Image source

I’ll put mine on the inside of my eyelids. I want the full version, which goes like this:

“I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration, I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and a person is humanized or de-humanized. If we treat people as they are, we make them worse. If we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of becoming.” -Haim Ginott (via The Happiness Project)

This is a lesson I keep learning and learning. Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you realized your response would have a dramatic impact?

http://thirdparty.fmpub.net/placement/548441?fleur_de_sel=%5Btimestamp%5D

Many thanks to Disney for sponsoring this post. See Never Land like never before in the Peter Pan Diamond Edition , coming to Blu-ray™ and HD Digital February 5!

When I became a mom, obviously I worried about worrying too much. I didn’t want to be the kind of parent who wonders aloud whether my child should be in violin lessons, pushes flash cards on him, constantly warns him not to get dirt on his tiny three-piece suit.

I’m a rule follower by nature. So naturally, I want Hank to be the opposite of me – Flexible! Carefree! Laid back! So naturally he made constant requests that I wipe his face when he was a toddler, and now that he can read? He gets anxious when he thinks I’m parking in a way that defies municipal signage.

Still, I’d like him treasure his childhood enough that some part of him never wants to let it go. If he has to grow up (and he totally doesn’t forever and ever amen) at least I’d like him to hang on to a bit of wonder.

Over the years, I’ve found ways to put some cracks in the system so we can let the light in. Here are my personal rules for loosening things up, and introducing a little magic into my kiddo’s childhood:

1. Get sand in the car.

I get tired, you guys. Often the thought of cleaning up after mud pies, or glitter, or salt dough? It’s enough to make me suggest a rousing game of Chutes and Ladders instead of a day at the beach — followed by a round of vacuuming sand from the car.

So now if Hank wants to do something, I think about what will make a better memory later — another game of UNO, or a papier mache volcano. And then I lay down some newspaper.

2. Bend instead of snapping.

A while ago, we talked about your childhood memories, and Martha said she had always felt at home at her grandmother’s house precisely because her grandmother was so laissez faire:

“My grandmother had no rules: she threw away toothpaste caps and slept in her clothes. My mom was the type that kept the plastic on things. I loved being so free [at my grandmother’s house] because it always felt like I was getting away with something huge.”

Ulp. I think about this a lot, and it’s one of the reasons why we have snacks for dinner about once a week. Hank doesn’t love meals, but he adores snacks. He gets so excited when I announce that we’re having Snack Dinner. We even have a song. Snack Dinnah! Duh-da-DUH! … You may have to be there.

3. Wake your kiddo up.

Remember how much more special things were as a kid when it was dark outside? Tiny ones have so few memories of being included after dark. I woke Hank up to carve his pumpkin, decorate the Christmas tree, and sometimes I wake him just to have tea and toast with me if it’s an especially early morning. Sometimes we light candles. Kids don’t get much access to fire either, which is probably for the best.

4. Give kids some grown-up perks.

I’ve been trying to keep fresh flowers in the house, so I started picking them up when we go grocery shopping. It feels like an extravagance even for me, so when Hank asked if he could pick flowers for his room, I hesitated at first. Then I caught myself. Five bucks. I’d spend that on a crappy plastic toy that he might not look at again. Why not?

5. Think before you say no.

Speaking of which, “Why not?” has become my mantra when it comes to Hank. If there’s a good reason why not, I can provide it. If there’s not, and I forget to ask myself, I can always count on him to Remind me.

“Can I have a cookie?”
“No, love.”
“Why not?”
“I want you to be hungry for dinner.”
…
“Can I have a cookie?”
“No, sweets.”
“Why not?”
“You just brushed your teeth and cookies will stick to them and give you cavities.”
“Oh. Can I have a cookie when I wake up?”
“… Well. Why not?”

I cut my hair.

And I love it. Don’t you love it? Yay!

In the few days since, almost everyone who has seen me asks me why I did it. “Why? Why? WHY?”

Um. It was too long?

I’m not emotionally attached to my hair, it’s not symbolic of anything for me. I wasn’t recently dumped, I didn’t come to a profound decision about the direction my life is taking and decide to do something radical. The truth is, my hair grows fast, and I don’t get to the salon enough, so it seemed like a good idea to go short in the likely event that I don’t cut it again for another year.

Huge thanks to Casie Norris from the Lunatic Fringe Salon in Salt Lake City, she translated the photo I brought in of St. Vincent perfectly. And thanks to Jordan for the rec.

“I have especially vivid memories from fourth and fifth grade–In fifth grade my best friend was a sweet boy named Matt, and he and I drew a map of the playground and renamed all of the different parts of the playground to fit them into a fantasy world we’d created. We convinced pretty much the entire class to pretend to be centaurs and unicorns and pixies and fairies and trolls and any other creature you could throw into a fantasy world. Then we proceeded to enact epic battles and rescues and coups every. single. day. of the school year. We called it Adventuria, and I wonder if anyone else from that class remembers it. In some ways it was my rebellion against the second grade teacher who once caught me staring off into space daydreaming and scolded me for doing nothing. I remember even then thinking, I’m not doing nothing! I’m thinking.” –cmb

Oh man. Did you ever go back and read the comments on this post? We should have hung out.

Image source.

I’m meeting with Victoria today to talk about my bedroom makeover. I’ve been thinking I might want more plants in the house, and I remembered that when I was little, I would lie down in the backyard and blow on the maidenhair ferns to watch them quiver.

Did you ever do that? I remember hundreds of odd things I did to pass the time. What was your quirky little kid thing?

Photo by David Hoffman.

Hey, 2013. Yeah, I see you making eyes.

Here’s what. I like the way you smile, and also? I like the way you make me smile. We both know what’s coming, so let’s ease into this. No stress, no pressure — say we have all the time in the world. What should we do with it?

See more movies.
Sometimes I just want popcorn for dinner. If I have time, I’ll pop it at home in olive oil and sneak it in, because a girl has preferences. And because I am above the law. I have some root beer in my bag too, do you want one? Hell yeah, you do. Shh. Previews. Cinema! 2013.

Image credit Claire L. Evans

Eat more dim sum.
You know what I wish? I wish I could have like 15 bite-sized meals at one go. Maybe chicken, then pork, then beef, then some veggies or whatever, a little tiny soup that I could eat like it’s a chicken nugget. Wait. What’s that you say? This culinary dreamscape is a reality? Snack dinner as mandated by one of the world’s earliest civilizations? Thanks, China! As though moveable type and the compass weren’t enough. Dim! Sum! 2013.

Image credit Darwin Bell

Own less crap.
College lit anthologies, a bag of noisemakers, three sub-par yoga mats, really good empty boxes should I choose to wrap something cleverly. Ugh, all this stuff. I don’t need all this stuff. Do you want it? Purge! 2013.

Invest in good pens.
I like to write things on paper. Paper smells good, I like the way my hand feels moving across the page, I like how my handwriting unfurls while I think. And I particularly like to write with a Pilot Precise V5 Rollerball, Fine — or Extra Fine. (Let’s not be sticklers.) Anyway, this is not a crazy expensive pen. Why do I own anything else? I hereby refuse to purchase any other pen. Up yours, inferior pens. Longhand! 2013.

Image credit Brandon Blattner

Make things shinier.
Disco balls! Lip gloss! Futuristic rockets with lens-flare sheen! Admit it. Shiny things are better than regular things. For one, they catch the light. Further, they distract stupid people so you no longer have to engage in conversation with them. Finally, they really pull a room together. In 2013 I am coating everything in glitter. You! Come here. Shiny things! 2013.

Happy New Year, my lovelies. Here’s to 2013, may it find you going easy on yourself and the people around you. Good things for everyone.

If you like this post, you might also like:
Resolved, 2012
An Easy System for Organizing Goals
Birthday Goals and Serendipity

Whenever I get to see someone laugh this way, I fall in love a little bit.

(via lonelysandwich)

My friend Kristen at Rage Against the Minivan is a family therapist, and I agree with her take:

“I don’t think that talking to my kids about mass shootings would in any way equip them for such an event. In truth.”

Hank was with his dad yesterday, and Bryan went over a plan for what to do if Hank ever “saw a gun at school,” but didn’t cite yesterday’s murders specifically. Unless Hank comes to us with questions, we’ve agreed not to mention it.

Now the grownups can resume waiting for someone to explain it to us.

To the parents, family, and loved ones who lost babies and educators yesterday, I am so sorry. To the teachers who were able to protect so many children from harm, and those who died in the attempt, our deepest gratitude.