fitting in, part two

After all my crabbin' and ventin' about fitting in in yesterday's post, I have to tell you...there's another side to it. Once again the Fairy of Perspective visits and twists my head into thinking maybe, just maybe...there's another way to look at it.

My frustration comes because I've never felt like I fit in (like so many people who have commented here or emailed me about posts I've had on this subject). So then, I don't know if its human nature or what, but a person wants to search for a place they fit in. You think you find it, be it theater or unschooling or art or church or PTA or whatever your thing is. After awhile though, you figure out you don't absolutely fit there either. And the frustration builds, because you think you're supposed to fit. Somewhere. Absolutely. You start to think you don't belong anywhere. You're too different. No one thinks like you. No one is as insanely varied as you are. Right?

Well...after awhile, when looking at it from the tips of the trees that the Fairy of Perspective dragged you off to, you realize that whole mindset is actually feel sorry for me, I'm different, you'll never understand me. Sort of leftover teenage angst rolled up into a ball of adult-martyr-poor-me-hood.

Its not pretty. It's actually kind of whiny. And pathetic.

That darn Fairy of Perspective says, "So you like a lot of different things. So you're different and varied and undefinable. Does that mean you don't fit in anywhere? Or does that maybe mean you fit in a lot of different places."

See the difference?

It's attitude.

I have a cousin who can talk to anyone. I asked her once what her secret was. She said she figures you have something in common with everyone you meet. You just have to figure out what that one thing is, and go from there. In her world, everyone fits together.

The millions of different things I like to do or believe in or have opinions about can either be seen as a reason to not connect or a reason to connect. I can view them as a million reasons to be an outsider, or a million reasons to fit in. Once again, it's perspective.

There are no absolutes. I'm not supposed to exactly fit with any other person. You can only stare at yourself so long in the mirror.

I could put myself out there with blue hair, and the "alternative crowd" could still think I'm a poser. The cheerleaders could still hate my sarcasm. Some unschoolers could still think I'm not unschooling. Some other types of homeschoolers could still call me an unstructured hippy unschooler.

But who cares?
I mean, really. Who the F cares?
If that's what they think, their loss. I guess.

I'll keep doing what I do, and grow my group of friends who do what they do. And even if the things we do aren't the same, we respect each other's freedom to do so.

You all know who you are. Wink. Hug. Grin.

As for the rest, I'm not going to have them draw a black and white outline around me, framing in who I am as a means of figuring out where I fit in.

After all, without an outline, I fit in far more places than I ever realized.

fitting in, part 1

Watch out for these dudes in about ten years.

Ok, wait. You'd better watch out for them now :)

A couple days ago the boys asked me if I could color their hair.
I smiled.
And said Yes.

(It's just washable markers. Works like a charm, and comes out slick.)

What does this have to do with anything? Namely, the title?

When I was in 10th grade, I colored my hair blue. On a whim. But 15 years ago if you colored your hair blue, you were a freak. Part of the alternative crowd. Now they have cheerleaders...teachers, even, with red and purple streaks. Now its fashionable. Its cool.

Anyway, my blue was totally temporary. (Washable markers, again.) And it was kind of fun...and a little frustrating...to wrap my head around the responses that people gave me regarding my new 'do. One teacher freaked out, seeing as how before that day I was apparently a Barbie Doll, super awesome student. But on this particular day, not so much. Now, I was one of those "alternative kids". I didn't fit the Barbie doll super awesome student mold anymore. (Interesting, since I didn't think I ever really had.)

I was kind of stuck in school, seeing as how the Barbie Doll thing never worked out (cheerleaders weren't too keen on my sarcasm) and the alternative crowd never worked out (they said I was just a poser). So there I was in a suburban mini-city (high school) where people ask "so what crowd do you hang with?" and no answer to give.

People, and their crowds, can be so elitist. Segregating. Rigid. Fenced in.
Fast forward 15 years. Present day.
I'd like to say that things have changed, but I'd be lying.

I've been thinking a lot about the end part of this darling's post, where she talks about having conflicted feelings about unschooling. I've also read (and re-read) the comments that were left. The whole thing gives voice to exact thoughts I've had on the same subject.

I think when you try to define a way of life whose basic belief is freedom, you run into all sorts of problems. How do you put a fence around that? When you start to define it, it becomes less of what it is, sometimes. I mean, if the point of unschooling is that the kids are free to learn, why do we have people snubbing their nose at kids who might want to pick up a workbook one day? Or play a game that (gasp!) might be described as downright edu-mah-cational?

I'm a member of some unschooling groups/lists, and sometimes I don't get it. The way things get picked apart, the somewhat elitist attitude that some seem to carry for subscribing to that way of life...or the you-clearly-haven't-done-your-research-about-unschooling-because-what-you're-doing-is-not-unschooling conversations that go on. Oh really? So if I'm not unschooling, what the F am I doing? I've never really understood how something based in freedom and flexibility can sometimes be so...rigid.

I mean, really. How can you not "fit in" to freedom? Isn't the point that everything fits?

I just get tired of groups. And rules. Boundaries that make no sense. Definitions that change. Trying to fit and knowing you don't. But still wanting a name. Wanting a way to identify yourself, if only to find other people like you. It was the same 15 years ago as it is today. Is it ever ok to do just do what we want? To hop in between groups...and maybe not fit into anyone of them?

Perhaps, when people ask what kind of homeschoolers we are, I should just answer...
well...
"we do what we do".
and smile sweetly.

it rained. we celebrated.

We've had a a decent amount of rain the past week, so the level of the creek has come up a bunch. Nowhere near what it should be, but better, nonetheless.

We will take "better", and use it as an excuse to celebrate!

We built balloon powered boats...


...and raced them.


...drove them ashore


...to catch froggish friends.


The rope swing called to us...





We just have to splash.

And throw giant rocks.


No, Mom. I'm not tired.


Honestly. I could go all day.


I know.
Soak up the fun until you crash.
Because that's what we do.
Isn't life deliciously grand?

a good morning, indeed

How much better can a morning start out?
Who wouldn't like to see this coming down the stairs as a start to their day?

"Good morning, mom. I brought you breakfast in bed."

Total sweetness. With honey on top.

exactly right

So I added some tunes to my blog, because music is such a huge part of my life. One might accuse me of being downright freakish about it.

I was reading through the post from a couple days ago and Ooky runs to the computer because Amy Steinberg's Exactly is playing. Ooky has just discovered this song and thinks its fantastic.

And silly me, I thought he just liked the tune.

So I'm scrolling through the post, then he takes over scrolling through the post. And he says, "Mom, this song is perfect for your blog."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because it talks about how we need to be exactly where we are. And that we are where we need to be. All these pictures show us being where we need to be. No matter where we are."

Be still my heart.

And there you go. A profound statement from a five year old. On Learn Nothing Day :)

making it fit

We've been having fun the past few days.


Smiling boys are always a treat.

So are smiling mamas.

Isn't it amazing how kids are drawn to water, even when their lips are blue?

Mama, remind me how to shoot an arrow.

I think I remember how to do it.


I forget how this all fits together.
Oh yes.
We were all together.
Having fun.
What a perfect fit.

quick lesson in perspective

Yesterday we attended a get-together of sorts at a local splash park. I ended up running into an older friend I know through church. She's the mama to one of my mom-pals, and works at the post office near our Old House. Here's how the conversation went -

MamaTea: You know, W, I thought of you the other day. The tiger lilies are so lovely at my mom's house and I thought about when...
W: (finishing my sentence)...you and your boys used to walk up to the post office with bouquets of flowers for me from your garden. Oh, I miss that.
MT: Me too.
W: You know, I just love your boys. They are so full of energy.
MT: (thinking maybe its just one of those polite conversation things, so I roll my eyes in embarrassment.) Hmm. Is that right?
W: No, I'm serious. Your boys are so...special, MT. They aren't afraid to say what's on their mind.
MT: (really embarrassed)Um...yep, I guess.
W: I love it when you bring them to church and Pastor is doing the children's sermon...your boys are right there, telling him exactly what they think.
MT: And I'm usually in the pews, cringing.
W: (laughs) Aw...you know, sometimes the qualities in children that are most embarrassing to the parents are the most important ones for kids to have. You should be proud that you've got kids who can speak their mind and use that energy. That's a very important thing to be able to do.
MT: (now you've got me thinking...)I suppose you're right.
W: You know, my oldest granddaughter starts kindergarten this year.
MT: Is she excited?
W: Yes, she's really excited to go to school, but I'm a little nervous for her.
MT: How so?
W: Well, she's got lots of fire and energy and isn't afraid to say what she thinks.
MT: And?
W: I'm really afraid that public school will squash that right out of her.
MT: (big lightbulb) Ah.
W: Appreciate your kids' energy, MT.

And there you have it. Perspective. At a splash park. Sometimes my kids intensity drives me insane. But the alternative, having it possibly squashed into a little ball and trashed by someone else because intensity is inconvenient, just doesn't work for me.

Thanks for the reminder, W. The insanity isn't necessarily bad. Once again, its all about perspective :)