The Left Side of the Moon

Daddy's Boys

I am of the firm opinion that my two boys are not the quintessential Daddy's boys they like to claim they are. Oh, they put on a good show, but I know the truth, they are Mommy's boys deep down inside, even if they don't want to admit it.

When Trouble was between the ages of one and two he went through a phase where he wanted no part of me. I was nowhere near as good as Daddy and he let me know it in no uncertain terms. If he woke in the middle of the night crying and I went in to get him, nine times out of ten he would look at me and say, "Not you! I want Daddy!" If tried to pick him up, he would sit down in his crib and move away from me.

Now a softer, more emotional woman would have been devastated. Luckily, I am not one of those women. Polly would attribute this to my being an INTJ. I saw this as quite a blessing at say two or three in the morning. I'd go back to bed, give my husband a swift kick and say, "He wants you."

Not to say he didn't cause a twinge of pain in my heart at times, but being the rational woman that I am, I knew he would grow out of it. And he has . . .  mostly. But not before passing this lovely little character trait along to his little brother. They will fight over who gets to sit next to Daddy on the couch. They will beg to have Daddy be the one to read them a story at night instead of me. They want to hold Daddy's hand when crossing the street rather than mine. When I got home from a week in CA, Trouble told me he missed me and that he loved me. He said to Little Trouble, "Don't you love Mommy?" My Little Trouble said, "No, I love Daddy."

Welcome home to me.

But sometimes they slip up. Sometimes when they wake up at night scared, they call Mommy instead of Daddy. Little Trouble actually sat with me on the couch the other night for a whole thirty minutes when he could have chosen to sit with his Dad. Occasionally, they forget that Mommy's the runner-up parent.

Dad gets a little jealous. He started tickling Little Trouble's feet after he had been sitting with me for half-an-hour. I don't think he could stand that he wasn't first choice for once. Little Trouble did move over and sit with his Dad after that, but it was too late. I know the truth. Their Mommy's boys too.

Hello, Tooth fairy?

We have entered the realm of the Tooth fairy. Trouble has lost his two bottom front teeth. He lost his first tooth a few months ago and the Tooth fairy came and left a dollar under his pillow. Trouble was thrilled. He put his dollar in his piggy bank. A couple of weeks later he lost the second tooth on a night I had a class, so I didn't know he had lost it. He came downstairs the next morning with the tooth and wanted to know why the Tooth fairy hadn't come.

Now I'm still processing that he lost the tooth yesterday and I didn't know about it. But my husband of course already knows what's happened, so he jumps in first. This is not the direction I would have taken this.

Dad: Oh no, I forgot to call the Tooth fairy and tell her you lost your tooth.

Trouble: You know the Tooth fairy's phone number?

Dad: Of course, all grown ups know the Tooth fairy's phone number, but she'll only talk to adults. I'll call her right now.

He proceeds to pick up the phone and dial.

Dad: Hello, can I speak with the Tooth fairy please? (Pause) Yes, Tooth fairy, Trouble's lost another tooth. (Pause) Yes, I know he's growing up. (Pause) Okay, thanks.

Dad: She'll come tonight.

Trouble is satisfied with this and is sitting at the table smiling. I'm also sitting at the table smiling, trying not to bust a gut laughing. You don't always get a chance to discuss how to handle situations as a team when parenting, sometimes you just have to wing it.

The Beauty of the Screen Name

A screen name provides you anonymity, which can be a powerful tool. Perhaps I'm overly cautious, but I was leery about putting myself out there on the internet for all to see. This is one reason that I've been considering starting a blog for months before starting one. It's why Polly's blog was, and is, so enticing to me. You can have a voice, be out there, but not be concerned that it's going to come back to bite you in the butt. There are certain people like my boss and clients I work with, that I do not want to know me so intimately. I want to put my politics, parenting philosophies and beliefs out for people to consider and discuss, but without being judged or persecuted by people in my personal life. And yes there are those few who know who I really am, but I trust them with my life. And they can judge me all they want as long as they liquor me up first.

The power of Googling a person's name is a bit scary. You can find out more than you want to know about a person. My husband Googled the name of a potential client he was meeting with once and found a scathing letter from the guy's wife out in cyberspace. Turns out he was going through a messy divorce, leaving his wife for his business partner, they'd been having an affair.

Now you can't control what other people may say about you online, but you can control what you say online, or what you write and what name it's under. Not that I plan on writing about any affairs, but some would judge me even harder for being an atheist, a democrat, pro-choice and supporting gay marriage. And I suppose I could have done what many bloggers do, and just use my first name, because honestly it's going to be hard to sort through all the Liz's or Rita's or what have you, and know you have the right one.

So, I guess what it really comes down to is that it's fun. Bookgirl, Polly and I (and Dol too but I don't know her quite as well, though she was the one with me when I got my tattoo) go back a long way and we all have a flair for the dramatic. We love to read and write. Bookgirl markets books, Polly is writing a novel (I wouldn't out her but it's already come up in her blog), and I'm a former English teacher. We were all involved with the drama club, poetry club and school newspaper. In a way I think this is just the next phase for us, continuing what we've always done. Perhaps it's not my place to speak for them, but I'm sure they'll let me know if I've spoken out of turn.

Blogging is a creative outlet for me (I imagine it is for anyone who blogs) and I enjoy my screen name. It's a chance to be me, but perhaps a slightly more bold, creative and wonderful me. It's liberating and a bit intoxicating. It's been a long time since I've journalled or written much of anything (except for the few months I was laid up with a broken ankle). I don't think I'd realized how much I've missed it.

Six Year-Old Logic

Now I know all parents think their kids are geniuses, but sometimes my Trouble astonishes me. His conviction about ideas and concepts, I never remember being that sure of myself as a kid. I may be an atheist, but Trouble is not. He believes firmly in God, heaven and hell. When my grandmother passed away last year I spent time considering how I would explain this to him, but I needn't have worried, he didn't need anything explained to him.

Our exchange went something like this.

Me: Mooma passed away yesterday. She was very sick and her body was old and she died.

Trouble: So, she's in heaven now?

Me: Well, some people believe that. Mommy doesn't, but alot of people do. And if that's what you believe then that's okay.

Trouble: Yes, Mooma's in heaven and she'll be very happy there with the angels and I think she can see me.

Me: Yes, I'm sure if there's a heaven then Mooma's there and I know she'll be watching over you.

Now, this only goes to prove how strongly entrenched in Christianity our culture is. I know some of this comes from my mother-in-law, but I think a good deal of it also comes from television, school and other kids. He hasn't learned this from me. Really, my reaction was that this went pretty well. He gets to have the rosy-colored heaven and I didn't have to compromise my beliefs and lie to give it to him.

Fast forward almost a year. My husband went to a wake a week ago. I explained this to Trouble when he asked where his dad was at dinner and we had the following terrifying conversation.

Trouble: So, the people at the wake, they'll be sad that she's dead?

Me: Yes, people can be very sad when someone they love dies. We miss them alot.

Trouble: Well, if they're sad then they should just kill themselves and they can go to heaven too. Then they'll be with her again.

Me: No!!! No one should ever kill themself. Remember, mommy doesn't believe in heaven. Mommy believes that when you're dead, that's it, you're dead. And the people who believe in heaven think that you can't go to heaven if you kill yourself because killing yourself is a bad thing to do and they won't let you in.

Trouble: Oh, okay.

I couldn't believe he took the idea of heaven that far. I understand his logic though. I mean, it makes sense doesn't it? If someone you love dies and goes to this wonderful, happy place in the sky, why not go with them? I couldn't believe heaven lead to this scary conversation about suicide with my six year-old. It's just one of the many conversations I've had with him that I was not prepared to have.

Screen Name Anyone?

I asked my husband the other night what screen name I should use for him. His response? Damon Wildeve. Anyone else a bit surprised? I told him I would not call him that. He says it's a great name from "Return of the Native." I say it sounds like I'm married to a gay guy, which I am very positive I am not. Not that I have any issues with homosexuals. Love them. Support their marriage rights. But I don't want to be married to one any more than they want to married to a heterosexual.

I could also use Egbert, but I've never felt comfortable with that nickname either. I suppose I could call him Mr. Diosa, but I was looking for something a little more original, something that would be him. I've been resorting to just referring to him as my husband or B, pretty boring and unimaginative.

Any thoughts? Should I just start calling him Damon? It just doesn't seem right. Of course if he ever starts commenting, he might solve the problem for me . . .

Trouble's Nightmare

Trouble came in our room last night around three in the morning because he had a nightmare. It's not something that happens very often. He ended up spending the rest of the night on our floor.

This morning on the way to camp he told me about his nightmare.

There was a T-Rex trying to take over the world and he and his team had to stop him. His Dad was there, but he was a kid and Trouble was a kid too. Trouble had to bite the T-Rex's eyeball to try to stop him but that was hard because he only had four teeth, two on top and two on the bottom. But in the end they managed to blow the T-Rex up. And then he was in the clouds.

Why I'm an Atheist

First and foremost, religion doesn't make a whole lot of scientific sense. An all-knowing omniscient being that lives in the sky? I don't see it. People do not walk on water. I have never witnessed a person wake from the dead unless revived through medical expertise. Virgins are not mothers unless they came close enough to losing their virginity and were very unlucky. I am a scientific thinker and believe in things that can been seen and touched and proved.

I also have a big issue on taking a concept on faith without question. Because what I've had explained to me on many occasion is that I should just have faith and believe anyway. That me, a lowly and flawed human, should not question God. This is how the Holocaust happened in my opinion. That's what can happen when people accept beliefs without questioning them.

I was not raised an atheist. I was raised in the Lutheran Church, the Protestant religion that most closely resembles Catholicism. It was in making my confirmation in the church that I came to the resounding decision that I was an atheist. I was the top student in my confirmation class. I did all the reading, participated in all the discussions and asked the most questions. But the truth was that I couldn't accept the answers I was given. I made my confirmation, and then never stepped foot in a church again except for weddings and funerals. I was fifteen years-old at the time.

I raise this issue not because I'm trying to convince others that religion is a bunch of nonsense. Actually, I can see that it serves a huge purpose in the lives of many people and in the community. I bring this up because it is a huge factor in my life. While I am at odds with many of the stories of the Bible, I do agree with the lessons and morality that they teach.

And while I'm bringing up the Bible, I'll come clean and admit that no, I have not read the whole thing cover to cover and I have great admiration for anyone who has, my husband being one of those people. It's a daunting task. But I have read the more popular psalms and books, I even had to teach a number of them as an English teacher. Have you ever tried to teach the Bible as literature to a tenth grade class? I'm not sure who hated it more, me or them. I didn't hate it because I'm an atheist. I can appreciate the Bible as history and literature, I just can't accept it realistically. I also think it's important to research a topic before rejecting it. I hated it because they hated it.

But the problems I encounter most often as an atheist are as a parent. How do you teach the lessons and morals without the church and the Bible? How do you explain death to your child without God, heaven and hell? It can also be a difficult thing to explain to new friends when the question arises. It's not something I lead with in meeting new people. People can accept that you're a different religion, they can even accept if you're agnostic, but when you tell them you're an atheist they start to look at you funny. Like they think God is going to strike you down while you stand there in front of them and they might be caught in the cross-fire.

Atheism is an issue I find both a blessing and curse in my life. I don't have questions about faith and forgiveness. I am not tortured by confusion and indecision or guilt (at least not religious guilt). But it does create many challenges in my life, both personally and as parent. Religion, and Christianity specifically, are so dominant in our culture that when you reject them there are consequences.

Why "The Left Side of the Moon"?

I've been thinking about blogging for a while now. I've been reading friends' blogs on MySpace and I started reading Polly Poppins blog on TypePad a few months ago. Polly's a great friend of mine and she lives on the West Coast and I live on the East Coast and her blog is a great way for me to keep in touch with her and with other friends who read and comment. It's been great fun, and it will continue to be great fun. But I've decided to create some fun of my own.

So why "The Left Side of the Moon" you may be thinking. I like the whole concept of Left and it's implications. My political views fall on the Left. My thinking and perspectives might be considered "Left of Center." And the moon, well I've always just loved the moon, it's inherent femininity, mystery and beauty. Ever-changing and moving through it's cycle, it has a powerful force that I find seductive and compelling.

I also have a mind that goes non-stop. I've had to explain to my husband that when he asks me what's going through my mind and I say "nothing" it's not because there is no thought in my head, but that there are so many rattling around that likely contradict one another and I'm so over-whelmed by how to respond that it's just easier to say "nothing."

So when I started to think about having a blog and how it would reflect me and all my varied ideas, "The Left Side of the Moon" just felt right.

I also really need to give Polly proper thanks for providing the inspiration I needed to start my own blog. You are my muse, dear. I'm also keeping the screen name Polly christened me with. Diosa suits me just fine. I mean, if someone nicknamed you goddess, would you really complain? And the story of Mexican men swooning at my feet? Absolutely true. Their idea of female perfection is short, dark hair, dark skin, light eyes and big thighs.

"You play soccer?"

No I don't, and never have played soccer, which seems to be the official sport of Mexico from what I gleaned on my one and only trip into Tijuana. But those decades of step aerobics and a childhood of jazz, tap and ballet - that will give you thighs Mexican men lust after too.