You must remember this...

My mind is a swirling mess this morning- snippets of poems, lyrics, quotes- while there isn't much cohesiveness, the theme is consistent. I'll start with Sappho- a writer, c. 650 in Ancient Greece, and a part of my junior year curriculum in high school. I might have been a crap student but I did get a lot from John Howard's AP English class, including a poem which I think of frequently.

You may forget but 
let me tell you 
this: someone in 
some future time 
will think of us.
-Sappho

These days, I read a lot of Walter Dean Myers with my students and this morning I was struck my the truth in this line from his memoir, Bad Boy. 

While we live our own individual lives, what has gone before us, our history, always has an effect on us. 

My students are currently writing a response to this and while I have been teaching for almost fourteen years, I have never gotten such eloquent and thoughtful responses. I'm a lucky teacher today.

Thankful

Thankful doesn't even begin to cut it. I am thankful for many things in my world. Tonight, I am thankful for my children, my husband, and my parents. I am also thankful for Miss Karen- having a sitter allowed me to cry and mourn for another mother that lost her baby last night. There is nothing I can say.

Sleep my child and peace attend thee,

All through the night

Guardian angels God will send thee,

All through the night

Soft the drowsy hours are creeping

Hill and vale in slumber steeping,

I my loving vigil keeping

All through the night.

While the moon her watch is keeping

All through the night

While the weary world is sleeping

All through the night

O'er thy spirit gently stealing

Visions of delight revealing

Breathes a pure and holy feeling

All through the night.

My thoughts and prayers are with Kerri tonight. Rest, sweet Kai.

Baby sitters

So my leg is royally screwed up. I fell down the stairs at work and as hysterical as I am sure it was to see, it also hurt a lot. I hopped up trying not to cry and busted to my car and for home because I WAS NOT GOING TO CRY IN FRONT OF MY BOSS. Nope, not going to do it. Then, because I'm stubborn, I waited three days to go to the ER. Yeah, I'm dumb, and REALLY stubborn. Oh well. That's not a surprise. So now I have a highly attractive boot to wear. My students figured out that I could accessorize it with velcro ornaments so at least it's entertaining to look at. I am still trying to finagle some lights and maybe a blinking red nose, a la Rudolph. That said, I am not as capable as I usually am. Today is "Black Friday" and of course, my dear husband is working a double- yup, that's 8 am to midnight. Sucks for him, and most of the time it's tolerable for me. Unless I am hurting and crippled. Then it SUCKS royally. You know what though? I finally listened to my mother (yup, she's a genius. No surprise there either!) and got a sitter. Not a sitter like wahoo I'm going out on the town or back to school night. A sitter as in my leg hurts a lot and I just want peace and quiet for a few hours kind of sitter. The kind of sitter who is available on short notice and straight up LOVES my kids. I have to tell you- she got J down for a nap (yup, one of my children NAPPED) and took M out for a bike ride- yes, he was wearing a helmet- no, he wasn't in a tow along death trap- yes, the tricycle has a handle. M LOVES Miss Karen. Adores. Talks about her. If I wasn't so well adjusted (cough cough) I would be jealous (big cough) and I. Just. Sat. Quietly. I read for a bit, I cooked a bit, but really? I reveled in the silence. I did feel a little selfish but my boys were thrilled and so was their mommy. I iced AND elevated my leg. I spoke to another adult. I felt refreshed. That's hard to capture as a mother to two as SO many of my friends can attest to. It was time that let me put myself first, which RARELY happens, and probably needs to happen a bit more.

In a month and time of my life where I am counting my blessings, Miss Karen is definitely one.

Action

Action may not always bring happiness; but there is no happiness without action. -Benjamin Disraeli

This can mean many things, but to me, these days, it means that if you are able- you are doing something to improve the world. If you read my blog regularly then you are aware of my friend Kerri's journey with her son Kai- www.kaisfightclub.org- and you have been touched by their story. I can't take away Kai's pain, or alleviate Kerry's fears for the future, but I can help meet everyday needs. I can cook a meal, say a prayer, or make a donation. And so can you. Here, at Kai's Village, you can find out how you can help. Make a meal yourself, or make a donation. Sign up to participate in a craft fair benefiting Kai's Fight Club, or come shop yourselves. Send a raffle item, or buy raffle tickets. Say a prayer. We are all blessed in the fact that we can change the world, one moment at a time. One smile, one hug, one positive thought.

What a difference a year makes

So today is Sweet Baby J's first birthday. He won't officially be a year old until a little after seven tonight, but eh, really, that doesn't matter so much. I am, however, officially that mom that gets up at 4:30 am just because it's quiet and I can have a cup of coffee in peace. As I relish (chug) my pumpkin swirl I was thinking about how J is the last baby for me. That makes me sad for several reasons (um, hello, I have two BOYS. Neither of whom looks very good in tulle) but mostly because I won't get to have another baby at EMERSON. The best HOSPITAL EVER. Yes, I love them. For a slightly amusing birth story, read this. Then tell me you wouldn't love Emerson too!

Thank you to my wonderful birth team- Ingrid, Sherri, Jeannie K, Sharon, Eileen, Mary, Heather, Jane, Annie, really- the list goes on... have I mentioned yet that it's the best hospital EVER?

Blessings

Today has been a rough day- my baby turns one tomorrow and it's bittersweet- going through the baby clothes I cried and cried at the loss of infancy. Then I woke up this morning and read about Kerri and her son Kai. My sentimental feelings suddenly seemed so trivial. You can read about their journey at Keiki Kai. I have been following the path that their life has taken since Kai's diagnosis of an optic glioma. This is a family preparing to say goodbye to their dear little one, only two years old. It is a process that no mother should go through, and yet many have. While I have only met Kerri a few times, this doesn't matter as my heart breaks for them. The strength that she has shown is inspirational to ALL mothers, whether they make their own baby food, cloth diaper, or make choices different from our own. The entire village of moms that we are both so lucky to be a part of is standing besides Kai, Kerri, and their family throughout this chapter of their lives. Hug your babies, your children, your mothers. Your husbands, sons, and fathers. Say a prayer, think good thoughts, light a candle- do whatever it is that you do to show support and sisterhood to fellow mamas.

Singing a Patriotic Tune

It's a good day to be an American; a woman; and pro-family! That said, I am looking forward to regaining some sense of sanity even if it means I won't have anything to write about! My status updates will return to ridiculous blah blah about cranky children, waiting in line, and what I'm having for dinner. Pretty sure my friends will be thrilled!

Oh hell no!!!

Obviously I am a staunch supporter of the Democratic party. Granted, some people that I love dearly are the "R Word", and you know what? That's ok. I love them for the people they are not the ballots they cast. HOWEVER, I will not abide by other people's judgement and holier than thou attitude. I was at the polls today, waiting in line- not to vote, but at the bake sale table. I mean really, my kids will go to school there one day, I am fine with buying some gluten free treats to support them!!! No big deal. There was a couple standing there too, who I don't know, but are a couple. Two women, there with THEIR KIDS. I don't give a hoot how many mommies children have. It's not my call. I care that parents provide their children with love, support, and the freedom to be who they are. If the only thing I give my children is the comfort to know they will always be loved, then I have done my job as a parent. Personally, I also support gay marriage, and adoption, and anything else someone who is gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered- wants to do. In college I was a big Rainbow Coalition member- yes, me, a straight white girl- and firmly believed then, as I do now, that who you love doesn't matter AT ALL. My grandfather? Not so much. I had a rainbow pin on my backpack and he was APPALLED. He wanted me to take it off before entering his house. After several hours of me sitting in the carport REFUSING my grandmother (a pain in my butt but I loved her dearly) appealed to him and I was allowed into the house. He was also a republican with a big, fat, capital R, and I loved him dearly too. More than almost anyone in my life, except my mom. Yes, I turned the pictures of George Bush when I was staying there, but I loved him vociferously and ferociously. I digress- polling place. Massachusetts. Present day. Another woman waiting in line for delicious chocolate chip cookies, was huffing and puffing next to the family also waiting for their sweet treat. She was visibly perturbed and honestly, I just couldn't take it anymore. I asked if she was ok. She rolled her eyes and said "I just don't understand how people like THAT can pretend to be parents and waltz in here." Holy. Shit. I had not encountered such overt homophobia. And loud! And obvious!!!!!! This woman was glaring, and shooting daggers at a happy family supporting the neighborhood school. I couldn't take it. I am incredibly thankful that my children weren't with me, because I lost it. It's been a long week and there was no more holding back (I work with the only Republican teachers I have ever met and dang, school has been like a war zone!). I let it rip. I will never repeat what I really said because honestly, I'm not too proud of some of the language I used. No F bombs or traditional curse words, I was in an elementary school, but let's just say I asked some prying questions into her bedroom behavior, and the way she was raising her children, and whether she liked it or not when I was passing judgement. I have no idea who she was, or what her life is like, but in that moment, I really didn't give a rat's ass. I can tolerate many things but not bigotry and hatred in action. There are many things I want to say even now- I am still SO MAD.

Proud of myself? Maybe not. It probably wasn't the time nor place, but I couldn't let it go. I will certainly never be the queen bee of the mom's group, because she could be a member for all I know.

But my children will grow up in a family that does not accept bigotry or hatred. And having a mom willing to speak up, be heard, and fight for the rights of ALL Americans.

Happy Election Day to one and all. Be heard. Be the voice of reason.

Oy. Professional Development.

So today I have a professional development workshop on writing. It's actually really good, but they made us write a personal narrative. At eight. In the MORNING. So I thought I would share it for kicks and giggles.

Fabric swatches, spider webs of thread, scraps of paper. Slightly skewed pins poke my fingers as I sift through my box of treasures. A purple and teal quilt square drips over the edge like paint sliding down the outside of the can. It’s not paint, but fabric is my paint of choice. I use bits and snippets to create colorful scenes to be shared and loved by many.

The purple and teal are remnants from the first foray I made into quilting. At my mother’s side she showed me how to use the rotary cutter oh so carefully making neat even rows of squares. She taught me to thread the sewing machine effortlessly, and how NOT to sew my own finger. That first quilt still hangs in my childhood bedroom and lord is it ugly. Yet every time I see it I return to sun filled afternoons in the attic sewing room adjacent to my bedroom. I remember that in the middle of the night when sleep eluded me, I would slip over to the “other” side taking care not to fall down the stairs or hit my head on the slanted ceiling just to sort and rearrange colorful blocks until it was just right, only to be redesigned the next day.

Those afternoons sewing were a highlight of my very busy youth. I spent endless hours rehearsing and performing, soaking up the spotlight (literally) center stage. The fabric play was just a background piece of me- something I didn’t talk about or identify as making me who I was. Yet now, as an adult, it is the fabric that soothes me and gives me moments of tranquility in my hectic, 2012 mommy life. Each day brings with it new challenges and rewards, but very little time to actually sit and just be. Those stolen moments I have in the dining room with my fabric is magical- even when I’m cursing at the bobbin case that always catches or the dull rotary blade, I am really soaking up the restorative powers of craft- of moments in the sun with my mother sewing. No, the quilts are never perfect, but each one is beautiful, redolent with happy memories.

Dear GOP

Today is election day, which is awesome. My status of the morning was a dud, as I remember being awakened in 1992 the day after election day and upon learning of the loss of Clinton, sobbed and sobbed. Of course, Clinton WON in 1992, but the sentiment was still accurate! My mom reminded me of how when I was little when Reagan came on the TV I would cry inconsolably. I don't remember that but clearly I was politically motivated even at a young age. I do remember holding Clinton/Gore signs at the SuperFresh grocery store in Glassboro, NJ- wearing a plaid flannel shirt of course. C'mon, it was the nineties!!! So here we are many years later, and it's election time again. I have a vote, a voice, a choice, and I know who I will be casting a ballot for. Well, I think I do. Unless the GOP ponies up.

Dear GOP,
If you want my vote I need a couple of things. I will consider tossing my vote your way if you send me a nanny. Not just any nanny, I want SuperNanny. The British one. For at least a period of six years.
Love,
Very Tired Mommy

If you throw in a few sister wives to help with the laundry, then it's a done deal.

(please note- this post is written in jest-obviously my vote can't be bought!)

Wahoo! Or not?!

So recently this weird thing has happened- I lost almost twenty pounds since the spring and am pretty damn close to my wedding weight. I am guessing it's a diet of caffeine and no sleep but whatever, I'll take it. I fit in my PRE-MILES JEANS. This is awesome. It's fabulous. I can even button them and LEAVE them buttoned when sitting down! However, and here's the kicker- they are not so much fashion forward. They're a fashion rewind. I would never think that jeans go out of style, but oh, they do. I wore them last week and my very stylish homeroom of all girls (yeah, 7:45 to 8:05 am every day is like backstage at fashion week- they swap clothes, put on makeup, take it off, try to do it again, and then finally ask me to do it- before the boys walk into first period English Lit) and they called me OUT. "Um, Baer-boo (which is apparently my nickname this year- last year was Baer-YO) what decade are you dressed up as? I thought decade day (spirit week...sigh) was tomorrow?" Honestly I thought I looked fine but apparently they are the wrong "wash". Too eighties. C'mon, the only thing these kids know about the 80's is potentially eighty year old people! Can I call them out for wearing skin tight pants with "PINK" emblazoned on their bums? Those are HIDEOUS. Yoga pants, girls, yoga pants are where it's at.

With pearls.

A Drop in the Bucket

So today was our friend Thanksgiving- it was AWESOME of course. The food, the conversation, the wine- everything was LOVELY. In preparation though I had to drive all the way to Trader Joe's. I mean really, that's TWO towns over from work. It took me TWENTY THREE minutes. I kvetched about the anticipated trip all day. Dreaded it. Never mind the only reason I was going was to get wine! I got a bottle of this delicious stuff called Pinot Grigio Vivace for my birthday- it was fizzy like a prosecco but had a lovely crisp, citrusy finish. Like any good wine drinker I googled the brand and found out I could only get it at Trader Joe's- that was kind of lame but then I saw the price- $4.99. Yeah, that's right. Less than five bucks! Two bottles for the price of one bottle of Oyster Bay (which is still the most superior fantastic wine on the market don't misunderstand me- but not an everyday wine) and I was sold. Off to Trader Joe's I would go. Now that's a market that I totally don't understand- but I never shop there. It is always so hard for me to find stuff and some things are WAY cheaper but others (like capers!) are three times the price that they have at Weggie's. That and I always leave with way too many impulse buys just because of the workers in their Hakuna Matata style Hawaiian shirts. So I digress- I got to the store pretty quickly- no traffic- and busted straight for the wine section. I looked and looked and looked but couldn't find it. I finally asked the resident wino where it was and that's when he said it- "we're out", there are problems with our supplier. I almost lost it and started to get riled up until I glanced at the bottled water display.

It smacked me in the face right then- here I am worried about getting a preferred wine and much of the east coast is more concerned with finding potable water. Puts that in perspective, doesn't it? So I bought my second choice wine, a case of water, and smiled as I drove home- thankful for all that I have. My inner spoiled brat: 0. Rational thought: 1.