New word needed

What's the word for this?

I find it remarkable that other languages have words for things that English does not. I commonly suffer from greng-jai. I have seen many a Backpfeifengesict. I often agnostically want to say, "Inshallah." How astonishing it is to realize these limits of mine, and in turn remember that I'm speaking a language that is alive.

I need a word for this feeling I get when I'm awake in the middle of the night and the other inhabitants of my home are sound asleep. My physical state is of course tired as hell. But my emotional state is blisteringly complex. At first, on the surface, I'm jealous. I'd sell my soul to be horizontal with my eyes closed. This is the negative side, like the pain of the Novocaine needle. Don't let it fool you. Jealousy, and a sliver of bitterness, are only a tiny fraction of the total emotion. As you sit with it, you start to smile. You know that your dearest loves are safe, secure, and restoring themselves for another day. Ahhh, gratitude. What else is in that silent smile?

You don't need housemates to feel this. I've felt it when waking for work really early or driving home from the airport at 3 am. It "sucks to be me" for a moment, but then the realization kicks in that people for hundreds of miles are sleeping in warm beds. Most people. The potential energy of it all humbles me. Is this why some people get up before the sun? To catch a few minutes of this feeling? It's hard not to fall into the flip side, the realization that some people aren't safe in their beds. I think about the refugees at our border, especially the babies without moms and moms without babies. Pull it back, Eve.

So I sit on the couch holding my sleeping angel, thanking my lucky stars, and building up the courage to put him in the bassinet with the care of Indiana Jones swapping sand for the Golden Idol. I penetrate the nuance between happy and content, between optimism and hope. I ponder what it might take to create a new word. For it to catch. And then, with good fortune, it's time to sleep again.

4 Random Rules

Thinking about it

I'm an analyzer. I experience any situation (self imposed, externally inflicted, big, small) and then... What went wrong? What went right? Maybe my unknown enneagram type or my rising sign explains this trait in me, but suffice to say it's there and it's not going away.

The cool thing is I sometimes learn a thing or two. Rules for success percolate. Four rules have sufficiently crystallized lately and here I share them with you.

1 - Relax your face

I had a yoga teacher once say in the course of a warrior two to, "relax that part of you which always seems tight." Knowing this teacher, I knew she was talking about her butt. I scanned my butt and nope, not tight. So what's tight in me? I did the common body scan starting at the top of my head, and as soon as I tried to relax my face, there it was.

Any time I feel stressed or can't sleep, I now relax my face and it feels so damn good. So needed. But maybe your butt is your face. Or your shoulders. Or your belly. But chances are, your face is tight. Relax it. I believe this will help reduce fine lines and wrinkles too. How could it not?

2 - Season dinner party and potluck food a little extra

Or a lot extra. Parties may be the time for your fat free Vietnamese salad, but that doesn't mean to skimp on the salt, or the sugar, or the acid, or the spice. Season that shit. Sautéing mushrooms for your veggie lasagna? Hoping it will be a crowd pleaser? Add that butter and salt. Caramelizing onions to serve with those homemade (well salted) burgers you made? Add that teaspoon of sugar. This is the time!

Whenever you're cooking for more than the usual crowd at home, which may joyfully be just yourself, pretend you're a restaurant chef and be liberal with the salt and butter. While you've grown accustomed to keeping things on the healthy side of palatable, as you should, break the rules for special occasions big and small.

3 - Leave happy kids alone

The other day my toddler was happily singing to herself and playing something weird. There was a present for her to open, a late holiday arrival from a distant friend. I thought about interrupting her and giving her this new treasure to unwrap, but I thought better of it. Leave happy kids alone. It's important for their development and ultimately, your sanity.

The other day my newborn was punching the air and sliding ever so downward in his swing. His blanket half covered his face and a sock had fallen off. He was safe. He wasn't crying. Who knows what he was thinking but did I mention he wasn't crying?!? Leave content, safe babies alone. I believe this rule applies to more than just kids, a la, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

4 - When you sleep, they "sleep"

This is a mantra that goes out to all the tired parents of newborns and infants out there. Provided you aren't inebriated, and provided your kid is perfectly safe, if you sleep, they will be "sleeping". Sure they may not really be sleeping. They may be chuffing in the crib, or hiccuping, or crying into their dad's ear, but repeat after me - when you sleep, they sleep. Relax your face, put a pillow over your head, and repeat the mantra. Once you're asleep you won't care if they are sleeping or not. Get your glorious sleep. You will wake when needed, I guarantee it.

Birth Mother's Day

I gave you the moon and stars, and now I want some back.
Photo from Acanthus Jewelry Instagram.

At seven months pregnant with my second future kid, fourth pregnancy, I’m telling you it’s not fair. It’s not fair that he gets to be a daddy and doesn’t have to waddle with butt pain. He doesn’t have to give up eating raw fish, all tuna, and unpasteurized cheese. He doesn't have to go the doctor's office for monthly check-ups and the lab for countless blood draws and urine collections. It’s not fair that he can have that gin Bloody Mary I want, and the IPA I want, and the stout, and the glass of wine to help digest the Italian food, and the second glass of wine. It’s not fair that he can still squat and sneeze at the same time without peeing his pants. It’s not fair that once he does get that second kid, the icing on the cake of our family, the fulfillment of our deepest wish, he doesn’t have to experience the searing pain of a breastfeed latch. He doesn’t have to keep it to one beer. He doesn’t have to lose 20 pounds, maybe 30, maybe 40. He doesn’t have to be held hostage with every meal from my tender boobs. He doesn’t need to pump in airports and have TSA fondle his ice packs. 

You might be thinking, you don’t have to breastfeed. You don’t have to lose the weight. You can eat a little bit of chunk light tuna and have a few sips of wine. To which I say, just fuck off.

What could make this better is getting a Birth Mother’s Day. If you’ve birthed your kid, you should get the day after their birthday as a bonus Mother’s Day. The Mother’s Day we already celebrate is canceled out by Father’s Day, yet the father did far far far far less to bring this kid into the world. (Please swap “other mother” for “father” if that suits you.) Therefore, birth mamas deserve extra. I’ll have three total Mother Days per year. Let's make four the max per mom because I'm reasonable.

This is very comfortable.

We deserve these extra days in appreciation of carrying that kid in our body for 40 weeks, abstaining from so much, GETTING THE KID OUT, and then abstaining some more while attempting to heal with insufficient sleep. The kids don’t need to do anything special for us on Birth Mother’s Day (although they should on the standard Mother's Day because that's an appreciation of the ins and outs of mothering). We wanted those damn kids, no matter how hard the pregnancy became. The father though? This is his time to shine. He’s a daddy thanks to this effort, this insane sacrifice, and this is his yearly chance to say thank you for it. To remind me how I awed you that day. To tell me how lucky you are to have had ME carry and birth your kid. To tell me how honored you feel to experience the swelling pride and happiness of fatherhood, thanks to ME, your god damn goddess. Small gift required.

You might be thinking, but don’t you already have something extra special from being the mom? You have a greater bond with your kid! They probably even love you a teensy bit more. To which I say, show me the necklace.

Book bothered

Sometimes I read a book that makes me yearn for a book club.

I need to talk about Educated, by Tara Westover. I bought this for my mom last Christmas based on the rave reviews everywhere. My mom isn’t a gung-ho reader but I thought the semi-familiar subject matter (Difficult father? Check. Escape from a confining small town? Check.) and easy writing style might spark some interest. She read it, and then begged me to read it, as all good books should provoke one to beg. And now I beg you – have you read it? Can we talk? If so, please continue. If not, I warn you of spoilers and triggers galore ahead.

Books recently read and a couple on deck

We need to do something about Shawn. It sits horribly wrong with me that I, we, millions of us, have born witness to a man’s unchecked abuse. RIGHT NOW he is hurting his wife, or a niece. He is humiliating her, breaking her bones, scarring her psyche, making her fear for her life or for her next walk up the driveway. To think what his kids are witnessing. 

What what what can we do? We tell ourselves we can do nothing. We have no evidence that holds up. Heck, even the author, one of Shawn’s victims, crumbles with uncertainty. (Is she a survivor now? Has that term supplanted victim for her? It seems too soon to tell, education and all.)

How will we feel when he kills a woman? I’ll tell you. We’ll feel like we should have done something.

Imagine if this was sexual abuse instead of physical. We’d feel a bit more compelled to do something, no? But here comes the same excuse – we have no evidence!  However, like rape, domestic violence is a crime, even in Idaho. Oh the pain of knowing this is happening today, not just among the Westovers of Idaho but to so many others.

Maybe it’s epigenetic trauma that makes this material haunt me so closely. Maybe it’s the way it was conveyed. Whatever it is, I applaud Tara for getting it out there. I also want to shout at her so many times, SAY SOMETHING! STAND UP FOR YOURSELF! STAND UP FOR HER! But this memoir teaches us to check our know-it-all privilege. It helps us to understand brainwashing, which is a challenging task for someone whose father gave her a “Question Authority” bumper sticker when she was eleven. Ultimately, I will recommend this book to others but with trigger warnings (which I somehow did not receive). 

Tara, I’ll stand by your side if you want to take down Shawn somehow. I’ll be your backup. I’ll be your witness. Will he kill me? Not if I leave Idaho fast enough. I don’t think he has it in him to leave his zone of unchallenged terror. Cowards rarely do.

Here we stand

Here I welcome myself back from a blogging hiatus. Poof! Eve is back.

But it wasn't poof at all. For the last several months I've been reading and practicing The Zen of Listening. On top of this I'm trying to be mindful of the first agreement, to be impeccable with my word.

Words to live by

Speaking has been hard. I gotta say, that election did me in like no other experience in my life has. Maybe I could've handled Trump winning if Congress leaned blue, but that didn't happen. I had a nauseous and rage-filled, very scared few months there. And I'm a fucking white, non-poor citizen (AKA as lucky as it gets around here, except for being female). My empathy sensors have stayed on overdrive.

So I've listened. And I hear you. I hear the left and I hear the right. I've asked questions. I've asked more questions. I've read the talking points on both sides and listened to the commentary. I've bended my brain to understand how the election happened and why Trump supporters still support him, heck, why GOP supporters still support the GOP. (It's obvious Trump and the GOP are not one in the same.)

I've learned, I suppose, that condescension is not the way to change minds. Neither is appealing to logic or facts, sadly. I'm told appealing to emotion is the way to go.

And then I got sad, and so, so tired. Adults should seek the truth independently, without prompting, no? Questioning, always questioning.. Whose best interests are traditions and laws serving?

I'm told critical thinking is a luxury of the elite. No. It's a personal, moral responsibility.

So, so tired.

My comfort animal

We've all read the articles on why Clinton lost to Trump. I have a simpler take. It starts and ends with religion-led misogyny. I went to Catholic school so grant me this:  In Genesis, God gets really pissed at Eve for introducing the apple to Adam. Really fucking pissed. He gets pissed at Adam too, but Eve bears the brunt. To Eve he basically says, bringing a child into the world will now totally suck for you, and (so many ways to put this) your husband will dominate you. You are exclusively his. In general, women are inferior to men.

I believe misogyny is why Hillary Clinton lost to Donald Trump. If the votes are to be believed, a lot of people voted for Donald Trump and a lot of people didn't vote for anyone. These people are not the same. But many of them would claim to believe in God, and a Christian God at that.

I hear some of you saying - God had to punish Eve! She did tempt Adam!! Adam was first and is stronger so he should be in charge anyway.

Can you hear it? The voice might be very very very small, but I can hear it. If you listen you may even hear it too.

I hear others saying it's more complicated than one bible verse. You're right. Misogyny itself is plenty complicated.

Let's continue with a religion and policy example...

A lot of people go to church. Anyone who goes to a church that doesn't ordain women to the highest spiritual office, or goes to one that ignores or condones God's misogyny, is being conditioned to reject Hillary Clinton. It can be so extremely subtle at times.

I applaud those of you who practice misogynist religions and still voted for Hillary Clinton. For whatever reason, you have not fully allowed Genesis 3:16 into your heart of hearts.

I also applaud pro-lifers who vote for pro-choice candidates. You probably realize that other things matter too AND pro-choice policies reduce abortion rates. For a lot of people though, especially Catholics and Evangelicals, the buck stops here. Pro-life, the label, is all that matters because Murder. Zero nuance. It doesn't matter that the total number of babies who are murdered (your words) will DROP when there is education and birth control because you're locked in on total abolition.

Fuck you, critical thinking! Fuck you, taking a step back and thinking of the bigger picture! I won. You lost. Suck it up, like I did with that black prick in office. WHAT A MESS HE MADE.

It's not cool to reject learning.

On abortion and religion...

Republicans try every year to reduce abortion rights in their states. Most of the time this does nothing but waste money. (Now that I think about it more, it also sows lasting division.) I know the GOP is subconsciously trying to bring about the second coming of Christ and therefore needs a lot of shit to go down. I get that now. Are unwanted babies supposed to assist that? Maybe an unwanted baby will be Jesus this time? What if new Jesus is a migrant and when he comes, he's turned away by the wall?

Republican women - please start speaking up for what most of us want. Choice. It's the kinder way.

Thinking outside your personal interests is fun. We must use our imaginations to see the restrictions on others. and instead of saying, suffer, whore! we must say, how can I help you? 

One final thing about religion, now...

How many churchgoers in the United States realize that if their church authority speaks politically from the pulpit, which is common, it is illegal? It's an affront to the separation of church and state, and yet it passively rolls over millions of people every weekend, wafting in the air.

Some welcome it. They huff that shit.

Back to the 2016 election...

The cacophony of blame for Hillary's loss has gone to so many factions: the FBI, Russia, white women, white men, white people in general, the DNC, Democrats, the media, the candidate herself, President Obama, black people, Hispanic people, third party candidates, non-voters, Bernie Sanders, Facebook,... who's missing?

But that all dissects the blame too finely.

Hillary lost because of the deep-seated misogyny held by a slew of men and women. Nasty women (Hilary and other pro-choice women kicking butt) are just so damn easy to smear. Trump masterfully, unfortunately, won. He may have even tampered with the electoral process. We shall see.

But here we stand.

Traumatized.

Holiday gift guide - 2016 edition

Despite the depressing hell-portal that is the looming Trump administration, it's begun to look a lot like gift-giving season. Are you ready? Have it all mapped out? You may be laughing, Ha ha yeah right, who's got the time! You may wish I could be the recipient of your award-winning sneer, just for asking. But I've been thinking about gifts all year, especially since August. I love thinking about gifts. Do you? If not, don't fret. I've got some ideas for you, provided your gift can be late because I'm terribly delayed in posting this. (Ha! As if anyone cares. It's dark in this cave.)

Better late than never, welcome to my 2016 holiday gift guide!

This time my guide is very literal. I reveal what I'm actually spending money on and what I specifically wish for. The unifying elements appear to be practicality, nourishment, and zen. (Hey, it's been a tough year.) Let's dive in...

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My mom and dad and my partner's sister and her husband are getting the same thing.

A very high quality, American made, machine washable, wool throw blanket:

This blanket is $109 and never on sale. I've been wanting one for myself, but it feels, ya know, unnecessary. I'm hoping they are completely awesome and that they last for decades. I want everyone to fight over who gets to use it each night as they cozy in. I want it to become a family heirloom. That's the intention anyway.

I'm also giving my mom the Hamilton soundtrack and my dad a used book.

The blanket receivers, another set of sibling and spouse, and a cat-sitting friend will receive a custom collection of my home kitchen essentials:

This gift is heavily sourced from The Spice House. Depending on the recipient, the 'kitchen essentials gift' will also include a jar of homemade house spice (a jazzed up cinnamon), a beeswax wrapper, and perhaps a bag of locally roasted coffee beans. This gift will ultimately range in value from ~$30 to $60.

My partner and I each get something from my mom/parents and we're aiming to really make that one each. After wanting one for a very long time, I'm getting a Clarisonic Mia. For my beau we've asked for the Nintendo Classic reboot, which is sold out now but we'll get it eventually.

Five of the kids we buy for are getting books. This will be a big Shel Silverstein year:

Back to things for me, we have my online wishlist. This is the fodder for people who WILL buy me gifts, and request to know what I want. What I want? Hmmm... Okay, I'll include a few wants. But also a few extremely practical wants. On the cheaper end, Himalayan tea light holders, beeswax tea lights, and three colors of tinted lip balm. The most expensive item, a true, true want (which I believe would up my memory game) is a modern "polaroid" camera and film. The list contains things I collect (at least three cookbooks) and a few items that will upgrade my safety and preparedness game (I'm fun!). 

Gosh, is there anyone else? YES, how could I forget two family pollyannas (one more serious with a $100+ price point and one more silly, a generic "female" $25). Maybe for another day... 

For now, happy New Year, all. May it be our best one yet.

Muted

The following post was written soon after the 2016 primaries.

The other day I looked down and noticed I was wearing gray jeans, a gray hoodie, and flat gray nail polish. I was muted. At the same time I was flipping through bookmarked websites on my desktop. One of the articles was about the election and what abhorrent thing someone did or was thought to have done. I don't know, it all runs together. I do remember that I had so much rage inside, yet I made absolutely no noise. I was mute. Where does the anger go?

Another hair turns gray.

Deep space

My muteness calls on me to understand how to effectively debate. I've grown too accustomed and tolerant of people not listening, to thick skulls and autopilot responses. Sad I can't find some hidden latch that unlocks critical thinking, I've stopped trying. I can't find hope.

But for now...

Let's learn to listen. Search for the facts. Attack the arguments you hear in your head. Do they hold up? Test and test and test again.

Then we can debate.

Oh what shall we debate?!

I'd like to debate why Bernie Sanders and a "Nordic approach" are /are not what this country needs. Here's some reading. Suppose I'm on the side of the author. What am I missing? Try debating that Bernie is wrong for us. I remain unconvinced. Now read this and debate the merits of Donald Trump for president over Hillary Clinton. I want to say YOU CAN'T, but instead I'll say, I'm listening. I think we're being punked, but I am listening.