Happy 5th of July!

Issue 91

Greetings from Pompei, I mean Legoland. Emma and I are in San Diego for a few days. We left Brother Bear behind to fend for himself—he’s 14. JK. He’s with his dad (and he is 14). I’ve taken Brother Bear to Legoland and Disneyland. It’s Sister Bear’s turn.

We rented a car through private-owner rental, Turo. The options are greater and the cars are exponentially more interesting. We chose a Lego car. When in Rome…

There’s even a Fiat Lego set to match.

Meanwhile, back in our car, on our way to Oakland airport this morning, we were pulled over. I wasn’t too nervous because I hadn’t done anything wrong—really. I got off with a warning and a dose of attitude from the policeman. As he ran my license though, I wondered how different I’d feel right now if I were black—a thought I’d never had a few years ago. I wasn’t even aware of my privilege as early as 2020, before George Floyd was killed. I mean, I was, but I wasn’t. My perspective has widened. More, please.

More progress. In a show Emma was watching, I witnessed the love interests were girls (if I’m even allowed to assume that). I’m okay sounding old when I say, this would NEVER have happened when I was her age. Love interests were always boys and girls. Always! Not anymore…

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A Letter Within The Letter

I took a few days to respond to John after being so blunt, admitting I’d researched him and learned of his horrific childhood and crime. I worried I’d pushed it too far—gotten too close, too soon—I do that. Unwilling to ignore elephants, I go deep, quickly.

To reset my worry, I imagined he must have felt shame at some point after taking three lives 30 years ago (just assuming). I reasoned I was in good company. We all have it to varying degrees. My shame could relax.

In my latest letter to John, I wrote:

Did you know you could paint before your time at SQ, or was that a hobby you developed once inside? Clearly, you have an artistic propensity. Sometimes it takes a while to remember who we are or uncover what we never knew was there. I have a sense of what my kids are naturally good at from a very young age, and I remind them often. I do it because, as life goes on, plaque builds up, and it’s too easy to forget the gifts you were born with. My son is a very gifted artist—scale, proportion. But at 14, he’s decided he doesn’t want anything to do with art and says I only think he’s good because I’m his mom. My daughter has a great fashion sense. She would layer crazy dresses and skirts and look very wacky and awesome. Then, a boy in her school poked fun at her, and she stopped. It can happen that easily.

Dear reader, what gifts did you have before life’s plaque covered them over?

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Sibling Rivalry and Sibling Conflict

I’m learning there’s a difference. Owen wishes his sister was never born, and because of this, Emma wishes the same about him. The dynamic isn’t delightful at all. It’s awful. When I learned from a bubbly parent on Instagram that there’s a difference between sibling rivalry and sibling conflict, a touch of ease washed over me. 

I LOVE learning new behavior. Tell me what works for you! I give advice because I’m deeply comforted by learning from others. With this perspective, I wonder why wouldn’t someone want to learn from me. If you have a hack, a life well lived, advice to make my life easier and more enjoyable, I want to know about it.  What can we learn from one another if we open ourselves to the other’s wisdom? So darn much!

Back to siblings, sibling conflict is between siblings. It’s normal. Sibling rivalry is between siblings plus a parent. It’s not as normal. Sometimes we get involved (unsafe behavior), but it’s far less than I’d believed necessary. Deep. Breath. A touch of ease. I can do less.

Siblings get into conflict, but we don’t have to intervene. When we do, we cause sibling rivalry. I don’t have to understand this entirely to implement the thinking immediately. I have enough information to believe there’s merit, and I know I’ll learn more as I go. This is how I make most moves in life. It’s phenomenal.

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You Dumb-Dumb

Carry Dum-Dums when you travel, even if by accident. On our descent into San Diego today, the older sister of this high-fivn’–baby boy was in pain. Her ears. She cried. We empathized. What could we do? I had TikTacks—too spicy. “Emma, did you pack lollipops?” “Yes, I have three.” “How about we offer one to the little girl?”

Tap, tap, tap, “Would she like a lollipop,” I asked the mom. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you!” Boy, did it help. So much so, the mom will now travel with Dum-Dums, and so should you.

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Sleep well, angels.

If you’re reading this in the morning, go back to bed. You deserve it. Until next week. Simone (from San Diego)