An unexpected rant.

The first song I heard this morning was "Two Princes" by Spin Doctors. While maybe I should feel embarrassed for liking that song, I really don't. It's one of the most upbeat and fun songs I know. I turned it up and the kids and I had a mini-dance party in the bathroom while getting ready for the last full day of school. I love it when the morning starts off in a good way like that. Like one week, swear to God, every morning we heard "1901" by Phoenix. If you can listen to that song and not want to dance, something is seriously wrong with you, and, frankly, we should never be friends.

So today is the last day of one of the most difficult weeks ever. Or I hope it's the last day. A week ago I found out S made a ledger mistake and we were at a negative balance with a week to go before pay. First thing I did was to check the fridge and freezer- truly close to empty. I asked where we were with the credit cards- maxed on all but one. Awesome. We made a very minimalist grocery list, took the Easter ham out of the freezer to thaw, and planned a week of cheap eating. And no booze. (NOOOO!) Fine, okay. When things get tough, I can handle it. I am a put your head down and truck through it kind of girl. Like running uphill. If you put your head down and just look at the few feet in front of you, it doesn't feel as difficult. Because you're not looking at the long-haul, you're just looking at the short-term. I do this with life, too. And I did. And it was going alright, until the credit card companies started calling. And then the bank decided to post some pending charges after clearing a large check, causing us to go into overdraft on 7 charges at $35 a pop. And that's when I started to lose my cool.

Let me say this: I have dealt with the death of both of my parents to cancer, my mom the day after my 19th birthday, my dad last year. I recently lost my grandmother, who cared for my sister and me when my mom was sick. She was one of the most beautiful people in the world. In spite of these, THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN HAVING NO MONEY.

Death is one of those things that happens. I'm not saying it's not difficult, especially when it's sudden, but death is universal. Everyone dies, rich or poor, ugly or beautiful. And because of that, we can work through those feelings of loss. But what is there to work through when you are broke? How do you come to terms with buying white bread, sweetened with HFCS, filled with hydrogenated oils, and made with bleached flour, and then actually using it to make sandwiches for your kids' lunches? All the while knowing how awful those things are for their bodies. All the while knowing how important whole grains and natural fats and sugars are instead. And still packing those lunches and buying that bread because you know you can get 2 big loaves of it for the price of 1 small loaf of good bread. How do you come to terms with that?

And even worse, this is just one week for me. Sure, I'm looking for a part time job so this won't happen again, because it was, seriously, just God-awful for me. But I think of people who live their lives this way. In communities where there aren't grocery stores, just convenience stores with no fresh produce. Where WIC approves Wonder Bread and Skippy Peanut Butter and Doritos and hot dogs, but nothing organic. Where "Get a job" means McDonald's if you're lucky. And I'm no better. Because the p/t job I'm looking for certainly won't be at McD's. And as soon as the check posts in the account tomorrow I'm going straight to Target. Stupid consumerist that I am.

I recently read DESTROY ALL CARS by Blake Nelson, and, while his MC was kind of over the top in that way that teenagers are (and definitely not a reflection on the author at all, because I LOVE BLAKE NELSON), I get where he was coming from. We have established our society to depend on the things we build. Our families are so scattered, we can't visit each other without driving. Our food isn't local (unless you live in *those* communities and can afford it). Our buildings lack windows and force heat or cold air at us. And we destroy our world in the process. And two days ago I finished INTO THE WILD. Made me want to take my family and live off the grid. But I think of our social responsibility, and I don't know that it's right to be so individualistic when there is so much need in the world.

So what am I doing about any of this?

Yeah, good question.

Listening to: Local Natives "Gorilla Manor" on my laptop, through iTunes, while I sit drinking non-organic, non-Fair Trade coffee, with the air on and while MG watches Max & Ruby on our flat panel television.

On being a woman.

I've been reading a lot of YA lately. I mean, a lot. And mostly Blake Nelson, of whom I have a HUGE author crush on, really, ever since I read GIRL way back when. If you haven't read that book and you are literate, you should be ashamed of yourself. I identify with Andrea Marr in that way I identify with Jane Eyre. Anyway, in the last two weeks I've read PROM ANONYMOUS, THE NEW RULES OF HIGH SCHOOL, ROCKSTAR SUPERSTAR, DESTROY ALL CARS- all by Blake Nelson (PARANOID PARK is next in queue) and WINTERGIRLS by Laurie Halse Anderson. Also JANE EYRE and DUNE ROAD (Jane Green)- those are not really YA, just giving a complete list here. And I picked up KARMA FOR BEGINNERS by Jessica Blank. I'm trying to get an idea for the genre to see if it's something I think I could write. I know I stepped into that territory for a bit- the first 3 original chapters of JALR all take place in high school- and, actually, it was pretty fun.

Here's what I love about YA: These teenagers have problems. They have complexion issues. They have trouble fitting in. Their clothes are all wrong. They're misunderstood. They can't find a boyfriend/girlfriend. If they do, they worry about having sex. They drink or do drugs and it messes with them. Or not. Anyway, it's a hell of a lot like being an adult, as far as I'm concerned. I mean, if we're honest, we worry about this shit just the same. Or maybe that's just me, and I'm somehow "special." But the lovely thing about it all is, despite all the problems, despite the trauma/drama, there's so much hope. Even in WINTERGIRLS, where the protagonist nearly kills herself with an eating disorder, there's *FUTURE* looming ahead, filled with possibility. Like graduation. Or college. Or that next big love.

Here's what I hate about being a woman: Upon entering the realm of adulthood, the idea of possibility is cruelly snatched away, something like the rug being pulled out from under you. When you're a woman, becoming an adult is the end of you. If you choose to strictly have a career, you are not a caring person or something must be intrinsically wrong with you to not have had a family. If you have a family and work, you are not spending a) enough quality time with your kids; and b) enough quality time at work; and are therefore a failure at both. If you stay home with your children and devote your life to them, you are a soccer mom who has lost her sense of self. If you stay at home with your children but try to have outside interests, you are selfish and a horrible mother. How do you win at this? How is it possible to recognize these facts (because that's what they are) and have any desire to do anything at all? When whatever you do is wrong.

I know this. I feel it. I worked ridiculous hard before I had kids. I was criticized for being too involved in my job. I got pregnant, had a baby and stayed home for several years. I did the homegrown thing in my house, all for the sake of my kids. I stopped going out with my friends because I found I had nothing besides all my in-home projects to talk about. I went back to work and felt the pull of my job and my family. I could never give enough to either. I quit again to be home and to write, but again feel the strain. When I write, I'm taking my time away from everyone else. When I don't write, I'm miserable. Where's the middle ground?

There isn't any. Because there's no win. There's guilt and condescending attitudes. There's anger and resentment. There's sadness and invisibility.

I write a lot about choice. About taking back control of our lives. Truth be told, there are a lot of times I don't believe a word of it. Still, like those YA books I so adore, I like to believe in the possibility. I like to think that hope isn't just something we feel in vain. That maybe it just sucks because I'm in the middle of it, and there's some kind of a graduation looming ahead to look forward to.

Listening to: Headlights "Wildlife"

xo. kb.

Curfews

I'm sure you've read, my mom died when I was 19. I moved in with my dad not long after. Dad was very old-school. He had ideas about parenting that were very specific and one of those specifics was curfew. My mom had given my sister and me a curfew, but she was a deep sleeper and so we kind of came and went as we pleased. Dad was strict and if he said you had a curfew, by God you came home by that time. This was an annoyance to me because I was in college at the time and none of my friends had a curfew, but I went along with it because I'm not a boat-rocker.

It became a huge problem, however, when I graduated college. I moved home because I didn't have a job and wasn't really sure what I was going to do with my life. I thought that things would be different with my dad because I was 21, could legally do all sorts of things, and was a college graduate ready to start really living. And then my dad informed me I had a curfew. 12 weeknights and 1 weekends. We are not specifically a religious family. We are all drinkers, my dad heavily so, and would drink together frequently, so that was not the issue. The issue was control, and the reminder of who was in charge. And that was, apparently, my dad. The feeling of being put in a box (my father's house) was so overwhelming I could stand it for only 2 months before I had saved enough money to move out. It wasn't that I didn't like my dad, because I loved him. And I could kind of understand that he, in his way, was doing it from a perspective of love. But the bottom line was that I could not breathe in such rigid constraints, and I had to get out.