Today was the last day of evening school for this school year, and I’m happy. Money is nice but sometimes time is nicer. And it’s been a tough week at school, for lots of us and for reasons I am not at liberty to discuss. Suffice to say, whatever y’all may think about teachers, you don’t even want to know what we sometimes think of parents. We are all too often at odds with one another, when, technically, our goals are the same: educated, well-rounded, independent, productive, responsible high school graduates. But there seem to be too many points of disagreement, contention, even pure fury between us.
Which brings me to a topic that I am not going to rant about, but merely mention that I will SO be bringing it up later (maybe this weekend? next week? not sure, because it’s sorta big for me) — can we deny that the acceptance of sexual freedom has brought about horrific amounts of heartache and disaster for parents and children? Can we accept that our desire for nonjudgment in our erotic lives has visited unimagined sorrow on too many people, people we will never care about or know or even meet?
Okay, enough about me being a less than stellar teacher and questioning my own and others’ values. There must be other things that deserve to be mentioned tonight, right? And I’m still trying to figure out what I want this blog to focus on, and the answer I’m coming up with is a mishmash of ideas. I think hard and lots about many things. So please forgive me if I’m too all over the place and ridiculous in my choice of topics. I understand if you can’t stick with me, but thank you for trying.
I know one thing this blog won’t be: a mommy blog. God bless moms, and I am a mom myself, but I have big kids (26, 24, 22, 16) and their lives are their own, not mine. I will mention them, I’m sure, because they are funny and wonderful and very fantastic and I adore them to distraction and tell them all I love them frequently and grin like a gormless fool when I see them because they make my heart lift up. But they are not my possessions and I can’t use them to validate my existence or my goodness as a person or force them to be my purpose for being. I am merely the luckiest mama in the world and they are the most glorious and beautiful butterflies to escape from the cocoon.
And last thought of this odd, fragmented night: There is a dark yawning gulf between knowledge and understanding, and sometimes I am desperately lost between the two…
Oh, and I love you. I do.