Katie's Kid Art: Sky, Home, Playground

"Katie Looking Out the Window" by Katie Carleton, age 6

Katie drew this while lying on the couch sick with her fifth fever-inducing illness in five months.  In the bottom right corner Katie is looking out the window.  The first star she sees is the wishing star above.  Then she sees the Big Dipper, the Milky Way, and the moon up in the left corner.  At least the germs are not invading her imagination.

"A Little House" by Katie Carleton, age 6

Katie drew this while she was convalescing on the couch, too.  It's pretty straight-forward.  I like the yellow glow of light inside the house coming through the windows.

"Me Playing at the Playground" by Katie Carleton, age 6

Katie drew this one during "free draw" time at school.  Katie is the white girl swinging.  I asked her who the sliding brown-skinned girl is.  She said, "she's my friend" without going into specifics.  I like how Katie is starting to draw figures from the side.  If you're wondering what is the significance of the rainbow 4, all I know is Katie's cubby at school is number 4, so she often puts this number on her work so the teacher knows who it belongs to.  The rainbow is a nice embellishment evoking racial harmony, even if that wasn't the artist's intent.

The Robe Queen's Homeschool Film Studies: Terrifying Musicals

Katie is home sick.  Again.  She's missing a lot of school but she's getting quite the homeschool film studies education.

She's lying on the couch.  I ask if she wants to pick out a movie to watch.

"You pick it out.  Surprise me.  But there is only one rule.  Do not pick out The Lion King," Katie instructs.

"Why don't you like The Lion King?" I ask, chuckling.  I don't like it either, but I want to see why she doesn't.

"The Lion King is terrifying!" Katie wiggles further under the covers on the couch.

"Because his dad dies?" I ask.

"Yeah!"

"But what about Bambi?  You'll watch Bambi, but, remember, his mommy dies?" I say.

"Mom, The Lion King is more terrifying than Bambi because lions are king of the wild and Bambi is just a sweet little deer."

"But that's so sad that a sweet little deer loses his mother!" I argue.

"Mom," Katie says, putting her hand on my shoulder and looking me in the eye solidly.  Even though hers are glassy and feverish, they aren't wet like mine.  "It's OK.  There are two rules now.  No Lion King and no Bambi."

I stand up to look at our movie collection.  We still have a working VCR and quite a selection of old VHS tapes Will's picked up for a buck here and there.  "So something funny?"

"Or adventurous!  But not The Lion King!"

"Or Bambi!"

"Right.  Or Bambi!"

We settle for Mary Poppins.

Katie begins humming a song from Bedknobs and Broomsticks when she sees me pop it into the machine.  "That's not from Mary Poppins," I say.

"Oh yeah.  Well, Bedknobs and Broomsticks is like Mary Poppins," Katie informs me.

"Oh yeah.  They're both musicals," I say.

"What's a musical?"

"It's a story where the characters don't just talk but they sing too," I explain.

"But they don't just sing?" Katie clarifies.

"Right."  I almost say, "That would be opera," but I don't.  I'm afraid she'll want examples and I'm ready for my coffee break.  This homeschool film studies teaching gig doesn't pay anything so I have to make sure I at least get my breaks.  Wear's my robe?

The Who Knows

My blog's gotten over 8,000 page views in the month of January.  Such tremendous support.  Thank you!  But it gets me thinking: Why am I doing this?  The virtual recognition is encouraging, but the flighty feeling flutters away in a day or two.  I'm not in it for the money, which is virtually nonexistent.  Why do I keep doing it?

I like this quote from PBS Idea Channel:

Where older cultural systems exist for basically profit, internet culture exists for... it's really hard to say.  Maybe pure expression?  Maybe altruistic entertainment?  Who knows? 

 

Watch Are Memes and Internet Culture Creating a Singularity? on PBS. See more from Idea Channel.

It's the who knows that attracts me.  That's what makes blogging so exciting and so rewarding.  I get to explore the who knows.

Must Watch: PBS Idea Channel with Mike Rugnetta

Here's an idea: education can be entertaining. Kinda like art itself. If you're looking for a great series that doesn't feel like a total time suck, check out Mike Rugnetta's PBS Idea Channel.  Plop it down in the "self-improvement" column on your mental to do list and feel good about your entertainment consumption of the day:

Watch Super Mario Brothers as Surrealist Art? on PBS. See more from Idea Channel.

Math Problem

I've got a math problem.  My child likes math and I don't.

"This is fun," Katie announced from the kitchen table.  

My daughter is doing her math homework and she thinks it's fun.  Yes, that's right.  Fun.  I don't recall ever thinking math is fun, but I don't say this to my six-year-old.  I smile at her.  I keep doing the dishes, which is also not fun.  

Most everyone knows I'm math-phobic, but I'm in the closet around my daughter.  I want to give her a few years to develop her own attitude about the subject before she gets swayed by my tendency to hate it.  I regret dropping out of college because College Algebra was too hard.  If Katie ever drops out of college, I want it to be because she has better things to do, not because she wasn't up for the challenge like her slacker mother.

I wasn't always a slacker.  I'm just the kind of person who needs lots of validation and I didn't get enough from my accountant father who is better with numbers than with people.

I was once an enthusiastic student.  Highly sensitive, some would even say a cry baby, I was generally an eager achiever in elementary school.  Things changed in junior high.  When I was in seventh grade I proudly handed over my report card.  It was a new school.  New friends, well, no friends yet.  I still stayed pretty quiet and kept to myself.  I missed my old friends back home.  But I had all As and Bs and I was proud of myself for doing so well in my new school.  Then Dad laughed in my face and said, "Wow, all I ever got was Cs and Ds, except in math.  I always got As in math."

My math score plummeted after that semester.  I can't be like Dad.  What an asshole.  Math is for assholes.

I was merely thirteen when I formulated that oversimplification and translated it into a lifelong phobia of math.  Add twenty-nine years and I no longer equate math with the difficult man who is my father.  It can't be all bad if my sweet kiddo likes it.  Good correlative fun!

Best Laugh I've Had All Day: Don't Pity the Puppy

The best laugh I've had all day is brought to you by the rescue group Peace Love and Pit bulls.  Here is Bandit, a tiny pit bull who just wants to run!  Don't pity the puppy!

  

Oh it feels so good to laugh.  Enjoy!

Welcome to Kansas: Home of Bizarro Sherwood Forest

I recently blogged about the disconnect between Governor Sam Brownback's compassionate Christian public persona and his actual governing style.  People can call him "Pastor Sam" all they want, but a governor who treats his poor constituents like Brownback does is ignoring a fundamental truth behind his faith: Jesus loved poor people.

But it's not just Brownback and it's not just Kansas.  Rachel Maddow recently aired a segment about how these bait and switch type of politicians are hurting poor people in other states too.  As Maddow points out in this clip below, "What you do with power says a lot more than what you say about power, even if it isn't always said as loudly."

Visit NBCNews.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Maddow goes on to show us how tax policies like the ones supported by Governor Brownback are going to hurt poor people while simultaneously helping rich people.  Watch this clip below:

Visit NBCNews.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Rachel Maddow: "This is the new republican leadership talking point: 'President Obama is mean!'  And republicans are helpless before his meanness in Washington.  But you know what?  Republicans have complete control of government in twenty four states.  Which is a lot.  And where they do have control, they're not blaming Obama.  Right?  Look at what they're doing in governance.  They're having the rich pay less and they're having the poor pay more.  This is not what they're marketing to the nation, but this is what they're doing when they're handed the reigns of government."

It's like I'm living in Bizarro Sherwood Forest.  Let's rob from the poor to give to the rich!  I don't need a bracelet to remind me that this is not what Jesus would do.  How 'bout you, Pastor Sam?

image source: Wikipedia

Warning: This Post Will Make You Sick

My family was attacked by norovirus last week.  Whoever said humans are at the top of the food chain has yet to have these viral predators invade their body.  Norovirus kills over 800 individuals in our species each year.  I felt like one of them.

Image Source: Wikipedia

I'm the kind of person who only prays when I mean it.  I'm fine with an occasional "Thank God!" for what life ordinarily throws at me, but I don't like to pray for things too much because it feels greedy.  As one of seven billion homo sapiens on this planet, I like to hold the door open for other people's prayers to reach God while my paltry needs wait their turn.  I like to store up my plea-prayers for times of utter desperation.  Like when hot lava is shooting out of the gastrointestinal orifices at both ends of my body.

"Please, God!  Make it stop!" I cried out, unashamed.

Sickness erases shame.  It humbles us.  It brings us closer to an awareness that while we're alive we are constantly on the brink of death.  It forces us to realize that no matter what kind of hot shits we are during times of good health, at any given moment microscopic beings can take control of our bodies and make us beg for mercy.

I've heard of praying to the porcelain gods after a night of hard drinking.  Those prayers sound something like this:

"Please God, make it stop!  I promise I'll never drink again if You just please, please, please make it stop!"

Porcelain god pray-ers are fucking liars.  They want God to make them feel better, but once they do, they go back to feeling like shit about their lives, which leads to more drinking in attempts to feel better again.  I don't pity self-inflicted porcelain god pray-ers.

I do, however, have the utmost sympathy for porcelain god pray-ers who arrived at their state through no fault of their own.  Collateral damage due to a vicious viral enemy combatant.  Victims of norovirus have a free pass in the plea-prayer department.  Anyone who suffers through that kind of personal attack and doesn't cry out for help from some kind of Supreme Power makes Sam Harris look like a believer.  

The little buggers got to Katie first.  I knew something was up when she refused to eat breakfast or lunch and then asked to take a nap.  I'm always down for a nap, so I slept peacefully next to her until I was awoken by the command, "Get a bowl!" followed by the feeling of hot, sticky vomitus oozing under the covers and settling in my lap before I'd made it out of bed in time.

From what I've read this is one of the most contagious viruses out there, so I probably would have gotten sick even if I hadn't had such direct contact with the nastiness.  Two days later Katie was feeling better and up getting ready for school.  She asked me to scramble her an egg for breakfast.  I have a wussy stomach that's prone to first-thing-in-the-morning irritability, but even I can usually manage to scramble the kid an egg.  This time no.  I couldn't stomach it.  She had to settle for a pre-packaged apple cereal bar while I puked in the kitchen sink.

Two days later Will came down with it.  He's younger and has a super immune system, so he was only sick for a day.

It's been six days for me.  It's a Sartre-esque case of nausea and not a medical one now, though.  I'm over the bug, but still nauseous.  It has more to do with the awful news that's been churning inside my head ever since I saw this data compiled by The Bureau of Investigative Journalism, rather than from any bugs churning inside my stomach:


CIA Drone Strikes in Pakistan 2004–2013:
Total reported killed: 2,629-3,461
Civilians reported killed: 475-891
Children reported killed: 176

US Covert Action in Yemen 2002–2013:
Total reported killed (all): 374-1,112
Total civilians killed (all): 72-178
Children killed (all): 27-37

US Covert Action in Somalia 2007–2013:
Total reported killed: 58-170
Civilians reported killed: 11-57
Children reported killed: 1-3

I'm so sick of war.  We cannot fight a war on terror by becoming terrorists ourselves.  We must cry out for help to make it stop.

"Of all the enemies of public liberty, war is perhaps the most to be dreaded, because it comprises and develops the germ of every other." -- James Madison

"War is an instrument entirely inefficient toward redressing wrong; and multiplies, instead of indemnifying losses." -- Thomas Jefferson

"How far can you go without destroying from within what you are trying to defend from without?" -- Dwight D. Eisenhower

"The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them." -- George Orwell

"What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans, and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty and democracy?" -- The Mahatma Gandhi

"All forms of violence, especially war, are totally unacceptable as means to settle disputes between and among nations, groups and persons." -- The Dalai Lama

"We have guided missiles and misguided men." -- Martin Luther King, Jr.

"I'm tired of old men dreaming up wars for young men to fight.  If he wants to use American ground troops in Cambodia, let him lead the charge himself." -- George McGovern, an anti-war hero who lost big time in a presidential election a long time ago to a Quaker named Richard Nixon.  I thought Quakers were anti-war?

But what do I know?  I'm the kind of mom who lets her kid go off to school in Kansas on January 29th wearing shorts because it was nearly 70 degrees when she left this morning.  I just got back from dropping off a pair of long pants for Katie at school.  She lives an idyllic life in the suburbs and her mommy brings her warm pants when the temperature drops twenty degress in two hours so she can concentrate on her school work without her legs shivering.  While half-way across the globe my tax dollars pay for drone attacks that kill innocent children my daughter's age.  No matter how much their mothers try to cover them.

I can see a brown-skinned mother holding her daughter's hair back while she pukes in a bowl.  Norovirus knows no national boundaries.  It strikes at will, imprecisely.  So this mother is caring for her sick child.  Just like I did last week.  She nurses her back to health.  Then a drone strikes and kills this mother's child.  The child this person carried inside her own body for nine months.  This child who drank milk from this mother's breasts and grew strong and healthy.  This child who has nothing to do with terrorists any more than my child has to do with military superpowers.  This child is my child.

Make it stop! 

Today's cold rain reminds me of that day back in 2008 when I stood in line for an hour outside my caucus site to stand on your side of the room, President Obama.  I should have stood with the one guy in the corner holding a Dennis Kucinich sign.

But I did stand on your side of the room, Mr. Obama.  You said you were going to end the wars.  Then, after caucusing for you I voted for you in the elections, twice.  And I'm thrilled at so many of the good things that you have done for our nation.  But now it's time to call you out.

Make it stop!

President Obama, like McGovern said, let's see you lead the charge yourself.  If you honestly think these drone attacks are necessary to protect our nation from harm, as you said so here, please, sir, I ask you to spend a few minutes behind the controls of one of these drones.  What if it were you who sat in that safe seat far away and dropped a robot bomb and watched a child explode on a monitor before your eyes?  A child brushed off as "a dog".  Would you finally say enough's enough?

Make it stop!

It's time to rest our nation's arms and use our arms to cradle children instead of killing them.

The Grateful Dead Valentine and Maggie Gyllenhaal's Hair

During "free draw" in art class at school today, Katie made this early Valentine for Will and me:

front: "Happy Vallntines (sic) Day! Mom and Dad" by Katie Carleton, age 6

inside: (l to r) Becky, Katie, Will 

Will does have the longest hair of us three, in real life and in this picture, but no, he does not have three boobs, if that's what you're thinking.  Those squiggles are writing on his t-shirt.  It says, "Grateful Dead" and has a "skeleton" underneath, says Katie.  

I like what she's done with my hair.  I've been disappointed with my latest hair cut because I don't look like Maggie Gyllenhaal like I asked for.  I had planned on bringing this photo to the salon, but I forgot to print it and I don't have a smart phone to summon it while sitting in the chair trying to explain what I mean by a "funky/flippy wavy bob".  I think next time I'll bring Katie's Valentine to show the stylist how I want my hair to look.  The artist's got it down.  She knows what her subjects like.   

3-D Printers Don't Kill People, People Kill People

I've been writing about guns a lot lately and frankly I'm sick of it.  I hate guns.  I'm a freaking pacifist for Dude's sake!  You can read those posts here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.  Then this article popped onto my screen this morning and now I just have to say one more thing.

This.  This is what I've been saying.

image source: Flickr

Thank you Salon for publishing something difficult for us Americans to digest with our early morning coffee and prepackaged cereal bars:

Perhaps not today, but almost certainly tomorrow, the code to 3-D print your own gun will be as shareable as MP3s. Outmoded legal approaches to restricting gun ownership may not apply.

Criminals who want to kill people can find ways to make their own weapons.  Come on.  I hardly ever watch TV or go to crime dramas at the movies and even I know how easy it is for a prisoner to get shivved by a fellow inmate.  We can ban all the assault riffles we want hoping it will prevent senseless killings, but murderers don't follow the law.  The fact is, people who love to kill people are part of the DIY movement too.  It's not an exclusive club.  Maker Murderers, if you will.  Anyone with a will can find a way to make their own weapons no matter how hard we try to ban them.  Nowadays all you need is a 3-D printer.

Stopping senseless killing is a wonderful goal.  And it's such an important goal, I wish more people would work hard to think of myriad ways we can attain it without solely relying on the law to protect us from outlaws.

We need to address the issue holistically.  Get to the root of the problem.  What makes people want to kill?  The Bible tells us it's forbidden to murder.  Religious leaders scare us into believing we'll burn in hell for all of eternity if we murder another.  Why doesn't that prevent people from killing each other?  Laws, secular and religious, are great for some people, but they don't work on everyone.  We need to figure out what triggers humanity's urge to kill so we can figure out ways to combat it.

Might as well shoot myself in the head.  Who's got time for hard thinking?  I've got my daughter to raise and that takes up most of my time.  Trying to raise her as peaceably as possible.  To think critically whether I'm around or not.  To remain nonviolent even when provoked by people she disagrees with.  To pay attention to her own body and treat herself to good health.  To understand that mental illness runs in our family and there's no shame in asking for help.  To recognize within herself emotions such as anger and jealousy but remember they are moods that lift and simmer down with deep breaths and introspective moments and eventually everything will be fine.  It's hard to be a mother.  To protect her and guide her and send her off into this big scary world.  I have so many things to teach my daughter.  So much to learn myself so I can be a proper model for my child.  I don't have time to save the world.  I've got a child to raise.

PeaceMaker Mama, if you will.