JB: (while we were reading a book where a bird was seated at the feet of a giraffe) We don't step on birds.
Me: No.
JB: Then they would be ruined.
Mommy: Ya.
Side bar: I wish I had thought of this explanation back in the day...
----------
JB: (After asking what a lily pad was and listening to my explanation) Are they stable?
----------
JB: See how many teeth I have (he opens his mouth wide)? How many teeth do you have?
Mommy: (opens her mouth wide)
JB: Do you have some in the back? (mommy opens her mouth wider and JB stares for several seconds) Wow.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Elizabeth Edwards (July 3, 1949 – December 7, 2010)
The United States of America and the world (to say nothing of progressives and the GLBT community) lost a true hero today.
It almost makes her husband not seem likes such a schmuck- that this woman chose him and loved him.
Respect, Mrs. Edwards.
R.I.P.
-------
btw, my mom told me and I balked that it could not possibly be true (until she was proven correct by the almighty internet) that Elizabeth Edwards had a baby when she was 48 and another one when she was 50 years old... Maybe not "hero" so much as "superhero".
It almost makes her husband not seem likes such a schmuck- that this woman chose him and loved him.
Respect, Mrs. Edwards.
R.I.P.
-------
btw, my mom told me and I balked that it could not possibly be true (until she was proven correct by the almighty internet) that Elizabeth Edwards had a baby when she was 48 and another one when she was 50 years old... Maybe not "hero" so much as "superhero".
Sunday, November 21, 2010
From the backseat
JB: ML, what does a dragon say?
ML: RRrrrrrrrarghhhhhaaaaarrr!
JB: Good, ML!!! Hey guys, he knows what a dragon says!!!
(moms are giggling up front)
ML: RRrrrrrrrarghhhhhaaaaarrr!
JB: Good, ML!!! Hey guys, he knows what a dragon says!!!
(moms are giggling up front)
Monday, November 15, 2010
JB's newsletter (cont)
JB:
You are our little Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde right now. Just about 50% of the time you are the model of a mature-beyond-your-years toddler, compete with pithy commentary, dreamy but sophisticated language, and childlike wonder. Today you asked if we could "move this toy to a new area". You call out to the moon in 2 languages ("La Luna!") whenever you see it in the sky. You have mastered the "I have an idea mom..." strategy of countering our mandates and when we tell you you can't do something.
The flip side is this is an intense period of whining, testing, and learning that the word "NO" doesn't only have to only be accepted quietly, but can be directed back at your parents...
This is you kissing your brother on his birthday... you are the greatest, most patient big bro.
Chocolate face!!!
You at dance class:
You playing football:
You with a sourpuss on at Halloween...
With your buddy at the halloween party at school:
Enjoying your birthday gift from TT and Uncle Bill:
Climbing a mountain during a hike:
I love this shot! It's all about the Italian bread...
We love you so much,baby big boy!!!
love, Mommy and Mama
You are our little Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde right now. Just about 50% of the time you are the model of a mature-beyond-your-years toddler, compete with pithy commentary, dreamy but sophisticated language, and childlike wonder. Today you asked if we could "move this toy to a new area". You call out to the moon in 2 languages ("La Luna!") whenever you see it in the sky. You have mastered the "I have an idea mom..." strategy of countering our mandates and when we tell you you can't do something.
The flip side is this is an intense period of whining, testing, and learning that the word "NO" doesn't only have to only be accepted quietly, but can be directed back at your parents...
This is you kissing your brother on his birthday... you are the greatest, most patient big bro.
Chocolate face!!!
You at dance class:
You playing football:
You with a sourpuss on at Halloween...
With your buddy at the halloween party at school:
Enjoying your birthday gift from TT and Uncle Bill:
Climbing a mountain during a hike:
I love this shot! It's all about the Italian bread...
We love you so much,
love, Mommy and Mama
Newsletter: 14 months AND 37.5 months
Dear ML and JB,
Let me start by saying, I love you both way more than it may appear (having missed writing you newsletters on the occasion(s) of your first and third birthdays, respectively.)
ML- today you are 14 months and one day old:
JB- today you are 37 months and 13 days old:
Today, for most of the day, I felt 2,352 months old. But after spending a few hours with you this evening, you brought me back closer to my actual age (448 some-odd months).
We set our clocks back 2 weeks ago and now at 5pm it is dark, darkie, dark-dark... Like the lining of a wool, dress coat that is wrapped around your face in a basement closet when you are starting to worry that the other kids moved on to another game without yelling, "come out, come out where ever you are"...)
I hate it.
I am not one of these people to complain about the weather and usually, there is nothing i like more than a change of season, but the darkness has hit me hard this year.
I hate picking you up from day care in the dark. I hate waking you up and rushing you out of the house in the (mostly dark) morning so that Mama and I can get to work on time. I hate these two things so much I've started to contemplate what you would miss out on if I quit my job and stayed home to take care of you. Aside from the obvious (food, heat, and new underwear when you grow out of your current size) there is quite a bit at school, I'm not sure I could replicate for you at home all day.
It makes me a little heart sick to imagine you without the groups of boys and girls your age to play with; learning to negotiate and socialize with peer groups. You have the older kids to look up to, and the younger kids to look out for. You have grown dependent on the many layers of structure: the schedule, the group activities, the various play stations; the rooms you are looking forward to moving into and the rooms you lovingly look back on; the assortment of teachers who are caring and loving, but who see you as precious members of precious groups and not the "answer to all of their prayers"... I mean, I could duplicate a curriculum, but I worry about the rest of it.
Together right now, you two (ML and JB) are so perfect: so much work, so demanding, downright exhausting, AND so loving, generous, full of joy, and forgiving all at the same time. You also really compliment one another's personalities and are remarkably tolerant of each other. At least once a day, one of you smooches or climbs on or swats at the other one, and no matter which of you is on the receiving end, there is no swat back, practically no protest... I know there is fighting in your future, but it is hard to believe to see you interact right now.
ML:
You might be the happiest baby I've ever seen. Not surface happy, but an attentive, clever, mischievous version of the happiest baby on the block. You are a beast and there is practically no end to the nicknames your mama and I have for you: We still call you Senor Destruction, but also Hoss, Biff, Chunks, and baby dragon. It's not really your stature (you have definitely slimmed down and dropped from the 95th percentile in height and wt to the 50th percentile.) It is more that you have no fear, but you are full of opinions. You are demanding, but laid back too. If you fall, your frustration is more apparent than your self-pity, fear, or physical discomfort.
You want nothing like you want electronics. You want the phone, you want the remote, you want the phone. You get really pissed off if you see a phone and we don't give it to you- you fall to the floor and cry like someone stomped on your hand. (Well, like another kid might if someone stomped his hand- I think if we stomped your hand, you would not cry the way you cry when we withhold an iphone from you. I think if we did one day stomp on your hand, you would look at us, you would look at your reddened, crushed hand, you would cock your head as if to say, "That seemed somewhat unnecessary," and then you would reach beseechingly for our mobile phone before deciding to cry.)
You are active. You will run right for the stairs, you will run away from us without looking back, you will head just to the place you know we don't want you to go. And some of the time you will look back briefly to send a giggle our way before forging on.
You have big hands and feet and maybe they aren't as big as they are oddly shaped - your pinkies are nearly as long as your pointer, and not only is your second toe longer than your first, but your 3rd is longer than your second. I inspect these hands and feet every night and it still makes me laugh, but because they suit you: strong, goofy, undeniably unique, and somehow not baby-like.
You have been walking for months. You are smart and curious, and climbing - into cabinets and on stools and furniture. You learn really quickly. If we show you how to do something, you try to do it. Even if we don't show you, you usually watch us and then try to do something. You have started climbing into the refrigerator. You follow instructions like, "Go put this book on the shelf." There were about 12 weeks there when you never had less than 3-5 bruises on your forehead. They were all in various stages and colors- something green, something browning, something bright blue. Just as one went away, you nailed a door or chair with your noggin' and earned another one. But that seems to have slowed down..
My favorite part of the day is in the evening around 7pm, when we say to you, "ML, Are you ready for your bath?" Whatever you are doing, you drop it and turn and head up the stairs. You go into the linen closet, you grab a wash cloth that we keep on the low shelf for you to reach, you shut the door, you walk into the bathroom and throw the washcloth into the tub. Then you wiggle until I take your clothes off. Your Mama and I giggle at this charade. Every day.
You say practically nothing, but you have learned lots of signs: more, all done, please, thank you, bath, milk, diaper, brother, drink, eat. You make a lot of noise and can use a Kazoo (for realz), but verbally, there still is only the occasional accidental "Mama". Once I put a bit of brownie in your mouth and the "MMmmmmm" sound was so precisely expressed and so lovingly drawn out, that I'd be lying if I didn't say I felt a little dissed. ["He KNOWS how to say it," I quipped to your mama, "He just doesn't want to say it to us..."]
You sing and shout, but you're indiscriminate in your noise-making. For sure you have "Da" which is your go to word. "Da" is used for everything and when pointing, as if to say, "That...that... what's that". You also have "Daw" (dog), "grrrrrrawww" (the answer to "What does a dragon say?"), and Gee (soft gee not hard G) which is what you call JB. You will look back and forth at your moms to answer the questions "Where's Mama? Where's Mommy?" Showing us that you know we have names, but no matter how many times we beg for you to say, "Ma" or "Mama", you proudly answer with "DA! Dada!!" so. funny.
You make us laugh every day! Usually just by grinning or laughing. You chortle and giggle and belly laugh. If your brother trains his eyes on you and lowers a brow or curls up one of his lips, you belly laugh in anticipatory encouragement. You offer the sweetest, welcoming smiles when we walk into the room. And for all your bluster - pretending you are comfortable walking right away from us in our home- I've seen you stand in a doorway for 10 minutes rather than walk in a place you don't know; only passing through the threshold when you put my forefinger in a vice-like grip.
You cry if the vacuum cleaner is standing silently in the living room, and fall apart (in apparent terror) when we turn it on. You don't mind wrestling with me and JB, but you whimper a little if a tower of cardboard blocks come tumbling down. And yesterday, you shit in the tub... just so it's out there on the internet... I don't want you reading this someday and coming back to me about how perfect you were.
Also, you do this odd thing where you will slap yourself and occasionally bite your hands and arms. It's very exuberant of you, but recently, the thing that you get reprimanded the most for is biting yourself. I know some would say, "Just leave him alone and he'll stop," but left to your own devices, you do draw blood.
Weird, right? I have no idea...
You are about 23 lbs, have 2 bottom teeth and 4 top teeth (and I've already described the fingers and toes). You have the greatest head of curly blond hair. You are very ticklish. All the normal tickle points work, and I can even get a belly laugh by rubbing your cheeks the right way or gently scratching the palms of your hands. You are eating everything now. You get to eat things that we never allowed JB...candy, fried food, chocolate. With him, he just didn't know it existed, but you have a brother who likes treats, and a brother that doesn't mind sharing that much either.
When I look back on these times, I will think of you in the tub- cherub like and soft- splish splashing happily andgrabbing at your tiny junk making sure we end our day with sweetness.
We love you more than we can express!!!
Mommy and Mama
JB:
...To be continued
Let me start by saying, I love you both way more than it may appear (having missed writing you newsletters on the occasion(s) of your first and third birthdays, respectively.)
ML- today you are 14 months and one day old:
JB- today you are 37 months and 13 days old:
Today, for most of the day, I felt 2,352 months old. But after spending a few hours with you this evening, you brought me back closer to my actual age (448 some-odd months).
We set our clocks back 2 weeks ago and now at 5pm it is dark, darkie, dark-dark... Like the lining of a wool, dress coat that is wrapped around your face in a basement closet when you are starting to worry that the other kids moved on to another game without yelling, "come out, come out where ever you are"...)
I hate it.
I am not one of these people to complain about the weather and usually, there is nothing i like more than a change of season, but the darkness has hit me hard this year.
I hate picking you up from day care in the dark. I hate waking you up and rushing you out of the house in the (mostly dark) morning so that Mama and I can get to work on time. I hate these two things so much I've started to contemplate what you would miss out on if I quit my job and stayed home to take care of you. Aside from the obvious (food, heat, and new underwear when you grow out of your current size) there is quite a bit at school, I'm not sure I could replicate for you at home all day.
It makes me a little heart sick to imagine you without the groups of boys and girls your age to play with; learning to negotiate and socialize with peer groups. You have the older kids to look up to, and the younger kids to look out for. You have grown dependent on the many layers of structure: the schedule, the group activities, the various play stations; the rooms you are looking forward to moving into and the rooms you lovingly look back on; the assortment of teachers who are caring and loving, but who see you as precious members of precious groups and not the "answer to all of their prayers"... I mean, I could duplicate a curriculum, but I worry about the rest of it.
Together right now, you two (ML and JB) are so perfect: so much work, so demanding, downright exhausting, AND so loving, generous, full of joy, and forgiving all at the same time. You also really compliment one another's personalities and are remarkably tolerant of each other. At least once a day, one of you smooches or climbs on or swats at the other one, and no matter which of you is on the receiving end, there is no swat back, practically no protest... I know there is fighting in your future, but it is hard to believe to see you interact right now.
ML:
You might be the happiest baby I've ever seen. Not surface happy, but an attentive, clever, mischievous version of the happiest baby on the block. You are a beast and there is practically no end to the nicknames your mama and I have for you: We still call you Senor Destruction, but also Hoss, Biff, Chunks, and baby dragon. It's not really your stature (you have definitely slimmed down and dropped from the 95th percentile in height and wt to the 50th percentile.) It is more that you have no fear, but you are full of opinions. You are demanding, but laid back too. If you fall, your frustration is more apparent than your self-pity, fear, or physical discomfort.
You want nothing like you want electronics. You want the phone, you want the remote, you want the phone. You get really pissed off if you see a phone and we don't give it to you- you fall to the floor and cry like someone stomped on your hand. (Well, like another kid might if someone stomped his hand- I think if we stomped your hand, you would not cry the way you cry when we withhold an iphone from you. I think if we did one day stomp on your hand, you would look at us, you would look at your reddened, crushed hand, you would cock your head as if to say, "That seemed somewhat unnecessary," and then you would reach beseechingly for our mobile phone before deciding to cry.)
You are active. You will run right for the stairs, you will run away from us without looking back, you will head just to the place you know we don't want you to go. And some of the time you will look back briefly to send a giggle our way before forging on.
You have big hands and feet and maybe they aren't as big as they are oddly shaped - your pinkies are nearly as long as your pointer, and not only is your second toe longer than your first, but your 3rd is longer than your second. I inspect these hands and feet every night and it still makes me laugh, but because they suit you: strong, goofy, undeniably unique, and somehow not baby-like.
You have been walking for months. You are smart and curious, and climbing - into cabinets and on stools and furniture. You learn really quickly. If we show you how to do something, you try to do it. Even if we don't show you, you usually watch us and then try to do something. You have started climbing into the refrigerator. You follow instructions like, "Go put this book on the shelf." There were about 12 weeks there when you never had less than 3-5 bruises on your forehead. They were all in various stages and colors- something green, something browning, something bright blue. Just as one went away, you nailed a door or chair with your noggin' and earned another one. But that seems to have slowed down..
My favorite part of the day is in the evening around 7pm, when we say to you, "ML, Are you ready for your bath?" Whatever you are doing, you drop it and turn and head up the stairs. You go into the linen closet, you grab a wash cloth that we keep on the low shelf for you to reach, you shut the door, you walk into the bathroom and throw the washcloth into the tub. Then you wiggle until I take your clothes off. Your Mama and I giggle at this charade. Every day.
You say practically nothing, but you have learned lots of signs: more, all done, please, thank you, bath, milk, diaper, brother, drink, eat. You make a lot of noise and can use a Kazoo (for realz), but verbally, there still is only the occasional accidental "Mama". Once I put a bit of brownie in your mouth and the "MMmmmmm" sound was so precisely expressed and so lovingly drawn out, that I'd be lying if I didn't say I felt a little dissed. ["He KNOWS how to say it," I quipped to your mama, "He just doesn't want to say it to us..."]
You sing and shout, but you're indiscriminate in your noise-making. For sure you have "Da" which is your go to word. "Da" is used for everything and when pointing, as if to say, "That...that... what's that". You also have "Daw" (dog), "grrrrrrawww" (the answer to "What does a dragon say?"), and Gee (soft gee not hard G) which is what you call JB. You will look back and forth at your moms to answer the questions "Where's Mama? Where's Mommy?" Showing us that you know we have names, but no matter how many times we beg for you to say, "Ma" or "Mama", you proudly answer with "DA! Dada!!" so. funny.
You make us laugh every day! Usually just by grinning or laughing. You chortle and giggle and belly laugh. If your brother trains his eyes on you and lowers a brow or curls up one of his lips, you belly laugh in anticipatory encouragement. You offer the sweetest, welcoming smiles when we walk into the room. And for all your bluster - pretending you are comfortable walking right away from us in our home- I've seen you stand in a doorway for 10 minutes rather than walk in a place you don't know; only passing through the threshold when you put my forefinger in a vice-like grip.
You cry if the vacuum cleaner is standing silently in the living room, and fall apart (in apparent terror) when we turn it on. You don't mind wrestling with me and JB, but you whimper a little if a tower of cardboard blocks come tumbling down. And yesterday, you shit in the tub... just so it's out there on the internet... I don't want you reading this someday and coming back to me about how perfect you were.
Also, you do this odd thing where you will slap yourself and occasionally bite your hands and arms. It's very exuberant of you, but recently, the thing that you get reprimanded the most for is biting yourself. I know some would say, "Just leave him alone and he'll stop," but left to your own devices, you do draw blood.
Weird, right? I have no idea...
You are about 23 lbs, have 2 bottom teeth and 4 top teeth (and I've already described the fingers and toes). You have the greatest head of curly blond hair. You are very ticklish. All the normal tickle points work, and I can even get a belly laugh by rubbing your cheeks the right way or gently scratching the palms of your hands. You are eating everything now. You get to eat things that we never allowed JB...candy, fried food, chocolate. With him, he just didn't know it existed, but you have a brother who likes treats, and a brother that doesn't mind sharing that much either.
When I look back on these times, I will think of you in the tub- cherub like and soft- splish splashing happily and
We love you more than we can express!!!
Mommy and Mama
JB:
...To be continued
Monday, November 08, 2010
Justice is not vengeance
A jury sentenced a killer to death today in Connecticut on all 6 capital felony convictions.
The result was the only one that could have been reached.
It was just and as Dr. Petit said, "Justice is not vengeance."
Still, this result means nothing. It will not undo one thing that was done.
Nothing will bring back J, H, or M.
Nothing will change what was lost.
Nothing will give back what was taken.
Nothing will fix one of the thousands of things that was broken.
sign. uggh. yuck.
The result was the only one that could have been reached.
It was just and as Dr. Petit said, "Justice is not vengeance."
Still, this result means nothing. It will not undo one thing that was done.
Nothing will bring back J, H, or M.
Nothing will change what was lost.
Nothing will give back what was taken.
Nothing will fix one of the thousands of things that was broken.
sign. uggh. yuck.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Conversations with kids
JB: Are we going back to the licktory store soon?
Me: What?
He repeats the same question
Me: (trying to figure out what he is saying) Why?
JB: To get another lollipop. (He points to a wrapper discarded on the floor of my car.)
Me: (Racking my brain, trying to remember where we got that tootsie pop)... Oh- The liquor store?
JB: yeah. The liquor store... Can we go there on Friday?
Me: The liquor store on Friday? Sounds like a plan.
Me: What?
He repeats the same question
Me: (trying to figure out what he is saying) Why?
JB: To get another lollipop. (He points to a wrapper discarded on the floor of my car.)
Me: (Racking my brain, trying to remember where we got that tootsie pop)... Oh- The liquor store?
JB: yeah. The liquor store... Can we go there on Friday?
Me: The liquor store on Friday? Sounds like a plan.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Overheard in our kitchen
JB: Mom, is it still October?
Me: Yes.
JB: Next is November?
Me: Yes.
JB: In November, we're going to need to buy some more tic-tacs.
Me: (Amused) We will?
JB: (Holding up his hands as if to say, "Calm down, don't get excited") Yes. Not now, but in November we will have to go to the store and get some more.
Me: Yes.
JB: Next is November?
Me: Yes.
JB: In November, we're going to need to buy some more tic-tacs.
Me: (Amused) We will?
JB: (Holding up his hands as if to say, "Calm down, don't get excited") Yes. Not now, but in November we will have to go to the store and get some more.
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
The first Trial
The verdict is in- 16 guilty counts and 1 not guilty (on the charge of 1st degree arson).
I'm glad for these results... but still heart sick.
Now the jury must decide the sentence.
I'm glad for these results... but still heart sick.
Now the jury must decide the sentence.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
When religious conservatives preach that to be gay is to be disordered and not in the image of God...
At least 5 times in the last 2 months, there have been national stories of teenagers committing suicide. They have become national stories because the kids were bullied, targeted, and harassed because they were gay or perceived as gay, and because for the most part, the parents, friends and communities of those children have spoken out after their deaths to say, "We complained about the bullying but no one did anything to stop it."
Not that one should be picked out as worse than the others, but the most recent was a Freshman at Rutgers University who was secretly recorded by his roommate and another classmate having an intimate encounter with anotherman boy. Tyler Clementi was 18 years old when he changed his status on Facebook to read: "Jumping off the George Washington Bridge. Sorry." His body was fished out of the water a few days later.
Justin Aaberg, 15, of Anoka,
Minnasota, hung himself July 9th
Billy Lucas, 15, of Greensburg,
Indiana hung himself in his parents' barn on Sept 9th.
Seth Walsh, 13, from Tehachapi, California, hanged himself from a tree on September 19th and died 8 days later.
Asher Brown, 13, of Cypress, Texas, shot himself in the head on September 23.
It is hard to look at these faces and hear these stories and not get sick with regret and dark with rage that we live in a society that tells (especially boy) gay kids that they are not worthy of love and life. In fact, the message in a lot of anti-gay rhetoric is "you don't exist... God did not create you, you are deciding to be immoral- you can be fixed".
To tell someone they can be fixed is to tell them they are broken.
Ask nearly any adult gay man (many to most of the women too) and they will tell you the harassment they faced, the physical danger they were in growing up in school systems across this country was almost too much to manage. Now even though there is more support for gay equality and more awareness and "tolerance" there is this overt backlash and religious movement to proclaim that civil rights for gay citizens are somehow in opposition to the religious rights of zealots. That gay civil rights somehow means the end of religious freedom.
While the LDS and the RCC are pouring millions of dollars into trying to prevent civil marriage in the US and around the world, they are not only perpetuating thebullshit very-fucking-scientifically-negated notion that being gay is a choice, they are seriously over-reaching by extrapolating out that this (determined by conservative clergy, who very often are closeted and sexually repressed) "lifestyle choice" should not get legal "validation" or protection...
'Cause like, yeah... if I choose to eat shellfish, or get a divorce, or not marry the brother of my dead husband, or eat meat on fridays, or have sex during my period (all lifestyle choices that are frowned on by g-o-d in the bible) then I should expect it's okay for my neighbors to beat me to death when they get too upset about my immorality. Oh, and I should expect there to be a referendum on election day where everyone gets to vote on whether or not I am immoral and have a right to exist in my actual form.
Here is how "religious" people are getting led down a dark ally by their leaders that will some day be appropriately equated with the cross-burnings and terrorist activities of the KKK: A cycle of proselytizing against gay identity requires suicide of gay individuals to 1) continue to demonstrate (in the face of practically eroded evidence) that to be gay means to be mentally and spiritually unstable; and 2) since most religions see suicide as the final sin- there is no way a person that killed her/his self could have been spiritually worthy...
See how that works? Chicken, egg, chicken, egg... got it?
Let me try one more time:
So HERE's the letter that I'm writing to my kids, and the advice that I'm giving to all parents within my reach...
If you enjoyed this rant, you might also enjoy something similar from Dan Savage. If you have never heard of Dan Savage, he is a potty-mouthed gay, sex advice columnist that came up with the greatest idea I have heard in a long time. A YouTube channel called: IT GETS BETTER. This is a way to try to stop kids from killing themselves... a way that any kid with the internet has access to a bunch of videos from LGBTQ adults that can tell them from experience that the best years of your life happen after high school.
The videos are amazing. Here is the video that Dan and his husband started it all with (it is worth 8 minutes of your life- pass it on):
Not that one should be picked out as worse than the others, but the most recent was a Freshman at Rutgers University who was secretly recorded by his roommate and another classmate having an intimate encounter with another
Justin Aaberg, 15, of Anoka,
Minnasota, hung himself July 9thBilly Lucas, 15, of Greensburg,
Indiana hung himself in his parents' barn on Sept 9th.Seth Walsh, 13, from Tehachapi, California, hanged himself from a tree on September 19th and died 8 days later.
Asher Brown, 13, of Cypress, Texas, shot himself in the head on September 23.
It is hard to look at these faces and hear these stories and not get sick with regret and dark with rage that we live in a society that tells (especially boy) gay kids that they are not worthy of love and life. In fact, the message in a lot of anti-gay rhetoric is "you don't exist... God did not create you, you are deciding to be immoral- you can be fixed".To tell someone they can be fixed is to tell them they are broken.
Ask nearly any adult gay man (many to most of the women too) and they will tell you the harassment they faced, the physical danger they were in growing up in school systems across this country was almost too much to manage. Now even though there is more support for gay equality and more awareness and "tolerance" there is this overt backlash and religious movement to proclaim that civil rights for gay citizens are somehow in opposition to the religious rights of zealots. That gay civil rights somehow means the end of religious freedom.
While the LDS and the RCC are pouring millions of dollars into trying to prevent civil marriage in the US and around the world, they are not only perpetuating the
'Cause like, yeah... if I choose to eat shellfish, or get a divorce, or not marry the brother of my dead husband, or eat meat on fridays, or have sex during my period (all lifestyle choices that are frowned on by g-o-d in the bible) then I should expect it's okay for my neighbors to beat me to death when they get too upset about my immorality. Oh, and I should expect there to be a referendum on election day where everyone gets to vote on whether or not I am immoral and have a right to exist in my actual form.
Here is how "religious" people are getting led down a dark ally by their leaders that will some day be appropriately equated with the cross-burnings and terrorist activities of the KKK: A cycle of proselytizing against gay identity requires suicide of gay individuals to 1) continue to demonstrate (in the face of practically eroded evidence) that to be gay means to be mentally and spiritually unstable; and 2) since most religions see suicide as the final sin- there is no way a person that killed her/his self could have been spiritually worthy...
See how that works? Chicken, egg, chicken, egg... got it?
Let me try one more time:
- God hates it/you (as determined by me)
- If God hates it/you, we can't exactly expect others to be okay with it/you
- If those others beat you up or harass you... well, see what I mean about you/it being messed up? millions of God-loving people can't be wrong...
- What you think you are can't be real because God is not okay with you/it
- If you kill yourself, you must have somehow known this to be true
- oh, and also- those people telling you that it's okay to be gay are confusing you and they are also part of the thing God hates and most of the reason you probably killed yourself is because they confused you...
- No one who thinks that "being gay is okay" should teach you, or talk to you, or be alone with you, or be in a position to influence you because 1) God would not want that, 2) Those people are immoral, unstable, and dangerous 3) They are out to recruit you (since you were NOT created gay, the only way into "gay" is through RECRUITMENT!)
- PS- I'm not intolerant, God is...
So HERE's the letter that I'm writing to my kids, and the advice that I'm giving to all parents within my reach...
If you enjoyed this rant, you might also enjoy something similar from Dan Savage. If you have never heard of Dan Savage, he is a potty-mouthed gay, sex advice columnist that came up with the greatest idea I have heard in a long time. A YouTube channel called: IT GETS BETTER. This is a way to try to stop kids from killing themselves... a way that any kid with the internet has access to a bunch of videos from LGBTQ adults that can tell them from experience that the best years of your life happen after high school.
The videos are amazing. Here is the video that Dan and his husband started it all with (it is worth 8 minutes of your life- pass it on):
Return to the blog
Okay.
Blog abandonment... I know.
Thing is, I owe both my boys Letters... Those monthly letters that used to come so dependably, and I haven't written them for several months. And the photos... my Lord, the photos we haven't posted... These boys are gorgeous and photogenic and cute and animated... And deciding which photos to post is even more intimidating than worrying that I am not making time to write the words.
So, that's the disclaimer.
But there are other things on my mind these last several weeks.
And I guess these have to come first. They are different kinds of love letters to my boys- updates on what has been going on in our world. October is always a complicated month for me and now, September is just BUSY: All the things that make our family what it is- are celebrated in September: two boys have birthdays and the mom's have anniversaries (yes, plural).
With the autumn as a backdrop, the things happening outside of our house have made me need to take time to think, have made it a little harder to get up out of bed in the morning, and have made me exhausted to the point of wanting to stay a little numb after I get these kids off to bed at night.
First of all, my gram had a stroke 2 weeks ago. She's better, but shaken and not quite herself and most worrisome of all, she's scared (hopefully temporarily) out of the positivity and stoicism that I identify her by.
Next, the trial: There will be way more about this... I have a lot to say about this, but the trial has been going on and the verdict was handed down today. Guilty on 16 of 17 counts. Eligible for the death penalty. I guess we are glad for these results, but still heart sick.
Also, this has seeped into my consciousness, because it is relevant for all parents (and especially as a lesbian mom) and because it is so tragic: At least 5 times in the last 2 months, there have been national stories of teenagers committing suicide. They have become national stories because the kids were bullied, targeted, and harassed because they were gay or perceived as gay, and because for the most part, the parents, friends and communities of those children have spoken out after their deaths to say- we complained about the bullying but no one did anything to stop it.
I have a lot of writing to do... hope you will follow, encourage, and stay with me... I miss attending to the GSO.
Blog abandonment... I know.
Thing is, I owe both my boys Letters... Those monthly letters that used to come so dependably, and I haven't written them for several months. And the photos... my Lord, the photos we haven't posted... These boys are gorgeous and photogenic and cute and animated... And deciding which photos to post is even more intimidating than worrying that I am not making time to write the words.
So, that's the disclaimer.
But there are other things on my mind these last several weeks.
And I guess these have to come first. They are different kinds of love letters to my boys- updates on what has been going on in our world. October is always a complicated month for me and now, September is just BUSY: All the things that make our family what it is- are celebrated in September: two boys have birthdays and the mom's have anniversaries (yes, plural).
With the autumn as a backdrop, the things happening outside of our house have made me need to take time to think, have made it a little harder to get up out of bed in the morning, and have made me exhausted to the point of wanting to stay a little numb after I get these kids off to bed at night.
First of all, my gram had a stroke 2 weeks ago. She's better, but shaken and not quite herself and most worrisome of all, she's scared (hopefully temporarily) out of the positivity and stoicism that I identify her by.
Next, the trial: There will be way more about this... I have a lot to say about this, but the trial has been going on and the verdict was handed down today. Guilty on 16 of 17 counts. Eligible for the death penalty. I guess we are glad for these results, but still heart sick.
Also, this has seeped into my consciousness, because it is relevant for all parents (and especially as a lesbian mom) and because it is so tragic: At least 5 times in the last 2 months, there have been national stories of teenagers committing suicide. They have become national stories because the kids were bullied, targeted, and harassed because they were gay or perceived as gay, and because for the most part, the parents, friends and communities of those children have spoken out after their deaths to say- we complained about the bullying but no one did anything to stop it.
I have a lot of writing to do... hope you will follow, encourage, and stay with me... I miss attending to the GSO.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
ONE YEAR OLD!!!
ML,
Today is your birthday!
There will be a newsletter later today (or this week) that will talk about how much we love you and how grateful we are for all that you have brought into our life!
But also to tell you how impressed we are by you-
You are strong
You are resilient
You don't mind getting knocked over all that much
You like attention, but don't necessarily DEMAND attention.
You are sweet and full of laughter
You have great hair!
Happy, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Birthday Boy!!!
We love you more than we can express.
Mommy and Mama
Sunday, September 12, 2010
1148 days
3 years and 2 months...
In our lives, since that day:
- one house sold
- one house purchased
- 3 anniversaries
- two children born
- three family surgeries- 1 c-section, 1 tonsillectomy, 2 sets of ear tubes
- Stitches put in all of us except the little one who needed a head CT, MRI, several lumbar punctures, and a whole bunch of other nonsense.
1148 days and nights of life and love and laughter, stress and grief, hunger and fullness, exhaustion and rest...
Countless conversations...
Weddings and vacations...
Drinking and dancing...
Playing, tickling, swimming, and nights at the pool...
Breast feeding, potty training, falling down and getting back up...
Tears of sadness and of happiness...
Many injuries have healed and scars formed,
but still, there is one big, unresolved, sucking wound...
We try to stay back from this. We try to have faith, have hope, and not get caught up in the fear and sadness that a tragedy like this leaves behind. We pray- for peace, for justice, for the man that survives- the man that exists but does not really exist, since that day...
There are things that can never be explained, repaired, or forgiven...
We are not vengeful people, but there are things for which vengeance was invented...
Senseless things for which there is no satisfactory atonement, nor any appropriate emotional response...
The next few weeks should be filled with joy: There are many things to celebrate in September. But our emotions will be layered, textured, and likely raw in the coming month...
The first trial is scheduled to start tomorrow.
In our lives, since that day:
- one house sold
- one house purchased
- 3 anniversaries
- two children born
- three family surgeries- 1 c-section, 1 tonsillectomy, 2 sets of ear tubes
- Stitches put in all of us except the little one who needed a head CT, MRI, several lumbar punctures, and a whole bunch of other nonsense.
1148 days and nights of life and love and laughter, stress and grief, hunger and fullness, exhaustion and rest...
Countless conversations...
Weddings and vacations...
Drinking and dancing...
Playing, tickling, swimming, and nights at the pool...
Breast feeding, potty training, falling down and getting back up...
Tears of sadness and of happiness...
Many injuries have healed and scars formed,
but still, there is one big, unresolved, sucking wound...
We try to stay back from this. We try to have faith, have hope, and not get caught up in the fear and sadness that a tragedy like this leaves behind. We pray- for peace, for justice, for the man that survives- the man that exists but does not really exist, since that day...
There are things that can never be explained, repaired, or forgiven...
We are not vengeful people, but there are things for which vengeance was invented...
Senseless things for which there is no satisfactory atonement, nor any appropriate emotional response...
The next few weeks should be filled with joy: There are many things to celebrate in September. But our emotions will be layered, textured, and likely raw in the coming month...
The first trial is scheduled to start tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Overheard in the darkness
It's 4:30 am.
It's pitch black in our room.
I wake up to the sounds of the familiar pitter-patter, pitter-pat.
Lately, he walks right by me around to katy's side of the bed.
That's what he did this morning...
JB: Mama wanna see something?
KT: (trying to wake up) what?!?
JB: I wanna show you something.
KT: huh? you want to show me something?
JB: yes. (pause. pause. Mama and Mommy can't really move yet. I'm trying to get up so that she can be off the hook with whatever he wants to show her... I imagine it might be a set of wet sheets and blankets.)
JB: (waiting patiently, trying to entice her) Wanna come see?
KT: (starting to get up) What? What do you want to show me?
JB: (He is insistent and won't tip his hand) Come see...
(pause. I am awake, but it is like I am paralyzed. I cannot figure out how to come out of sleep enough to move.)
(pause)
(pause)
KT: Stars?!? you see the stars? Are you trying to show me the stars?
KT: (in the sweetest, most innocent, and most wide-eyed voice you can imagine) Aren't they beautiful?
KT: Yes... they are. Thank you for showing me.
(sigh)
It's pitch black in our room.
I wake up to the sounds of the familiar pitter-patter, pitter-pat.
Lately, he walks right by me around to katy's side of the bed.
That's what he did this morning...
JB: Mama wanna see something?
KT: (trying to wake up) what?!?
JB: I wanna show you something.
KT: huh? you want to show me something?
JB: yes. (pause. pause. Mama and Mommy can't really move yet. I'm trying to get up so that she can be off the hook with whatever he wants to show her... I imagine it might be a set of wet sheets and blankets.)
JB: (waiting patiently, trying to entice her) Wanna come see?
KT: (starting to get up) What? What do you want to show me?
JB: (He is insistent and won't tip his hand) Come see...
(pause. I am awake, but it is like I am paralyzed. I cannot figure out how to come out of sleep enough to move.)
(pause)
(pause)
KT: Stars?!? you see the stars? Are you trying to show me the stars?
KT: (in the sweetest, most innocent, and most wide-eyed voice you can imagine) Aren't they beautiful?
KT: Yes... they are. Thank you for showing me.
(sigh)
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Another ridiculous week
I'm so wiped out, right now. But so happy.
It got hot again this week- 90 plus degrees for 4 or 5 days now.
A hurricane is on the way: Earl.
It shouldn't be that big if/when it hits us (they think category 2) but we bought some water and supplies just in case.
Last weekend, my gram fell and broke her wrist at a funeral we were attending. She's fine, but watching her go thru that left a lot of us a little shaky.
After getting to see many good peeps this weekend, Katy and I got sick Sunday night. We had the exact same symptoms, and the exact same time of onset- so we couldn't blame one another like we normally might.
We only occasionally glared with contempt and animosity at our two boys, perfectly healthy little cesspools that they are... whatever virus caused their barely noticeable runny noses and crankiness last week turns the adults of the house into piles of tissue-seeking, sinus-head-achy, sleeping with cough drops in our mouths, and taking advil around the clock, sudafed addicts.
JB looked at my pathetic, sickly expression yesterday morning, took out a notebook, and with the speed of an expert Nurse Practitioner writing a prescription for Victoza, he drew me a masterpiece that resembled a Sine curve in black, fine point ink and told me, "This is for you... so that you can have it... for work."
Read between the lines, people! He really gets me, and knew that it would help my cold (and my feelings of desperation) to have a piece of him with me all day.
Not to be outdone, ML waited all day at day care- doing his thing, which involves dragging his care-givers around in circles, clutching one of their fingers as if he is Gollum and the finger he is holding is wearing the RING- until I walked thru the door at 4:40pm. He stood, steadied by his band of merry women, and walked to me. WALKED. Not dragging someone with him by their finger. Not 1 or 2 steps... no. It was at least 6 steps. It felt like 7 or 8 or 10 steps before he reached me.
I was in awe. Laughing and cheering. I assumed he'd been doing this all day, but the expressions on his care givers' faces indicated to me that either they would go on to win academy awards one day, or this was the first time they had seen ML deliver on the promise of upright mobility too. "We knew you could do it!" they shouted and clapped...
I was prepared to go home and not see this behavior again for a while. When ML laughed for the first time, he giggled and chortled for a full 15 minutes and then we didn't hear it again for 3 or 6 weeks. But last night, he walked and walked and walked.
And tonight, we got a digital recording of it:
Um, yeah. That right there? That is on day TWO of walking... In his life.
DAY.
TWO.
Awesome. (Sung in a high-pitched vibrato)
JB has been very sweet, encouraging ML to walk.
He has paused a moment several times to look at us with a cocked head and an expression of, "WTF is everyone so worked up about... I 'been walking up in here for several years now, fishes!!!"
But he seems to understand enough to shake that confusion from his eyes and mirror our excited and proud reactions. Already, Katy and I have stopped cheering for every one of ML's new steps. (Mostly it is because our energy levels are low and our minds are fragile and limp from the week's "illness"... But also, I mean, do you see how many STEPS this kid is taking?!? Constant cheering of that volume is a lot to ask...) Anyway, JB- you can hear him in the background of that recording- if he sees ML walking and we are not making a big enough deal about it, he brings it to our attention: "HE'S DOING IT... HE'S WALKING."
I think he is trying to show how supportive he is (we heap praise on JB whenever he acts the part of "doting brother.") But the expression in his voice doesn't quite get to, "LOOK AT MY AWESOME BROTHER!!!" He instead sounds equal parts excited, panicked, and underwhelmed; like he could be saying, "LOOK THERE, HE'S TRYING TO EAT HIS OWN POO AGAIN, LIKE I TOLD YOU HE WOULD..."
I said to Katy tonight, "I don't remember being this excited when JB took his first steps."
She said, "You were."
Memory is a strange thing. Every day I am totally enthralled, enamored, and sometimes freaked out by how amazing JB is, but I really don't remember him being as awesome as ML is at this age. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention back then. Maybe there's not enough brain power to store specific feelings. Maybe I'm successfully "living in the moment". Maybe it's what we always blame it on: sleep deprivation. In any case, just to bring my heart back there, I went searching for this post: Evidence of Walking.
Like I've said before:
The heart and body remember things the mind can't...
For the rest of it... I guess that's why there are cameras.
Bottom line: I sure do love these boys.
Tonight, to celebrate, we went to the pool.
The perfect way to end a 94 degree day.
I feel very, very blessed!
It got hot again this week- 90 plus degrees for 4 or 5 days now.
A hurricane is on the way: Earl.
It shouldn't be that big if/when it hits us (they think category 2) but we bought some water and supplies just in case.
Last weekend, my gram fell and broke her wrist at a funeral we were attending. She's fine, but watching her go thru that left a lot of us a little shaky.
After getting to see many good peeps this weekend, Katy and I got sick Sunday night. We had the exact same symptoms, and the exact same time of onset- so we couldn't blame one another like we normally might.
We only occasionally glared with contempt and animosity at our two boys, perfectly healthy little cesspools that they are... whatever virus caused their barely noticeable runny noses and crankiness last week turns the adults of the house into piles of tissue-seeking, sinus-head-achy, sleeping with cough drops in our mouths, and taking advil around the clock, sudafed addicts.
JB looked at my pathetic, sickly expression yesterday morning, took out a notebook, and with the speed of an expert Nurse Practitioner writing a prescription for Victoza, he drew me a masterpiece that resembled a Sine curve in black, fine point ink and told me, "This is for you... so that you can have it... for work."
Read between the lines, people! He really gets me, and knew that it would help my cold (and my feelings of desperation) to have a piece of him with me all day.
Not to be outdone, ML waited all day at day care- doing his thing, which involves dragging his care-givers around in circles, clutching one of their fingers as if he is Gollum and the finger he is holding is wearing the RING- until I walked thru the door at 4:40pm. He stood, steadied by his band of merry women, and walked to me. WALKED. Not dragging someone with him by their finger. Not 1 or 2 steps... no. It was at least 6 steps. It felt like 7 or 8 or 10 steps before he reached me.
I was in awe. Laughing and cheering. I assumed he'd been doing this all day, but the expressions on his care givers' faces indicated to me that either they would go on to win academy awards one day, or this was the first time they had seen ML deliver on the promise of upright mobility too. "We knew you could do it!" they shouted and clapped...
I was prepared to go home and not see this behavior again for a while. When ML laughed for the first time, he giggled and chortled for a full 15 minutes and then we didn't hear it again for 3 or 6 weeks. But last night, he walked and walked and walked.
And tonight, we got a digital recording of it:
Um, yeah. That right there? That is on day TWO of walking... In his life.
DAY.
TWO.
Awesome. (Sung in a high-pitched vibrato)
JB has been very sweet, encouraging ML to walk.
He has paused a moment several times to look at us with a cocked head and an expression of, "WTF is everyone so worked up about... I 'been walking up in here for several years now, fishes!!!"
But he seems to understand enough to shake that confusion from his eyes and mirror our excited and proud reactions. Already, Katy and I have stopped cheering for every one of ML's new steps. (Mostly it is because our energy levels are low and our minds are fragile and limp from the week's "illness"... But also, I mean, do you see how many STEPS this kid is taking?!? Constant cheering of that volume is a lot to ask...) Anyway, JB- you can hear him in the background of that recording- if he sees ML walking and we are not making a big enough deal about it, he brings it to our attention: "HE'S DOING IT... HE'S WALKING."
I think he is trying to show how supportive he is (we heap praise on JB whenever he acts the part of "doting brother.") But the expression in his voice doesn't quite get to, "LOOK AT MY AWESOME BROTHER!!!" He instead sounds equal parts excited, panicked, and underwhelmed; like he could be saying, "LOOK THERE, HE'S TRYING TO EAT HIS OWN POO AGAIN, LIKE I TOLD YOU HE WOULD..."
I said to Katy tonight, "I don't remember being this excited when JB took his first steps."
She said, "You were."
Memory is a strange thing. Every day I am totally enthralled, enamored, and sometimes freaked out by how amazing JB is, but I really don't remember him being as awesome as ML is at this age. Maybe I wasn't paying enough attention back then. Maybe there's not enough brain power to store specific feelings. Maybe I'm successfully "living in the moment". Maybe it's what we always blame it on: sleep deprivation. In any case, just to bring my heart back there, I went searching for this post: Evidence of Walking.
Like I've said before:
The heart and body remember things the mind can't...
For the rest of it... I guess that's why there are cameras.
Bottom line: I sure do love these boys.
Tonight, to celebrate, we went to the pool.
The perfect way to end a 94 degree day.
I feel very, very blessed!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Grateful
In the last couple of days, We've received word of a lot of sad news.
Several deaths of people peripherally connected to us:
The father of a friend from high school.
My boss's nephew.
My cousins' other grandmother.
The former associate pastor of our church.
Katy's dad's boss.
Several deaths of people peripherally connected to us:
The father of a friend from high school.
My boss's nephew.
My cousins' other grandmother.
The former associate pastor of our church.
Katy's dad's boss.
It's like every time the phone rings there's another death notice to check out. Yuck.
Also, Katy's uncle had a stroke which scared all of us and significantly effected his speech.
Still, the last few days have felt really peaceful for me.
Our beach vacation last week was a lot of work (4 kids under five years old, and three days as a "single parent"- though not really b/c I had a lot of grandparents and TT/Uncle Bill back up).
Let's just say a 'day at the beach' is not the "Day at the beach" it used to be at this point in our lives. BUT, To me, it was quite perfect*... The beach, the sand, the salt air, the sounds and smells of the shore, the suntan lotion, the walking and lugging gear, the outdoor showers, the commune-style living, the good food, the Bananagrams... Something in me is "patched up"; something I must have inadvertently torn over the last year, something I didn't notice was missing until I got a taste of it again. (sigh) My heart feels safe and content- all wrapped in a big warm beach towel with its hair drip-drying in the salty breeze, and its toes exploring the sand- still now, days later.
Sunday, it rained all day. Quiet, steady, awesome rain. And yesterday, there were some amazing chilly winds for the first time in months (not exaggerating). I've decided that 2 stormy, cloudy days are the perfect way to experience "home" after a week on the beach. It promotes naps and laundry and meal prep and strategic plotting of the coming work week.
JB, after spending a few days exhibiting unprecedented defiance, has relocated many aspects of his gentle self. Today in the car on the way to drop off, he said so many adorable things, I didn't even tax myself trying to remember all of them. ML has continued his beach-learned habit of 3 hour afternoon naps.
Tonight I got a facial and pedicure. It was pretty luxurious and self-indulgent for a Tuesday. When I finally got home, a "ready for bed" JB smiled and sniffed at me, "You smell so good, Mommy."
If gratitude were melted butter, I'd be that first forkful of lobster that gets dunked and swirled around and dunked again before held up, dripping to someone's eager lips .
*Thanks Mom and Dad
----------------
Sent from my iPhone
Sunday, August 22, 2010
New Tap Shoes
Well, he's signed up for dance class.
And when we bought him these used shoes- his head didn't actually explode, but it was probably the best $5 we've spent in a while.
I guess all that "SYTYCD" with his mama really paid off.
Observe cuteness:
And when we bought him these used shoes- his head didn't actually explode, but it was probably the best $5 we've spent in a while.
I guess all that "SYTYCD" with his mama really paid off.
Observe cuteness:
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Newletter: Month 34
JB,
Today you are 34 and some-odd-fraction months old.
Holy smmokes. We talk a lot about you in these here web-pages, but if these were supposed to be "monthly" newsletters, we (and by "we" I mean "I") have failed you.
You and I had a big fight at dinner tonight.
It started with Sit down and ended with you crying in time out and me red-faced, muttering, and pacing a few yards away.
The new thing from you is NO.
I mean all kinds and versions of "no".
There's the little, "do you want more milk?"
No.
And then there's the, "Please SIT in your chair."
NO.
And then there's the, "You are in time out."
NO, I am not going to time out... no.
The defiance comes with a touch too much whining for my taste...
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa! NOOOoooooo!!!"
And hysteria... at least it did tonight.
Since you have generally earned the nickname, Mr. Mellow, you can sometimes be like living with Dr. Jackle and Mr. Whine. Honestly, it IS hard to hear "no" to the simplest request, query, imperative (from a not-yet-3-year old) when your safety or comfort is at stake... I am sure this will be as hard or harder when you are 7, 10, 13, 16, 21 years old, but i guess my thought is that at least you will have the vocabulary for a fair debate and enough of a grasp of the concept of cause-and-effect for me to not have to be the only one "choosing my battles".
But these events are not without my own emotional response. And our similarities are already emerging as reasons we will butt heads: stubborn, watery, sensitive, brave, wishy-washy-not-sure-what-i-want-and-that-is-hard-enough-to-deal-with-inside-of-me-let-alone-having-to-try-to-convey-it-to-you, DON'T BE DISAPPOINTED IN ME, and LET ME FIGURE IT OUT ON MY OWN! heads. Sweet, sweet boy, you and I are a lot alike.
But, you are also like your Mama- she won't go into the Ocean unless I beg or trick her either. You and she notice things I miss every day. Things I would miss completely if you weren't pointing them out: "Hear the crickets, Mama and Mommy?"
It's been several months now that we are blown away by the way you are calculating and figuring out the world, grouping ideas and things together correctly, extrapolating out notions that seem impossibly wiser than your age.
You know all four components of your given name; you know your address including city and state. You know what we need to do in different weather- what to wear if it rains or snows or is hot, why we put the windows up or down, when we use the windshield wipers, why lights go on at night; You look for stars and the moon when the sun starts to go down. If you see a digger, you ask how he can do his work without a dump truck. When you see a telephone pole, you tell us about the wires attached and what they do, what they are for. When you see our neighbors leaving, you ask where they are going... and we have to think up 5 or 6 "maybes"... "Maybe they are going to work... Maybe they are going to visit their kids... Maybe they are going to the store..." we joke that "everything comes down to safety": hard hats, lights on cars, reflectors, lines on the road, seat belts, windows that don't go all the way down, treads on shoes... When answering the incessantly asked question, "why", I would estimate, 80% of the time the answer is ultimately safety. But that's not satisfying to you:
We can't believe that you are going to be 3 years old in less than 2 months. You are getting so big and despite all of the "NO's" you are lobbing at us on a daily basis, you are as sweet as honey from the hive. We are astounded at how cute you are and smart and beautiful... It sure makes it hard to be stern with you and consistent when you misbehave. But we will figure that all out...
We love you very much!!!
Mommy and Mama
Today you are 34 and some-odd-fraction months old.
Holy smmokes. We talk a lot about you in these here web-pages, but if these were supposed to be "monthly" newsletters, we (and by "we" I mean "I") have failed you.
You and I had a big fight at dinner tonight.
It started with Sit down and ended with you crying in time out and me red-faced, muttering, and pacing a few yards away.
The new thing from you is NO.
I mean all kinds and versions of "no".
There's the little, "do you want more milk?"
No.
And then there's the, "Please SIT in your chair."
NO.
And then there's the, "You are in time out."
NO, I am not going to time out... no.
The defiance comes with a touch too much whining for my taste...
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa! NOOOoooooo!!!"
And hysteria... at least it did tonight.
Since you have generally earned the nickname, Mr. Mellow, you can sometimes be like living with Dr. Jackle and Mr. Whine. Honestly, it IS hard to hear "no" to the simplest request, query, imperative (from a not-yet-3-year old) when your safety or comfort is at stake... I am sure this will be as hard or harder when you are 7, 10, 13, 16, 21 years old, but i guess my thought is that at least you will have the vocabulary for a fair debate and enough of a grasp of the concept of cause-and-effect for me to not have to be the only one "choosing my battles".
But these events are not without my own emotional response. And our similarities are already emerging as reasons we will butt heads: stubborn, watery, sensitive, brave, wishy-washy-not-sure-what-i-want-and-that-is-hard-enough-to-deal-with-inside-of-me-let-alone-having-to-try-to-convey-it-to-you, DON'T BE DISAPPOINTED IN ME, and LET ME FIGURE IT OUT ON MY OWN! heads. Sweet, sweet boy, you and I are a lot alike.
But, you are also like your Mama- she won't go into the Ocean unless I beg or trick her either. You and she notice things I miss every day. Things I would miss completely if you weren't pointing them out: "Hear the crickets, Mama and Mommy?"
It's been several months now that we are blown away by the way you are calculating and figuring out the world, grouping ideas and things together correctly, extrapolating out notions that seem impossibly wiser than your age.
You know all four components of your given name; you know your address including city and state. You know what we need to do in different weather- what to wear if it rains or snows or is hot, why we put the windows up or down, when we use the windshield wipers, why lights go on at night; You look for stars and the moon when the sun starts to go down. If you see a digger, you ask how he can do his work without a dump truck. When you see a telephone pole, you tell us about the wires attached and what they do, what they are for. When you see our neighbors leaving, you ask where they are going... and we have to think up 5 or 6 "maybes"... "Maybe they are going to work... Maybe they are going to visit their kids... Maybe they are going to the store..." we joke that "everything comes down to safety": hard hats, lights on cars, reflectors, lines on the road, seat belts, windows that don't go all the way down, treads on shoes... When answering the incessantly asked question, "why", I would estimate, 80% of the time the answer is ultimately safety. But that's not satisfying to you:
JB: Why that truck have a step there?
Random Mom: because it is too high without a step.
JB: Why?
RM: so that the driver/worker can get to the top without getting hurt.
JB: Why?
RM: to keep him safe
JB: Why?
RM: It is probably an OSHA violation; his employer needs to prevent repetitive motion injuries and calculate what step size is ergonomically proper to avoid undue stress on his joints.
JB: Oh.
It sometimes seems as if you will only accept the answer that is above your pay-grade, and then your reaction is a very mellow, "oh." As if, "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"
You are getting good at pretending and telling stories. Your cousins have helped you learn about pretending. The three of you are constantly "taking our orders" in your pretend restaurants and you alternate between having every imaginable food we can conjure up OR telling us, "We don't have that here," to all the items we request. It is adorable but maybe makes us think we go out to eat too often.
JB loves sports: the world cup on TV, baseball, basketball, our softball games. You are starting to understand the difference between the games and the rules, the positions, and the teams. You take turns being the batter and the pitcher, the kicker and the goalie. One day, you used 4 sippy cups to tell me which were the on the soccer team that "had the ball" and which were on the team that "didn't have the ball" (this was based on the color of their tops). You also have followed Mama's lead in your affinity for dance as a spectator sport. There's this show called, "So you think you can dance" on TV which I hope (by the time you are able to or interested in reading these newsletters) is a faded memory. You and she sit and watch and rewind and cue up your favorites for me to see. There was one where boys were dressed at ball players and "danced it out"... it was like all of your favorite things rolled into on 3 minute segment.
We bought you a pair of "tap shoes" which are really a pair of plastic, purple girls shoes that make noise as you clip-clop across the floor. We set out to buy you some flip-flops but when you wandered over to the girl's section of the store and used your most politely hesitant voice to ask, "Can I have these?" We just couldn't leave them behind in the store. You couldn't nap for the entire weekend after we bought them b/c they were on the floor near your bed and it was too exciting to sleep with those shoes just sitting there. We are sufficiently convinced that you want to try to dance and in the fall there's an "all sports" class at the Y at 9am and a tap class down the street at 10 am... I think if we buy you real, authentic, ACTUAL tap shoes, you will soil yourself in excitement, so... I mean... CLEAN UP IN AISLE SIX... bring it on...
We bought you a pair of "tap shoes" which are really a pair of plastic, purple girls shoes that make noise as you clip-clop across the floor. We set out to buy you some flip-flops but when you wandered over to the girl's section of the store and used your most politely hesitant voice to ask, "Can I have these?" We just couldn't leave them behind in the store. You couldn't nap for the entire weekend after we bought them b/c they were on the floor near your bed and it was too exciting to sleep with those shoes just sitting there. We are sufficiently convinced that you want to try to dance and in the fall there's an "all sports" class at the Y at 9am and a tap class down the street at 10 am... I think if we buy you real, authentic, ACTUAL tap shoes, you will soil yourself in excitement, so... I mean... CLEAN UP IN AISLE SIX... bring it on...
Your vocabulary is impressive. Your conversational skills are ever-improving. See this post for a few of my favorite, recent items. Despite your obvious smarty-pants status, you have developed this somewhat annoying habit of asking, "What?" when really you know exactly what we said and what is going on. You've had trouble hearing in the past due to the difficulty with your ears being full of fluid, but if we just spoke louder every time you asked, "Whattt?" (you like to really enunciate the hard "t" at the end) it would be like a school for the deaf around here. Then too, we've noticed that if we just don't respond to the "Whattt?" you tell us what we said. Your Mama complains that I have a Premature and exasperating "What" that is part of my vernacular, and I have also heard you say my "which one?" That is one of mine too. You had an ENT appointment last week which revealed that both of your ear tubes (Placed in January) are out, so now we will have even a harder time determining if your "Whattt" is related to water-logged hearing or absent-minded distractedness.
Speaking of trips to the hospital... In June, you got your first stitches. Briefly, here's the tale. ML was sent home from school with a fever. He puked all over me and then when I handed him off to Mama, he puked all over her. in our brilliance, we were carting him all over the house, trying to calculate how best to get him comfortable and cleaned off, so he puked in about 4 or 5 rooms of the house. I took you to come mow the lawn with me so you would be outside, and I was worried about your safety in the backpack carrier, so I buckled you in with your sunglasses on and took 5 steps away to get the batting helmet that you love to wear (safety first.) You kicked yourself over and the sunglasses cut your forehead when your noggin' hit the pavement. We called your TT. she came over in less than 300 seconds. It was the dinner hour and Mac was in nothing but a tutu. Dried blood caked all over your face, you asked your cousin, "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" She deadpanned, "Why is there blood all over your face?" When I said, "I'm sorry buddy, I think we have to go to the hospital." You started sobbing a staccato alternative: "We'll... stay... here.. you mow the lawn... I'll sit ... and ... watch... I fe...el bet...ter." You got 4 stitches. The trip to the ER took 5 hours. You are stuck all summer wearing a bandaid over your forehead to try and prevent the sun from making the scar more noticeable. I felt terrible for at least a week, but then I made up some story about how it would have been much worse if I hadn't buckled you in the carrier- that's the story that I'm sticking to kid.
Speaking of trips to the hospital... In June, you got your first stitches. Briefly, here's the tale. ML was sent home from school with a fever. He puked all over me and then when I handed him off to Mama, he puked all over her. in our brilliance, we were carting him all over the house, trying to calculate how best to get him comfortable and cleaned off, so he puked in about 4 or 5 rooms of the house. I took you to come mow the lawn with me so you would be outside, and I was worried about your safety in the backpack carrier, so I buckled you in with your sunglasses on and took 5 steps away to get the batting helmet that you love to wear (safety first.) You kicked yourself over and the sunglasses cut your forehead when your noggin' hit the pavement. We called your TT. she came over in less than 300 seconds. It was the dinner hour and Mac was in nothing but a tutu. Dried blood caked all over your face, you asked your cousin, "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" She deadpanned, "Why is there blood all over your face?" When I said, "I'm sorry buddy, I think we have to go to the hospital." You started sobbing a staccato alternative: "We'll... stay... here.. you mow the lawn... I'll sit ... and ... watch... I fe...el bet...ter." You got 4 stitches. The trip to the ER took 5 hours. You are stuck all summer wearing a bandaid over your forehead to try and prevent the sun from making the scar more noticeable. I felt terrible for at least a week, but then I made up some story about how it would have been much worse if I hadn't buckled you in the carrier- that's the story that I'm sticking to kid.
You've started using expletives like, "Awesome!" and "Cool!" to describe things. You use the words, "actually" and "also" and "holy guacamole"... you are clear on what drink is an "adult beverage" and what is a "kid beverage". The "Actually" kills me... I just love it. We say it all the time, but when it come out a kid's mouth, it is just so funny.
This exchange typifies the adorableness of it:
Me: JB, what's your favorite letter?
JB: um... 'A'
Me: That's a good letter.
JB: Ummm, actually, it's 'B'
You also hear words and they make you think of other similar sounding words. When you overheard your grandpa use the word, "mediocrity," you looked at him and said, "And also, I have crocks on."
This exchange typifies the adorableness of it:
Me: JB, what's your favorite letter?
JB: um... 'A'
Me: That's a good letter.
JB: Ummm, actually, it's 'B'
You also hear words and they make you think of other similar sounding words. When you overheard your grandpa use the word, "mediocrity," you looked at him and said, "And also, I have crocks on."
You finally started treating ML like he is occasionally intruding on your perfect world. When he comes crawling towards you and the toys you are playing with, you have started say, "NO," to him. (surprise, surprise) You do this when he starts to crawl away or toward the stairs too, "NO" as if you need him to stay still for you to be comfortable. This makes sense. Your brother is very different from you- he is all "go now, ask questions later" and you seem to have always been a "Let me take it slow and think about things before I move" kind of kid. We are pretty stern with you about saying "NO" to ML. We try to tell you that you don't have to protect him or your toys that you can tell us and we will steer ML to safety... that you can just explain to him how to do things, but this is coming out as instinct "NO, ML," and to be honest, your mommy and mama are surprised at how long it has taken for any territorial behavior to show up.
Then too, I would be remiss if I did not point out how often you reach toward him with a soft touch to say 'HI' and how you don't react hardly at all if ML swats at you or climbs on you. You continue to be an absolutely amazing big brother. All we could have hoped for and more.
Then too, I would be remiss if I did not point out how often you reach toward him with a soft touch to say 'HI' and how you don't react hardly at all if ML swats at you or climbs on you. You continue to be an absolutely amazing big brother. All we could have hoped for and more.
You are doing great at school. The teachers say you are one of the best kids there: polite, friendly, happy, smart. You have made it clear that you remember your old school, but you prefer the new one and that is a relief for us- we would have been very heartbroken if this transition seemed to have hurt you somehow.
Your favorites right now:
Food: spaghetti and meatballs (still)
Color: Orange (still) but at least 1/2 the time you will tell us your favorite is orange AND red
Favorite toys: trucks, "soft things" (puppy, barry white, polar bear, teddybear), glove-balls-tee-helmet, puzzles,
TV show: Handy Manny
Potty training status: Mostly dry, most nights... sometimes not, but otherwise completely potty trained. (as it's been for nearly 6 months now)
Patented "JB kisses": 'two handed' - one hand on each cheek of the person you are kissing.TV show: Handy Manny
Potty training status: Mostly dry, most nights... sometimes not, but otherwise completely potty trained. (as it's been for nearly 6 months now)
We can't believe that you are going to be 3 years old in less than 2 months. You are getting so big and despite all of the "NO's" you are lobbing at us on a daily basis, you are as sweet as honey from the hive. We are astounded at how cute you are and smart and beautiful... It sure makes it hard to be stern with you and consistent when you misbehave. But we will figure that all out...
We love you very much!!!
Mommy and Mama
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Missed opportunity
Yesterday was 8.9.10.
I spent the whole day writing 8/8/10 and then today I realized it was 8/10/10.
FUCK
This really bummed me out.
Last year, I spent all of July 8th enjoying the date and I was convinced ML would be born on 9.9.9.
But Yesterday, I blew my chance at that kind of once in a century date-reveling.
--
Sent from my iphone
I spent the whole day writing 8/8/10 and then today I realized it was 8/10/10.
FUCK
This really bummed me out.
Last year, I spent all of July 8th enjoying the date and I was convinced ML would be born on 9.9.9.
But Yesterday, I blew my chance at that kind of once in a century date-reveling.
--
Sent from my iphone
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Two things...
1) We just had the most insanely AWESOME thunderstorm from about 6 to 6:30 am.
2) Yesterday, Prop 8 was ruled unconstitutional and overturned by a federal judge in CA.
This is a big (fucking joe bidden) deal.
------------
Sent from my iPhone
2) Yesterday, Prop 8 was ruled unconstitutional and overturned by a federal judge in CA.
This is a big (
------------
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
The Puzzle Master and The Foodie
I wish I were writing more... I miss it.
We have been planning for a big party this weekend, trying to fix up the house, trying to organize and plan.
My sister: Sometimes I think you only plan parties so that you have deadlines for your projects...
Me: That is absolutely the reason we plan parties.
We are excited to see friends and family. These children and this year of getting acclimated have affected our social life. So I have been staying up late and trying not to fall asleep on the way home from work.
Softball ended Monday night. It was a terrible game. We were shutout and lost via the "mercy rule." It was a fast game, and there's nothing to make you hate the mercy rule like a game that is over in 51 minutes, I mean come on!!! There should be an associated time component: you can only get mercied after the 5th inning if you've been playing for more than 90 minutes.
Anyway, it was a weird season for all the rain-outs we had and it was much hotter than usual, and this was Katy's and my first season trying to both play with 2 kids. Our team aunties and Nana and Papa and Grandma Bella helped us to accomplish this and our boys (and their moms) are better for all the nights they (we) were breathing in hot air at the field for 2-4 hours during the week.
It was like the team we had 15 years ago- nearly all of our fans under the age of 7. Our team composition has changed a little every year. The cooler caddies are turning into meals (you've got to feed these kids). The 2 teams that merged (was it 3 seasons ago now or 2?) have definitely jelled into one team.
Katy and I continue to look at this ever-evolving group and marvel that many of our best, most genuine, reliable, generous, supportive, laughter-filled, friendships were born of this low-pressure women's league softball team in the town of Midpoint. These people have helped to raise me, allowed me to help raise them, their kids, and are helping me to raise my kids. This is nothing less than a network of support and crazy sanity.
Regardless of the final score, we break bread (read: chips and dip and some times BBQ or take out) and sip beers (and juice boxes). And recount a strategy to do better or at least have more fun next time. Everyyear game I try not to pull muscles. At least once a night, a warm breeze washes over sweaty skin and one of us chants, "a day at the beach". Or this season, "NO REWARD".
At the end of the season, I always worry a little, "What will next year bring?" I only hope more of the same unexpected, simple, fun and a sense of "found time" outdoors with peeps.
I will do a photo update and newletters for each of the boys soon (I SWEAR!!!)
For now, briefly:
Señor Destruction (as we've taken to calling our younger son) is finally... getting some bits of food down the back of his throat. He's been "eating" and "feeding himself" for a while now- about 4-6 weeks, I think: bits of cheese, avocado, crusts, pasta, apples, mango, many fruits other than strawberries... ML long ago (2 weeks) rejected tiny bits of food for larger slices and chunks he can gnaw on, but he is like the cookie monster: The stuff goes in, he spends a good deal of time chewing it, and it falls or is spit out in tiny pieces.
We can recycle perfect piles of food from his bib and put them on the tray in front of him and he will continue until we are left with diced produce. It is very interesting and not like JB progressed in his eating at all.
ML looks like he is eating, but if you train your eye on him, eventually, the stuff comes out. Chew, chew, chew, chew, chew, spit out. He's still on formula and baby food, so we are not worried about his calories, it is just a funny little trait of his. This week that may be turning around. I think a few pieces are actually making it to his esophagus and stomach.
ML also is insistent about walking everywhere. He wants to walk non-stop while holding ONE FINGER. He does this thing where he is holding an adult's finger with one hand and he takes his other hand and grabs you to steady your hand so that he may either adjust his grip on the finger he is holding, or select a new, sturdier finger to cling to. It is a strange demonstration of genius and my father said, "It pretty much freaked me out how smart he is- that seemed like too high a level of reasoning for a kid so young."
JB is blowing our minds too with his sudden capacity to put puzzles together. Katy and I don't know why this is so impressive to us, but a few months ago, he couldn't really do any puzzles except the ones that have a picture of the exact thing that you are putting into the singular cutout- one hole for each piece. Now, he can just somehow do puzzles. He is cautious about not wanting to do it wrong and will often repeat, "Can you help me? Can you help me?" But we realized if we treated that question as if he said, "Can you watch me?" Instead of jumping in and helping, he can do it all by himself.
He also got a new bike- 2 wheeler with training wheels. He's had it for 1.5 weeks and has ridden it almost every day. The progress he has made in his ability to steer, start, and stop is also amazing to us. Maybe we are easily thrilled, but I this is where it gets hard not to limit a 3 year old by what your sure he probably can not do.
Katy and i have talked about paying serious mind to and trying to implement some research that we learned about from Adam: that kids who are told, "You did so good, you are so smart! I'm proud of you," are much more likely to not want to try new and harder things, than kids that are told, "You did so good, you must have tried really hard! I'm proud of how you chose to stick to it".
I can already see in JB some of what that study concluded: if success is tied to the labels "smart" or "good", moving on to harder things might mean losing those labels. But if success is tied to working hard and not being afraid to try, than moving on to harder things only requires being willing to put forth more effort. "I guess I can try harder next time," is a much easier on the I-want-to-please-you soul of a child than "I guess you must have been wrong when you called me smart".
It's a good lesson for me even in evaluating my adult learning processes and successes and failures too.
We have been planning for a big party this weekend, trying to fix up the house, trying to organize and plan.
My sister: Sometimes I think you only plan parties so that you have deadlines for your projects...
Me: That is absolutely the reason we plan parties.
We are excited to see friends and family. These children and this year of getting acclimated have affected our social life. So I have been staying up late and trying not to fall asleep on the way home from work.
Softball ended Monday night. It was a terrible game. We were shutout and lost via the "mercy rule." It was a fast game, and there's nothing to make you hate the mercy rule like a game that is over in 51 minutes, I mean come on!!! There should be an associated time component: you can only get mercied after the 5th inning if you've been playing for more than 90 minutes.
Anyway, it was a weird season for all the rain-outs we had and it was much hotter than usual, and this was Katy's and my first season trying to both play with 2 kids. Our team aunties and Nana and Papa and Grandma Bella helped us to accomplish this and our boys (and their moms) are better for all the nights they (we) were breathing in hot air at the field for 2-4 hours during the week.
It was like the team we had 15 years ago- nearly all of our fans under the age of 7. Our team composition has changed a little every year. The cooler caddies are turning into meals (you've got to feed these kids). The 2 teams that merged (was it 3 seasons ago now or 2?) have definitely jelled into one team.
Katy and I continue to look at this ever-evolving group and marvel that many of our best, most genuine, reliable, generous, supportive, laughter-filled, friendships were born of this low-pressure women's league softball team in the town of Midpoint. These people have helped to raise me, allowed me to help raise them, their kids, and are helping me to raise my kids. This is nothing less than a network of support and crazy sanity.
Regardless of the final score, we break bread (read: chips and dip and some times BBQ or take out) and sip beers (and juice boxes). And recount a strategy to do better or at least have more fun next time. Every
At the end of the season, I always worry a little, "What will next year bring?" I only hope more of the same unexpected, simple, fun and a sense of "found time" outdoors with peeps.
I will do a photo update and newletters for each of the boys soon (I SWEAR!!!)
For now, briefly:
Señor Destruction (as we've taken to calling our younger son) is finally... getting some bits of food down the back of his throat. He's been "eating" and "feeding himself" for a while now- about 4-6 weeks, I think: bits of cheese, avocado, crusts, pasta, apples, mango, many fruits other than strawberries... ML long ago (2 weeks) rejected tiny bits of food for larger slices and chunks he can gnaw on, but he is like the cookie monster: The stuff goes in, he spends a good deal of time chewing it, and it falls or is spit out in tiny pieces.
We can recycle perfect piles of food from his bib and put them on the tray in front of him and he will continue until we are left with diced produce. It is very interesting and not like JB progressed in his eating at all.
ML looks like he is eating, but if you train your eye on him, eventually, the stuff comes out. Chew, chew, chew, chew, chew, spit out. He's still on formula and baby food, so we are not worried about his calories, it is just a funny little trait of his. This week that may be turning around. I think a few pieces are actually making it to his esophagus and stomach.
ML also is insistent about walking everywhere. He wants to walk non-stop while holding ONE FINGER. He does this thing where he is holding an adult's finger with one hand and he takes his other hand and grabs you to steady your hand so that he may either adjust his grip on the finger he is holding, or select a new, sturdier finger to cling to. It is a strange demonstration of genius and my father said, "It pretty much freaked me out how smart he is- that seemed like too high a level of reasoning for a kid so young."
JB is blowing our minds too with his sudden capacity to put puzzles together. Katy and I don't know why this is so impressive to us, but a few months ago, he couldn't really do any puzzles except the ones that have a picture of the exact thing that you are putting into the singular cutout- one hole for each piece. Now, he can just somehow do puzzles. He is cautious about not wanting to do it wrong and will often repeat, "Can you help me? Can you help me?" But we realized if we treated that question as if he said, "Can you watch me?" Instead of jumping in and helping, he can do it all by himself.
He also got a new bike- 2 wheeler with training wheels. He's had it for 1.5 weeks and has ridden it almost every day. The progress he has made in his ability to steer, start, and stop is also amazing to us. Maybe we are easily thrilled, but I this is where it gets hard not to limit a 3 year old by what your sure he probably can not do.
Katy and i have talked about paying serious mind to and trying to implement some research that we learned about from Adam: that kids who are told, "You did so good, you are so smart! I'm proud of you," are much more likely to not want to try new and harder things, than kids that are told, "You did so good, you must have tried really hard! I'm proud of how you chose to stick to it".
I can already see in JB some of what that study concluded: if success is tied to the labels "smart" or "good", moving on to harder things might mean losing those labels. But if success is tied to working hard and not being afraid to try, than moving on to harder things only requires being willing to put forth more effort. "I guess I can try harder next time," is a much easier on the I-want-to-please-you soul of a child than "I guess you must have been wrong when you called me smart".
It's a good lesson for me even in evaluating my adult learning processes and successes and failures too.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Now your shirt looks like your heart feels...
JB did a ten minute, "NO, MOMMY... DON'T GO... PLEASE... NO...ONE MORE MINUTE... PLEASE, ONE MORE KISS..." hysterical dance at day care drop off this AM, complete with sputtering, stammering, real tears and copious facial mucus.
Extracting myself was somewhat...
Heartbreaking.
He loves his new school and his teachers...
(SIDEBAR: Oooo... remind me to tell you what happened at his old school)
And we have a standard drop off routine that is generally tear free...
But this week has been harder for him for some reason.
Maybe because it has been a hard week for us (his moms).
Maybe because he's been getting to bed too late.
Dropping the boys off at day care is tough on my spirit anyway.
It's not that I think I would be the greatest stay-at-home mom; I'm pretty sure I would not be as patient as their current care givers. And it's not that I think it would be better for them to be at home during the day ...Call it denial or self substantiation, but I have really "bought into" the "day care is really good for kids" shtick.
My kids have thrived at day care. They are surrounded by a team of smart, generous, loving people. They are showered with praise and affection. They are learning and enjoying new things and people (and songs and stories and toys) every day. They are exposed to and building up epidemiologically significant levels of immunity to all sorts of pathogens.
It's just that...
It is a long time to be away from them (work day + commute time).
And sometimes in the AM, it is such a relief to drop them off, that I know I must be a bad person.
Bottom line: It is hard to drop them off when they are happy to be there, and it's even harder to drop them off when they put their heads down and cry (ML) or beg for you to not leave them (JB).
But today, after the trauma/drama at drop off, I drove to work feeling 2 parts melancholy and 1 part numb. I tried to turn it around and committed to making it a better day than yesterday. When I got to the office and saw myself in the bathroom mirror: My black shirt has all these white patches and smudges where JB's moist protestations of abandonment were left on my lower abdomen...
And that explains the post's title.
--
Sent from my iphone
Extracting myself was somewhat...
Heartbreaking.
He loves his new school and his teachers...
(SIDEBAR: Oooo... remind me to tell you what happened at his old school)
And we have a standard drop off routine that is generally tear free...
But this week has been harder for him for some reason.
Maybe because it has been a hard week for us (his moms).
Maybe because he's been getting to bed too late.
Dropping the boys off at day care is tough on my spirit anyway.
It's not that I think I would be the greatest stay-at-home mom; I'm pretty sure I would not be as patient as their current care givers. And it's not that I think it would be better for them to be at home during the day ...Call it denial or self substantiation, but I have really "bought into" the "day care is really good for kids" shtick.
My kids have thrived at day care. They are surrounded by a team of smart, generous, loving people. They are showered with praise and affection. They are learning and enjoying new things and people (and songs and stories and toys) every day. They are exposed to and building up epidemiologically significant levels of immunity to all sorts of pathogens.
It's just that...
It is a long time to be away from them (work day + commute time).
And sometimes in the AM, it is such a relief to drop them off, that I know I must be a bad person.
Bottom line: It is hard to drop them off when they are happy to be there, and it's even harder to drop them off when they put their heads down and cry (ML) or beg for you to not leave them (JB).
But today, after the trauma/drama at drop off, I drove to work feeling 2 parts melancholy and 1 part numb. I tried to turn it around and committed to making it a better day than yesterday. When I got to the office and saw myself in the bathroom mirror: My black shirt has all these white patches and smudges where JB's moist protestations of abandonment were left on my lower abdomen...
And that explains the post's title.
--
Sent from my iphone
Friday, July 23, 2010
Just barely one step ahead
This morning JB was a wreck. Crying, whining, not himself at all even before he woke up completely.
Then he started (pretty convincingly) with a litany of, "I don't feel good"s and "I'm sick."
He couldn't tell us what was wrong just kept crying and saying he was sick.
We persisted in the somewhat gentle questioning and then he cried out, "MY BIG TOE. MY BIG TOE HURTS. I HURT IT AT MY SCHOOL AND NOW I DON'T FEEL GOOD."
Poor kid, if only he said, "My belly."
I would have fallen for it today if all that drama were connected to belly pain.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Go to bed, already.
Tomorrow, we will try to spend the day demonstrating pleasantness in the midst of our anxiety and discomfort.
Tomorrow, we will try to remember the spirit of women who were pretty damn good role models even before the mantle of sainthood was placed on their memories.
Tomorrow, we will let our bodies and minds fight it out... Our minds want to be in charge of our emotions, but grief and anger have a way of marking you physically. And "the body" sometimes has a more accurate memory than even "the memory".
Tomorrow, we will cherish our children.
(A little more than we do every other day.)
Tomorrow, we will try to be gentle with each other.
Tomorrow, we will try to be generous and a little more patient than we usually need to be in our interactions with others...
But TONIGHT, before I go to bed, I'm going to check every window and every door (like Katy made me promise to do) to be sure they are locked. And I'm going to say a silent, but heartfelt "fuck you" to the psychotic criminals who killed our friends 3 years ago...
Then I'm going to wash the destructive anger off my face, and brush the bile off of my teeth, and try to shake the gnawing anxiety from my core. And THEN, I'm going to hold my wife close- hoping that my love and concern can keep bad dreams at bay- and trying to convey to her through my actions that no matter what, I'm here with her and I love her... and I'm sorry for the losses she has endured.
------------
Our church benediction:
Go out into the world in peace
Have courage
Hold onto what is good
Return to no person evil for evil
Strengthen the fainthearted
Support the weak
Help the suffering
Honor all beings
Amen.
Tomorrow, we will try to remember the spirit of women who were pretty damn good role models even before the mantle of sainthood was placed on their memories.
Tomorrow, we will let our bodies and minds fight it out... Our minds want to be in charge of our emotions, but grief and anger have a way of marking you physically. And "the body" sometimes has a more accurate memory than even "the memory".
Tomorrow, we will cherish our children.
(A little more than we do every other day.)
Tomorrow, we will try to be gentle with each other.
Tomorrow, we will try to be generous and a little more patient than we usually need to be in our interactions with others...
But TONIGHT, before I go to bed, I'm going to check every window and every door (like Katy made me promise to do) to be sure they are locked. And I'm going to say a silent, but heartfelt "fuck you" to the psychotic criminals who killed our friends 3 years ago...
Then I'm going to wash the destructive anger off my face, and brush the bile off of my teeth, and try to shake the gnawing anxiety from my core. And THEN, I'm going to hold my wife close- hoping that my love and concern can keep bad dreams at bay- and trying to convey to her through my actions that no matter what, I'm here with her and I love her... and I'm sorry for the losses she has endured.
------------
Our church benediction:
Go out into the world in peace
Have courage
Hold onto what is good
Return to no person evil for evil
Strengthen the fainthearted
Support the weak
Help the suffering
Honor all beings
Amen.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Conversations overheard
July 1, 2010:
At a Dayton Dragon's (minor league) game, JB, still awake in the 9th inning: "Where's the um'pirate?"
July 5, 2010:
Out for a walk with JB in the stroller... Neither of us has spoken for a few minutes. Out of the blue he announces: "Bibbity Boppity BACON".
July 11, 2010: JB is falling asleep in the car after many hours of swimming and playing. His eyes are lolling around in his skull and I say to him, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" He blinks a few times and says, "Can we hear some Lady Gaga?"
We stop for gas a few minutes later and there is an amazing double rainbow. It is the first time we have the opportunity to show him a real rainbow. Katy and I pull JB out of the car and point to it, using various clouds, trees, and an airplane as points of reference.
Moms: Do you see it? It is right there?
JB: yes (he's looking in the wrong direction)
Moms: Look up there, see the colors?
JB: yes
Moms (trying to point him to it) see the jet? it's about to fly through the rainbow. Do you see the rainbow?
JB: (not looking high enough in the sky to see the rainbow) Yes. I see it
Moms: (emphatically repeating themselves)
JB: Um, can I just look at that dump truck?
Moms bring their gaze to the horizon and see a huge, orange, municipal, dump truck parked about 200 feet away and start laughing, hysterically.
This morning, in our kitchen, JB has his hands in fists:
JB: can you clean my hands off
Me: sure.
JB: (Handing me an empty banana peel) They have some of this carcass on them I need to clean off.
This evening while waiting for the tub to fill, a naked JB is sort of quietly muttering to himself: "blah, blah, blah... blah, blah, blah"... I can't really hear him and lean in for a better listen. He sounds like an actor patiently rehearsing lines. With a gentle inflection, he intones: "I'm not mad at you, I'm not angry, I'm just explaining... I'm not angry... I'm not mad, I'm just explaining..." I run, silently giggling to get Katy. She says, "Where did he pick that up?" I roll my eyes as she has said this to him 2 times this evening alone... And last week when I caught him considering the dimensions of an electrical outlet and shouted him away from it, I had to write a convincing jingle off-the-cuff with these very words to stop the kid from sobbing.
NOT TO BE OUTDONE...
ML: (several times over the last few weeks) "DA!"
"Da-da!"
"Na-na!"
"GA!"
"Laaaaaaa" and "AaaaaaaRrraaaaaaarrrrr" (in a perfect imitation of a drunken Barney from the Simpsons.)
So effing amazing... these kids are!
At a Dayton Dragon's (minor league) game, JB, still awake in the 9th inning: "Where's the um'pirate?"
July 5, 2010:
Out for a walk with JB in the stroller... Neither of us has spoken for a few minutes. Out of the blue he announces: "Bibbity Boppity BACON".
July 11, 2010: JB is falling asleep in the car after many hours of swimming and playing. His eyes are lolling around in his skull and I say to him, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" He blinks a few times and says, "Can we hear some Lady Gaga?"
We stop for gas a few minutes later and there is an amazing double rainbow. It is the first time we have the opportunity to show him a real rainbow. Katy and I pull JB out of the car and point to it, using various clouds, trees, and an airplane as points of reference.
Moms: Do you see it? It is right there?
JB: yes (he's looking in the wrong direction)
Moms: Look up there, see the colors?
JB: yes
Moms (trying to point him to it) see the jet? it's about to fly through the rainbow. Do you see the rainbow?
JB: (not looking high enough in the sky to see the rainbow) Yes. I see it
Moms: (emphatically repeating themselves)
JB: Um, can I just look at that dump truck?
Moms bring their gaze to the horizon and see a huge, orange, municipal, dump truck parked about 200 feet away and start laughing, hysterically.
This morning, in our kitchen, JB has his hands in fists:
JB: can you clean my hands off
Me: sure.
JB: (Handing me an empty banana peel) They have some of this carcass on them I need to clean off.
This evening while waiting for the tub to fill, a naked JB is sort of quietly muttering to himself: "blah, blah, blah... blah, blah, blah"... I can't really hear him and lean in for a better listen. He sounds like an actor patiently rehearsing lines. With a gentle inflection, he intones: "I'm not mad at you, I'm not angry, I'm just explaining... I'm not angry... I'm not mad, I'm just explaining..." I run, silently giggling to get Katy. She says, "Where did he pick that up?" I roll my eyes as she has said this to him 2 times this evening alone... And last week when I caught him considering the dimensions of an electrical outlet and shouted him away from it, I had to write a convincing jingle off-the-cuff with these very words to stop the kid from sobbing.
NOT TO BE OUTDONE...
ML: (several times over the last few weeks) "DA!"
"Da-da!"
"Na-na!"
"GA!"
"Laaaaaaa" and "AaaaaaaRrraaaaaaarrrrr" (in a perfect imitation of a drunken Barney from the Simpsons.)
So effing amazing... these kids are!
Monday, June 28, 2010
The last monday in June
I know it has been a dog's age since I have posted...
Sometimes keeping up with this here Gin-Soaked Olive is all I want to do and when it isn't caught up, I get tense and then I think, if I could only get back to writing I would feel better, but then there are so many things that NEED to get done, that it seems selfish and silly to not do the things you should do and so you avoid spending precious time doing the thing that you WANT to do... and then when you can't do the things you need to OR the things you want to, you start to punish yourself further by imagining some large scale strategy for re-creating the stories that you have failed to post in the time you've been away...
Maybe it's just me that does all this.
Anyway, Since I've written last, these are the things I want to catch you up on:
- Josh (Katy's brother) and Linda's wedding
- Our trip to Seattle and Portland (for the wedding)
- Summer fun at the Ta-BAR pool
- Status update on the new day care
- JB's first trip to the ER and stitches
- My birthday
All in good time.
It has been an interesting few weeks (if you can't tell from that list). It has also been a HOT summer so far. We are without central air for the first time in 5 years and trust me when I tell you, we have gotten weak. I swear that JB was sweating himself awake and then hallucinating because of the weather. ML gets really red when he is hot and it looks like he has a sunburn on his face, but when you bring his body temperature down, he color returns to normal.
So just because my eyes are burning too much (fatigue and I think from all the sweat that has run into them in the last few days) I am just going to give you the highlights from today:
2010 - the last monday in june:
8:01 AM - on my way to work, it is already 85 degrees F. Katy and I have agreed that she needs to spend part of her day off bringing the boys to their doctor b/c JB needs his last stitch that hasn't disolved out of his face yet to be removed (it's been 12 days); and ML seems like he has another ear infection: slight temp, tugging at ear, tell-tale cough.
8:03 - i realize I forgot my sunglasses and go home to retrieve them
8:10 - I've made it to the highway; I look at the dash, the temp is up to 87
8:36 - at work, check voicemail: that girl we need to fire if she calls out one more time, she's called out. Check email: very angry and obnoxious email from clinician/employee
9am - text from katy: the boys have an appointment at 10 am
10 am - Meeting
11 am - call from Katy: ML does have an ear infection- his second in 6 weeks
11:30 - another email from disgruntled clinician
1:30 - meeting
2:30 - another meeting
3:30 - 3rd email from (this time) an IRATE clinician who has apparently "nothing to lose." [The bitches I work with have no problem spewing out emotional emails to the very people that sign their checks -it never ceases to amaze me... Oh, and also, being a manager in this economy is fun. Everyone assumes you are stupid and out to get them before imagining there might have been a worse option on the table that you rejected to protect them... and keep the company doors open.]
3:40- insanely awesome 15 minute downpour
4:49 - abandonment of attempted email responses to irate/disgruntled/obnoxious clinicians
5:01 - in car; temp 92 degrees
5:40pm - arrive home. ML hasn't really slept all day. Has had 2 doses of antibiotics and looks like a kid that someone left in the sun all day without sunscreen; JB tells me he "laid on the table and let Dr K take my stiches out with no fuss or moving." excellent job, baby!
6:10 I give ML a bath
6:17 I dress ML in the cutest short-pants PJs
6:20 Katy and I give ML some motrin
6:22 I give ML a bottle
6:26 ML gives me a dubious burp
6:27 ML projectile vomits all over my shirt and the family room; into my purse, splatter on the wall and the TV table
6:30 Katy comes to get ML so that I can clean up a little and get him back in the tub; i strip down to my lady skivies
6:33 I go to get ML in time to see him projectile vomit all over Katy and the upstairs bathroom; I undress him and take him in the shower with me... he falls asleep in the shower. I dress him and hold him in the glider for nearly an hour to calm both him and me. He is coughing, twitchy, and looks so tall to me, but so tiny at the same time. I meditate on all the scary times we've had with him- worrying about his health, even though for the most part he is so healthy. I do some reiki on him. I do this "forgiveness" meditation that I learned in grad school that is mostly about forgiving yourself for not being perfect. I take time taking him in and feeling the heat rise off of his body- it is 86 degrees in the room, and he has cool cheeks and forehead, but a very warm torso and noggin'. He is the sweetest kid and I can't imagine how I would handle it if something were ever seriously wrong with him, this little illness almost seems too much to bare. I like just sitting there with him, alone together while JB gets to watch another episode of Handy Manny with his mama.
7:45 I head to the store to buy air conditioners. Katy and I have toyed with the idea of installing central air, but don't know if we can really afford it this year. We haven't purchased any AC units b/c i hate window units (they block the windows ALL summer, and can ruin the windows); and b/c we think, "summers in New England" are not all that hot... just a few weeks total all summer long... and b/c we are each still holding on to the dream that one of us will produce a compelling enough argument to "bite the bullet" and hire the HVAC guy to fill our house with ducts carrying magic/cool air. June is not over and this is at least our 7th night of >80 temps at night. I speed off to keep my sweet wife and my baby boys protected from the crankiness that comes with narrowly avoiding heat stroke on a daily basis.
10pm I finish installing an AC in the boys room and an AC in our room.
10:30 I toy with my iphone for a while- the new itunes upgrade is cool and allows for me to have a little fun grouping apps into "folders"
10:48 I skip a rational bedtime and ignore the burning in my eyes to write this down for all of you.
Soon: I go to bed.
Sometimes keeping up with this here Gin-Soaked Olive is all I want to do and when it isn't caught up, I get tense and then I think, if I could only get back to writing I would feel better, but then there are so many things that NEED to get done, that it seems selfish and silly to not do the things you should do and so you avoid spending precious time doing the thing that you WANT to do... and then when you can't do the things you need to OR the things you want to, you start to punish yourself further by imagining some large scale strategy for re-creating the stories that you have failed to post in the time you've been away...
Maybe it's just me that does all this.
Anyway, Since I've written last, these are the things I want to catch you up on:
- Josh (Katy's brother) and Linda's wedding
- Our trip to Seattle and Portland (for the wedding)
- Summer fun at the Ta-BAR pool
- Status update on the new day care
- JB's first trip to the ER and stitches
- My birthday
All in good time.
It has been an interesting few weeks (if you can't tell from that list). It has also been a HOT summer so far. We are without central air for the first time in 5 years and trust me when I tell you, we have gotten weak. I swear that JB was sweating himself awake and then hallucinating because of the weather. ML gets really red when he is hot and it looks like he has a sunburn on his face, but when you bring his body temperature down, he color returns to normal.
So just because my eyes are burning too much (fatigue and I think from all the sweat that has run into them in the last few days) I am just going to give you the highlights from today:
2010 - the last monday in june:
8:01 AM - on my way to work, it is already 85 degrees F. Katy and I have agreed that she needs to spend part of her day off bringing the boys to their doctor b/c JB needs his last stitch that hasn't disolved out of his face yet to be removed (it's been 12 days); and ML seems like he has another ear infection: slight temp, tugging at ear, tell-tale cough.
8:03 - i realize I forgot my sunglasses and go home to retrieve them
8:10 - I've made it to the highway; I look at the dash, the temp is up to 87
8:36 - at work, check voicemail: that girl we need to fire if she calls out one more time, she's called out. Check email: very angry and obnoxious email from clinician/employee
9am - text from katy: the boys have an appointment at 10 am
10 am - Meeting
11 am - call from Katy: ML does have an ear infection- his second in 6 weeks
11:30 - another email from disgruntled clinician
1:30 - meeting
2:30 - another meeting
3:30 - 3rd email from (this time) an IRATE clinician who has apparently "nothing to lose." [The bitches I work with have no problem spewing out emotional emails to the very people that sign their checks -it never ceases to amaze me... Oh, and also, being a manager in this economy is fun. Everyone assumes you are stupid and out to get them before imagining there might have been a worse option on the table that you rejected to protect them... and keep the company doors open.]
3:40- insanely awesome 15 minute downpour
4:49 - abandonment of attempted email responses to irate/disgruntled/obnoxious clinicians
5:01 - in car; temp 92 degrees
5:40pm - arrive home. ML hasn't really slept all day. Has had 2 doses of antibiotics and looks like a kid that someone left in the sun all day without sunscreen; JB tells me he "laid on the table and let Dr K take my stiches out with no fuss or moving." excellent job, baby!
6:10 I give ML a bath
6:17 I dress ML in the cutest short-pants PJs
6:20 Katy and I give ML some motrin
6:22 I give ML a bottle
6:26 ML gives me a dubious burp
6:27 ML projectile vomits all over my shirt and the family room; into my purse, splatter on the wall and the TV table
6:30 Katy comes to get ML so that I can clean up a little and get him back in the tub; i strip down to my lady skivies
6:33 I go to get ML in time to see him projectile vomit all over Katy and the upstairs bathroom; I undress him and take him in the shower with me... he falls asleep in the shower. I dress him and hold him in the glider for nearly an hour to calm both him and me. He is coughing, twitchy, and looks so tall to me, but so tiny at the same time. I meditate on all the scary times we've had with him- worrying about his health, even though for the most part he is so healthy. I do some reiki on him. I do this "forgiveness" meditation that I learned in grad school that is mostly about forgiving yourself for not being perfect. I take time taking him in and feeling the heat rise off of his body- it is 86 degrees in the room, and he has cool cheeks and forehead, but a very warm torso and noggin'. He is the sweetest kid and I can't imagine how I would handle it if something were ever seriously wrong with him, this little illness almost seems too much to bare. I like just sitting there with him, alone together while JB gets to watch another episode of Handy Manny with his mama.
7:45 I head to the store to buy air conditioners. Katy and I have toyed with the idea of installing central air, but don't know if we can really afford it this year. We haven't purchased any AC units b/c i hate window units (they block the windows ALL summer, and can ruin the windows); and b/c we think, "summers in New England" are not all that hot... just a few weeks total all summer long... and b/c we are each still holding on to the dream that one of us will produce a compelling enough argument to "bite the bullet" and hire the HVAC guy to fill our house with ducts carrying magic/cool air. June is not over and this is at least our 7th night of >80 temps at night. I speed off to keep my sweet wife and my baby boys protected from the crankiness that comes with narrowly avoiding heat stroke on a daily basis.
10pm I finish installing an AC in the boys room and an AC in our room.
10:30 I toy with my iphone for a while- the new itunes upgrade is cool and allows for me to have a little fun grouping apps into "folders"
10:48 I skip a rational bedtime and ignore the burning in my eyes to write this down for all of you.
Soon: I go to bed.
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