The gamut of emotions over a late August week.

Fear

The Republican National Convention. The realization that the election is still two months away and it is far from a foregone conclusion that 45 will not remain in office another four years. I do not live in fear. But I fear that happening, and just as much, I fear the lengths he will go to to try and ensure he doesn’t lose. Because nothing, to him, is worse than a loser or losing. And he is losing.

So how far will he go and what will he do? I believe with every fiber that he places himself at the forefront of every priority decision he makes. I believe strongly that he will do first what benefits himself, and (possibly) secondarily what benefits the country. I do believe that, and I believe that belief is backed up by an ever-increasing stack of evidence from his own words and actions over the last four years. I fear what he has done to this country, and I fear what he may still do. I fear for our children’s futures and I fear that too many, including myself, will grow weary of trying to speak up, stand up, and stop in every legal way possible way this American despot-lite from throning himself for another term.

Jealousy

That my ten-year old son is getting so much better at political illustrations and cartoons than me, to say nothing of his impressions of various figures. His latest: Nikki Haley.

Disgust

The Republican National Convention. The casual hypocrisy over dismissing every voice that has spoken out against Trump, including those from the military, intelligence, and law enforcement communities, as well as Republicans and former members of his own administration that have spoken up. There is always a reason, and it is always somebody else’s fault. That is not a conservative trait.

Again, not blaming others and not pointing fingers, the idea of personal responsibility has been a conservative ideal for decades. It is a conservative ideal that I resonate with; a value or principle I have resonated with.

But like many other conservative ideals* in a Trump world, that ideal has two standards: one for the President, and one for everyone else.

*how about that whole loyalty ideal? Total loyalty is expected and demanded…but it goes one way.

Sadness

The Republican National Convention. The people I know, the people I care for, the people who are good and kind and intelligent who will still, will still, will still vote for this man and what he represents.

Also, a sadness, a strange sadness for the Trump children. Is the rage-filled support they show for their father born from love, respect, and support for the man he is and the principles he (says he) stands for? Or is it born of fear that unless they claw and scream and demean his adversaries, that their father will think lesser of them…and possibly affect their role in future successes and estate divisions? I know how cynical it sounds, but what sort of affection, of love, of kindness and support did they receive from their father? Where does their loyalty come from? I simply wonder, and I think even with the gold dressings of their 1% lifestyles, there has to be a relational void, an emotional stunting, that will never be filled, whether they acknowledge it or not.

And that is sad.

——

We ran out of peanut butter this week. I realize these two entries under “sadness” are not equivalent. But they are both sad.

Anger

A three-year old getting mad at me and showing his anger by throwing himself on his bed, atop his 2,472 stuffed animals, and falling asleep for a ninety-minute nap. Anger can be rejuvenating.

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The Republican National Convention. What lies will they state, unblinking, over and over and over, while invoking the name of God and the forces of (their version of) Christianity?

Anticipation

Filming young children eat cake in slow motion as it unsteadily is carried to their mouths, crumbs spilling and frosting smearing, and the digital technicolor magic of seeing it happen at quarter speed.

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The Republican National Convention. What stops will they pull out and what lines will they cross to salvage a disintegrating, in virtually every way, candidate?

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Trying to install new flooring around four children and being able to keep going by holding the knowledge - or hope - that it will be worth it in the future. Ideally.

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Our long-standing ritual of waiting at the top of our driveway to greet Becca when she returns from work. To see the four different emotions and ways our kids process their excitement and love at seeing their mom again.

Surprise

At how much I enjoyed Knives Out the second time through. I absolutely loved it the first - one of my favourite scripts of the last several years - but I got to see it with Becca (her first time). It is still so delicious. Hilarious, suspenseful, a masterpiece of making you pay attention to everything happening and soaking all of the interactions up.

Our three-year old’s ritual of hiding, or waking up early, and just waiting in the dark for someone to find him. Completely silent, completely still. You walk around the corner and there he is: just sitting, or lying down, or standing, with a smirk and a self-satisfied knowledge that he has successfully surveilled you without your knowledge. Spooky. And hilarious.

Loneliness

Whether you live alone or with others, deep in a valley or high on a mountain, it is possible in whatever circumstances you live to be lonely. I get lonely. I hope that experiencing that feeling sometimes will lead to a greater understanding and empathy with others who face it with greater frequency, to greater depths, and with less noisy support to lean on.

Trust

Watching your daughter decide to design and sew her own protective masks to sell…and seeing the resilience of making mistakes and still moving forward; of learning how to use experience as learning and keep improving. Beautiful. They will be for sale soon. And they are pretty nifty.

Happiness

Watching the Republican National Convention with children who are intensely interested and who provide steady streams of commentary and feedback. Makes it all worth it.

Our daughter admitted several days ago that “…I might actually be looking forward to watching the Republican Convention even more than the Democrat one last week.”

I said Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s a circus. A circus with a grandstanding megalomaniac for a ringmaster.

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Sous-chef and his boss.

Watching our kids eat popsicles eat popsicles on a late summer Wednesday. Why wasn’t I eating one? Well, there were only three left. I filed this under “happiness,” but it also could have gone under “sadness” or “jealousy.” But then I made an iced coffee for myself and didn’t share, so…happiness again.

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Two kids on the front porch, one cutting out patterns and sewing, the other drawing illustrations and cartoons. The unquenchable thirst and need to imagine and create and make. And to do so outside, sun rays fading down and Hamilton soundtrack pumping its rhythms from inside the house as they hum and sing along. Beautiful.

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The joy our three-year old has at cooking food in his outdoor kitchen; a kitchen that consists of a sandbox and four million pieces of old cutlery, spatulas, pans, containers, twigs, branches, mud, and paprika. He is happy to make dishes on demand, from curry to pancakes, falafels to cookies, and to instruct and involve others with his process…as long as they follow his instructions exactly. Exactly.

Our ten-year old, on his own, deciding to help his three-year old brother with potty training. He collaged a monster face onto the portable toilet he’s learning on, gave the creature a name, developed a whole narrative and backstory that had his younger brother entranced for well over an hour while he, umm, practiced sitting on the monster’s face. The best memories are often the strangest ones, and this is a strange one amidst many strange ones, and, and a happy one amongst many joyous ones. But it stands separate from many of the others. In the end, a brother helping a brother. Love, love, love. The end result is unimportant. It’s the process that counts sometimes. Time to go wash some more laundry…

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Watching Bong Joon-ho’s 2006 monster film The Host over the course of a couple weeks (yeah, that’s how I often watch films, especially South Korean ones that I need more time to process). To take a genre story and fill it with so much more meaning and interest than you might think…government response to a virus, father and family trying to rescue daughter, family dynamics in different cultures, some wonderful suspense and escape/chase sequences…a lovely little monster flick that is much more than its genre might lead you to believe.

Love

Seeing my seven-month old niece on FaceTime and the way she looks and watches and observes me and even though she doesn’t have the words to articulate yet, I can feel and see her looking at me with great interest, and I trust (see above emotions) that that interest will turn into love.

——

This is a direct quote from my wife below:

Real quick, before you go to bed tonight, would you mind switching the piano that’s downstairs with the one we have upstairs?

I want to see which one I like up here more. I was thinking every season we could switch them out. 

- Becca

She still makes me laugh.