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On Becoming

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When my daughter was born, a new person was born inside of me.  One that thought a lot more about what it meant to be other, outside, and different.  I had lived my whole life inside the comfortable confines of being a middle class white person.  Sure, my parents struggled and lived on the fringes of consumerism.  We had enough, but only just.  My dad worked hard, my mom worked hard, and we got by with enough.  I never spent a whole lot of time considering what not enough looks like.  I had what I needed, I never went hungry, and my parents provided toys and movies and other entertainments that are the hallmark of what we might consider American life. But, when my daughter came to us with a complicated background, this new person inside me started to wonder.  Why were circumstances for others so different from my own?  How would her life be different with another family? What if her birth mother had decided a different path?   These questions, and lots of others, were pushed and enlarg
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Forty three

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 My sister told me I should blog again.  A lot has happened since I did this thing - I'm a little rusty.  In the last few years, I've sort of relinquished the dream of being a writer - like, a real writer, not a hobby writer - and so the act of writing became...less.  Less important, less often, less satisfying.  It's an instrument out of tune. Why relinquish the dream? Life got busy.  A lot has changed.  In the 5 years since I blogged regularly: My son graduated high school and went on a two year mission for our church. My daughter turned 12, 13, 14, and 15.  Fifteen!   We moved a couple of times. Trump became president.  I got a job and started teaching, then principal-ing and now director-ing.  I'm buried in it right now. My brothers both moved away. A pandemic. My parents moved away (just last week, after a long time planning). And lots of other small and big moments, mashed together in a blur. Now here I am, still trying to figure me out.   I used to think that whe
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Possibly a treat, but maybe a fork in the eye

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So, school started back up.  For me and the kids.  Josh started 8th grade, if you're curious (but probably you aren't, too bad, stop reading or something.  No wait, I lied!  Don't go!  Fudge.) he is not being home schooled this year.  Instead he is off to his first year of middle school.  So far - well, the first few days went alright.  Tonight was his first night of homework.  Yeah, that was about as fun as you might imagine. Carly started first grade.  She says she loves it (I have my doubts, but she insists).  She has homework too, that makes me want to poke people. I started school on Monday also.  So we're pretty much the most tired, cranky, unhappy lot on the block. To make up for the Debbie Downerness of this post, I present the first bit of some scribbles I've been working on.  I'd love some feedback, especially of the constructive honest yet kind type. p.s. this is my original work and therefore protected accordingly by copyright and crap.  So,
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