Check your list twice...

While discussing gift-giving, and gift-receiving etiquette, something goes awry...

Jake: I hope Santa keeps a list... Because if I, like, ask for a Batman gift and he brings me, say, a Dora thing, I'll be like, "dude, I didn't ask for Dora..."

On exceeding expectations...

Jake: (As Katy is offering him a sandwich) I. DON'T. WANT. IT!!!

Katy: Try again, Jake, we don't talk like that.

Jake: (instantaneously) Um, Mama, thank you for offering that to me, but I don't really want it right now.

Me: Ten points for Griffindor!

Katy (Under her breath to me) Way to set the future bar higher for yourself, dude... It makes more sense now why he keeps getting all those stickers at school...

Halloween

There was a big snow storm 2 days before Halloween, so it really screwed things up for that holiday. Somehow, we had our costumes all worked out- well in advance... a miracle for these two somewhat-behind-schedule moms. Then it started to snow about 11am on Saturday. Big, wet flakes that accumulated to about a foot of heavy snow and took out a lot of trees and branches. We were out of power for 5 days- no heat, no electricity, and trick or treating was officially cancelled in our town. But we did dress them up: First from my sister's box of "extra dress up" Jake found his cousin, Cam's witch costume from 2 years ago.

(Jake and Cam are the same age- so that's why he looks a little too sexy for his clothes)

Man, he is Purr-dee... isn't he?!? I think he's very handsome, but he also makes a beautiful princess boy when he wants to!!!

Then, not to be outdone, Milo wanted to wear a dress. So, I couldn't resist putting him into this tiny-dog costume I found. It seemed cruel to undress him for it- we're not raising strippers here, after-all! So I put it on him OVER his clothes!

Awwwwww!

Then the main event... we dressed our boys in their "real costumes" and my sister's girls in the play things of their choice and headed out to the THREE houses in the dark that had candles in their windows.

These were taken at school this week...

The cutest panda ever!!!

Sweet-smile, slouchin' Superman...

Jake as "Clark Kent"

Brothers:

BONUS PIC:

I borrowed my dad's leaf blower and it dangled over the back seat a little. When I looked into the back, Jake had grabbed onto the handle. At the next glance, Milo was imitating him. The image made me laugh- as if they were human bungee cords, keeping the thing from rolling out of the hatchback.

:)

It' sounds like a Tuberculosis ward in here, but the state of the family is strong...

Our kids are at their Sat AM events: Jake with Katy to dance, Milo with Papa to gymnastics. I have an hour to clean the house, but first give you a 10 second snap shot:

1) After suffering 6 weeks with a wet, productive, hacking cough Milo has been diagnosed with an ear infection. Three days on antibiotics and the cough is remarkably improved.

2) Jake has started asking every morning, "Can I have a little coffee?" which is his way of asking for a cough drop.

3) Yesterday I went to a "minute clinic" b/c I don't have a PCP (terrible) and I couldn't take my worsening cough and cold anymore. I got myself on some antibiotics and some allergy medication as well. I'm still an allergy denial-ist even in the face of mounting evidence that I have in fact developed seasonal allergies well into the 4th decade of my life

4) Katy caught the kids playing "We're late...we' re late... We're late..." with each other in the living room the other day. (Eye roll). I guess there are worse things we could be imitated for...

5) I gave my notice at work and will be changing jobs this month... Lots of anxiety to get us to this point and the next 2 week are going to be totally full THROTTLE wrapping up 7 plus years of unfinished TO DO lists, but when the dust settles, I'll write a little more about it...

Today in creepy kid wisdom...

I have become increasingly amazed at the introspective power of children in general, but also toddlers in particular.

It's more than that thing that will make a child look at someone with bad acne and say,
"why do you have all those red dots on your face?"

Or size up a person of small stature and inquire,
"So, are you a midget or something?"

I'm talking about when a kid is trying to label and understand the world and they come up with an explanation that is at once S-I-M-P-L-E and COMPLETELY profound. Jake does this over and over again, with such frequency and such little fanfare that I can never even remember the examples or conversations. But I have witnessed him capture the essence of "human fears" and "economics" and "relationships" with dialogue that was not parroting of adult explanations but instead an application of some previously internalized concept to a different or more abstract situation...

Boy: We take good care of our friends right?
Mom: yes!
Boy: And we share with them...
Mom: yes...
Boy: But people we don't know might be our friends?
Mom: yes...
Boy: And we should be nice even if they aren't our friends...
Mom: Yes!
Boy: I would share my snack with anyone that needed it. But if my friends needed more snack, I would have to save some for them and me- and not just strangers...
Mom: well...
Boy: What if people take our stuff and then we can't share with friends
Mom: Um...
Boy: Sometimes people that are mean are just sad...
Mom: huh? (wondering if I ever told him this or if he is coming up with this on his own)
Boy: Like Doc Hudson was in Cars... about his accident...
Mom: (sigh) yes
Boy: He wasn't Lightning's friend, but then he was after...
Mom: Yup.
Boy: Sometimes, it's like everybody is our friend, but also, everybody is not our friend.
Mom: (holy shit!) yes... essentially.

That is a compilation and not an actual conversation, but people wonder why I say things like, "yes... essentially" to my kids. It's because if you are going to give me some Gandhi-esque sound bite, I'm not going to reply, "You're so silly, boo-boo-bear!"

This morning it was a slightly different twist...

First of all, Milo AVOIDED ALL THE PUDDLES IN THE DRIVEWAY!!! Katy and I have been working on this, with (occasionally) painstaking patience. We've tried to teach and show him that there is a time for PUDDLE JUMPING and a time for NOT puddle jumping. This morning, we implored, "Please AVOID the puddles, Milo!" and he did a soft shoe around them walking carefully as if solving a puzzle.

Both moms were thrilled and tripping over ourselves to take credit for teaching him to be this amazing and then we quickly swapped saying, "No, it was you honey... You are the reason he is so wonderful!!!"

At that point while we were giggling with each other near the front of the car, we overheard some absent-minded muttering in the back seat:
Moms: What, Jakey?
J: You know what Syndrome says on the Incredibles?
Moms: No, what?
J: "When everyone is super... no one will be."
Moms: huh?
J: Syndrome says, (with more emphasis on each word) "When everyone is super, no one will be"
Moms: (blinking at each other silently)
T: (to katy) Of 115 minutes of movie, THAT's the line that sticks with him on an average morning on his way to school?!? (laughter)
K: (to me) You're the one that planted your creepy "dark" poignancy in him...

Conversations with kids: Birthday edition

Today is Milo's 2nd birthday.

We've been prepping him for several days:

Moms: Who's bday is tomorrow?
ML: Noooo
Moms: Milo's birthday is tomorrow!!!
ML: No, Mommy... Mama
Moms: Not our b-day... Milo's birthday

This morning, we snuck into his room before his brother was awake and with quiet enthusiasm sang "Happy Birthday" to him. He actually acted shy, smiling but sort of hiding his head with his arm; and then pointing to us and saying, "No... YOU... Mama... Mommy." It was some combination of:
"Why are you guys singing to me? I don't want a birthday, YOU have one..." and
"I'm not completely comfortable with this attention and recognition."

It was cute but confusing- this patten is a few days in the making. Milo, embarrassed?!? Could that be right? What does it all mean? But just so we know were we stand in the order of things, when Jake woke up, he approached Milo. In a sleepy (almost like an over-tired teenager) voice with a vaguest modicum of excitement, he scratched out a single (non-musical) phrase:
"Happy Birthday, Milo."

The response came without any hesitation. Completely pleased with his brother's acknowledgment, Milo gave a full grin, "Thank you, Jake-Jake".

(sigh)

***Doff thy initials

*** Some of you may note, this is the first time I have used the boys' names on the blog.

The truth is, it is just too hard to write about them now using the sterile initials. In real life, they are so 3D and vibrant and textured... AND so much of who they are starts with what we call them.

At least Jake, on occasion, gets called "JB" by me, outside of the sphere of the GSO. But Milo is Milo and writing "ML" instead of "Milo" feels like a big lie. It feels a little too much like creating a clumsy alias "He-who-must-not-be-named"... It feels like having to watch the entire Wizard of Oz in black and white... At this point in time, using only their initials feels like I'm putting a veil or blanket over the heads of 2 of my most favorite people in the whole world.

When they were first born, using initials for the boys seemed like the right way to "protect" them and give them some anonymity. But that does not seem necessary now. These boys are so far from anonymous (especially to the readers of this blog). Continuing to use their initials in place of their names is like trying to explain their personalities without words. Katy and I love the boys' names so much and we think each has grown into their name, enriched the name we gave them beyond even what we hoped it might mean. Each has filled his name with depth and definition and also bent like a moon into the pull of his name. I agree with Shakespeare, that a being would likely be unchanged if it had been given another name. Yet, our boys cannot be separated from their names in my mind. The essence of who they are is entirely intertwined with their names.

We call Jacob- "Jacob", "Jake", "Jakey", "J", "JB", "Jacob Brian". He answers to all of those, but ALWAYS introduces himself as "Jacob". One time, I asked him if he wanted me to call him "Jacob", if he minded that we called him Jake (I held my breath, knowing that this would break my heart a little, if he asked me not to call him Jake. But the first rule of caring for someone in nursing is you ask what s/he wants to be called. If you respect someone, you let him define himself and not impose or omit his name or title... Even if you are the people that named him.) Jake replied, "no, you can call me Jake... or Jacob". He was nonchalant and steadfast. And I felt so relieved that he seemed to really be comfortable with the options we offered him when we named him.

Milo is Michael Logan (yes... like J-Lo). When we named him, we figured, he wouldn't be tied to a "trendy" name if he didn't like or "fit into" Milo. But I would be shocked if he grew to be called anything else. He is "Milo" as much as tree is "tree". "ML" is just off-putting and lame compared to this dynamic little force of light and life and willful opinions and giggles and sweet kisses and musical prowess and hypnotizing stares that we call "Milo".

I love these boys!
I love who they are more than what we call them.
But I do also really love their names.

I'm on the edge of Glory

For those of you that don't know, that is a Lady Gaga song... Edge of Glory - a song that our family is a bit obsessed with right now. I have an entire essay (vaguely outlined) inside me about how much I respect and adore Lady Gaga, and how if I can feel this way (as an older, mature, fairly "formed" female) I imagine you can multiply that by a million and barely score the surface of the desperate adoration experienced by millions of 12-20 year old women.

But that's a story for another day. Currently, I live with a (3-days-shy of) 2 year old who may simultaneously be Lady Gaga's biggest, youngest fan... and the ruin of her in my eyes. Milo*** won't let it go. He loves her. Her NEEDS her. And the little monster drives a hard bargain. When it comes to nagging us to play her music, he has the attention span and tenacity of Jane Goodall in the jungle. All he cares to listen to is Lady Gaga. And he is insistent. And I know you are thinking, "How can he know??? What does he really know about it???" But he does and he gets pissed if we try to listen to any other music. He acts heartbroken as if all other music is a compilation of dissonant chords and harmful to his dance-party way of life. For now, his parents are equally stubborn, and when we can't take another 50 rounds or 50 miles of Lady Gaga at the audio helm, we are getting used to listening to all other music with Milo screaming in the background:
LADY GAGA... LADY GAGA... PLEASE, MOMMY, MAMA... NO... NOW... GAGA...GAGA...WAAAAAAAAAHHH

(It goes on and on).

So, the title of the post also relates to my mood these days. I'm a little off-kilter; not sleeping enough; doing my best to balance. Finding myself needing to write more, but not writing. Finding myself needing to eat less, but eating like cRaZy. Finding myself wanting to exercise, but not turning the machine into high gear.

Despite what you just read, I'm pretty damn content with this life we are living right now. I am full of gratitude. I am amazed by my wife and our sons and basking in their glow. BUT... I am experiencing a fog of apprehension, and that familiar angst that comes with waiting too intently for the other shoe to drop.

The summer is fading, but it has been quite wonderful. Despite the fact that we experienced an earthquake (my first) and a tropical storm in the span of 5 days, we've had tremendous weather.

We’ve spent a lot of time this summer swimming and playing (and eating food) with friends and family… Some of that food has been seasonally fresh and healthy, and some of it char-grilled, processed, fried, and yummy (but very much the opposite of “good for you”- unless you are counting the “good for the soul” excuse that I keep coming back to.) We've had some terrific vacations: Ohio in July, Rhode Island in August...

This last week, though has found me in a bit of an angst-y, Don't-look-down-you've got-too far to fall melancholy.

To be fair, it's about to be autumn and I have a history of angst-y autumns at various times in my life. At this latitude, in this hemisphere in September and October, there is a very specific change in the angle of sunlight. The time of sunset sprints back toward the afternoon. It is still “summer” during the day, but the temperature plummets 20 degrees by a few hours after dark. You can close your eyes and smell the air (before more than a dozen leaves have changed color) and know you are breathing the first breaths of autumn. You could be in 80 degree sunshine, but know that shifting glare on the horizon means that the summer warmth will dissipate after dark.

Today is September 11th. I just finished watching the season finale of True Blood (a totally f'd up TV show that I can't quit) and about 2 hours of 9/11 "never forget" coverage. And I can't help but wonder, who is that slogan for? Isn't forgetting required a little in order to heal. I got my first glimpse of the WTC memorial and I just sort of burst into tears- it was the visual of the pools- water plunging down into the footprint of the original towers. I couldn't help but think of those people that jumped. I'm not one to get overly sentimental, but something about firefighters dying will always cause me to come a little unglued I think.

It's not just Sept 11th...

Last week, a 4 1/2 year old boy (a friend of a friend's kid) drowned in a neighbor's pool. The parents are a lesbian couple. The kids were with a sitter at the time of the accident. Feel the weight of that devastation for a moment.

Next week, the trial is about to begin for the second man who was caught in the act of, and then confessed to, robbing, pummeling, sexually assaulting, and murdering our friends one summer night in their own home FOUR years ago. But until the end of this trial we have to keep saying he "allegedly" did these things. His team of lawyers seems even more desperate and untrustworthy as he has shown himself to be. I know they have their job to do. But this guy is the one that is going show himself to be some kind of real SOB and I know you are going to have to put up with a little ranting from me in the coming weeks...

Then, there's Jake*** and Milo*** with their impressive, end-of-summer tan lines, and their ever-expansive brains and sharp observations of the world, and their little perfect bodies growing out of toddler-hood and baby-hood respectively. I know they are still young, but they are already growing up. And it's hard to imagine how we will continue to keep them safe when we know so much about how things can go wrong in the world.

There was a festival in town this weekend- food, fun, crafts, music (sorry, Milo, that the Marching Band, did NOT have any Gaga). One tent set up by a local insurance company was producing "kid ID kits". While you waited there, they took photos and fingerprinted your children. I wanted to do this because I can't imagine anything scarier than needing this data and not actually having it available. The entire time I was under this tent (probably 20 minutes for both boys) I felt like I might burst into tears. It was so anxiety producing to complete a kit that would help us if one of the boys disappeared, that it was actually hard not to mutter "never mind" and just run away from there. I felt as if someone was choking me and telling me a really sad story at the same time.

But you should see Milo*** in gymnastics class... and you should see Jake*** in ballet and tap and t-ball. It's a trick of the mind to worry about what bad might happen, when there is so much good happening all around. And I think it's a fool's choice to give into worry, when there is so much celebrating to do. These are the heroic lives we lead- planning a little for the worst, but doubting it will ever come and doing so with such loving intention that, that you make your kids feel all the safety the world may or may not offer.

Battin' down the hatches

So we are expecting a category 1 hurricane in 20-33 hours. Or as my sister convincingly announced yesterday, "It's only going to be a tropical storm when it gets here."

The difference (in case you are wondering) lies whether or not the wind speeds are sustained at greater than 73 mph.

The photo to the left is not stock footage. It is an actual satalite image of Hurricane Irene. This storm is 450 miles wide- travelling up the eastern sea coast. Our state is 110 miles wide and roughly 70 miles north to south. Despite all the (justified) press that NYC, the eye of this storm is tracking right over our home (give or take a few dozen miles). So no matter if the winds are 60 mph or 80 mph. The gusts will be close to or over 100 mph and there will be a shit load of rain.

As I write this, ML is singing a chorus of "NO! NO! NOs!" to Katy who is lovingly preparing him a meal of pancakes. His age and general stubbornness are the only things that might stand in our way from having a hell of a good time in the next 30-40 hours. Last night, I was straightening up the yard, bringing everything inside, moving furniture and machines into the shed, cleaning out the garage so we can put our cars in there and I went to put the kids' wagon in the shed. But, I decided against it. There's a chance we won't have power for a day or two or more, and if that's the case, the kids could possibly play in the garage... ML loves that wagon practically more than anything or anybody. I told Katy:

"I was going to put this away (gesturing to the wagon) but then I was afraid that if ML woke up in a a power outage and his wagon was gone, it might be the final straw... That kid might pack a bag and take off out of here."

UPDATE: Hurricane Irene- overblown in this part of the state. We had 12-13 hours of no power, but other than that, not a lick of damage. Thank goodness.

I'm not going to have to join Tumblr now, am I?!?

I don't really know WTF Tumblr is except it is a different platform for posting info...

Sort of like a cross between Blogger and Twitter, but I came across this and it made me cry... I read it several times and several times I just couldn't help but squeeze out a few tears.

Go Ahead, I dare you not to weep a little at the obviousness of these parental instincts and the "Well sure- it is about time" rarity of something written so simply, so honestly...

[CLICK ON ABOVE] to visit the page...

A few additional thoughts...

1) This is what is good about the Internet- there are so many options for creation and beauty. You can't focus on the debauchery without acknowledging the space (enormous space) that exists as it never has before to CREATE...

2) This was this mom's FIRST Tumblr posting. She likely told a few friends and within 2 days 37,500 people had commented on the post (that does not include the heaven-knows-how-many of us read it without comment)

3) This type of "going viral" is sort of appealing to me... it's like a "gold rush" for the "twenty-tens". You never know what shit is going to take off.

Not COOL!

So, Um, I deleted the blog today.

It was one of those things where you're trying to take care of business and you are trying to do it with efficiency, say like- while thinking of several other more complicated notions and processes.

Well let me start by saying, I am an author of a few blogs that I don't post to anymore. One of those is the original GSO. But that URL contained our last names, so I created this URL (that you are reading right now) and moved the GSO here. That original blog became a "THE GSO HAS MOVED" page.

SIDEBAR: I made these changes over a year now and I've gotta tell you, it never ceases to amaze me how many of you (according to Google Analytics) are still hopping over here from there!!!
I mean, that must get tired... no??? For the love of Pete, change your bookmarks, people!!!

So, I'm at work and I'm finishing up like 5 things... and for some reason, I'm thinking, "let me scratch that 'DELETE OLD BLOG' thing off my list".

Why?

i do not know.

And I check about 6 or 7 times that I'm looking at the correct page and then someone calls me and asks me a question and I click DELETE and YES, I'M SURE I WANT TO DELETE...

And then, it's there- the old one: "GSO has moved" but "GIN-SOAKED OLIVE" is gone.
In it's place is a tiny message:

your blog has been successfully deleted!

There are a few moments in life that take your breath away.

When I was a junior in college, i struggled all year with Nursing 214. I am totally making that number up- I don't remember the course number- it is irrelevant, but this was the FIRST. MAJOR.BIG.SPECIALTY course that contained: biology, pathophysiology, pharmacology, microbiology, and nutrition. Pause for a second to comprehend that- they couldn't separate those?!? They had to pile them all into one 5 credit course. I mean at least give me a shot with nutrition- but if you combine nutrition with those other crap-cakes, I will always be guessing because it will be too far down on my priority list to ever get any study time.

I was 20 years old, and i had spent 2 years living through chem and physics and other nursing pre-recs. Before that, I spent a lifetime getting As and Bs in the "advanced classes" my public school, but Nursing 214 made a little gash in the tug boat of my scholarly success early in the fall of 1993 and by December we had taken on too much water. The ship was about to go down.

Truthfully, I just didn't understand about MEMORIZATION. Until Nursing 214, I achieved great success by not really memorizing, but learning concepts well and then making educated guesses during tests. I played that 'I'm an American 20 year old' card and honestly believed my own excuse: "I'm just not that good at memorizing". It's like telling your piano teacher, "My fingers are just too short" (which I did) when both of you know that you are just too lazy to put in the practice time.

If there are any 15 to 20 year olds reading this, just cut the shit and put the time in and MEMORIZE the answers. In this example, the drugs, the bugs, the muscles, bones, enzymes, hormones, and chemical names are not "concepts to understand"; they are lists and lists of crazy-sounding, somewhat vital (to a career in health care) details that you need to cram into your head b/c even if you don't use it to save someone's life someday, it WILL be on the exam.

I needed a 70 average in that course to move on in the program, and I got a 69.4.

No. I'm not kidding.

When you went to check your final grade in Nursing 214, it was listed along with 99 others next to each of our social security numbers (I'm pretty sure they can't do that to your SS# now) and there were two numbers: the grade on the final exam, and the final course grade. According to my calculations, if I got a 72 on the final, I was home free. On the final, I got something like a 71.6%. I figured that would round up, so for a few micro-seconds, it was all relief and joy, but then my eyes moved to the next column and saw the SIXTY-NINE... POINT FOUR that revealed my semester's ACTUAL numerical average.

Bullet in the heart... devastation... sudden obstructive airway disease... sheer panic... blinking... Denial. Regret. Pain. Guilt. Remorse. Sadness. Anger. Bargaining. Dry mouth. Then metallic mouth. Then urgent sweating... possible puking... walls closing in...

I walked back to my dorm and sat in the staff office of our residence hall. Head in hands, I guess I had never really failed anything before. A test or quiz maybe, but not like this. Not- "sorry, you'll be in college for an extra year" kind of failure. They didn't last long, but my feelings bordered on sheer hopelessness. My friend Lauren stumbled upon me and without knowing what was going down, she measured her words carefully. Later (when we were laughing about my somewhat dramatic, but very physical reaction) she told me, "I just assumed someone in your family had died."

There have been other, subsequent moments that caused that NOT-ENOUGH-AIR-IN-THE-ROOM-TO-BREATHE sensation:
- When I returned my dad's call that night in October '97 and got the news about John...
- That Monday morning in July '07 when Katy called me and told me "they are all gone"...
- Watching our 3 week old baby have a seizure on the CAT Scan machine...

Yeah, I know- these are pretty extreme comparisons, but that's what I'm trying to convey here.
I deleted the M-F_ing BLOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It just disappeared. Gone. SIX YEARS OF WRITING. Almost all of my thoughts on our marriage, our children's lives. Nearly everything I've created (except the boys)... holy'omygod!!!

Well, before I get all dramatic, it obviously didn't happen. Blogger has a plan for idiots.
There is a button (equally small) that says,
"undelete this blog"...
So, I clicked it. And here we are.

There was some extreme relief at that point, but does anyone out there know anything about "backing up a blog"; I think I need a little insurance over here.

Two more...

These are older videos:

From May 2010..



and from Dec 2009...

Brothers at play

Katy took this video of the boys at the park last night.
I just love it!
I love the way it is shot at their level...
I love that it is just them...
This is exactly how they are right now-
JB is at his best when he is running with, entertaining, and/or coaching his brother.
ML (as he has since he first learned to laugh) reserves his most genuine, heartfelt laugh for his brother.

I have this joke that I tell when people ask what the boys are like:
"In the worst case scenario," I say, "JB will grow up jealous and sullen that his brother doesn't follow the rules, and gets to have so much fun... And ML," there I pause for dramatic effect, "Will end in prison... But, if all goes well, they will keep each other in balance."




I love ML's sheer joy.
And I love the part where JB says, "Get up here, Mi..."

I think this video clearly shows how well the balancing act works so far.
(sigh)

This guy wants to be your next president...

Even though it sounds as if there are only about 13 people in the crowd, this guy has a lot of nerve...



Got that? OUR marriage (Katy's and mine) "Turns religious liberty on it's head... turns the education system on it's head... and undermines every basic traditional value... for no legitimate purpose".

[Um, excuse me, sir (tap-tap on the shoulder)... the psycho-social and economic safety of our family and especially our children is a legitimate purpose.]

In allowing us to marry, apparently our state passed a law that is "in-amicable to a just and fair society" and to the "basic values" that are "necessary to the survival of the United States."

[Exaggerate much, Dick?!? Excuse me, Rick?!?]

"What NY did was wrong, I will oppose it. I will go to NY and if necessary help overturn it."

[Good luck with that, buddy and good luck with your political career, Mr. Santorum]

I HEART NY

After about 2 years of ballyhoo and political drama, the NY state senate voted in favor of marriage equality. The house had already passed it and the governor has been pushing for the legislation. Cue fireworks.



Just in time for NY pride (Saturday) and the 42nd anniversary of the Stonewall riots (Monday).

For a state that most of the nation regards as mindless in it's progressive flaunting of liberal ideology... There were a lot of people dead set against letting this pass. When you think of NY, you think, "If gays can't marry there... where they hell CAN they get married?!?" But it has been years that this statute has been un-passable and 5 other states plus the District of Columbia beat NY to the punch.

The thing is, NY is the 3rd most populous state in the union. This is a big deal in terms of access to marriage protections for same sex couples.

Inspired by this hilarious nonsense, I created the following graphs to highlight for GSO readers, the trend in the US related to marriage equality and also the numerical significance of this law passing in NY.





In basically 10 years, we went from ZERO access to marriage equality or civil unions to SOME access...












There are over 307,000,000 currently living in the United States. Yesterday, roughly 5 percent of them lived in states that had equal access to marriage for gays and lesbians.

Today, more than 11% of the country's population lives in states that have marriage equality!!!










ONE MORE:

Hee-Hee!

Seething...

I'm at the library.
Seething.
Katy sent me out of the house to write.
Tonight I had a crazy thing happen on the way home from day care.
... Some kind of bullshit...
I'm so upset, I can barely make sense of it.
I am still tachycardic and breathing heavy.
I barely understand what is going on in my body...

I picked up the boys from day care. I was in a pretty good mood. It started pouring when I was about 2 miles away from them, but no big deal. Then JB decided that he didn't want to hold his lunch bag and somewhere in between, "I don't want to hold it," and "I WANNA HOLD IT RIGHT NOW!!!" (He has some "normal" 3-year old mental block(s) when it comes to decision-making) He lost his shit.

I found myself saying, "That's not how we get things, by crying and screaming..." This is our mantra some days and Katy and I try hard to not cave in. Like, these kids have to learn that they can have whatever they want (pretty much) but not if they are screaming and shouting and crying to get it... He wanted to HOLD HIS BAG... Not a big deal, but I didn't want to let him because "screaming and crying is not a way to get what you want". But then I got a "get out of jail free card" because he wanted to "HOLD HIS BAG- THE FIRST TIME".
(That's JB speak for "I changed my mind, and even though I said no when you offered that option, I want to do it. But I don't want to do it NOW, I want to do it THEN, as in- Can you please re-wind the tape and send us back in time so I can do it 'right' the first time?!?")

No, son. I cannot.

Cue hysteria.

These little fuckers don't know anything about quantum physics or the lack of advances in time travel.

So.

Pouring rain. Driving in traffic- headed to the grocery store. JB just screaming and crying in the back seat. I pull over and try to reassure him and reason with him. I try to wait it out a bit- sometimes a change of plan like sitting in a parking lot instead of just driving on, snaps him out of it. While we pulled over, i washed his face with a pre-moistened towelette. I tried to get him to take a sip of water. I am really really frustrated, but I am actually doing the right things, not screaming, not outwardly over-reacting, trying to find some way to distract him.

I start driving again... I'm a little raw and jittery... I almost have him calm- we are at a stop light and I am flipping though iTunes on my phone trying to get the Disney play list on for little mister "losing-my-mind" in the back seat.

This guy in the right lane next to me (but diagonally in front of me) in a big red pick up is trying to say something. I don't know what he is saying, but he is animated. I roll down the window and hear "light". I'm thinking It's something about my tail light... I panic a little in reaction to how he is gesticulating, like maybe my taillight is on fire or something. Then he's like shouting at me about how I have two kids in the car and I'm on my phone....

I'm not on my phone.

He's still shouting.
My blood pressure is rising.
JB who has stopped crying is like, "Why that guy is yelling, Mommy?"

I'm about to flip out on this guy- I don't know what he is talking about, but HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE IS TALKING ABOUT. He has no idea what has just been going on in this car, and he is giving me some "I'm-a-white man-in-a-pick-up-and-you're-a-female-driver" kind of reprimand. The light turns green. I lock eyes with him when i finally realize what is going on and curse him out to the tune of "YOU fucking ASSHOLE!!!"

Oops.
Kids in car.
I have never done that before.
I'm shaking. Trying not to cry. At wit's end. So mad I could spit. He pulls out in front of me and goes straight, even though he's in the right turn only lane. I stall the car. Restart the car. Try to stay focused through the rage. I expressly concern myself with not tailgating him or smashing into him. I am as mad as I can remember being.

Mistake #1: What kind of truck is it? Didn't notice- red, shiny, new-ish looking... that's all i know
Mistake #2: What is the plate number? Fuming... Didn't notice- there are some chains hanging near the plate.

He turns right, into the grocery store parking lot.
That is where I'm going too. I had briefly considered following him where ever he was going- to give him a piece of my unstable mind, but then discarded the notion. I take the right turn as a sign from God that I am suppose to follow this guy and tell him exactly how much or an !$#% *%^&@# he really is...

I park 4 cars away.

I leave my kids in the car and approach him. It is still pouring:
"You are some kind of !$#% &@#!!!"
I don't even know what I said, but he blew up at that point.

Me: You have no idea what was going on in that car!
Him: You ran a red light!!!

(I did not run a red light but I seriously would never say that b/c maybe i did... I have no idea what this guy is talking about. If I ran a red light, when was it? Where was it? Whoa! that's pretty scary... an Hour later I realize he is talking about the stale yellow light that I took a little liberty with when JB was freaking out)

Me: Who do you think you are?!?!?!
(I start to back up away from him, I want this conversation over)

Him: What would your husband think?!? You driving like that!!!

Pause for my brain to explode.

The world goes quiet for a minute. I see plastic bags blowing in the breeze, but hear nothing. There's an echoing whooshing sound in the distance, that i realize is the sound of air moving in and out of my lungs. Somewhere, on the other side of the parking lot, I hear a Qtip fall onto the pavement, and then sound rushes back into the world. My pulse is pounding in my neck. My mouth is dry. I am shaking.

Pause again to consider whether or not something in my brain might have actually exploded...

This guy looks to be about 40 to me (give or take 5 years.) He's got chiseled features, and looks fit. He's wearing hunting pants or army fatigues and either has 2 day's growth of stubble, on his face, or is one of those wolf-men that needs to shave twice a day. Though he gives the general impression of a redneck "fisherman", he does not give off a "psycho" vibe, just a self-congratulatory "asshole" vibe. This is not a grouchy, old man. This is not a plucky, young punk. This is the worst kind of arrogant adult male- who thinks he is in charge of personally reprimanding a total stranger in traffic. Who thinks he's somehow in the right when he decides to berate a women who is carting her two kids to the store in the middle of a rain storm after a 9 hour work day.

So, in my head I'm like, "YOU'RE going to determine some safety violation and create a situation AT A STOP LIGHT that is truly UNSAFE!?! YOU think I was the person that created an UNSAFE SITUATION back there?!? Oh, and this is the best part... YOU THINK THE BEST WAY TO "MAKE ME FEEL BAD" about something that I might have done wrong is to bring up my HUSBAND?!? The supposed man in my life that is in charge of me and makes sure I'm taking good enough care of HIS CHILDREN?!?

Oh Buddy, you are so barking up the wrong tree...

I wished I had said so many things. I wished I had just been calmer and more "ON" my game, I could have been all like:

• My husband died tragically when I threw him from the car while texting in a pizza order and running a red light.
• My husband doesn't care at all about these kids- they look too much like his brother, he encourages me to drive recklessly all the time; just hearing about how upset you are will please him very much!
• My WIFE... (If there is any karmic justice) is in a parking lot somewhere on the other side of town, doing EXACTLY what you are doing: verbally assaulting your gay lover with a barrage of loud, self-righteous, misogynistic, uninvited commentary dripping with contempt and condescension.
  

INSTEAD... I go with the truth:

Me: Yeah, I don't have a husband. I'm married to a woman.
Him: (silence)
Me: You've got a lot of nerve and no right to speak to me about this.

He's close enough for me to smell the smoke on his breath and he doesn't back down a bit. He is completely unapologetic and he suddenly shouts that he is a town police officer.
HA! (that almost sends me into orbit). I swear if this guy is a cop, i might have to move.
Also, if he's an asshole cop, he wouldn't have waited this long to bring his occupation up.
And, if he's a good cop, he wouldn't be doing this in the parking lot.
So he's either in between an asshole cop and a good cop OR, he's NOT a cop at all.

Me: You're a cop?!? Great. What's your name?

Mistake #3: He TELLS me his name (supposedly) and once I hear the name, I immediately forget it. Like, I don't have any clue... Maybe it was Mark... Maybe it was Dan... Maybe it was Janet Jackson... It could have been anything...

I don't even remember the rest of the conversation. But I know when he starts going overboard with the "hand quotes" gesturing, saying something homophobic-sounding about "your partner", I better walk away before I end up in jail.

The rest of the shopping spree is a blur
The rest of the dinner hour is a bust. I am wiped out. Scared. Feel threatened and unsafe. I get home and send the kids in the play room, and cry as I tell Katy the story. She tells me I did not do anything wrong. I seriously consider calling the Police Department in town to report the incident and to tell them that either they have a very inappropriate cop on the force, OR they have a guy IMPERSONATING a town cop... Katy advises against it (see Mistakes 1-3).

I spend the time up until now trying to figure out why this has caused such an emotional reaction from me... It is hard to put my finger on. There are a lot of things- the assholes always seem to win; justice is rarely a possibility; I feel shamed (even though any mistake I made was unintentional); I feel "in trouble"; I feel the weigh of the absolute plausibility that the people that are supposed to be "the good guys" are more than occasionally not actually all that "good"; I feel I was put in a position where my safety and the safety of my children was tampered with; My parenting and intention to keep my kids safe was called into question...

But mostly I realize, I am angry because I am very disappointed in myself.

I consider this whole scenario an epic FAIL:

1. I lost complete control of my emotions
2. I lost my sense of humor completely
3. With my sense of humor gone, my ability to come up with snappy one liners disappeared also; if you are going to lose your cool, at least win the debate...
   
4. I totally forgot to remember the important stuff - as a nurse... as a women who has always been taught how to stay safe and how to report breaches of this safety, I don't remember what he looked like, what his name was, his license plate#, etc, his height, hair or eye color... I"m not sure if i would recognize him if I saw him...
   
5. I forgot the number one rule about being a woman: No matter how much of an asshole another person is being (especially another man), you should just walk away/ turn the other cheek. You should assume he's armed and dangerous; Even going up to this guy in the parking lot was "my mistake". If you are a woman and a man, a stranger, is acting like he owns you (or has a right to berate you), your job is to just quietly let it go, be non-confrontational, and let him go on believing he does
   
6. I was unable to disprove #5
7. This blew my day apart
8. I'm sure this wasn't even a blip on his discomfort radar; his sense of entitlement and certainty in the notion that he was right is just too high.
   

I am seething still. I am actively working on letting it go...

But the audacity and hubris of this guy. The general lack of compassion and the blatant aggression. The pretend concern for my offspring when really you are putting them in danger...
These are just a lot of really sensitive buttons to push on a Tuesday...

Local Honey

We started this blog 6 years ago. Every year (for 6 years) I've been invited, encouraged, interested, eager- to take part in this. But whatever it is about June 1st? I could never make it work.

In some ways this is redundant. What is the GSO but a blog about our family. Every time Katy or I blog, it is for at least one LGBT family.

As I write, I mentally review the week we've had and the weeks coming up, and I don't freaking know how parents do this. And then I remember, we are doing it... We ARE parents.
This is not a dream but a "dream come true"... (shrug)

With a 1.5 year old boy and a 3.5 year old boy, every day is an adventure.
Every meal is a crap shoot.
Every bedtime is a cliff hanger. (Will we sleep through the night or won't we?!?)
Next week, Katy is away at a conference and I will keep the home fires burning, but looking at the week we've had, I miss her already.

First, a few tid bits:

1) I'd just like to say, that the two moms are suffering a little right now. After more than a week of this "cold" I'm willing to concede that I may have developed seasonal allergies late in the 4th decade of my life. But seriously, if this is what a little pollen can do to a woman, evolution may be working against us. I promise, I'm going on local honey as soon as I can locate some...

2) Pink eye is running rampant through the day care. ML got two scoops of clear goopey in his left eye, and we had to get drops called in prophylactically to keep him from being erroneously diagnosed and tossed out of work camp day care for two days. In a scheduling Cirque Du Soleil that amounted to nothing less than a Parenting Coup, we had him on 24 hours of drops before any ocular pink-en-ing could occur.

3) JB's first dance recital is Saturday. His dress rehearsal is tomorrow night. He has the prince costume, pink tights, make up (including foundation and purple lipstick- that he requested Katy buy for him), black ballet shoes, a new haircut, and he is poised to steal the show. Most importantly, he is very excited and proud. And it is the most normal thing in the world to him. I pray that we get to keep him like this for several more years- where he gets to enjoy the things he enjoys in blissful ignorance that some of them (baseball, football, watching garbage trucks) are "boy things", and some of them (cooking, dancing, wearing lipstick) are "girl things".

Back to the post...
What the heck does it mean to blog for LGBT families?

In some ways, our blog is all about the fragile capacity of memory. I need to chronicle these times because if I can't remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday, how will I remember how adorable my kids were in the first real winter of their lives? Or how will I accurately portray to them how insane they sometimes made me, as I grow older and romanticize our early years together?!?

But that's only part of it, really. I blog for more people than me and us.

I blog for our family and friends that totally support us. I blog for our acquaintances that might not understand us. I blog for Oprah- that she might somehow stumble upon this space and find someone to pay me to write for a living...

When i first came out, one of the strangest things to me was the censorship that suddenly surrounded various aspects of my life. Prior to realizing I was gay, I was an open book. There was nothing to hide, nothing to dance around, no question that couldn't be posed. "What's new? Who are you dating?" And endless follow up questions about any man that might come close to fitting that description. But after "word got around" about me, conversations temporarily got quieter, more one sided... There were obvious school and work questions, questions about where I was living, but then things slowed down. Only a few would venture to the "who are you living with?" And even fewer would jump right out and ask about "dating" or a "girlfriend". My coping strategy was to just put it out there. I felt, the sooner I came out to people, the sooner I could convey this was not something that I needed to hide to feel secure. If it was public knowledge that I was OUT, then innocent discomfort based on a fear of being too personal or inadvertently OUTING me would prove to be unnecessary. I spoke quietly, but as clearly as I could about all aspects of my life.

This was not necessarily natural to me. But like when you teach yourself to be comfortable speaking in public, I just decided it was the way I would try to take care of not only myself, but others that I loved and worked with and played with.

When I met Katy, she reinforced this model of behavior. People don't know that she quivers a little on the inside and silently worries so much about what other people think, because when you talk to her, it seems like she's all carefree. She seems to say what's on her mind without pause. She tries not to couch the truth unless there's a really good reason. Once I fell in love with Katy, our relationship demanded an entirely higher standard for living out and proud. I mean, she's not someone I'd ever consider hiding, even for a moment. (As Lissa would say, "What's the point of having a trophy wife, if you can't..." Lissa uses that preamble in all sorts of scenarios.)

So we are a gay family, but we are certainly not separate or isolated from other families. And we are open and clear on what puts us into this very distinct category of families, but often, we are so busy living our lives, that we feel a little removed from vitriol aimed particularly at us.
Consider this:
- 31 states in the country have CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENTS that forbid marriage between two men or two women (the acknowledgement that we are a family)
- 39 states in the country have STATE LAWS that forbid acknowledgement that we are a family
- There is a federal law (DOMA) that disallows the federal acknowledgment of our state-sanctioned marriage. That includes not counting us as a family in the census; not counting us as a family in the tax code; not counting us as a family in terms of disability, social security, medicare, military benefits; that includes not counting us as a family in terms of immigration, international travel and protections, and federal employment.
- Federal law is still unclear on the status of gay men and women in the military- Don't Ask, Don't Tell (DADT) is supposedly on it's way out, but until that transition is completed, gay men and women are prohibited from serving in the military; which as far as I'm concerned means an out gay man or gay woman (even if s/he could win the general election and earn the votes of the electoral college) would not be eligible to serve as Commander in Chief or President of the United States.
- In at least 41 countries, it is AGAINST THE LAW to be gay or in a gay relationship
- Many of the worlds religions claim without any hesitation that God either hates gay people, wants them to live in denial of their natural inclinations, or will definitively punish same sex attraction with eternal damnation.

In a world with these types of headlines, with so many powerful, famous, and vocal people that are lining up to condemn us for being gay, when I consider our family, and our lives...
The sad truth is I don't feel all that gay.

We don't live in a gay house, in a gay town, have gay jobs, go to a gay church-
(Well, actually, our church is a little gay...)
But what I mean is, we are just living. We are conventional and mainstream and we are comfortable that way.
We dabble in activism and keeping this blog is one tendril of that activity.
We are surrounded by good people of all stripes, and we feel boring and not "different" at all...

This year we went to PRIDE in North Hampton, MA. North Hampton, if you don't know, is the lesbian "San Fransisco" of the east coast. It is the "New England, town-green, raise your chickens under the worn out kayak in your yard, 7 sister all-women's college surrounded, hemp-wearing, local honey and maple syrup-making, artist collective, non-profit supporting, justice seeking, female indie-rock band launching, queer women raising children, challenging each other to cook-offs, reading contests, inter-mural soccer, and 1/2 marathons;" it is the year-round answer to p-town. (deep breath)

When you go visit friends in NoHo, there are always 2-3 husbands in a group of 10-15 women, but they're the type of guys that are more liberal, intellectual, feminist, or bohemian than any of your female relatives back home, so (in the most innocent, respectful, and non-emasculating way) when you are with them, you forget there are men in the room.

So we are in the car, heading up there (for PRIDE) I started to get a little insecure.
I started thinking, "We are going to J and J's house and they are so, well... cool and they've got the right shoes and kayaks and schedule that's healthy for their kid... And their son isn't in day care for 40 hours a week, and they probably don't even let him have chicken nuggets or PLASTIC toys (let alone Ball Park Franks) and we are so STRAIGHT compared to them..."

And then I thought:
"STOP!!!!!!!!!"
"THEY ARE STRAIGHT! Tracy, they can not be gayer than you... YOU are married to a woman!!! That IS the very DEFINITION of GAY!!!"

But, isn't it true that nowadays, GAY FAMILIES include so much more than two people of the same gender who are in love and/or sleeping with each other.

J and J who are practically gayer than us- even though one of them is a MAN and one of them is a WOMAN (Because they do live in a "cool gay house" in a "cool gay town" with our very best gay friends) J and J are part of this gay family.
Our parents and sisters and brothers are all part of this gay family.
Our cousins, aunts, and uncles by birth and our cousins, aunts, and uncles by choice are all a part of this gay family.
Our softball team and coworkers are all a part of this gay family.
Our college friends, Our Facebook friends, and readers of this blog, and the people that take care of our children every day at their school are all a part of this gay family.
My mom's hair dresser, and my father-in-law's tennis buddies and my grandmother's sister, brother, and church friends that are always asking about our boys... are all part of this gay family.
Anyone that has ever stopped a homophobic joke or tirade because they've thought of us and said, "That's just not true and just not nice."
Anyone that has ever decided not to vote for an anti-gay politician because of how that effects our family or the future that our children will grow up in.
Anyone that has ever turned to their small child and said, "There's nothing wrong with dancing if you are a boy or driving a truck if you are a girl, and I love you no matter what you grow up to be" is part of this gay family.

So when I blog on June 1st (into the early morning hours of June 2nd) for LGBT families, I'm blogging for all of us. I'm blogging for the visibility and viabilty of progressive lifestyles and families (gay and straight) that fight a political machine and a standard of living that tries to make fact out of the myth that gay people are somehow a threat to our society. And the way that we fight (because we are so tired out by working our jobs and raising our kids, and keeping our houses in order) is by mostly just living. Living with and near each other and taking care of each other and raising our kids together.

I am so proud and feel so lucky to be living the life I am living with all of you as part of my family. It numbs the mind. It strengthens the heart. And emboldens the spirit.

It somehow makes the breathing easier. (Like an elixir for seasonal allergies)

Grammar jokes

Every day is Mothers' Day

It's been a rough couple of weeks for me.

By "rough" I mean nothing-really-that-bad, but flat out exhausting...

You know that saying, you can have something "fast", you can have it "good", you can have it "cheap" or... you can have any combination of TWO of those, but you cannot have all three?

That little riddle has been popping into my mind in the last few weeks as I have considered my lot in life... And this started scrambling around in my head...

The housework has fallen behind a bit. The house is just- well- not.clean. (I guess that is really the best way to put it.)
I've been trying to keep up with exercise, and I have a huge project underway at work that will span about six weeks (we are 3 weeks in).

I've been doing my best to be a good mom and wife and not knowing the "laws" of this particular species of Venn diagram, I am not sure if more than 3 areas can be sufficiently covered at one time. All I know is I can see the teetering- I feel wobbly. On the days/weeks I feel I am keeping up with my duties at work, exercise habits are hard to maintain... the blog (as you know) is long suffering. The highest priority is of course the family, and you'll have to poll my wife, but I'm not sure how well I'm holding up my end. The madness of parenting a rounding-the-corner-towards-2 year old and a rounding-the-corner-toward-4 year old is as pervasive as mold.

Katy and I marvel every day at the paradoxes inherent the chemical reactions that occur in our brains: The degree to which I adore these ruggies and the simultaneous tension I feel as my time with them stretches the seams of the fibers of my being... At some point in every day, i want to melt from the awesomeness that pours out of their minds and mouths. And invariably, at some point in every day, I want to run screaming from their nonsense...



JB, for example, does a lot of TALKING right now. When he has had the perfect amount of sleep (the formula that determines this magical amount of sleep has not been revealed to me) he is funny, sweet, and adorable. But a lot of the time, he thinks he knows what's what and, he doesn't. And he thinks he's in charge of stuff that he can't possibly control. The most amazing thing about a 3 1/2 year old is how they learn the "tone" that accompanies adult conversation, but the tone is usually empty. Knowing the lingo is only half the game... Kids have no understanding of snark, no comprehension of the multitude of ways that humans intentionally and unintentionally mess with each other. They have learned the words and they mimic the tone, but they have no knowledge of the rules of engagement.

Picture this: A cloudy day. I work 8 or 9 hours and race to the day care to get the ruggies. JB, who at times has difficulty with "transition" tells me he's not ready to leave and he stalls so much that he nearly gets a time out. ML bounds towards me, we walk out the door and before we get to the car he has splashed his way into a large puddle. Soaked, I buckle him in and then buckle in JB. The entire way home, there's a lot of loud yapping and screeching. I have not yet been with my beautiful children for 20 minutes, but I'm already not sure how I will make it through the next 3 hours.

We pull into the driveway and JB sighs loudly: "I hate our house."

Srsly?



I am white-knucking the steering wheel. I can't believe the potency of the feelings I am experiencing. I know logically that I can not take this joker at his word, that I need to have more patience, but pure disgust is like a warm, white fire slowly consuming me. If a fully formed human had said this, I would have been all like:
"WTF is wrong with you?!? WHO says that?!? That is rude and you have a lot of nerve!!! If you dont' like this house, you don't have to live in it!!! Do you have any idea how hard we work to provide you with a shelter this amazing?!?"

Mind you the entire time I am mentally speach-ifying, ML is screeching: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-OOOOOOOHHHHHHH-ooOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAA!

I take a deep breath and ask JB in the most neutral tone I can muster: "Honey, why would you say that?" (inhale, exhale, heart beat, heart beat)

JB: "I don't know, I guess I just wish we could paint the whole thing orange."

[sigh] I'm glad I didn't just go with my first reaction.



ML, on the other hand is an entirely different beast. He is all action for JB's pensiveness. He is determined where JB is unsure. He is reckless and goofy where JB is cautious and serious. ML, for example, understands every mother-humping word we say, he can identify 68 different varieties of truck from a mile away, but he can not will his lips or vocal chords to pronounce the word: TRUCK.





I mean even though I know it is developmental, it really seem like stubbornness.
It's always:
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA!"
or
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
or, inexplicably:
"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

His insistence and persistence is mind-boggling.
"Yes!" I shout back, "I know!!! a TRUCK!!! It IS AWESOME!!! Just like it was 5 seconds ago!!! LOok there!!! Another one!!! AMAZING. THANK YOU FOR POINTING THAT NEW ONE OUT!!!"

ML is the type of kid that the first time he plunged his entire arm into the toilet bowl, it was all about the science of discovery, but now it is a Marks Brothers skit: He knows the specific "toilet bowl look" that he has to produce before he gives chase to the bathroom. And even though he has a healthy head start, he will wait for us- perched, contemplative, like a diver on a block- his arm readied at his ear, until i get within 2 lunges of him. We lock eyes. He waits for me to plead, "NO...." and then submerges to the clavicle, smiling... never breaking eye contact...

That kid tries to climb in the oven, sits in the refrigerator, turns on the dishwasher, surfs down the stairs into the garage, tries to feed peanut butter to the iMac. He smear blueberries in his hair to signal the completion of the meal and if you don't dive to remove the plate from his tray, he flips it like a flapjack at the world's fair. He has a power over me. I forget myself. I have thrown food BACK at him- in a desperate attempt to instill some manners, I act like a sociopath.

Still the boy will look at you and tilt his curly-haired head with a smile that says, "You know you're my girl" and at that point it's a wash.

This year, Mother's day was spent with friends and family and no gifts were exchanged in our house. We just enjoyed the air and the craziness.

Pink Dot

Really beautiful:



hat tip: Joe.My.God

The eyes have it

Getting ready to leave the house this AM was a typically hectic dance. The boys were up and down, running around. I put JB's coat on and when I turned to put ML's on, JB had taken his off. The climax of anxiety for me came when we stepped outside and a dump truck driving by commanded both boys' thorough attention. I didn't know if ML was going to run into the road after it, or tear off for the largest puddle in the driveway. Puddle-jumping is one of his favorite past times and after 3 days of rain, this mother-loving puddle would have necessitated a complete costume change.

I ran after them and wrassled them into their car seats; the tiny and unpredictable Senór Destruction always gets restrained before the elder. I strapped in ML, handed him a plush puppy, and moved around to the other side of the car.

While I buckled in JB there was some insistent yapping coming from Senór. I effectively ignored him and buckled myself in before I looked back at him...

ML: EYE! EYE! EYE!

In my defense, it sounded like gibberish. But when I looked at him, he was pointing at his puppy's EYE, and shouting the word with perfect diction: "EYE! EYE! EYE!"

Me: YAY!!! ML!!! GREAT JOB!!! ML said the word 'Eye'!!! Everyone cheer for ML!!!

JB: (Not to be outdone and in a neutral tone that will either make him a lot of friends some day, or get him labeled a teacher's-pet-know-it-all) Mom, does he mean like an "I" like you write with? Or an eye that you see with?!?

I wanted to roll my eyes, but that is pretty smart and pretty funny, right? Except that ML was poking the dog right in the eye... so if you are a "smart" three and 1/2 year old, you shouldn't have to ask this...

Also, it is sneaking up on us, but ML is starting to talk!!!
Hooray!!!

iPhone4 vs HTC Evo

I watched this video on my iPhone. Laughing to tears while leaning oddly near the window and pointing the device awkwardly toward the the one corner of my office that allows me to stream a little video if it's not too rainy and it's not too sunny outside.

UPDATE: Wow... Bill Maher- Truth teller

UPDATE: HBO pulled the video, but has the transcript here.



--------------------
I didn't laugh, so much as cringed- sometimes the truth does hurt.

Fun at the pump

I like how they are like "Join our APlus Rewards!!!"

Yes... thanks so much. Maybe next time I can pay $4.23/gallon through your AMAZING rewards system!!!

Two minute update

I have two minutes to post b/c we are hosting Easter tomorrow and the kids are out of the house for 2 hours so that we can "clean" without having to reprimand ML for sticking his arm straight into the toilet every 3 minutes or so (the hook and eye lock I installed on the door is completely useless, because he has calculated the exact rhythm-pressure-code of wiggle, pulsing, banging, and pausing required to get the hook to magically "jump" out of the eye... the only way it even slowed him down is the one time I left it UNLocked and he spent 90 seconds reaching above the knob toward the lock to try to reach and fiddle with it.)

Life is good. It is cold and rainy today, but tomorrow is supposed to be nicer. We went to a Seder last night- my first... familiar with the stories and some of the words, not familiar at all with the food - so strange that I could be so unfamiliar with an entire meal of "traditional" food. It was yummy, though.

The boys are very sweet and smart and very whiny and needy and actually starting to fight a little - want the same toys, vie for affection. Not too much, but definitely both of them playing various things up for attention and starting to show signs of, "Whatever he has I want"... I'm not sure if it is the Irish/Italian/Catholic genes/ socialization in me that I find myself believing the corrective action for this issue is to add another sibling to the mix... It's as if I want to say, you think you don't get enough attention now, wait until the new baby comes shooting into town; I'll give you something to whine about!!!" Horror at the thought of adding more chaos to this dirty home! But there's so much love in these walls, something inside of me thinks we should divide it up and share it more.

(Katy is somewhere whimpering that I have put this out into the universe- she's just not interested in that "solution".)

Katy and I have been working hard at trying to be healthier. We joined the Y and have a work out strategy that includes going there a few times a week and using the treadmill in our basement more and playing along with a Jillian Michaels tape now and then. It is working. I feel better. I've lost 13 lbs. I can do 20 (full) push-ups. She's been run/walking 4-5 miles at a clip and I've been doing 3-4 (a larger and larger percentage of the time has been running over walking) I have another 25-35lbs that I'd like to lose. I've never been fixated on my weight, but I'm 2 years and 2 months away from my 40th birthday, and I think I'd like to start that decade super fit...

I feel torn about doing all the things I want to do- excel at work, work out, eat right, write more, have fun with these kids- doing them all well... It seems so POSSIBLE every morning and when we are "falling-apart-tired" at night, it seems so implausible. But mostly, I feel lucky and grateful (that's redundant, right?) for my wife and friends and family.

Okay, that was 12 minutes... time to go clean the house!!!

Spring has sprung...

Today we walk out of the house and JB notices there are daffodils in full bloom at the end of the driveway. "LOOK!" He shouts, "There are flowers now."

These have been growing for a few days/weeks, but he apparently just noticed them and felt they had sprung up overnight. We walk (ML waddles) down toward the mailbox and I'm talking about spring-

Mommy: These flowers are called daffodils... They are the first sign of spring. When the winter is over, and the plants and grass get enough rain, everything starts to turn green again and flowers start to bloom, that is called spring.

JB: (nodding, starts to take over the teacher role) Yes, it is spring because there is no more snow, and the flowers are growing... Smell the flowers, ML

ML: (bends over the 3 inches it takes to shove his nose near the flowers and sniffs obligingly)

JB: They are real nice, mom... (then he starts muttering to no one in particular) I don't see any pollen... I don't knew, maybe the bees took it out already... nope, none in there either... there should be pollen... hmmm...

Bahahahahhahahhahahahhah...

He just went on and on reviewing everything he knows about pollination and flowers and bees! I might have found it less amusing except I know I haven't taught him about this, so the explanations came as if from a book they read to him at school.

I don't know WTF he thinks pollen looks like, but apparently he knows it when he sees it (or when he doesn't)... I'm not sure there is anything funnier than a tiny mammal muttering so matter-of-factly about science and biology

Conversations with kids

After 10 plus minutes of listening to JB howl off-key in the shower,

Me: What were u singing?
JB: it's the shower song.
Me: What is it about? What are the words?
JB: I don't remember the words after I get out of the shower- I only can only know the song when I'm IN the shower.
Me: (trying not to laugh out loud)
JB: I sing a different song for in the bath.

Come out, come out, wherever you are... Part 2

On St. Patrick's day this year, I was in Texas.

I've talked about how the political climate struck me as a tad bit suffocating in Part 1.

I was having a good time and it is quite lovely on the San Antonio river.

Missing my boys and my sweetie, I still wasn't going to ignore the fact that it was ST. PATRICK'S DAY. And on most years that goes by fairly UN-celebrated by me (due to familial and work obligations, not because I don't want to get all sloppy on green beer and Irish car bombs.)

There was that one time when my sister and I took the day off to spend it in a bar in South-ie...

and we drank all day until everyone in that place seemed like a pal...

But usually it's a toss up: "sleep... Green beer? Sleep... drunk girls in a too crowded bar, spilling green beer everywhere?? Sleep... spending too much money on bad Irish food and over priced car bombs???"

I know... I'm lame. I usually chose the sleep. Especially since the kids were born and wrecked my ability to sleep off green beer.

Anyway, this year, I was away from home, getting plenty of sleep, only responsible for myself. I had intended to round up some nurses or others from the conference to go rouse a little rabble.

It didn't work out. The 2nd day of the conference ended weird with some opting to go visit a site and others rushing away early and I was somewhere in between, ending for the day far too early for dinner. I went back to my room. Had an ichat with my family and then decided to head out on my own.

Going out to a bar on your own is strange, especially when you don't have any sexual favors to barter with or center banter around. It's not my game, but I think I understand why there are those people that travel a lot for work who make up an alias... It can only get you into trouble, but it's just so that you can go out and "hunt" for a dining companion, right? Anyway... I found a bar Durty Nelly's

This place was all set for the night; the piano-man was in the center of it all, singing ditties and limericks and keeping everyone entertained:

I found a seat about 12 feet from the piano, up against one of those boxed-in support poles. There was a small (14") table to my right and one empty chair besides mine. I was there for about 30 minutes when I started to get restless and feel awkward about being alone. I wasn't really in the mood to be so outgoing as to make new friends, and I for sure wasn't interested in giving up my seat to go make screaming small-talk (over the sound of the music) with strangers.

I sat for about 10 more minutes, my blood feeling like mercury rising as it measured my increased discomfort. Then in walked two couples looking for seating. They seemed disoriented like when you step from the sunlight into a darkened room and can't quite find your bearings. After I watched them twirl around a few times scouting for unavailable seats, I motioned that they might want to pull some chairs around the small table next to me.

Shuffling.
Confusion...
I got up and quickly corralled 2 extra chairs, pointing to a 3rd in a far off corner. They were happy and silly and it calmed me. We introduced ourselves and ordered up a few more drinks. The "Hi"s and "Where are you from?"s and "What brings you to San Antonio?"s lasted 10-20 mins. They had a few stories of this long trip they had taken to the western edge of Texas, and being social with them was as easy as stirring up a pitcher of iced tea in the summer.

We weren't too far into it when Mary asked about my kids (I showed pictures) and if they were okay with their mom so far from home...

I paused. I admit it, it is not how I roll usually- hesitating to bring up my wife- but this Texas place is strange. People down there seem to have a special way of not expecting the obvious (or what might be obvious to me...)

I smiled. Giving her the most reassuring and genuinely friendly vibe I could muster:

"Well, they have two moms, so they are doing okay..."

"What's that?!?" Mary asked blinking.

"I'm married to a woman, and our boys have two moms, so they are in very good hands when I'm away."

Two blue eyes stop blinking and fly open - wide as saucers.
SRSLY.
She literally brings her hand to cover her mouth which is now gaping open.

I can't even formulate the mental "oops" because her reaction is so extreme, so cartoonish that I am actually giggling.

I wait. There's not much more for me to say, so I let her get a grip of herself and recover from the (apparent) shock.

The other members of her group are not really aware of what is going on... They are eating peanuts, looking around... the music is loud and they have missed the meat of our conversation. I don't think they have noticed her surprised expression.

She lets her hand fall to her lap and her mouth is still open when she forms the words, pausing dramatically between each one. Searching carefully for each syllable, it's as if she is inventing language from scratch. She leans towards me.

"Are..."

It is too loud in here for a whisper to be audible. Though she is shouting, her eyes focus and her posture grows conspiratory in nature.

"You..."

She glances left and then right.

"A..."

I can barely handle it. Is this for real? Is she going to have a stroke???

She squeals the final word: "Democrat?!?"

I about lose my shit. I expected LESBIAN not DEMOCRAT. I nod enthusiastically as I laugh and smile hard at her. (Unlike being gay, being a Democrat is NOT illegal in any state.) But I am wondering, will this be the thing that prompts her to overturn the tiny table between us??? I just can't figure out what is going on... What is about to happen?!?

"Yes," I tell her again as she continues to stare at me blankly.

Then it explodes:
"I AM A DEMOCRAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
(yes, that many exclamation points)

And a round of hoots and howls and giggles.
She is speaking wildly now- dozens of words a second- it is even more cartoonish than before- Now I freaking love her!!! And yet I'm struck with instant empathy. Here is a woman, deep in the heart of TEXAS, who is so isolated in her liberal politics that an Irish (1/4 Irish-mutt) lesbian from the North-East who shows up at a bar on St. Patrick's day is her best shot of MAYBE...

NOT DEFINITELY... BUT MAYBE...

Meeting a fellow Democrat.

You know what this means, right??? In Texas (And Mary has lived there all her life and presumably been out there looking for others) you more likely to run across an OUT homosexual than an OUT democrat...

I don't believe they aren't there, it's just that they have to hide in the closet!!!

Holy shit.

I about pee'd my pants at that bar... The night didn't end until we had shared a few too many drinks and Mary dialed up her 18 (? I forget his exact age) year old son for me to have a chat with via cell phone. (I have no idea what that was about either, but he was just as sweet as he could be and didn't seem the least bit surprised- It clearly happens to him all the time.)

Though none of her other companions indicated to me that they were also democrats, they seemed pleased as punch that Mary had located another one of us in this quaint section of the world.

I say again, "Holy shit." Can you imagine if I hadn't come out to this poor lady??? She would have spent the entire night assuming I voted for George W. Bush and sent money to Sarah Palin's PAC on a monthly basis?!?

You have no idea how profoundly this effected me. Let's just say, there are people all over the world, that need to know they are not in this alone!

;)