vulnerability

Disco Inferno

/ herismeorg / Leave a comment
(my photo, my words)
(or listen here)
Once upon a time she was too exhausted 
to put out everyone else's fires.  
So she let their fires burn.  
She let every. 
fucking. 
thing. 
burn. 
the. 
fuck. 
down.

Burn, baby, burn (*roller skates away*)

Last night I took SonHerisme out for a post-tennis milkshake at our favorite little ice cream parlor housed in an old red barn just off of the highway near the school of equitation he attends. (oooh, so fancy pantsy) It had been a hot day after many cool-cold days (helloooo Spring) and the parking lot was crowded. They’re only open for outside ordering/eating atm all COVID style. The line to place orders was quite short, so we stayed.

When it was our turn, SonHerisme ordered his medium barn shake, no cherry yes whipped cream. I ordered small twist in a cup for myself, making a swirl twist motion with my hand when ordering because that’s how I do, and a small cappuccino crunch in a cup for MotherHerisme who will otherwise cry if we arrive home without a treat for her (she’s diabetic with an open wound, just go with the flow people).

At some point SonHerisme and I realized that our order must be misplaced or lost. After a 45 minute wait, and most people arriving after us having been served, we had yet to receive our order. I approached the pickup window and told the harried working teenager that I believe our order to be lost. After some back-and-forthing between the order window teen, the order preparing teens, and the pick-up window teen, our order was made and brought to the pick-up window.

Those scrambling teens did not make our order correctly. The pick-up window teen’s face when she realized this, immediately fell from focused get-the-job-done, into exhausted frustration. “I’ll remake everything! I can give you these muffins as an apology! I’m so sorry!” Ohmigoodness, how are we this stressed out over ice cream? Sweet teenager working a long line at the country ice cream parlor. I looked her in the eyes and said, “I’ll take what you made for us. It’s going to be okay. The moon is in Scorpio and you are going to be okay. Thank you for the ice cream.”

This is the level of, “I don’t give a fuck, it should just be whatever it is” I reached in that moment.

Night before last, SonHerisme was asked to speak with his father again, facilitated by the parenting coordinator. This is the third time since July. History: SonHerisme has not seen MrexH since the first week in September 2014. He has received a handful of cards/letters over the years, recently starting a reintroduction over the phone July 2020. It is awkward, difficult, emotional, upsetting and just … a lot for SonHerisme. For me? I cannot even think about it really. Disassociation for the win!

SonHerisme approaches this like an unpleasant chore which has to be done. He was articulate, kind, wise, and carefully gentle with his father and I am so proud of him. SonHerisme wanted me to sit next to him throughout the entire phone call and I reached the level of, “fuck it all,” and I did it. Even when MrexH suggested he would be coming to take SonHerisme to a professional sportsing event. Even when the parenting coordinator asked MrexH the icebreaker, “if you could travel anywhere would you go by airplane, boat or train,” and I knew MrexH would answer, “train,” and he did. This makes my stomach hurt right now just thinking about it.

BTW, the sportsing event thing is not happening for reasons, at least while SonHerisme is still a child. Also, the train travel is highly unlikely as well. It is all just extremely awful and sad.

Prior to SonHerisme’s phone call with MrexH, the parenting coordinator spoke with me about how SonHerisme was doing, how he was feeling about the conversations with his father etc. I did not really know what to say and I am too tired to keep trying to figure things out, so I responded, “It is awkward and uncomfortable, which it will be until it isn’t or it will stay awkward and uncomfortable and that is just what it is. I’m not really clear how how to define it any better other than to say that all I can do is to be there to help SonHerisme work through his emotions and show up when he is able, however he is able to do so.” The parenting coordinator responded that my response reminded her of Radical Acceptance.

Perhaps instead of, “fuck it,” I should be saying, “despite everything screaming at me to try and take control to move towards an alternative, I radically accept this.”

I have been talking to myself about showing myself some radical compassion… maybe this is it. I do not know. I cannot tell the difference between disassociatingly ignoring the things or accepting the things… is this the Zenness or the summoning of the Lunaticing? Is radical acceptance a fancy way of becoming a door mat to or elevated with life? Do I even care?

RADICAL ACCEPTANCE y’all. I’m ’bouts to radical laundry, radical lunch MotherHerisme, and radical post stuff for my kid’s school events (I gots the responsibilities, yo).

Or, let the fuckening begin… Whatev’s… girl is on fire… burn, baby, burn – disco inferno! We probably all need a little burning to clear space from these constantly shifting tectonic plates of life in order to reach something to ground us. You?

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps I may have mentioned this, but in case I only thought about and never did: SonHerisme told me he was very upset and worried the other day because I seem to be using very strong curse words a lot and he does not like it. He further explained that while I may have grown up in a house where awful language was used regularly, he did not, and he would appreciate it if I could be more careful with my words. WTF kids are so weirdo Also, I will do my best to use kinder language around him. But here I can say the awfuls lol fuck it

Hybrid SoMo

/ herismeorg / Leave a comment
Behold the Soccering
(or listen here)

I am a soccer, tennis, riding, violin, hiking, trampolining, biking, chessing mom who drives a hybrid with two car magnets on the back. PSA: my brake light is out and, no, I do not carry jumper cables.

Hybrid because when I purchased the car in 2007 I wanted a Prius, but was expecting twins (one survived! *SonHerisme enters center stage through the small undetected trap door*), so I compromised with a larger hybrid car and that is that. This makes me a Hybrid SoMo on soccer days. I have spoken. This is the way.

Yesterday was such a day. Glorious, jacket-still-required sunny, and soccer game a-callin’. One of SonHerisme’s teammates got stuck at home when her mother’s car wouldn’t start and dad was out of town. We gladly picked them up to carpool to the game. Which, in hindsight, we should’ve arranged anyway because the game was a good 20/30 minutes away in a little town in the Catoctin Mountain Range. (we were masked with flowing fresh air, judgementors)

Oh – are you not familiar? Have you ever heard of Camp David? The occasional three mighty helicopter parade gliding across the valley and up the mountain range to the meetings of the deciders of the things? Yes, that Camp David! (oh, there you are, Peter! This is, btw, what I say every time I peek-a-boo at my stats and it shows readers from the UK. Hello and Welcome to you, Peter! special xo to you!) At least now we are no longer deeply cringing and frantically scrolling through Twitter to figure out what freakish hellscape narrative an orange cringtastic moron has incanted into being. But, I digress. Where were we? Oh, yes, soccering… carpooling… the things of the mommies with the busy childrens. Also, racism.

I did not want to go to this soccer game. I prayed for rain – which was supposed to happen, and did happen but not to the extent of causing the game to be cancelled. In talking to other soccer parents, I was not alone in not wanting to go to this particular soccer game.

The area of our county hosting that soccer game is a known hotbed of KKK leadership, rallies and general overt racism. No one wants to go up there, except to go to the State Park and then leave. Proud Confederate flag flying is abundant in this area. It has gorgeous natural scenery dotted with racist tropes and racist attitudes.

Our sweet soccer team is co-ed and most definitely represents our country/city being multi-racial. No token person of color, rather the majority of the team are not white. I hadn’t thought about it before now because I am in a privileged position to not be forced to think about it most of the time. I am white. SonHerisme is very light skinned most of the time. The potential consequences of our co-ed multi-racial team heading into a KKK dominant town to play a game of soccer, became very real yesterday.

Meandering up the sloping altitudes to the game, our carpool companions expressed concern about going to the game (Dominican background). The conversation went something like this:

She:  Why did you say you aren't looking forward to the game?  Is the team really tough to beat?
Me:  I don't know anything about the team.  I just really do not like this area.
She:  It is pretty up here.  Why don't you like it?
Me:  The people in general seem to be unwelcoming to outsiders and I just do not feel comfortable here.
She:  Oh, wait.  Is this about them being racists here?
Me:  Yes.
She:  I heard about that and the KKK.  Yeah, that's not good.  
Me: No.
She:  Well, we'll see what happens.  I wish the game was cancelled too. I guess I shouldn't try to buy a house up here!
Me:  I just cannot imagine what it feels like being a person of color around all of this knowing how uncomfortable I am as a white person.  I am so sorry.
She:  Yeah, it is weird and uncomfortable.

At the game, our team parents sat in the same general area. At the far end of the park, beyond the soccer field, there was a playground. One of the younger soccermate siblings wanted to play on the playground. At first his mother okayed it, then I saw her take a quick look around and call her son back to her. She turned to two of us and said, “I forgot it isn’t safe for us here. He can’t go by himself.” They are people of color. They know.

After the game, SonHerisme told me there were two kids in the pre-game team huddle near to tears with anxiety over playing with racists and how they might be treated or get in trouble for touching them.

These conversations are so very uncomfortable, but also so desperately necessary. I was unsure how to step into this, but it happened and I am so glad to get this uncomfortable topic rolling.

I do not want to be a part of sitting on my privilege while my neighbors are suffering. I am awkward. I am VERY awkward. I will keep trying to do this hard thing of opening up to difficult uncomfortable conversations in the interest of humane compassionate action.

I am writing a letter to the soccer league requesting that we no longer travel to that area for games. It is too much to ask people to go to a space where they are overtly discriminated and othered. This is my anti-racist activity today.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps It is a Monday kind of Tuesday in a million ways including that I wore a shirt with a pencil eraser sized hole strategically placed on the top of my right nipple… I’m sure it’s fine. Where did I wear this shirt? All around Georgetown. I’m fine. I’m sure it’s fine. Black fitted shirt, nude bra, not cutsie small bust – it’s all fine. Moon’s in Scorpio y’all. I’m fine.

Fuhgeduhboudid

/ herismeorg / Leave a comment
(or listen here – 7:27 baby!)

I occasionally run my dear sweet friend through the ringer with all of the self loathings. It is only recently that I have decided to attempt a new tactic of just allowing it to be without judgement on it. I loathe things about myself? Okay, they are loathsome then. This does not mean the absence of lovely somewhere too. Or hope. I do have hope for SonHerisme, hope for humanity, hope for friends, family etc. For my personal self? Meaning=yes. Hope=nope. F it – carrying on.

Once upon a time, she sent this to me:

(it is not my writing and I do not know to whom I should attribute these wise words)

Everything that has happened along the way - forget it
Forget about the first love that broke your heart.
And forget about that last break too.
Forget the time a friend you thought was best pushed a knife in your back.
Forget the words and the spite that resound in your head.
Forget the trauma that injured your flesh or your bones.
Forget the rejection you felt when someone failed to recognize your value.
Forget the tears that cleansed your soul.

Forget the mistakes that everyone makes.
Forget what you gave without return.
Forget the mistrust, the resentment and the jealousy.
Forget about the lies, betrayal and deceit.
Forget about the ones that got away - they were not meant.
Forget the time someone tripped you and caused a fall.
Forget the times you gambled but forgot you could lose.

Forget about the whispers and gossips and stories - it is all an illusion; the truth only lives in oneself.
Forget about rules and regulations - make new.
Forget about thinking - let the mind sit still.
Forget about time - let your heartbeat decide.
Forget about fear, it will paralyze - it is useless.
Forget about perfection, it is unobtainable - imperfection is true beauty.
And forget about forgetting - allow the release to happen. Naturally.

Then, try as you can to remember this...
Everything is already a part of you: the lessons have been learned, the memories etched, and the effects have sunk in.

There is no need to hold on - it all already exists, so allow it. 
Let it just be. 
Without grasping.
Without pressing repeat.
It all had a purpose, once, long ago.  Even if it was yesterday or a minute ago - it has now passed.
Past.

So just breathe... and breathe again.
Deeply.
Right here. Right now.

You are alive.
You survived.
In this very moment, this one... here...
You can choose.
Choose to live.
Run.
Fly.
Wildly.
Begin again. And begin to feel alive.
Feel.
Everything and nothing and all in between - feel it all.
Flushing through your veins - let it in, let it sit and then let it go.

Slowly, but very surely, replace all of the forgotten with all of the new.
Add to it, mix to it, blend whoever you were, who you are now, with who you are about to become.
Alchemy - turn it to gold.
Turn you.
It is easy. 
Try.
All of you.
Every part.

Stir the storms with the rainbows, the pleasure with the pain.
Create.
Forget the old.  Sprinkle in new.
Stardust.
Magic.
Wanderlust.
Mystery.
Moonlit skies.
Forests.
Deserts.
Sparkle.
Dance.
Have Faith.
Go.
Find.
Don't look far.
It is there.
It always was, always has been.
Right there, right here, right now.
Be free.

And each time you are overwhelmed, or hurt, or angry, or in pain - 
go back to the top, read once more, unlearn, forget, and begin again.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps.  I carried a print out of this with me for a very long time, only taking it out of my purse when we took our last pre-COVID trip to NYC mid-February 2020.  I always wonder if we participated in the spread since it was already taking a broad foothold in NYC by then and we were a merry troop at a large conference of other merry troopers...  Actually, I do not wonder, I feel like I know we were.  Apologies to you, world.  Once we knew, we have done better. #carryonhealthwarriors

Gaia

/ herismeorg / Leave a comment
(dandelions are my favorite! – pic BBC)
(or listen here)

A Goddess. Born of Chaos. When Chaos receded, Gaia was lonely. She was so very lonely that she created a partner for herself, which ended very, very, very badly (insert Greek Mythology tales here or listen to Stephen Fry!).

Gaia, you and I, we’ve got some things in common! Let’s both pinkie promise make better choices.

Today, though – today is YOUR day. Today is Earth Day. Let’s celebrate you!

Everyone
Accountable
Respectful
Truthful
Honorable

to you today, and all of the days

I think that I am addicted to being outside and I like it.

My body moves differently now because of the things that happen when bodies are prone to things happening. But I still want to be in that wild wind, hot sun, pouring rain, snowy tundra, moonlit, starry glowy place.

SonHerisme and I built an outdoor sofa for lounging about without disturbing wasps, beetles, snakes and mosquitoes or the upcoming cicada insanity.

We are planting Eastern Redbuds this year and inching towards being charming hive minders. Native things to protect our bit of sweet Earth where we are temporary guardians.

Happy Earth day, Earthlings! How are you celebrating Earth or honoring Gaia?

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps. see? Not ALL of my posts are blah blah something is horrible blah blah blah. Upcoming Goat King post will also not be depressing (fingers crossed!)

Difficult to Believe (no know)

/ herismeorg / Leave a comment
(pic me, *sigh* words also, me)
(or listen here)

They say biggity jiggity doo doo, and I believe it because they said it. I know that they know because I am in the know of knowing the things needed knowing about because they told me I know what they know. And now, thanks to me, you know too. What you do with this grandiose knowledge I have magnanimously bestowed upon you, is up to you. Exclusively fyi, though, you are a complete non if you dismiss what I am telling you that they say and you or anyone else dismissing the knowing of the things they say, deserve the ultimate comeuppance consequences since as I told you, they know and I know that they know because they told me that I am in the real know. Now you do know.

They say that justice was done with the guilty verdict for the police officer.
        They are incorrect.  That was not justice.  That was a spark of accountability only sparking as a result of directed public pressure force. Real time case in point: Ma'Khia Bryant. dammit :,(
WE KNOW THIS
They say that if only people comply with the law, the law will keep them safe.
       They are incorrect.  The laws only serve us as well as the people paid to interpret the laws represent us with  humane values.
WE KNOW THIS
They say that wearing a mask is stupid because they *have been vaccinated *have antibodies from previously having COVID *masks do not protect us from infection *COVID issues have been blown out of proportion.
       They are incorrect.  Read any ethical reputable epidemiologist's/virologist's/public health professional's positions on COVID and look at the reported statistics (knowing most health statistics under represent public infection rates).
WE KNOW THIS

They told us climate change is a hoax. They told us a college degree guaranteed employment. They told us we could be successful if we worked hard enough. They told us that welfare mommies had babies to stay on welfare and watch television all day. They told us that organic food was unnecessary. They told us that buying a $400K house for $360K gave us instant $40K equity.  They told us that looking perfect equated to our personal value and worth. They told us as soon as we drove a new car off of the lot, it instantly decreased in value.  They told us Muslims would kill us if we let them take over the world because we are not Muslim.  They told us that adults did not deserve to have equal rights in choosing a partner/healthcare/adoption.  They told us that birth control was women's problem.  They told us that we needed to get used to putting a penis in our mouths early and often so that we would like it and be ready for when we had to do it as an adult.  They told us that it was a not rape but a duty when you are married. They told us that children should be ignored and forced to be quiet unless spoken to. They told us that having a meticulously manicured lawn was critical.  They told us that everyone deserved a chance to prove their worthiness for healthcare.  They told us so very many things.
       They were incorrect.  
WE KNOW THIS
       We also know that, like our forefathers in regards to slavery and the treatment of native Americans, they knew better and deliberately chose over and over again to not do better because they were afraid of sacrificing their own privilege.

From Generation X on down, we have never known a time of given “if you follow the rules” personal economic hope, yet we have carried the burden of responsibility and shame for these tropes. Our lives have been dominated by an overwhelming generation whose defining aspirations blinded them to personal responsibility to humane existence. There is finally a rise of a generation who by numbers alone, will steer the future of humanity. The intense gaslighting and institutionally endorsed inhumane indoctrination of our culture is tough to combat.

So many things to wade through.

As the tide shifts on defining acceptable behaviors for the rising generations, we can either help tip the scales to knowing the truths of things or saying no to humaneness.

In this country, it appears that our voting power is evenly divided on if people should be treated humanely, or if we will give into our indoctrinated fears to justify treating people inhumanly. The tipping could go either way, which is painfully difficult to believe, but so apparent. Progression or Fascism, choose your own adventure!

There is massive swirling of the tides and I want SonHerisme (and all sons/daughters) to be filled with as much resilience and resourcefulness as possible for himself, for his future family, community, country, and world.

F you – you do NOT know this so please stop setting up hope shame!

There is some seriously real crap we need to work on. Hope shaming is counterintuitive WE KNOW THIS – seriously this shit pisses me the frick off almost as much as a discussion on institutionalized food and childcare – GAH! Sometimes shitty things are just shitty and heavy and weighty and better days are not coming. Better moments? YES. Days? Who the fuck knows? My heart is heavy every day for the babies I lost, we’ve lost, and I have zero hope that they will appear or of having another pregnancy, so for the love of G-d, STOP HOPE SHAMING so that we can get to work on naming, owning and correcting/processing/moving through shit (please and thank you).

I am trying y’all. I know that you are trying too. I see/hear you and appreciate you and your efforts! The things I will keep doing are the trying, the day-to-day routine, the positive contributions to my community and home, the naming of the things, and the difficult/easy/painful/fulfilling conversations.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps maybe it is tmi above… then again, so many of us have been sexually abused as children/adults I often wonder why we are not speaking about it more openly? I mean it is another thing we publicly condone as a society, yet privately and institutionally we pretend it is not happening thereby allowing permission for it to continue… so why isn’t it an open conversation topic? Wondering how it is condoned? That is another post (unless someone else wants to short and sweet it?).

also, things are of the heavy. I feeeeeeel the collective exhaustion and I send the {{{hugs}}}

finally, none of this means that I am not spending time appreciating and being grateful for the lovelies irl

  • smiling moon
  • perseus, leo, gemini visible
  • return of the bats
  • SonHerisme riding, soccer, violin, and tennising up the town (plus academic achievements)
  • dandelions reign supreme
  • a text with link to beloved old timey Harry Connick Jr. song
  • homemade bacon ice cream (for MotherHerisme, as I am a no-bacon lady for the reasons, but it looked very pretty)
  • i read an entire book of adult fiction (WHAT???!!!??? IKR!)
  • windy, sunny, rainy, snowy, hot, cold back-and-forthing Spring weather
  • a hand written marker letter to the goat king down the street (this should be a post!)
  • Vinny Thomas and Kylie Brakeman (twitter that up, y’all)
  • fluffy cozy blankets
  • you xo ciao

T.H.I.N.K.

/ herismeorg / Leave a comment
(grabbed from MMUN twitter)
(or listen here)

It’s that therapy/anger management/co-parenting divorce seminar acronym making the meme rounds again.

is it Thoughtful?
is it Honest?
is it Intelligent?
is it Necessary?
is it Kind?

I am a learning active anti-racist and address that we have a lethal epidemic of racism in this country.

Thoughtful? I will actively promote love and acceptance of all humans regardless of race, especially concentrating on those groups who are being oppressed.

Honest? I actively participate in institutionalized and systemic racism every single day and I will do better to call this out and change my behavior, especially by no longer tolerating family members’ racism.

Intelligent? Humans should be treated humanely. FULL STOP NO NEGOTIATIONS

Necessary? YES because we are killing and incarcerating humans targeted because of our systemic racism. These are our neighbors, classmates, soccer buddies, dads, moms, aunties, uncles, friends and fellow humans.

Kind? It is most definitely a kindness to stop hate speech and actions, racist speech and actions. Being kind to racism is never ever necessary. They have no seat at the table – ever. Humane treatment? yes. Kindness? no.

We are killing people – especially people of color – for existing. Until we face the truth of who we are as a culture, we cannot move forward. We cannot sugar-coat the truth of who we are and how we came to be. If this sounds like a “telling you” rather than a “sharing with you,” (and you are white) then stop and THINK yourself for a minute about where you stand in your truth of being an active anti-racist.

The story of Maya Angelou asking someone to leave her home and never return because they made a racist side comment, stuck my heart in such a way that my voice within my own home has become much more firm over the years. This is not an easy road, especially when you are surrounded with abuse, deep denial, and wilful ignorance. However, this is a necessary road for me.

Do you know what 7th grade boys do? They start puberty. They play with LEGO. They think Black Panther and Falcon are the coolest dudes ever. They want extra whipped cream on their ice cream if they can con you into it with their little boy/new teen big eyes. They belly laugh at Chris Pratt slapstick and love the kindness of the dad in Four Kids and It (wish monsters help!). They are learning algebra. They are writing a “dear diary” entry as if they were a witness to the Crusades as a Muslim and another as a Christian. They are coding virtual fantasy amusement park rides. They are practicing real life portrait sketches with shading techniques. They are learning to cut their own toenails. They are writing journalist interviews for characters from Zach’s Lie. They are hugging dogs and kitties. They are still needing comfort when spooky things scare them in the dark. They are dreaming of being powerful compassionate men doing important things one day, and working on practicing those things.

While they still have adults to help take responsibility for them, they are making bigger mistakes to push boundaries in order to figure out how to be.

Justifying or pointing out the humanity of a 7th grade boy should be unnecessary. But, in our culture, it is. A shitty unbelievably popular journaltainment person referred to a 7th grade boy as a “13 year old man,” because the boy was not white and was lethally shot by a police officer in the chest while he stopped running from them and turned around with his hands raised as the police demanded.

Who are we?

Justifying the targeted murders of non-white people. Meanwhile, insisting on spreading a lethal virus in the name of freedom.

My soulgutbrain hurts today.

SonHerisme, 7th grade, will turn 13 this upcoming summer. He is 6ft tall and filling out his shoulders and chest in man ways. His voice has deepened. He is well spoken. With his COVID respectful mask on, he is frequently mistaken for a High School Junior or Senior. He has Hispanic heritage. He still plays manhunt in the dark with his buddies.

I just

I just cannot

Love, ALL OF US xoxo

please, I beg you, give my baby and his peers grace, space, accountability and boundaries for the mistakes they will naturally make, and please DO NOT SHOOT THEM

another thinking thought: When we normalize removing children from their primary caregiver at 6 weeks old and force them to “behave” and “follow school rules” starting at 6 weeks old, when do they have the space and grace to make mistakes and learn from them? When does their learning happen? Where is the appropriate space and grace for them to temper tantrum, break down, make mistakes and safely recover, express their natural raging emotions?!!? Ah, yes, this is another post. ciao

Jab(berwocky) #1

/ herismeorg / 2 Comments
(pic mine, wise woman words)
(or listen here)

COVID vaccine #1 jab received!

Locally, we have established a very efficient system of Sneetches into the community college gymnasium. Apply star (jab). Sneetches wait 15 minutes. Sneetches out. I got a star upon thars! Well, 1/2 of my star. Because of my history with cancer (tips hat to malignant melanoma to keep favor with 5 years NED!!!), I am receiving two doses of Moderna.

I was so adrenalined up excited to get started with my vaccine, I thought that I might be spared any aftereffects BWAHHAHAHAHA. Although, mine are not anything compared to others I am hearing about. After a few hours I felt, well, sort of foggy as if I’d slightly overindulged in alcohol consumption. I couldn’t concentrate and everything around me seemed sort of otherworldly. Overnight, my tummy reminded me how unhappy it is when disruptive things enter my body, and I awakened in the night with a heavy headache.

Today, I am a bit tired (or is it the rain and let down of the vaccinetapation?), my arm is for sure sore sore sore, but am otherwise just fine and going about the business of being me. Yeah, don’t be jealous because that business already involved two vomit clean-ups and one massive temper tantrum needing addressed (generous eye roll). Then again, there was a hot spinach lunch…so… do you, boo.

Good luck with your vaccine jab, if you are getting it, whatever your timeline is! Let us slay that Jabberwocky like nobody’s business!

O frabjous day!

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

Vaccine fight free zone here. Be a reformed Sneetch please and thank you. I know that so many people are worried about the jib jab contents and I am sorry that we have that anxiety to deal with on top of everything else. Sending {{{hugs}}} and wishes for health all around.

And I am going to add a 1/2 star to my belly and Sneetch this Beetch up!

You are all invited to my marshmallow toast party! Stars, 1/2 stars, or no stars upon thars. xo

Blah Blah Hands

/ herismeorg / 3 Comments
(my pic, classical quote- also yes, my thumb is oddly long, and yes my nails are not well attended to bc I am a mommy, also yes, my office area is full of the things – no judgementors here!)
(or listen here)

A dear FriendHerisme has two lovely children. Her son is SonHerisme’s best friend, the other is a first-grade daughter. FriendHerisme and her husband are professional musicians – they are a super fun family and good friends to us.

Let’s call first grade daughter FriendEHerisme! FriendEHerisme sat with me at the boys’ soccer game, asking if she could draw Blah Blah’s on my hands.

The Blah Blah’s come alive when you make your hand into a fist with a straight thumb, wiggling your thumb up and down to make the Blah Blahs talk. We like to draw side knuckle eyes, nose, and a great gloppy tongue hanging out of their mouth. Occasionally the tongue gets so big that all they can say is, “blah, blah, blah.” Hence the name, the Blah Blahs. FriendEHerisme has been talking to, playing with, and feeding the Blah Blah’s (they eat the pens that drew them! How nervy!) since she was a teeny tiny human (as has SonHerisme, NiecesHerisme… and others).

At the soccer game, FriendEHerisme wanted both of my hands to bring the Blah Blahs alive and she wanted to draw them, so I allowed it. This is the way. FriendEHerisme has spoken.

My right hand was the boy Blah Blah, the left hand the girl Blah Blah (you could tell the differences because of the hairbow, says FriendEHerisme). Naturally, as soon as they were alive, they greeted each other, blah blahed at each other, and then they spent a lot of time kissing. Her parents are happily married as you can infer from the role play.

FriendEHerisme then decided the Blah Blahs needed something else (aka she was bored with the usual blah blahnesses). She drew a sunshine on the back of each of my hands, coloring them in with squashed up dandelions. Followed up with polka-dotted moons on my palms.

“Now what happens?” FriendEHerisme asked. I shined girl Blah’s sun down onto boy Blah and sang, “Mr Sun, sun, Mr golden sun, please shine down on me…” She opened up boy Blah’s hand and asked the moon to sing to girl Blah. So I sang, “The man in the moon is smiling ’cause he’s in love…” Then both suns staring at each other, “I’m burnin’ I’m burnin’ I’m burnin’ for you…” Then both moons staring at each other, “Moon, moon, moon shining bright…” And that was enough for FriendEHerisme to declare that the Blah Blah’s were done. She had them kiss once more, and that was that.

The Blah Blahs have seen SonHerisme through lengthy travels, emergency room broken bones, surgeries, general doctor visits, waiting for adult things everywhere to be over so that children things can rule activity levels again. Thank you sweet Blah Blahs.

Everyone is growing up.

The Blah Blahs are almost all gone.

*sigh* Bittersweet times.

I’m scheduled for my COVID vaccine. The world seems to be turning again. Today is SisterHerisme’s birthday (celebrated virtually, again).

Still feeling as though I am suspended in time over here, floating in some clear gel filled bottle- stopped, but not stopped, in time, watching everything out there moving onward and wondering how to be. Like time saved in a bottle. That’s an old timey Jim Croce song! If I could save time in a bottle the first thing that I’d like to do is to save every day ’til eternity passes away just to spend them with you (or something like that). Which I think is a love song (? bwahahahaha yeah blah blah blah). For me, I’d grab it for the sweet Blah Blah moments with SonHerisme, FriendEHerisme, NiecesHerisme and all of the sweet babes.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps. I know Time in a Bottle is a love song and I know it isn’t for me, but also the phrase on its own seems like suspended time in loneliness or grief, which IS what I mean

Currently lost the bandwidth to find a therapist/counselor. It seems very daunting and expensive. Carrying on with the things…

blah blah ciao

extreme side note: I really really REALLY wanted to title this, “blah blah hand job,” but just could not do it because of the childrens. If you find it as HILFREAKINGlarious as I do, feel free to mentally adjust the title to suit your humors. (ridiculous plurals on purposes) loves to yous

Bee Charmer

/ herismeorg / 3 Comments
(my pic, Elizabethan era quote)
(or listen here)

Today I saved a lost and worried buzzing bee who arrived without warning into my home because the sun was shining brightly and we had been carrying on a conversation outside while I was eating my lunch (spinach natch) and the bee wanted to continue our quiet lunch tête-à-tête but I had inside work to do. RUN ONs RULE The tiny bee quickly became disoriented and so frantic that it couldn’t listen to reason anymore.

I grabbed a lovely empty glass jar (I am a recovering jar addict) and an old Christmas card I recently found tucked away inside of a puzzle gift, and followed the bee, guiding it towards a sunny window. I do this with errant wasps too. The lure of potential outsidenesses seems to give them pause enough that I can catch them. And that is what happened today. I caught the window screen settled bee underneath the glass jar, gently sliding the Christmas card underneath the opening. The bee jumped when it felt the card slide underneath its tiny bee toes, and it jumped up into the jar. I held the card on top of the jar mouth and turned the jar over to hold the bee inside and walk it back into the garden.

The bee did not appreciate my efforts at first. It was buzzing the mighty anger buzzes. You know what’s funny? If you leave the jar upright after removing the card, it takes the bee a long time to figure out it can fly up and out of the jar. Same with wasps. However, if you lay the jar down on its side, the bee (or wasp) will fly right out the opening then fly away searching for its new adventure. Or perhaps they are playing a trick on me so that I’ll feel clever knowing something about them when I really know nothing (Jon Snow).

Some days I pretend I am a bee charmer. Not nearly Idgie Threadgood level bee charmer, but I try here and there. buzz buzz buzz

Today we also had a local tragedy wherein gunshots, chases, and breaking a military base barrier resulted in hospitalizations and death. Nobody is charmed.

SonHerisme was blissfully attempting to coax a former champion jumper to cantor with ease up and down a grassy hill while I watched from my perch on a giant fallen oak trunk when my phone buzzed with the alert that his school was on lockdown. Note: we were not skipping school as he has remained virtual and his first googlemeet started after his early morning ride…so… step aside judgementors. Expecto Patronum and all that.

I was sitting with another parent I have known for over 6 years who also has two children attending the same school as SonHerisme. Also, she is a police officer.

As we scrolled through various e-media to figure out what was happening in our little community, she shared with me how police morale is extremely low at the moment. They are all frustrated by what they see as the public’s lack of understanding for the situations their positions put them in, as well as their dedication to their communities. There are bad seeds in every culture. It’s not just that statistically and historically, people of color are approached differently by law enforcement, it is that there are huge holes for checks and balances at levels and institutions outside of the officers directly facing the public. There are courts stacked against people of color. Prison officials (for profit and government run) failing up with white supremacy. There are teachers discriminating against children of color, setting them up for failure. It is an entire system stacked against people of color leading to a terrible white person becoming a police officer killing a black man on camera. This is hard stuff.

MrexH is Hispanic, as I have mentioned before. Before he became very ill, he was a little over 6ft tall, weighed about 270lbs, appeared quite intimidating and was frequently profiled for extra security checks when traveling. The police were involved multiple times in our domestic violence situations. Yet, all of us survived. He resisted arrest and exhibited dangerous erratic psychotic behavior while in custody. Yet, all of us survived. He violated a protective order after threatening to murder us. Yet, all of us survived. He threatened family members, friends, some involving police presence, yet, all of us survived. How is this with the same police culture in our community? We have a well known open presence of the KKK locally (hello ignorance maximus). We have a police chief under constant scrutiny for racial and misogynistic words and actions. Yet, we all survived.

It has to be something about the local leadership not only inside of our local police department, but also rigorous support by other local institutions (courts, schools, detention facilities etc), which keep the nasty lethal systemic institutionalized racism in check.

I don’t know enough about it obviously and am approaching from a white lady perspective of course.

I do wish that instead of blanket shame and blame, we would take a closer look at places where things are working better – not the fool’s errand of perfection – but, better. I wish that I could take an honest look at my participation in promoting systemic institutionalized racism and then have the courage to change. Expecto Patronum to get rid of the gaslighting racist demented dementors from public works and policies.

I doubt the answer is just more training and cameras for police. Although the cameras are a truth telling tool for sure.

Oh yes, and I like bees. Bees. We aren’t like bees at all and it would be great to admit that first. We are not all born to mindlessly work at the rule of some central ingrained instinctive dogma until we die. We have choice and information to make choices. I admire bees for what they bring to the table. I hope that we can bring so much more. Good luck us!

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps. I also anthropomorphize like nobody’s business and the horses know this and believe they are in charge, making it difficult for me to decide to ride because I do not want to hurt their deep feelings of majesty, so there’s that

pps. Self truthing is hard

Grape Expectations

/ herismeorg / 4 Comments
(pic mine words *sigh*able)

SonHerisme wanted to plant a grape vine starter because he believes he wants to be a part-time sommelier when he grows up. There is an aroma box on his Amazon wish list. A few years ago I took SonHerisme to see one of his older cousins perform in a teen production of The Tempest. He was captivated by the silly behavior of the drunk characters and wanted to know why “drunk” meant silly.

Diving into the explanation of “drunk,” led to explaining why mommy takes an occasional glass of wine, led to him googling on his own “what happens when you get drunk.” btw – Even with heavy duty parent filters, and sweet young bears following google search instructions learned at their sweet Montessori “explore information with your tools and resources to find your answers,” thumbnails of very sketchy things pop up on green squishy handled industrial kid cased iPads. Thank you stupid Internet for introducing my child into the world of boobs, butts, and pelvic regions being used in drunk situations on random Spring break beaches. Internet searches at school are so locked down, because they only allow access to sites that the school system tech wizards have curated, rather than how our parental controls work, which filter out access by algorithms.

It never occurred to me that thumbnails would still pop up.

It never occurred to me that my sweet baby would innocently research being drunk.

Ugh. He got scared when he saw the thumbnails and came to tell me because he couldn’t get the thumbnails to stop popping up. I did the best I could to leave shame somewhere else since I do not want him to feel like he has to hide his curiosities from me or give him the impression that drinking, bodies, etc are shameful.

I have always had the rule that I check SonHerisme’s devices and am in charge of them. As he gets older, I know he is programmed to keep things from me (and in a lot of ways – thank G-d), but it seems like, so far, he is comfortable sharing and knows that I am checking his devices. Secrets belong in a journal marked in a way that I know I am not to read them. Secrets do not belong on electronics until you are over 21. That’s this mommy’s rule at least.

Since he was very young and we started talking about consent etc, I have inserted into the conversations about how as your body changes, so does your brain. Your brain remains mushy until your body is all finished growing and changing. Girl brains tend to start solidifying around age 21 and boys about 24. There will be growing times when you will feel like your brain is solid and absolutely knows everything. This is a lie your brain is telling you because it doesn’t want you to know that you still need support and have growing to do. Yeah, SonHerisme will need therapy. I am a solo single parent. Please have mercy on your judgement of me.

SonHerisme’s fascination with wine has been burbling since The Tempest, is my point. Sometime during these COVID homeschool times, he watched part of a program about wine with me after asking me more questions about wine, winemaking, etc. I am somewhat less than a novice about wine so I turned to the program to give him a glimpse of what some winemakers do. This particular show had the headlamp wearing grape pickers gently picking grapes in the cold pre-dawn. Like magical fairy lights dancing through the dense black vineyard just before the fog began to lift as the sun peeked over the horizon. SonHerisme declared he was going to start his own vineyard on the side of our rocky east-facing hill. Y’all, he checked how many hours the sun hits that side of the hill on a summer day so that he could get ready for planting. For $7.99 he bought himself a little grapevine starter. It’s so sweet. He has grape expectations for that little thing. I hope it works out for him.

Grow little tiny thing, grow!

We also have grape expectations about our new project: building an outdoor sofa for the deck. As we were driving home with our lumber and supplies, SonHerisme was shocked when I answered one of his questions about the process by suggesting we consult the building plans. I almost burst into tears because that sweet sweet bear thought that I was making my own plans – to build an outdoor sofa – to measure the things and cut the things – having never ever done a project on this scale before. In his brain as my giant tweenager almost teenager, it truly never crossed his mind that I might need something like plans to pull together a 6ft solid deck sofa.

It was one of those sweet moments when the weight of his belief in who I am, really hit me. For him, it was a defining moment of reality that mommy is at least a bit of just a human person and not all magic – a part of growing up. A chink in the innocence of being a tiny bear, making room for the most amazing big bear. I wish for it to be as painless as possible while still providing enough challenge for healthy growth. May the force be with you, and also with you. This is the way. I have spoken.

I suppose that is what Springtime brings – grape expectations.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo