Check this off

I'm a list-maker. Every morning I look at my to-do, and every night I scribble the undone on a notepad at my bedside. Some items are pre-loaded everyday. Run. Laundry. Clean bathrooms. As soon as I check them off for Sunday I make a mental note to add them on Monday's list.

My daughter isn't a lister, but I wish she would be. All the "to-do"s scramble around in her head along with other pressing matters like deciding on the boyfriend-of-the-week, or overcoming the girlfriend-drama-of-the-day, or whether to flat-iron the hair or pull it into a ponytail. She doesn't prioritize like I do, and she doesn't demonstrate my discipline to tackle the big, bad and ugly items before kicking back for the leisure activities.

This is a constant tug-of-war. I want to manage things for her, but at age 14 she should be learning to manage for herself. So I sit in front of this screen at 7:30 AM on a Sunday, ironing for the week complete, cat litter changed, and dishwasher emptied, anxious for her to wake up and start checking things off. Heaven help me.

Musings after a night of witnessing history...

I have always loved my country.

For the last eight years it seemed like the kind of love I offered wasn't welcome. My love came with suggestions. My love came with a stern critique. "Love is blind" is a lie perpetrated by those who refuse to see. In the best relationships we see the flaws in one another and work together to grow. Too often I heard that my love for country wasn't authentic because I questioned, or because I showed disappointment.

Those opposed to my brand of love stole from me. Not only did they hold onto the White House and most state houses, but they took the symbols that belong to all of us.

But the flag is, and always was, mine too.