Hi Monsters,

Cousin Critter is with me as I write this, no doubt squirming around in my belly, eagerly growing bigger and bigger with each day, excited to get into this world and meet you guys. So, this is for the whole Monster-Critter family tribe....

Some might whole-heartedly disagree with me here, so bear with me.* It's more food for thought than pearls of wisdom. I want to write to you about one little (ok, maybe it's actually pretty big) life lesson with all its challenges that will make your head spin and your heart grow, but not without the inevitable growing pains.

*(Monster-makers, please understand that I've written this with a keen awareness that it might come across as dismissive of greater evils, threats, and unspeakable heartbreaks. I'm pretty sure you'll agree that those types of situations merit much more presence, support, and discussion for understanding the utterly unfathomable than this little blog can offer. And, on that note, WELCOME HOME TO SWEET, STRONG LITTLE MAN MONSTER! I wish I could be there to help out right now, but I'm thinking about you guys lots.)*

The lesson is this: You don't have to hate anyone or anything.
Not even mushy peas or bitter brussels sprouts or beets that make you want to ralph. Who knows? You might even find you like them! (Hint: try cooking everything with bacon before you decide you don't like it).









                                                    You don't have to hate the dog next door who barks all night, who's breath wilts your mom's garden, and who steals your ball and does inappropriate things with your favorite stuffed animals. You don't even have to hate him if he growls and bites you.

You don't have to hate homework or the teachers who assign so much of it. (A little known fact is that homework actually helps your brain work better and better and better; and you're smart, so you want a brain that can keep up with you!)

You don't have to hate the class bully or the kid who always smells like dirty socks and sour milk or even the kid who picks his nose. Sometimes they're even the same person and sometimes they've got someone even meaner to them at home. Just so you know, you don't want to BE the class bully or stinky kid either. Believe me, I know. I wasn't the bully, and don't tell anyone I told you this, but I WAS the stinky kid for a minute there. Fourth grade wasn't my best year (bathing was not a priority). Nor was 7th grade (it was time to discover deodorant).

You don't have to hate the love that breaks your heart.

You don't have to hate the see-saw that breaks your arm.

You don't have to hate the mistakes you make.

You don't have to hate the person who hates you.

You don't have to hate anyone or anything.



But don't get me wrong! You can feel super angry--which gets easily confused for hate-- and hurt and betrayed and annoyed and disappointed and afraid and absolutely disgusted with someone. You don't have to like everyone. You don't even have to like anyone, but you probably will. You definitely don't have to trust everyone-- with your stuff or with your homework, and least of all with your secrets and with your heart. Anyone worth your trust will treat your secrets and your vulnerabilities tenderly. You certainly get to stay away from toxic and dangerous people who hurt you or make you feel bad or weird. Unfortunately, sometimes those people will sneak up on you. You still get to shake them off, and you'll probably use your anger and hurt as your drive to get away and to protect yourself. Good! That's what anger is for. It's kind of like getting burned. Your hand hurts when it comes in contact with the flame, so you get it out of the fire. Then, you nurse your wound until it heals and you move on, knowing how tough you've been.

But you don't have to hate anyone. Believe me, you'll be tempted plenty of times in your life, and hating will seem like the easy road, the powerful road. Regard for humanity can be a whole lot more difficult when someone you encounter acts like a flesh-eating, heart-squishing, head-spinning zombie; but practicing understanding, humility, curiosity, and safe distance (notice I said practicing, not perfecting) will keep you, yourself, from becoming a zombie like they are.

You don't want to be a zombie. Zombies smell worse than the dirty sock and sour milk kid. And they're falling apart--have you ever seen a fully intact zombie? With all it's fingers, toes, or various other appendages? I didn't think so. They also end up hurting everything and everyone who gets too close to them. So, zombies are lonely too, so they can be really good at masking their stink and hiding how they're broken. They can be really sneaky so people won't suspect anything! So, like I said, you don't want to be a zombie. Zombies don't know how to be happy. They don't know how to really live. You, choosing not to be a zombie, get to be fully alive and wonderfully you. And you ARE wonderful.


Love,
                                                                               Auntie Hatchetface

Dear Monsters,

As we've re-settled into work and life routine back in Austin after visiting you in Seattle, I am swarmed with good memories from visiting you and your wonderful parents. Rand and I had such a great time, and I have to admit that I miss you with all my head, heart, and guts.

Other than that, I don't have a story today (sorry), but I do have a giant hug for you.

Happy Holidays, Monster family!

Love,
Auntie Hatchetface

Dear Monsters,

I'm excited to tell you that in a short two weeks I'll be coming to see you! And, this is Rand and his own wonderful Monster.

Rand is very nice and he's coming too, and we're both very much looking forward to the visit. His sweet Monster isn't coming this trip, but you'll no doubt meet her another time.

We do have a problem, though. We haven't quite figured out how we're getting there. Remember how far Austin, Texas is from Renton, Washington? There are, according to Google, around 2,141.7 miles between us on any given day. Sheesh. That's a long way between where you live and where I live. Bummer. What do you think, Monsters? What should we do?

We could start walking....

Let's say we can walk 4 miles in an hour. 2141.7 divided by 4 means I'd need about 535 1/2 hours to get to you from here. Hmmmmm.... How many days is that? 535 1/2 divided by 24 hours = about 22 days. Oof, my head hurts now, and walking clearly won't work. I was hoping to see you much sooner than that.

Maybe we could hitchhike....

Or maybe not.

How about train hopping?

Nope. That won't work.

I suppose we could drive, just like your dad did when he moved there from Texas. But, it would be nice to get there a whole lot faster.

I've heard rockets go fast!

Oh, but we don't have one of those, and I think it would take too long to build.

I know! We can fly! Why not? Birds do it. Why can't we?

What's that you say? We don't have wings. Hmph. I guess you're right.

But we have KITES! I'll ride one and Rand will ride the other and we'll ride high in the sky, resting on clouds and taking in the view of the Earth below, as it seems to get smaller and smaller as we soar higher and higher. It'll be great! Maybe we'll even run into Cloud Men. According to a book I read once, they're in charge of the weather. Not very friendly folks, as I recall.... That could pose a problem.

http://darksilenceinsuburbia.tumblr.com/post/5135806328/drew-falchetta-cloud-men
http://drewfalchetta.com/www.drewfalchetta.com/Paintings.html

What if the Cloud Men throw snow balls or make the wind blow us the wrong way and we end up some place like Detroit, Michigan instead of Renton, Washington? Bummer.

http://www.dgatmag.com/life-in-the-d/the-dgat-guide-to-moving-to-detroit/

Hmmmmm....

Rand suggested we ride Dragons. Yeah, Dragons!

Um, and here I'm stumped. Ideas for stick figure dragons elude me.... Clip art to the rescue!

http://www.dennisholmesdesigns.com/cartoons_clipart.html

Oh, maybe not such a great idea. Ouch. Got any aloe? Dragons breathe fire and while our clothes seem to be flame retardant, we, on the other hand, are most definitely not.

I don't know, Monsters? I'm at a loss. What can we do?

Airplanes, you say? There are airplanes that fly through the sky that will take us wherever we want to go, whenever we want to go there, and we can still get the same great view like we were flying on a kite? Wow! That's a great idea! You're so smart, Monsters. Thank you!

 Love,

Auntie Hatchetface


 *Fun fact, per a wonderful person who actually gets to FLY airplanes: the first powered flight ever, December 17, 1903, lasted only 12 seconds and went a distance of 120 feet. Airplanes have come a long way since the Wright brothers got it all started! Another fun fact: those brothers were inspired by bicycles. Cool.

Your Dad, PART II

Dear Monsters,

We're still talking about your dad and my point is this: we fought as much as we played, and I have always looked up to your dad for two main reasons: 

1) The obvious: he's bigger than I am, so I have to look up. By the way, shorter people will frequently be the first to notice if a taller person needs a tissue.


2) The mostly obvious: there's a lot to admire about him, even when he needs to wipe a booger. 

That holding true from childhood into adulthood, I bet he can do a bunch of super stuff these days.

I bet he can pick you right up off your feet and carry you over his head. I bet he can make you into an airplane that flies all over the world.

I bet he can read stories in fun voices and show you how to do things like count and swim and fish and ride a bike. I bet someday-- you didn't hear this from me-- he'll even help you learn how to drive!

I bet he can help you feel better when you hit your head or scrape your knee or stub your toe or get a shot from a doctor with a big needle.




I bet he's so brave and strong he can help you do all kinds of new and scary things like make new friends and eat new vegetables.


You want to know what else I bet? I bet you can show him all kinds of things too.










I bet you can show him how you learn and grow and play and imagine and create. I bet only you can show him how you do all those things as well as you do.


I also bet you can show him how kind and helpful and brave you are, and I bet only you can show him how much you love him because only you can give hugs from you.

Happy Father's Day!

Love,
Auntie Hatchetface

Shel Silverstein

Your Dad, PART I

Dear Monsters,

This is your dad. He is definitely big now, but he wasn't always.

He used to look like this:

Your dad is also my big brother, and even though I wanted to be just like him, we weren't always very nice to each other. I imagine you monsters, on the other hand, are always nice to each other and work out your differences in all the ways civilized monsters do, right?

As for us, we yelled and we fought and we got in trouble for it. I'm also not necessarily proud to say we gave each other knuckle sandwiches and pulled each other's hair (and got in trouble for that too), and my big brother-- your dad-- would do the most awful thing that I know neither of you would ever dream of doing. He would dangle loogies over my face and...

THOOP... suck them back up just in time.

As if that close call wasn't torment enough, though, sometimes the long, sticky, milky string of drool would slowly and in spite of your dad's best (I assume) efforts...

SNAP.

Depending on the state of my head in the midst of panicked flailing, the blob that had been hanging so menacingly over my face would plop coolly onto my cheek or, worse, right into my eye or my ear.

Of course, to paint myself as the perpetual victim wouldn't be fair. I was guilty of the very same drool and drop along with much more serious crimes involving rakes, Barbie horses, and also hurt feelings.

Fortunately, the only scars I gave him that lasted are the emotional ones that he wears deep inside where no one can see he's still crying. He might need a hug right now, by the way.

So, yes, I rightly got in trouble for those transgressions, and learned very important lessons about saying sorry-- and meaning it-- when someone gets hurt. It doesn't feel good to be hurt, and it also doesn't feel good to hurt other people.

 All in all, remember that you're a super monster team, so try to be nice to each other even when you're mad. Share, cooperate, and apologize. Sometimes you'll be tempted to forget what I'm about to tell you, but every Monster-- little, big, purple, blue, yellow, green, scaly, slimy, toothy, gummy, tooty, or pooty-- is special and strong and wonderful in their own monstrous way.

Plus, if you work with instead of against each other, you'll be a much stronger unit when it comes to things like negotiating for extra dessert and cartoon time; and that's just the start of all the good stuff that comes from being nice. Monsters aren't just family. They're lifelong friends.

Love,
Auntie Hatchetface

Monster Garden

Dear Monsters,

Dirt is powerful stuff. Not only is dirt the main ingredient in mud pies, but it is also the womb from which grow plants of all different shapes, sizes, smells, and colors.

dirt + water = mud pie. Season to taste. Serve to parents

Your mom really likes dirt, and she really really likes the plants that grow out of the dirt. She has a garden where she grows all kinds of things in dirt that are not only very pretty to look at, but that are very tasty too. Lots of food grows out of dirt! 

Pigs love dirt, but they do not grow in it. They wallow in it. 

Can you name some food that grows out of dirt? Hint: it's not bacon or chicken or ice cream.


So, your mom, inspired no doubt by the power of dirt, decided with your dad that with careful feeding and watering, plenty of sunshine, and vigilant varmint management they would grow something far more special than flowers and vegetables and fruits. They would grow Monsters. They would grow you.


Now, just for the sake of clarity, Monsters, unlike veggies, are not grown so we can eat them, no no no!  Your mom planted you Monsters just to love you, care for you, protect you, and watch you grow. You are your mom's special Monster Garden, and you are loved.
 

Love,
Auntie Hatchetface

Dear Monsters,

Well, here goes nothing in an endeavor to utilize this newfandangled interwebs blogging thing to keep up with the masses in general, and you, in particular. Fact is, your mom and dad and you live way too far away and I want, selfishly, to get to be a part of your lives. Who knows if I'm going to have any cousins for you, so I'm going to do my best to interfere in your lives instead of the lives of my own hypothetical children. As your adoring aunt, I'm simply compelled to spew my nonsense to you.

But then, what to say? Sometimes I get smacked with pearls of thought (some might, MIGHT, call it wisdom) that could prove useful to you, and I'll no doubt share those pearls as they leave their welts in my noggin, but what else? I'd like to think your eyes won't glaze over or shatter with the tedium of having to read each new letter/entry.... Actually, I'd like these entries to be some sort of magical oasis in the midst of life's homework and chores and arguments and heartbreaks and all the other annoying, frustrating, infuriating, and boring things with which you're supposed to be dealing rather than reading blogs from me. In other words, my hope is that these words might not only cultivate a sense of connection with you and perhaps inspire you to actually want to talk to me at some point when you're doing more than cooing and crying, but also that it may serve as some kind of entertainment. I'd rather not be the old cat lady aunt in a muumuu that smells like moth balls and cheap wine, insisting that you look at my 974 slides of my solo vacation to see the world's largest ball of string.... yet. Old(er) age may require your attention for such activities, and I may even ask you to hold my dentures. Senility, I hope, will buy me some grace.

That being said, I don't know what else to say for today. So.... Hi.

My utter lack of any profound or interesting stories today is no indication of hesitation in my desire to write to you. Rather, it's the overwhelming nature of wanting to sift through the entirety of my brain, guts, perspective, and experience to offer you only words that you might find useful or entertaining.

I often think about how people guide their kids and teach them values like integrity, humility, tenderness, adaptability, generosity, boundaries, wellness, truth, perspective, hard work, creativity, learning, forgiveness, resiliency, perseverance, dependability, loyalty, etc, etc, etc. How do people even begin?? It's a humbling responsibility, as I see it. Good thing your dad and mom are two of the most wonderful people I've ever known. You are-- even acknowledging that you all will have your knock-down, drag-out, gut-wrenching arguments and disagreements-- in the best of hands. I have no worries that your amazing parents will do an outstanding job of it, and I have no worries that you will do an outstanding job of finding yourselves and evolving as equally amazing individuals. Yeah. You're awesome.

Too hippie-dippie? Sorry. I'll get more gritty and curse more as you get older. Right now, I feel like I have to be a good influence.... Sort of.... This first entry is, all considered, actually for your parents, given the fact that you are currently a fetus and an infant, still drooling, spitting up, pooping all over yourself, and making weird faces. Happy Mother's Day!



Love,

Auntie Hatchetface