She didn’t smile, but she didn’t frown.

She focused on the children, was firm, kind and direct.

I never saw anything like it.

One three-year old was having a fit. This child didn’t want to put on her shoes to go outside and it was a rule.

She wiggled on the ground squirming this way and that, she screamed loudly and pounded her fists.

Debbie ignored her. When she did stop, the teacher asked calmly, “Are you done?”

The child stared at her blankly.

“I’m here if you want help with your shoes… or are you going to do that kicking thing a bit more? Now that was interesting.”

The child stared at her, then said, “But I don’t want to put my shoes on!”

Debbie replies, “Oh, so you  have a problem. I wonder how you are going to solve it.”

Sometimes I hear Debbie whispering into my ear, “It looks like you have a problem, Kim, I wonder how you are going to solve it…”.   Then I stop kicking, regroup and figure out what I’m going to do.

I think she taught me more than my daughter.

Before she was happy, but now she was shaking, hyperventilating.
The “popular girl” was upset at her. It was too much for her thin body.
“I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead.” she said over and over.

As I drove away from our house, I saw the car of girls pull up quickly behind me. They flashed their lights.
I pulled over, veins vibrating as my daughter caught her breath and exited the car.
She met the other girl in the middle and handed over the hat and the ticket.
The boy’s hat and ticket.
The boy who the popular girl likes.
(It’s a long story.)
My hand reached over and opened the car door.

The words, “Don’t say anything” humming in my memory,  were not strong enough to stop my hand from opening my door.

Stood up and addressed the girl, the popular one,  the one who spends time in my home and calls me mum. (She calls everyone mum- maybe that’s why she is popular)
“Insert name here, You. May. Not. Address. My. Daughter. In. That. Manner. ” I say to her (referring to the demanding texts she has been sending my daughter the last half hour. The ones which were sent every 30 seconds ending in NOW NOW NOW.)

Her eyes were big. Her body frozen.
I continued… calmly and clearly…
“And you have no right to dictate whom my daughter sees and when, especially after I stood by and watched your behavior with her boyfriend last winter. Really. You. Have. No. Right.”

OOPS. I said something.

I got back into the car.
So did my daughter.
I sped off like a hoodlum.
It wasn’t pretty.

There was little left of my daughter in that body next to me in the car.

She was pale.

“I am soo dead.” “I will need to change schools” “I have to move with Dad” “This can’t be happening”

But it did happen.

She called the girls in the car immediately, apologizing to them for my behavior.

She spent the night at a girlfriends house and called in the middle of the night, the anger she felt for me and the fear of disapproval of her peers were too much for her to sleep.

We talked for a long time.  I apologized for saying something. I tried to explain myself, but mostly I apologized and apologized. Luckily, by the end of the conversation we shared a few laughs.

This incident took a few days to process..

I had made some assumptions and over generalizations about the situation. It is a quality that I come by honestly. I tent to jump to the worst case scenario.

This girl received a lashing from some unresolved issues of my past.  I saw her as the stereotype of the ”other woman”. The type who defines themselves  by how many men crave her. The secretary coming on to the married boss, the friend coming on to the husband. The type of I  judge and fear.

I was not just telling off that little girl in front of my car, I telling off everyone from my past.

That was kind of wrong.

(Ok, really wrong.)

I know I had to evaluate my relationship with “these women”.  I didn’t know how. So I thought about it for a while.

If they successfully pull a man away from a relationship,  they might spend the rest of their relationship worried that the man is lead easily astray. (because he is. )

That’s not the type of man I would want.

That’s not the type of life I would want.

That’s not a life I would want for anyone, even this girl.

So, now I’ve resolved something big in my life, at the expense of my daughter.

I think she’s forgiven me.

That girl has already  invited herself to spend the night….

I promise not to say anything. x

I used to judge people. It’s a long story of personal evolution. I like to think I don’t do it anymore, but honestly, sometimes I do.

The most recent wrath of my judgment was with a “sustainable home” in own neighborhood a few years ago. I watched as this huge “Sustainable Home” imported materials from over the globe and used heaps of energy to build. I tried to attend the open home with an open mind, but I was particularly upset by the plastic, the imported furniture and the cotton sheets from China. I hoped that a little more effort and consciousness would have been weaved into the final product. I wished that it had bamboo bathmats, recycled art, or at least, locally made furniture. I became quite self riotous and bitchy about the whole thing.

It wasn’t pretty.

These people were at least trying. Their focus was power generation, and on that front they did a relatively good job.

My tendency to judge is something that I think about with Arithmetic Village.

Math is not my thing.

Who am I do write, create and distribute a math program?

I am not Math Mom “Let’s Play Math” or any other of the extraordinary people who are out there passionate about math as a subject. I am more passionate about HOW a subject is taught than the subject itself. Math through personification excites me, not the pythagorean theorem. (although I do know the pythagorean theorem as my Algebra 2 tutar made me repeat it over and over and over…)

So, now I am getting close to presenting my new version and really, really launch Arithmetic Village, and am getting nervous. Why would I feel uneasy presenting this great program to people who know more and are extremely passionate about Math?    Probably because of my own self righteousness when confronted by people who know just a little about something that I have studied  for a long time.

I need to grow up and get on with it but I am secretly hoping the mathematics community is more gracious and less judgmental than myself.

Good judgement comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgement.
 Jim Horning 

Our pregnancy was different (we lost her twin). Her birth was different, more intense, but fast (under two hours). She was the sweetest, most sensitive baby I have ever met, we called her “angel” from the beginning.  I remember tossing her in the air, just a little, like I have with many babies before her. I remember the look. “What the heck are you doing throwing a baby?”- she scowled at me firmly. Once after I lost my temper and yelled, she calmly looked at me and said, “Mom, is this suppose to help the situation?”  I think she was six. The wisdom that flowed from this young, fair child never ceases to amaze me. I once used a figure of Confucius to represent her, then stopped myself.  It is not her job to be a teacher. But in so many ways, she is.

And today she is 14. Another seven year cycle entered. This is the cycle where she will begin to make more choices on her own, sharing the responsibility with me until she is 21. Then she will be free of my input. I’ll do my best to guide her well the next seven years, and she’ll have to endure my clumsiness and good intentions until the end. She’s been patient with me so far and freedom is just around the corner….

She enters this new faze in the sky, between parents’ homes, unconventionally missing her birthday entirely over the date line. When she’s older, she can logistically deduct a year, see how wise is this angel?

As an anti-globalisation feminist, I know a lot about Disney. I’ve read the articles, seen the movies. I understand the innate racism, the sexism, the symbol of corporate sponsorship and the epitome consumerism gone mad.

I know, I know, I know.

But  I also know that I am a child of Southern California and my grandparents had an interesting job, they managed the Travel lodge next door to Disneyland.  So, whenever I visited my grandparents, I also visited Disneyland.  Luckily for me, that was often. Going to Disneyland , for me, is like me going home.

You could imagine my memories: The first time through the haunted house with my grandfather is one of my most treasured moments. The time I let go of my red balloon and blessed it on its way instead of crying, was my first lesson in detachment.

I also had grad night in ’83 with my best friends. Would visit often while a California, it was a great weekend away. When I had children, I brought them, young. (Probably too young). I have experienced Disneyland through the eyes of my daughter with sensory integration issues (not a pleasant experience)  and have found myself at the barrel of a security guard gun behind “Small World” after homeland security measures increased tenfold. (Long story…Ride broke down and seven year old and I escaped through wrong exit during her meltdown). I have been in a tea cup with an eight year old as tinker-bell flew by with no noticeable strings.. My experiences have been varied.

There are many ways to look at Disneyland, and just like life, what you want to see, you will see.  So this year, I chose to go and embrace it fully with entire family. I chose to focus on Walt’s original vision of inspiration and creativity. I stuck to this vision despite the few moments that I slipped and did the math, trying to figure out the income generated by this happiness machine.  I tried not to notice that most people were probably increasing their personal debt with one hundred dollar entrance fees. It is none of my business. (Thank goodness my tickets were gifted,  for I have no way to justify at least a $1,000 NZ day) I quickly turned away from the Princess beauty salon for infants and headed towards the live storytelling.   I  relaxed and enjoyed the moments with my family, choosing what to see and what not to see.

Here is a picture of my siblings and all of our children at the entrance…

We had a wonderful time, especially my five year old. In this video she is “thumbs uping” the characters in the parade marching by our timing was impeccable, I imagine we may have had some support from my grandparents up above…

Thank you Walt.

1. Make time to visit my friends. I have been blessed with lovely people who I’ve known for a long time and who I love at a soul level. Every time I see them is a gift. Next time I will give myself more than two days to drive from Eugene to Southern California so I can swing by and visit them.
2. Make time to visit Cyber friends. I drove right through neighborhoods of people I follow online. I would have loved to catch up and meet some  of them in person over coffee. I would love to thank people like wonder in the woods in person for all of their support this last year.

3. I’ll spend more time there. I know three weeks seems like a lot of time for an american, but the time flew by quickly for a Kiwi, I am used to a slower pace. I would have spent three days at Disney, more time with my parents, more time with my friends and family and more time to relax and to be spontaneous. I would have loved to catch a movie or go for a hike.

4. I’ll go to a grocery store more than once. There were so many new things like cranberry raisins and Advil that I can’t get in New Zealand. I will slowly go down the isles and indulge in some goodies.

5. I will make more time for some quality op shopping. The US has some awesome op shops. Imagine more people, more clothes, better deals..

This trip was perfect, but I wanted to write myself a reminder for next time… until then I am sorting out posts from my trip and planning an adventurous new year…

Some valuable insight I have gained these last few months:

I eat emotionally, or to escape the moment.

I am raising children who are more intelligent and enlightened than I (Please don’t tell them I’m not ready for this knowledge to be mixed with teenage hormones.)

I have to take responsiblity and  re-strategies  my company, Arithmetic Village. This includes funding version two  myself.  I have heaps of new ideas.

It seems the quieter I am, the more busy my brain becomes.

Good busy.

I am rejuvenated and  reenergized. 2012 is going to be an amazing year!

On the other hand, my little Zuva is fully exploring her extrovert side. She wants me to post this video of how she can now ride without training wheels. We live in the middle of a hill, so we haven’t given her the attention she deserves to foster this skill. Finally she talked us into finding a flat space on this hilly island. This is her second go…

This was the beginning of my journey into becoming a trustworthy woman.

Now, this woman could have said to me, ” Look you little egocentric snot, lay off the ego trip and get over yourself. We were hired to run this infant toddler center together, let’s get on with it.” But she didn’t. She role modeled grace and dignity and cooperation. She was exactly who I needed to work with. I was a dreamer, she was a doer. And together we turned around a dingy dysfunctional childcare and got it accredited by NAEYC within a year.

It was that relationship that encouraged me to always have a circle of women around to support my journey through motherhood and age and life. There are some people who are angels put on this planet at the perfect time to teach you a perfect lesson.

Today I send gratitude to all of those angels.. and there are many…

I used to love this.

When you live on a small island, in a small country, it helps to like your neighbors.  Ever since I read “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” and started my journey to being a localvore, I’ve gotten to know people on the island I wouldn’t ordinarily. We know the chickens that lay our eggs, we know the baker (our bread comes to our door once a week),  we socialize with the doctors and teachers and vintners. After ten  years, there are very few public places that I can go to without leaving room for conversations. “When are the girls coming home?” ” Hows the new version coming along?” ” How was your trip up north?”.

Some people would find this type of environment claustrophobic. I think it all keeps us honest. Here there are no secrets, there is no lying.

When my daughter took off school to see a doctor in Auckland, two people texted me to say she was on the ferry and did I need someone to make sure she reached her destination alright.

Just this morning as I was getting a cup of coffee, the local Plumbing man came up t o me and said his daughter still used Arithmetic village three years after she attended my workshop. Three years. She was singing the rhyme. Tis is the type of feedback I would not get in a larger city.

I like it.

Now, with the popularity of Facebook, I know more details about people who were acquaintances. I now know what they are having for thanksgiving.  This leaves me with more to talk about when we meet at the park or at the petrol station. Now my village is getting bigger and familiarity with people from my past and people whom I’ve never met is growing.

I wonder how social media will change our neighborhoods. My intuition is that they will change for the better.

I can alter my appearance.

I can become invisible.

The first time I discovered this was when I dressed up for punk rock day at school, then went into a store on my way home. I was NOT invisible. The store person did not ignore me like they did the day before. Their disdain and discomfort with me was almost palatable.

The next time was when I gained weight in college. I was instantly invisible. I lost the weight and was, go on guess… instantly visible again.

While walking the other day in the city with my 13-year-old daughter. I was delighting in her company. I noticed that other people were also delighting in her company, mainly men. Not only boys, but grown boys.

She was definitely not invisible.

I was shocked.

As they stared at my little girl, I gave them the evil eye. I  looked them up and down. What did they do? Nothing, for I was invisible.

I shared this with my girlfriends and they said that the same thing happens when they walk with their daughters.

It is an interesting perspective.

I did some research, out of people who were assaulted, 37% of women 15-27 were so on the street. By the time women reach 40, only 7% of those who are assaulted are assaulted on the street. So, being invisible has benefits.

I also just finished a book by Jane Goodall. The only chimpanzees free to roam freely between territories are adolescent females. My girls might find their own ways to make themselves invisible, but they are probably better off looking for another superpower.

I will enjoy being invisible for now. If I ever want that to change, I can always die my hair purple.