Today, the daily devotional we read during home school included poem about presenting a positive demeanor to the world and not bogging people down with our personal woes and health concerns. Tell God how good you feel, and God will make it so, was essentially the closing prayer.
This afternoon, after a week-plus break from social media, I hopped back on IG. One of the first posts in my neglected feed was a slideshow about white people’s toxic tendency of pretending everything is OK all the time. According to the infographic, this prevents Black people from being open about their reality and makes it hard for them to trust white people or feel safe around them. White privilege allows us – encourages us? – to pretend things are OK even when they aren’t.
Children of Blood and Bone, by Tomi Adeyemi, is a YA fantasy novel that combines magic and West African folklore into a lush, vibrant mythological world.
Many times during the pandemic, it’s felt like my hold on reality was tenuous. My body has been hurting, and it keeps getting worse. My brain was overloaded with the daily onslaught of requests. It is literally burning right now, right around its outer membrane.
After a particularly hard week, with major parenting struggles in addition to the regular parenting demands, I was teetering on the edge of not being able to cope when I walked into my new rheumatologist’s office.
I want to introduce my kids to voices that historically haven’t been amplified.
I asked our children’s librarians for books about Indigenous people, and by Indigenous people, and they provided me with an big bag of books from board books all the way up to YA lit.
These are four of my favorites.
Last summer, one of my long term grown-up dreams came true. We installed a whole house fan.
For years, I had the fan on my wishlist, but it was expensive. So summer after summer, we used window AC units and fans. They cooled part of the house, but never the whole thing.
Our upstairs wiring could only tolerate one AC unit, which left the master bedroom an icebox, but the other bedrooms too hot. The hot air would move around as the fans blew, but it wouldn’t leave. There were nights when you could stick your arm out the window and feel the cool air, but it refused to come in the house, probably because of science.
At night it was musical beds and floors trying to get everyone to a spot cool enough for sleep. (Strangely, my kids have been unimpressed with the technique I used to keep cool on hot summer nights as a child – sleeping with a cold, wet washcloth draped over me).
In the air conditioned master bedroom, I would wake up freezing and congested in the middle of an August night. I freeze all winter, because I’m a frugal lady who keeps the thermostat on the lowest temperature I can tolerate. But freezing in the summer didn’t feel right.
