I can't believe summer is almost over. Well, we have about three weeks left and I'm so sad. I absolutely LOVE having my girls around. I know I'm not the norm here... Even if Monster High is so fucking rampant in this abode and I want to barf! I think I could manage a few more months of Monster play.
We sent "the note" via email to their school (because I am a total chicken shit vs face-to-face....) saying they won't be returning and we will be enrolling them in our local public school. (With all of the volunteering and subbing, I/we were treated as I thought we would be. Nary a forethought. and you are???...???....) I think I am more scared of this change than they are. Part of me wants to home school them to have more control but then again, I'm not sure I would do the best job in their edumacation if they hung around here day in and day out. I can see us having our laundry and ironing caught up, the best fattening recipes replicated from tutorials by Giadia and Ina, samplings from EVERY restaurant in Oklahoma during our lunch hours, as well as being the number one 'hit' on You Tube for Monster High how-to videos. Because it does seem to be a fucking free-for-all-around here with imagination.
When I hit fourth grade, I knew there was no Santa. I knew about sex because of bathroom conversations and a quite candid conversation with my mother about the "Joy of Sex." I knew if I spoke about my obsession with my Barbies? I would be totally on the outs with my fellow class men.
My fourth grader? Is really clueless about this reality. She actually came into my bathroom with massive joy and crazy energy telling me that her FROGGY! was laughing and mocking her. The stuffed animal she has had since she was three-months-old. is.laughing.at.her.and.mocking.her.
I must say I wasn't too receptive at first as I was hiding my junk on the toilet for a moment of peace with my US Magazine. Then I started dissecting her words and started to really worry. You see, there is a massive instability and mental health clause haunting us in our family lineage. Mainly mine. I started wondering, does she really think this inanimate object is really laughing at her because she was mad at him? or is she projecting? or well, maybe, she's being imaginative?
I asked her if she REALLY thought this thing was laughing at her and she answered stoically, "yes, he was." and then she ran away from the conversation. SHIT! How the fuck do you respond?
My worst fear is she's slowly going fucking crazy and my family history is really starting to rear it's ugly glimpsing head in my/her mirror. Then? Part of me thinks, man, you should really be forcing more multiplication tables on her ass.
I have to say, we have totally embraced the whole be a kid and discover your inner-child thingy-majig this summer. I mean, what dad would go to such extremes as to Photo-Shop this scenario for his girls? I poo-poo it while asking them to clean up after themselves because I don't have the time to be creative any longer. Though to be honest, I was the kid who made Barbie rooms out of beading from Indian beading kits and homemade furniture out of any piece of cardboard I could find because we were poor and because I was an only child. I would spend hours creating intricate furniture and album collections from junk mail and well, I turned out okay. Well. Sort of. Okay, so I don't have a DSM IV indication behind my name. Just yet.
My biggest fear is other than having a child die (check!), one of my children will turn out crazy like my family. I LOVE fostering creativity because in a world of video games and mechanical break-downs, our children aren't capable of solving problems through their most beautiful resource, their brains.
I'm just wondering if we have gone too far to the other side. Both Rich and I are creative. We can bedazzle the shit out of a bird feeder or create the best virtual playhouse with the best of them. Do we deliver? Not really because quite honestly, we are very lazy people. I think our problem happens to be, life has gotten in our way of fulfilling our dreams. Maybe we are leaning too far to the side that it might/is disabling our kids because of our short-comings.
Maybe, I have to bring my anxiety full-circle and realize while their personalities have been formed by the age of five, they were not full of schedules and inconsequential shit. Their formative creative selves have an even shorter shelf life. I want them to remember that they had a full and robust childhood given their "formative" childhood was riddled with tragedy.
I want them to remember, man, " Can you believe I had such a crazy obsession with Monster High? Do you think my kids would get a kick out of these freaky-ass dolls?"or maybe, I should worry that we are all going crazy and I should be doing some pre-planning for our house in the hills where we can all dream, explore and fly our freak flags for all not to see.