Why I loved “That Tinker Bell Movie” (speaking of Disney nonsense…)

 

Because we borrowed the Tinkerbell movie from the library, I have no idea what happens in the middle third of it. We have slowly and painfully discovered that the middle third of EVERY movie from the library is scratched and un-viewable.

But the other two thirds I really liked.

It feels different from other Disney movies because it lack music or comic sidekicks so my preschoolers  were bored. But, have no fear,  Tinkerbell’s tiny fairy body is anatomically impossible and her eyes are way too big, never quite letting you forget it’s a Disney movie.

It’s the conflict in the movie that grabbed me and pulled me in. It’s a conflict that could not be resolved through meeting one’s true love or escaping the tower, village life, cultural norms, or the Underwater Kingdom.

The story is about Tinkerbell fighting and then accepting her gift and her path even though it means realizing that she does not  have other gifts and can’t pursue other paths.

Brave Statement, Walt (and your people.)

After growing up in a generation raised to believe we can do Anything, I now turn to my little daughters and find myself echoing the same belief.

Except I want to add, in a hushed whisper, “but you can’t do EVERYTHING.”

Following the generations raised to inherit careers, jobs, sameness, our mark is one of vocational revolutionaries.

Except that the dreams we dream big and the questions we love asking in the classroom can become our burden in the workforce, and sometimes even the cause of paralysis.

If we can do ANYTHING, what should we do? Where should we go? What is important enough? How do we avoid settling?  Why are we sometimes miserable when we actually decide what to do? And the belief that anything is everything leads so quickly to contentment with nothing.

And some of us, when we do find our unexpected path, are ashamed to admit  that what gives us the most joy and purpose is about as sexy as tinkering (probably less.)

Tink goes through a process (anyone been there?) And it’s not a pretty one (are there pretty processes? sign me up. ) But when she accepts her calling, complete with its limitations, she finds joy and freedom.  

I must confess that Tink, in the end, still gets to go to the mainland, though Tinkers usually stay back. I rationalize this with my understanding that they do have to retain a link to JM Barrie’s story.

But really, it’s Disney, and they have to sell merchandise, and wish upon stars, so every protagonist gets the exception. For our select purposes, we will call this GRACE: Hello King Triton letting Ariel have legs.

And by the way, my inner Rage Against the Princesses not so secretly hopes that part of Tink’s process was a real awkward, ugly, lonely phase in her 20’s  that I happened to  miss because it was in that scratched middle third…

Should you order Tinkerbell on Netflix tonight? No. Are you confined indoors with sick young children and it’s between this and Dora Saves the Crystal Kingdom? Choose this and get excited for some personal growth.

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Charlotte you do not hold him back!

You are the wind beneath his wings.

I’m clearing this house of all that Disney nonsense and making the girls watch this video everyday for the rest of their lives.

 The doubt, the scorn, the shock, the tears. Simon, in his tight tee, jerky, yet respectably unafraid to admit when he’s been had.

This week, watching this on You Tube could actually beat Rue and Zou Bisou Bisou.

Oh the Brits…bringing us real TV since forever.

The Giving Stump

Once upon a time there was a tree.

And it died.

And vigilent neighbors contacted not-so-vigilent neighbors about removal of said tree which shared their yards.

And the tree was removed.

And the stump was left on the less-vigilent ones yard. And when the less-vigilent, Non-Yard-Saavy woman was asked if she wanted to pay for stump-grinding, she opted no.

She figured there were other things she could do with that money – pay for preschool, or eat out and buy clothes (she did not always have the strongest financial priorities.)

So the stump lived on.

And the stump was happy.

But then strange root/weeds started sprouting up all over the yard.

And the Non-Yard Saavy woman regretted her decision. The stump was haunting her yard.

But the stump was happy.

Then one unseasonally warm March, the Non-Yard Saavy Woman’s children wouldn’t come in to eat dinner. So she decided to bring their healthy meal of generic brand frozen pizza out.

But she had no table.

So she used the stump.

And they ate.

And hosted tea parties.

And the stump was happy.

Spring! and some links

Yesterday afternoon we sat on the porch and painted toenails. Olivia layered hers up in glitter and then went down the slide.

Sophia chose a sparkly fushia and went in the sprinkler,

Oh and guess what re -emerged today…

I hadn’t gotten rid of it and when she asked, I couldn’t lie. She just feels so beautiful in it. Can I rob her of that?

And some quick links…

I baked this on Tuesday. It was good, but I was too cautious in my orange-zesting.When in doubt, zest on.

Remember this amazing wedding? This post does it justice, and you can hear about in Mary Flynn’s own words… (Leila and Ann  – you made the post!)

And this is my most favorite baby nursery I’ve ever seen. Yellow and gray are two of my favorites right now. Oh the organization. Some. Day.

And Erin’s words here got me thinking about verses I have often read but never known. Leaven.

We’ve got a big, fun wedding in store this weekend and hopefully more sunshine, sprinklers, and wet grass all over our feet!

Happy Late Night Friday!

Why Getting Ready for Kindergarten Feels Like Being Pregnant with Her Did and (It all Feels Like Puberty Over and Over Again)

When I was pregnant with Sophia, I became…emotionally un-glued. She was part of the overall plan, but not the plan that year, that month. I had finally found my rhythm again and then…

Change.

Our April Fools Day Surprise, heads to Kindergarten in the Fall. Thus I am in the beginning of my Kindergarten Gestation – and am once again furiously looking for some extra strength emotional glue.

Because just like pregnancy, Sending Your First Child To Kindergarten, rings hugely universal and acutely personal.

And so when I break down in the library to a friend, half of me feels like my emotions are Seriously  Valid, and half of me feels like a  fool.

I will survive this. Just like I survived that first pregnancy when everyone and their mom’s cousin told me I would, because they did, after 9 days of hard labor and 52 stitches. (I think only men should be allowed to talk to pregnant women- seems odd, but really? The Labor Horror Stories? There are times when women just need to be separated.)

In her classic, Operating Instructions, Anne Lamott, compares pregnancy to puberty,

“I have been thinking a lot lately of Phil Spektor and his Wall of Sound, because to be pregnant is to be backed by a wall of hormones, just like during puberty, and the sense of aloneness that goes along with that is something I have been dancing as fast as I could to avoid ever having to feel again.”

And though no hormonal changes have been detected (yet) in sending your first to school, I venture that this too feels a bit like puberty.

I’ve just kind of lost my footing – and unlike my own preadolescence, I don’t have a pair of sporty white keds with which to find it again.

And I’m with Anne in that dance to avoid the hard and the awkward and the unsure.

Please, just this once, can I  stay where I am? Because I finally figured out how to be here. And I don’t know how to be there.

But something shifted in that first pregancy that I feel about to shift again…it was about halfway through when I first felt her move inside of me. Something happened. The wonder of the  almost-here eclipsed the fear and sadness of what was past.

What if, though unknown, the best was yet to come?

And I sense it as I look at this suddenly-gangly five year old with so many questions and even more opinions, who, when I turn my head for one second, is dancing in the streets wearing a horrific Dollar Tree Rapunzel wig.

These walls can barely hold her at five, so clearly the adventures are just beginning. This person, who six years ago, we were wondering how to fit into our lives, will head out every morning next year – with or without the wig, depending on dress codes.

And oh, how she will love it.

And I, for just a moment,  even in my nervous, pubescent state, with broken- out skin,  am filled with wonder at the almost-here.

“Fear is the belief that God’s goodness ends.” Ann Voskamp

 

Nicaragua, Mi Hermano, y Algunas de Mis Amigas Favoritas

 

Can there be anything more magical than people I love the most connecting with each other in a Far Off Land, without me there to force them into it, and then thinking to take a picture?

I think not.

Well, perhaps, being there myself.

But I really really loved getting this picture via phone via airplane on runway in Miami.

Bienvenidos Estudiantes! May your stomachs make a smooth and painless transition from arroz con pollo to la comida de college.

Super Girl

Someday I hope to have a desk again, and when I do, I will keep this picture on it. Forever.

SuperGirl and I took a stroll through the 2nd Sunday Art Festival. Stroll, meaning, she ran and I followed with her CD player blasting her soundtrack. It was both epic and innocent and I wanted time to freeze on Prince George St.

I must confess that Super Girl evolved from the following exchange:

Me: Look at the cute capes Ms. Leah made for Judah and Lydie!

Her: I want you to make me a cape.

Me: Your mother can’t make things.

Her: Well, let me see what I can find…

Oh Super Girl…though your costumes may evolve and your soundtracks change, please don’t lose your Super spirit…