Each day delivering newspapers I lose approximately 5 minutes on route time from flipping between radio stations. The quality of programming sharpens the reminder of how much I miss Sirius. The cardboard music, screaming commentators and discussions of paranormal activity feel like an entire day of eating Twinkies and Cocoa Puffs. I can get the BBC on Minnesota Public Radio out of Worthington, MN, but the BBC has gone down hill. Everything relates to the US and the Middle East according to this perspective of the news--way less than six degrees of separation. I know more happens in the world than the daily living of our friend Pervez in Pakistan.
Today I turned off the radio and blissfully created my own rhythm of prayer, running, and tossing newspapers. The toss is improving. I enjoy the radio--we are close friends. I questioned turning it off and reflected on my co-dependency with the radio. We have our own distinct identities. I can live as a self. I will always give the radio a chance--staying at home with the girls, the radio provides me with adult language and ideas. I do miss the quality on Sirius--and no, I do not speak of Howard Stern or Larry the Cable Guy.
Daughter #2 is developing her own self. I call her Destructo--ripping and yanking, tearing and pulling. I don't remember such violence toward objects from her older sister. I don't see her as a risk to become a terrorist, but I really have to watch. Part of the problem is that she seems to lead with her head. Sometimes it looks like she plays football without a helmet, joined Fight Club, or joined the MMA circuit. With an older sister that likes to provoke, I live in the midst of a powder keg. I don't jump at every scream, but after 6 weeks at home now, I have learned the nuance attached to screams.
Or so I thought.
#2 comes screaming toward me after lunch the other day. The scream that indicates pain. I get up and move toward her and see a big gash on her head. Most head alterations show up well. Twelve months old, and she competes with Telly Savalas for lack of hair. Most head owies show up well. I see a splotch of red. Immediately I get ready to call 911. It doesn't look good. My heart races.
We ate Boca burgers and fries for lunch. #2 got a hold of her sister's ketchup filled plate and turned it into a hat. Doctor call aborted.
I think we're both developing a self. In the image of God?