the window, and drove off.  Clearly they were not friends.  The guy who was out of his car yelled for the guy to come back, using some words that none of those kids have heard before.

"Hey!" I heard myself yell, "you will NOT do this in front of these kids."

I was steady.  I was powerful.  I was protecting the kids, and the moment of sweetness we were all enjoying earlier.  I did not think about it.

The guy (who was an adult), looked at me and mumbled, "sorry lady."  Then he got in his car, yelled, "shut the hell up" and sped away. 

The kids looked at me with their mouths open.  I shrugged and said they must be having a very bad day.  Willa asked if she should tell dad (who was in the basement).  I said it was all over, and everyone was okay, so she didn't need to.  But she slipped into the house anyway.  She was obviously shaken that someone would talk to her mom like that.

I wasn't very troubled by the incident.  It was over, we were all okay.  But then I started thinking about the headlines last month when someone was killed in downtown GR over road rage.  They didn't know each other.  Someone was having a bad day, and it got worse in the blink of an eye for everyone involved.  Illogical, random, and terrible.

Last night I watched the news.  The first four stories:

•  5 year old hit by a car as he was crossing the street back from the ice cream truck
• 4 month old died in a home while sleeping, maybe with her mom on the couch
• 5 high school girls recovering after a terrible car crash
• college freshman dies at MSU, alcohol a suspected cause

I turned off the tv, and sighed.  My children are out in the world, and there are moments that I can not protect them.

This morning, I read that a woman who is a member of our church passed away last night after a long illness.  Her children are in elementary school. 

People I love are affected by disease and accidents, and illogical and random badness.

The weather has been beautiful this week.  We're breaking records for warmth, and plants that have no business blooming in March are in full glory anyway.  Still, I want to hide my little family away behind locked doors for a while.  I want to color and bake with them, and never, ever let them go.  I will not, of course.  Willa is at school.  Jim is at work.  Henry and I will go for a long walk in a while.  I will not let fear dictate my life.  I do, however, admit the impulse to tuck them, and everyone safely in my pocket.  I admit I wish I had the power to protect everyone from everything by yelling from my porch steps.

Willa the ballerina

Yesterday Willa had her first ever ballet class.  It was amazing.  Not because she left her first 45 minutes of instruction as a pro of the plie, or able to do amazing arabesques. She wasn't.

My usually reserved daughter put on her new leotard, brought to her just before class by her dad as a surprise gift to celebrate her excitement over this fun adventure. She tied her new slippers (bought by her mom because the class listing said she needed them), and strutted into the mirrored room by herself.

I watched as she stretched and smiled at me through the glass wall.  I watched as she swept her arm across her body, and then beam at the teacher.  I watched her doing moves that can best be described as floppy chicken wing jumping.  I'm sure in her mind she was graceful.

I know in my heart she was graceful.  Because this kid has a habit of giving up on things she's not immediately perfect at.  And there she was - flopping with elbows and hair flying everywhere - with a look of pure joy.

When class was over, she raced out of the room and hugged me, blurting out, "I love you, mom!"  We're both very excited about the next class.

Thanks again, Maribeth, for telling me about the class, and for watching Henry during her first class.  It was so nice to be able to focus on her and notice these things.

Taking care of (a little less of) me

Last month I posted about buying (and wearing) jeans a size smaller. 

In the past, I've made some promises to myself that I've broken.  I've made big plans and schedules and goals, and... just never stuck with it.  Because a sinus infection derailed plans, and I didn't start back up.  Or because I just "didn't have time." Or, a zillion other things...

Over the past 2 months, I've been quietly working on my body.  No declarations, no charts, no promises. Just work.  I've been spending time on the elliptical, and use that time to catch up on NPR weekend show podcasts, or sitcoms on the internet.  I've been doing some dance and kickboxing video workouts.  I'm finding that I like that feeling of earning sweat and soreness.  I can feel my body getting a little stronger, and am not as tired as I used to feel.  I took some measurements this week, and the tape meets the end at a smaller number than before.  Improvements. 

I might occasionally use this blog as an accountability space.  Or, I might not. 

Right now, I'm casually dating exercise, and enjoying it.  No labels, 'kay?

She reads, writes, draws, and publishes

Willa is literate now.

She and I curl up under the blankets in her bed to read a chapter from The Boxcar Children books every night.  She interrupts to point out words that she can read.  As I was typing, the thought that she won't need me beside her for night time reading crossed my mind.  I can't dwell on that.

She also writes.  A lot.  There are scraps of paper all over our house with lists (Willa's birthday list: a female and a male rabbit, a parakeet, a bird cage...) and sentences (I made this note for you.  You will like it.), and half written notes (Good morning, mom.  Today is February...). 

She wrote a book in November.  It's made of legal paper that she folded in 1/2.  She wrote and illustrated it, and I had no idea what she was doing until she asked for the stapler.  Here it is :

She drew our family at school yesterday, and now the Blog Sinki has a new header.

Dancing Henry

A few weeks ago, we borrowed the movie "Singing in the Rain" from the library.  Henry was mezmerized.  The singing!  The dancing!  Kiddo is a showman at heart.

Tonight we watched Ghostbusters 2.  He loved that, too, and once yelled out, "they need their futon packs!"  It's proton, by the way.  At the end of this movie, just like the end of any movie, he danced while the credits rolled.  Wanna see?

School Willa

We had parent teacher conferences for Willa today.  Our kindergartner is doing great: academically and socially.   She scored very well on her standardized tests, and she's writing well ahead of her grade level.  When she has free time, she often chooses to help friends with word flashcards.

I'm (obviously) so proud of her.

Taking care of me

Two days ago, I got paid from my little job.  I haven't had a paycheck for a while (clerical error, bah!), and it felt wonderful to have some money that I earned again.  But not as wonderful as something that I bought with that money.

This week, I bought new jeans.  And for the first time in two years, they are a size smaller than what I bought last time.  I'll pause for the little party you are surely throwing for me at your computer...

I've been spending some time on the elliptical and either listening to "This American Life" podcasts or watching shows on hulu.  Today, I was tired of the machine, and instead returned to my hip-hop cardio dvd.  Guess what?  I'm still uncoordinated, but it's a fun way to get that heart rate up.

Wise beyond 5

The kids and I watched an animated fable where an ailing lion king invites his subject to visit him and convince him why they should be the next ruler.  A fox did not visit the lion because when he got to the mouth of the cave dwelling, he noticed that there were footprints going in, but none going out.  It showed the lion surrounded by heaps of bones.
"That sneaky, bad lion, " I said.
Willa furrowed her brow.  I started to explain what the lion had done to his subjects, and she interrupted.
"I know what happened.  I wonder why you say he was bad.  Lions have to eat too, mom."

And then I had to explain what insightful meant.