All you need is love...

When Katy and I were married, this was the song playing during our first dance together...

It is true, isn't it?  Love is all you need.

And also, sometimes, it's no where near enough.

There will be more to write and share because this blog is really for our sons, and when they grow up, they deserve to know a bit more about the "say what now?" that we have set in motion.  But tonight, it seems important to come clean on the Gin Soaked Olive...

Most of the last year has been a slow, heartbreaking dance of negotiation and decision (Katy's and my relationship hanging in the balance).  As marriage equality, literally swept the country; as DOMA was overturned; as state after state leveled the legal playing field, it became more and more clear that our marriage was coming to an end.  This Thanksgiving weekend brought to fruition the culmination of hundreds of hours of discussion and debate, and a physical split that has followed an emotional separation, a transfer of finances and home ownership, a filing for divorce.

In case I'm being too vague.  We regret to inform our readers that, Katy and I have split up.  Though we will always be a family, she has moved out of our home into a house she has purchased nearby, and we will share custody of Jake and Milo.

It is sad and difficult to explain. We have been and will continue to be as amicable as possible.  We will always prioritize the health and happiness of our sons.

And I will attempt to stop writing on these pages using so much "we" and shift to the more appropriate, first person singular voice.

SCOTUS hears Prop 8 and DOMA cases

People camped out to get a seat to hear the oral arguments before the SCOTUS on Tues and Wed.

If you want to consider the history of same sex marriage in the US, you have to go back in time pretty much to the founding of the country. (Fun fact: The only known conviction for lesbianism in American History happened in 1649 in Plymouth Colony- Sarah White Norman and Mary Vincent Hammon were prosecuted for "lewd behavior with each other upon a bed". Sweet!!!)

You have to go back at least to the early 1900's when suffragettes fought for and earned the right to vote (a few of them were making sweet whoopy with each other while they got it done).  You have to go back to the 50's and 60s and 70's: The eras of "Pinko commie" McCarthyism and the sexual revolution and long-haired-hippy anarchy.

You'd have to go back to the 80's: when gay men were dying all over the place.  HIV and AIDS decimated the community and then parents and relatives (many of whom had rejected their gay sons) would come in and take possessions and property that was left behind.  Such emotional and devastating circumstances of course had been a regular part of the lives of gay and lesbian couples in every time and century.  But the magnitude of the AIDS crisis and the way it required a community to mobilize into activism to literally stay alive and protect each other at the last moments of life changed something in the collective psyche of LGBT Americans.
 
That was the real beginning of marriage equality in my mind... Because as most married people will tell you, you don't need marriage benefits to get to feel the passion or the love, for the joy of the dance, to experience the fineness of wine or the deliciousness of cake.  You don't need marriage, for the age of Aquarius... You need it for what happens after happily ever after.

You need marriage for when your lover has died in your arms after a year of declining health that culminated with him shitting his insides out in the bed you used to have carefree sex in; and his parents want to know when you will be moving out.
You need marriage when they prohibit the only people who know and love you from visiting your ICU room.
You need marriage for when they try to deport the woman you love.
You need marriage for when some bullshit happens one day and two skyscrapers crumble to the ground and your kid's other dad (the one who brought home the bacon) disappears in a cloud of filthy dust.
You need marriage for when someone becomes disabled, or slips a disc, or gets cancer or the gay plague. 

Marriage is what allows you access to 1138 federal rights, benefits, and protections.  (And I'm not even including the stupid, helpful ones like getting a "family membership rate" at a gym or health club.)

Someone once told me, "Marriage is not so much about who you want to be with for the rest of your life, but who you don't want to be without..."

When Katy and I first met in the fall of 1999, the state of Vermont was 3 months away from allowing same sex couples to enter into a Marriage-like contract called a civil union.  So, even for us- the lucky ones- the ones that never doubted our self-worth and never experienced rejection by our family or friends- when we met, the idea that we might get married and/or be a (legal) family, that was a construct that did not exist.  That was something we would have to "fake" and/or "make up".

On May 17, 2004 (Four months and 1 day before we had a non-legal church wedding with 150 guests) the commonwealth of MA started allowing couples of the same gender to marry.
It wasn't a "civil union" like Vermont had made famous.  It was the actual, M-F'ing thing!!!

Except there was a problem... in 1991 (before I even knew I was gay)  3 same sex Hawaiian couples sued the dept of public health to be allowed to marry.  The case went all the way to the state's supreme court who ruled in favor of the plaintiffs- it ruled that the prohibition of gay marriage was unconstitutional.  And all manner of backlash followed.  Hawaii changed it's constitution to prevent marriage equality.  And the federal government passed a law that essentially said, "If a state passes a law allowing gays to get married, the federal government will NOT recognize those marriages."
The ironically named "Defense of Marriage Act" (DOMA)  had 117 co-sponsors and only 81 "no" votes out of 508 votes cast in the house and senate.  Bill Clinton signed without hesitation.  That is to say this was about as bipartisan a bill as we get to see these days...

Hindsight is 20/20.  I don't know how long people thought it would take for
1) A state to legalize same sex marriage and
2) For a legal challenge to DOMA to reach the SCOTUS, but that day is here (16 years, 6 months and 5 days later).

The remarkable thing, though, is not the 16-250 years it took to get us here.  The remarkable thing is what has happened in the last 4- 6 months.  You should know, as someone who's life will be directly impacted by what the Supreme court decides related to prop 8 and DOMA, I was nervous when they announced last fall they would be hearing the case this year.  I just thought, "It might be too soon."

History will be on our side, but if SCOTUS rules that prop 8 should stand or that DOMA is constitutional, it will be a LOOOOOOOOOOONG time to undo that nonsense.  In November, the voters of four different states voted either to enact marriage equality or to defeat a prohibition of it... That had NEVER happened before in the US.  Though several states had legalized same sex marriage, they did it either through the courts or through the legislatures.  Before the 2012 election, voters had been asked to vote on same sex marriage 30 times in 30 states and NOT ONE TIME until last November did the majority vote for marriage equality.  There are many who think that equal rights should not be put to a popular vote (include me in those numbers) BUT it is significant (understatement) that support for marriage equality is starting to become the majority opinion...

My wife and I got married in 2004 (non-legal, non binding church wedding).
We got a civil union, the first day we were legally able October 1, 2005.
And 5 years later, marriage equality was enacted in CT.  At that point our civil union passively converted into a (ta-da!) marriage.

10 states have enacted marriage equality since 2004 (CT, DC, IA, MA, MD, ME, NH, NY, VT, WA).
The sitting president of the United States has come out in favor of marriage equality; and the Democratic National Party added marriage equality to it's platform. And literally in the last month, the scales have tipped and public opinion polls are showing for the first time, a MAJORITY of Americans believe that SS couples should be treated equal under the law.

And tomorrow... the SCOTUS hears oral arguments.  People have been waiting in line since Thursday morning to get a seat.  Families like ours are crossing our hearts, holding our breaths and whispering prayers (while still trying to take care of our homes and our kids, like everyone else that doesn't have to consider their legal standing as a family on a daily basis.)

At issue:
1) The Prop 8 case - Is is legal to vote on civil right as related to marriage equality? if not, does that apply to only the California case? or does it apply to all states that have put these rights to a vote via ballot measure? 

2) The DOMA challenge - Is DOMA constitutional? Shouldn't federal and state governments have to treat all married couples equally?  Specifically, should the federal govt have penalized 83 year old Edith Windsor $360,000 in estate/inheritance tax when her wife, Thea died. (if Thea was her husband, that tax would not have been levied).  If DOMA is unconstitutional, does that apply only to the federal government? or do states that have their own DOMA laws also have to rectify the problem?

[A handy schematic]

I'm known to get a little fired up about marriage equality...
You should see what we have to do to get our taxes done (and by "WE" i mean "Katy").
- We have to prepare a federal joint tax return so that we can use that to file a joint state tax return.
- Then we have to prepare a "married filing jointly" state tax return.
- Then we have to imagine how our finances would look if we were not a couple, not a family and create a "fake" financial picture to complete our TWO "actual" federal "single" tax return filings.

So, yeah, I'm "excited" and fired up that this might be the last time we have to do "that" (and by that I mean LIE ON A FEDERAL FORM AND SAY I AM SINGLE, MOM, HEAD OF HOUSEHOLD WHO IS LIVING WITH [BUT NOT MARRIED TO] ANOTHER SINGLE, UNWED MOM...
WHEN I AM ACTUALLY A MARRIED WOMAN LIVING WITH MY WIFE AND OUR CHILDREN...)

But the surprising thing is, I'm really quite emotional about it.  (Read: Choked up)
I'm really quite hopeful (and only a little scared) that this court will support our rights as a couple and a family and parents.  It's hard to describe and explain because I swear to you I know in my heart that I am every bit as worthy as any other citizen, but after a good long ten years of the public debate of whether or not you have the right to exist as a family, it does get tired and hurtful and if this could possibly be the END of that???  I'd just be happy to consume myself with other, more mundane things.
In the last 10 years, the haters have had a lot of opportunity to gloat.
The courts keep ruling against them, but trust me when I tell you this is nerve-wracking.  The cases will be made tomorrow and Wednesday; the decisions won't come down before June.  But tomorrow, we will be figuratively standing there, forcing them to look us in the eyes and say it...
Go ahead, say it... 
Are we equal? Or are we 2nd class? 
Are we still too "yucky" to get access to Cobra and Social security and Military survivor-ship benefits? 
Will we have to wait another 16 to 20 years carefully explaining to our kids some convoluted version of the truth- that it's okay to trust and serve a society and a government that allows discrimination and bullying to be enshrined into state constitutions and federal regulations?

Or will it somehow (as if by magic) be decreed that we can move on to other fights, other debates.
That equal is equal.
That our relationships are worthy of that legal acknowledgment that comes only with "marriage"?

Hold your breath, this is going to be one of the big ones...

DST= I'm so tired

Daylight savings time is like that hot, undercover cop who comes to your high school to "deal with the drug" problem but then she ruins the life of the valedictorian because he's sweet on her and she asks him if he knows how to get her some drugs...

And by that i mean, it's nice to get that extra daylight and all, but really- the time shift 4 days ago has  messed up these kids' sleep cycles.  I don't know how or why it happens.  It doesn't make any logical sense, but everyone is all coo-coo for coco puffs at bed time and all night long... And getting out of the house on time in the morning is a joke.

(Nearly) Midnight Ramblings

It's 11:30 pm and I should have gone to bed 2 hours ago with Katy.

I'm totally wiped out.  Watching BS television and working on work emails and schedules that I can't get to during the day.  There is a lot of stuff in me that I want to wiggle it's way out - onto the pages of this blog and/or some other writing space.  But there are so many attention and time demands.

I'm working too hard at work to feel this behind the 8 ball.  It's just a 60 hour job that I'm trying to do in 45-50 hours a week.  and the time with the kids... it is so short and fleeting (except the middle of the night crying jags that we have been blessed with on and off these last few weeks- those don't seem so short)

These boys are so cute and happy and loved.
Jake is reading and learning about space in kindergarten.  He's gotten really good at drawing and coloring.  He likes wrestling and story-telling (or having stories told to him).  Jake is solid and occasionally anxious.  He likes patterns and predictability, but still asks me at night to "Sing me a song I've never heard before").  He vacillates between stoicism and complete intolerance of discomfort and hyperbolic expression of pain.  Tonight, he banged his shins and when i told him it would be okay and he would feel better soon, he told me "I WILL NOT BE OKAY...THEY WILL NEVER FEEL BETTER... "  After his bath when I absentmindedly pointed out to him that his underwear were ripping in the backside's seam, he burst into tears: "THEY'RE MY FAVORITE PAIR!" He wailed. I tried to express empathy for my softhearted, exhausted boy. But when it went on too long I had to walk away before I did something that would incite him. (Like try not to laugh hysterically while ripping the underwear in half.)

I notice him yawning when asked to recite prayers and songs or poems that I know he has memorized.  The yawns are so predictable that I've come to recognize them as a form of avoidance and/or nervousness.  The top 2 reasons he receives a reprimand these days are: for "talking baby-talk" (also usually happens when he knows he's doing something he shouldn't be or when he's afraid he might be wrong or in trouble - ie "nervousness") and not heeding the warning: "Be nice to your brother."

Milo is about 2 weeks off the binki (a story about that to follow) and still the happiest of us all.  He will give you every version of toddler "F.U." if you try to get him to do something he doesn't want to, but oh, the laugh on that kid.  as much as he gets labeled our "frat boy", Milo is also a sensitive soul.  Usually rushing to us (and always his brother) to see if we're okay.  Today, he took off his underwear, balled them up, handed them to me and said, "Here, smell these and you'll get a big surprise!!!"
Milo, hates hats and gloves and going to bed.  He wants to go potty and wants a drink of water and ine more kiss and a song and a song and a song, and then he will place a tiny protective arm around the neck of the parent putting him to bed and give a pleading whine: "I want you."  He is our little musician and tonight, he whipped through about 6 different songs that are in our bedtime ritual, but we've never really heard him sing before.  He knew EVERY WORD. it was touching and startling in an "other worldly" kind of way. It turns out (as Katy pointed out) he ACTUALLY IS... a good listener.

They are my heart.  My love.  My pride and joy.  These boys make me wish for more hours in the day, week, year.

Falling asleep... more to come

The week in review

In the last 7 days, Obama freed the gays*, North Carolina outlawed them, we've celebrated/endured nurses' week, mother's day, and gone through a 12 pack of ginger-ale**.  In the last seven days, the boys have worn their raincoats, their winter coats, and their bathing suits- so swings the weather in these parts at this time of the year...

The Ta-bar pool opened today at a crisp, cool 76 degrees. (We all went in but Katy). And I predict both these boys will be swimming without "swimmies" by the end of the summer (Mac and Cam are already there).  Softball starts tomorrow.  I have a lot to write about, but I'm so very sleepy.

The new job is absurd.  Good, but a little like being a lost kid at a big fair... Except, I'm not a kid, and I have a map, but they change the fair grounds every night... and there are a lot of emails... And I keep staying awake every night wondering if I should suggest to my bosses that maybe they should keep the fair grounds looking like the map they hand out.  Also, I find myself wanting to shout a lot, "THE EMPEROR HAS NO CLOTHES ON!" 

*OBAMA did not actually free the gays, but he did publicly state is personal support for marriage equality which as Joe Biden would say, "...is a big fucking deal."

**Jake was vomiting last weekend and I spent Friday night wondering how my body could eject the contents of my stomach with such force that jet engine blasters seem comparatively ineffectual and weak.  

Keeping time

Work has been horrific in these last few weeks.
Hyperbole is the word you are searching for to describe the tactic used in the previous sentence.
Let's try again... Work has been exhausting in the last few weeks: In that, "i feel blessed to be employed and have a job where I am valued, challenged, growing, and well compensated" kind of way.  I'm just spent, and not getting all that I want to do done- neither at work nor at home... and I'm staying up too late to compensate for the lack of sufficient hours in the day; but that is contributing to the extreme fatigue.

Last weekend, I tried to ignore my professional side completely.  It worked pretty well.  After spending the day on Saturday with the boys- enjoying life, hiking, laughing, eating ice cream, soaking in the warmth and comfort of the sun, I spent Sunday trying not to batter my kids.

I'm not saying that lightly.  I have wonderful, amazing children that I adore; that I would move heaven and earth to keep from harm's way...  But I have to admit, nearly 5 years into this parenting gig, I understand child abuse in a way I never did before.  Sometimes it takes all of your intellect and powers of reasoning, all of your coping skills, all of your spirituality and fear of hell and law enforcement officials to help keep you from inflicting corporal punishment.  Sometimes you have to hide the belts and the wooden spoons from yourself, and keep your hands busy...

Sunday was that kind of day.  The kids were just incorrigible.  They were obstinate and whiny and ruthlessly disobedient.  Jake got 5 time outs before 11 am.  Milo was spitting and hitting and picked up a terra-cotta flower pot over his head in the most intentional and menacing way.  I moved quickly towards him trying to sternly but calmly talk him out of.  He gave me a little grin and threw it to the ground with all his might.

The day ended with the version of our bedtime ritual that does not involve a bit of TV (that had long since been punitively removed from the menu of options): PJs, brush teeth, read book, say prayers, sing a song... We got to the part where they each get a small sip of water (the final step, the part that lets them know, "day is done") and the brothers began fighting about who would take the first sip.

I am careful to alternate this ritual, but I couldn't remember whose turn it was, and the whining and protesting was instantaneous.

Jake: (bursting into sudden, over-dramatic hysterics) I WANT THE FIRST SIP OF WATER... I WANT TO GO FIRST!!!
Milo: (in full blown imitation mode) I WANT THE FIRST SIP OF WATER... I WANT TO GO FIRST!!!
me: (so tired of this silly shit and the fake crying) Work it out boys.  You tell me who is getting the first sip... If you can't agree, then no one gets any water.

They each stood their ground, repeating their identical request/demand to be first.  I counted to 3 and offered one more chance.

"I GO FIRST" they wailed in unison.

I appealed to Jake one last time:  "Should your brother get the first sip? or should no one get any water?"

10 or 20 seconds passed while he considered his move: "No one!" He replied in what would be the day's final triumphant stand of quiet (possibly) stoic assholery.  Milo seemed confused, but did not have the debate skills to negotiate anything further with either of us...

I walked away silently wishing them well, "Enjoy the cotton-mouth, suckers!" I would have said if my sense of humor was not also dehydrated.

"WTF was that?" I thought over and over in my review of the day.  Where did we go wrong?!?

Today, we had friends over for dinner.  The boys were really well-behaved and sweet.  At bedtime (48 hours from the close of one of my top-10 least favorite days I've ever had as a parent) I had this conversation:

Milo: I wear your watch, Mommy?
Me: okay.  (I put the too big watch on him and start singing) Good night my angel, now it's time to sleep and save these questions for another day
Milo (checking the watch and then whispering) 8 O'clock!
Me: (singing) I think I know what you've been asking me... I think you know what I've been trying to say...
Milo: (checking the watch, another whisper) 6 O'clock
Me: (singing and suppressing giggles) And like a boat out on the ocean... I'm rocking you to sleep
Milo: (checking, another little whisper) 9 O'clock

-----------
Then, in between songs I sang while tucking in Jake...

Jake: Mom, when onions make you cry, do you think that's just their way of protecting themselves?
Me: Hmm...(trying not to laugh, lest he thinks I'm laughing AT him) It makes sense that that might be part of it, huh?
Jake: Yeah... a lot of plants and animals have all kinds of ways to protect themselves...
Me: (clutching my proud and overworked heart) Yup

I guess they do really listen. 

Happy New Year!!!

*
You would not F#@king believe what my kids are doing right now!?!

They are in the kitchen, 1 room away- playing together. Playing a game of their own mutual, instinctive invention; complete with spontaneous changes of position and offensive/defensive posturing. This game seems to be oddly competitive AND collaborative. There is no scoring, but nameless points seem to be earned by 1) Amount of noise made, 2) Ability to make your brother laugh, 3) Skillful kicking moves to propel a kid-sized yoga ball across the room, 4) Incorporation of kitchen furniture in the field of play.

There are power blocks and time-outs for body poses and setting up the next play. There's a scream during every maneuver and belly-giggles at every play's completion. There's a lot of wordless NOISE punctuated by bellows of "COME! ON! JAY! KEY!" (from Milo) and "YOU LIKE THAT, MI-MI?!?" (from Jake) and "HUT 1, HUT 2, HUT 3, HIKE!" (from both). The game they are playing is nothing like football, but somehow that stance and protocol has an obvious place in their contest.

Katy and I are (watching the Patriots play the game that will hopefully get them back into the Superbowl and) trying to stay out of the boys' game. But at the 37th (or so) minute mark, we are pretty sure there will be a head smacking against a wall and ensuing tears to pause or end the game at any minute. I can't believe my wife is okay with this volume, but the times they are a'changing and it is fairly awe-inspiring to see these little boys collaborating and entertaining each other with such gusto.

It's been a long time since I've blogged. There have been a lot of changes in my life- that can simply be summarized by saying I started a new job. I have been working my ass off, Katy has been working her ass off to support me in this new endeavor. Things have been in motion since the summer when I first interviewed for the position. Getting the job and negotiating the offer, making the decision to leave my old job and then transitioning out of a place that I have been for nearly 8 years- leaving co-workers that had become some of my best friends; starting a new job 7 weeks ago right before the holidays, this has been A LOT. It was the right decision for me, but this weekend, my body cried, "Uncle". I'm exhausted with a fairly significant cold. I spent most of the last two days working up to intermittent bursts of energy that were used to shovel freshly fallen snow, go sledding with the family, and run a few errands. The rest of the time, I have been reading and laying around with a heavy, drippy head and stuffed sinus cavities that left me feeling woozy and weak. I feel a little better now, but not quite ready to start the work week again.

Blogging more regularly was not a New Year's resolution this year, there were too many other New Year's resolutions that had to take precedence, but I really miss it and and intend to pay a bit more attention to it, now that I have gotten my toes submerged at the new job.

If you are still reading and checking in at the GSO, thank you! I've really missed spending some time with you here in this space. I can't wait to catch you up on the boys- they are so freaking cute and amazing... I just don't think I could love them any more than I do!


*Both photos are copyrighted and courtesy of our friend and photographer, Joey Jones. He's a great guy and does great work, check it out

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.

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...

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.

Tonight I'm gonna try something new...

Tonight, I'm gonna go to bed early and wake up early tomorrow morning...

That will be new.

This week, I have been staying up waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too late.

I am really swamped at work and overwhelmed and coming home and working more- late into the night from the lap top. I've been neglecting my blog, and I have a lot to say.

This weekend, I am going to get back on it, but until then, a few visuals:

1) The boys seem to us to be getting so big... Every day, we look at them and think, "You are so long, you have grown so!" But look at them here, they look so teeny-tiny:



2) JB has never met a meatball he doesn't like, but a sandwich lover he is NOT. This breaks my heart a little. I love a sandwich like Joey from Friends. It doesn't matter what I'm eating, I prefer it smooched between 2 pieces of bread. Every time he refuses a sandwich, or pulls the meat off of bread, I feel a little betrayed. This here was one of my proudest moments as a parent:


I know he looks confused and/or miserable, but he really enjoyed it, trust me...
(This is partially, but not completely "wishful thinking".)

3) ML looking happy, refusing dinner per his usual, daily routine:



4) Another great "it gets better video" from the You Tube channel started by Dan Savage... These are apple employees (hat tip, Adam):

The last 3 hours of your day

Sometimes I think I write a highly idealized version of what life with little kids is like. I mean, all the cute conversations, all the "Life is good" tags, all sweet photos and some of the other bullshit...
I think we are hitting a rough patch with JB- he is talking back, rolling his eyes, and acting like he just learned the word "no" and we just took the keys to his car away all at the same time.

Tonight was a night that I'd like to erase from the books. It went something like this:

5:23pm - Arrive home from work. Kate is at the stove. ML is running around, JB sees me when I open the door. He stops cutting construction paper and looks at me with a 1/2 crooked smile. I have no idea what is coming, and I assume he is going to break into a grin, run up to me, and throw his arms around me (like he does on most nights). Instead, he holds his dull, kid-scissors up in front of his eyes and says, "If you come any closer, I'll cut you." When I get over my shock, give him a low-key reprimand, and convinced him to give me a hug, he brings his knees up high and kicks me in the chest a couple of times.
5:25 - JB is in time out.
5:26 - With the sweet sounds of JB SCREAMING in the background, I attempt to wrangle ML into a greeting, but he's marching around like that kid from parenthood (the movie) without the bucket on his head


"He likes to bonk things with his head"


5:28 - Time out is over, but JB is still SCREAMING AND SOBBING, "GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!RIGHT NOW!!!" So we have to determine if we are going to give the kid another 3 minutes. I try a different tactic and I go to him and lay down on the floor next to JB so that we are face to face. I stroke his face to dry his tears...
Me: Did you have a bad day?
Him: no
Me: Do you need any help?
Him: no
Me: Can you stop crying so that you can come out of time out--OUFFFFF



(ML has jumped on my back making the same noise with his body that you hear in a Mission Impossible movie, when a short Scientologist throws his body from the top of a tractor trailer onto the roof of another moving vehicle)

5:32 - ML marches over to the stove and attempts to stir the pots that are simmering over his head up there. To get closer to the danger, he tries to pull the oven door open. It doesn't matter that Katy and I are standing right there, we can barely stop him. He starts WAILING.

5:34 - Strapped into his high chair, ML is finally quieted when an appetizer of raw avocado is placed in front of him. JB takes a butter knife and starts to stab at the pages of a book that is on the table. I tell him to stop.

5:35 - JB has picked the knife up again and is stabbing at the pages of a book again. I raise my voice and then take the knife away

5:40 - Dinner is served. We all sit down "Taco dinner"

5: 42 - ML throws his plate of taco meat onto the floor. While we are down picking it up, he showers pieces of taco shell on us. Katy reminds him, "Only six more months before I get to put you into time out."

5:45 - We have been offering ML other food: cheese stick? JB wants one too. Applesauce? JB wants one too... ML shoves 1/2 a cheese stick into his mouth and laughs when Katy tries to get him to spit out the too-big piece. He finally spits it out and while never breaking eye contact with his mama, he dangles it over the side of his high chair tray. We bark, threaten, and scold... He smiles and let's it fly...

5:48 - ML gets put into the corner for "Baby time out".

5:52 - After gagging his way through 2 sugarsnap peas, JB had "earned" the applesauce he requested. ML's tray has been cleared of food.
6:16 - ML is crying because Katy is washing his face with a soft, soft wash cloth. Mommy and the boys roll around of the floor for a while. Until ML drops a load in his diaper.
6:52 - After chasing him around for all this time, ML finally consents to a diaper change. JB demands a "SHOWER, NOT A BATH" (Even though he shouldn't get his way based on how he is acting and how he is speaking to us, both parents agree: "whatever... It's not worth making a federal case") We act like we intended to make him take a shower all along.
7:07 - the bath was fun and pleasant, and a clean ML, acts as if the world's softest sleeper contains some type of chemical that will kill him if he allows himself to be clothed in it...

7:15 - Baby ML is only half dressed
7:22 - Both kids are dressed for bed. Humidifier is filled.
7:25 - Teeth are brushed, hair is combed, baby is finally calm and happy; ML wiggles out of a mom's arms and bangs his head on the floor (Cue screaming).

7:40 - ML is calmed, has been soothed, watched a little TV with his brother, and accepts that it is bedtime

7:45 - our hero, Handy Manny is there for us in "The big race"

8:15 - JB goes to bed

(sigh)

W.
T.
F.

What doesn't kill us makes us...

Sicker
Stronger...

Yesterday, I spent the better part of 7 hours up on our roof, shoveling and clearing ice.
It was a nice warm day (42 degrees when the sun was out) and the sun kept going in and out.





It was a little brutal, if I am honest. The snow was literally up to my thighs. Like the rings of a tree, there were all the layers of the storms we have had. I am well aware that we have had over 55 inches of snow this January, but somehow, standing up there, I could not get over how much shoveling had to be done. I wanted to quit so many times, but I knew if I got down and took a break, I did not have it in me to climb the ladder again. So I stayed and did the job as best I could. I used a hatchet at the edges, near the gutters where there was 4-6" of solid ice on roof near the gutter in the back yard (the South side of the house) and 10-12" of ice in the front yard (on the North side).

While I was up there, I seemed to be experiencing the stages of grief

First I was like, "this won't take long at all... it's a beautiful day! And getting up here at all is really the hardest part."

Then I spent a few hours sputtering a fuming inexplicably- pissed at Katy somehow (WHY wasn't she checking on me more often?!? Why hasn't she figured out a way to play some music for me?!?). Then turning the anger towards other members of my family- and friends that aggrieved or abandoned me (both living and dead).

I turned to Jesus a few times... "Help me out here, Lord, Please, I'll do anything..."

Then I got sad.

Really sad- strangely sad, thinking sad things as if I were alone in the wilderness and not on the roof of my own home. It was then that the events of last week (weather and baby's illness aside) came back to me... That we experienced the 2nd death of 2011. A friend of our family, Kevin. And then the "stages of grief" exercise that my brain was taking on didn't seem so totally strange.

Kevin married into the Tabor clan - whom I've spoken about here when G'pa Jim died and countless other times (especially when talking about the pool in the summer). The tabors are our family. The family we chose, choose, and continue to choose. My parents grew up with them and so did my sister and I.

They are some of the few people that know me now who also knew me when I was a shy, skinny kid. They helped me grow up. They encouraged my budding sense of humor, my musicality, my athleticism, my intellectual pursuits, and that I be honest and follow my heart. There's a stagger in the generations and sometimes I have more in common with the "adults" and sometimes I have more in common with the "kids" (we are all adults now so the gap is getting more narrow...) but I used to babysit for the kids of my babysitters and now those same kids, I occasionally call on to sit for my kids. It's a little convoluted, but it works. When I need advice or help, I call on my aunts, uncles and cousins in this "adopted" family as much as in my "real" family.

Kevin married one of Jim's daughters and they had 2 daughters of their own. They had a wonderful life, but at some point, the marriage stopped working.

Kevin was in NYC the day the towers fell. He called home to say he was okay and on his way home, and then he disappeared for 6 or 8 hours. The "radio silence" was in part due to a lack of phone service, but it turned out his "escape" was delayed when he was distracted by helping rescue workers sift through rubble some before making his way out of there. I remember getting a call that told me he was safe. And then I got a call saying he was missing. I remember hours and hours going by and I worked hard pushing the thought out of my head that we would never see him again. Then he came home, but he was never really the same after that. I only saw him once or twice again. His marriage had started falling apart before September 11th, and took some time to completely crumble. But even when we were all together, he always found a way to disappear from a crowded party after that.

Up on the roof yesterday, I couldn't help think of him and all this stuff I either hadn't thought of before, or hadn't thought of in a long time. He died last Saturday, January 22 at the age of 57. He died of natural causes after quite a few years (and reportedly several consecutive days) of abusing his body with not-so-healthy substances. He leaves behind 2 beautiful, strong, and heartbroken children. And a mess of us that miss him- what he was, what he could have been; plus the sadness that comes from knowing he experienced a lot of emotional pain and/or psychological anguish that couldn't be extinguished.

When I heard of his death, I had a very intellectual reaction that essentially amounted to, "That's so sad." When I went to the memorial service, and saw photos of him and saw his family- family that my heart recognizes as "my" family... i had a very emotional reaction. It surprised me. To suddenly be weeping and missing so urgently, someone I hadn't seen or spoken to for most of a decade...

Up on the roof, in the clear, cold air, I realized I was a bit of an emotional basket case. I was angry that this had to happen to him. Angry that he couldn't figure out a way to make himself whole. Sad and disturbed that the chance he could somehow make things better or right was gone forever. Sick that sometimes in the world, things just don't work out. Sad for my childhood and a time when there was less gray area in all aspects of life... I was glad to have all that physical labor to help me work it out.

Today, I am either sick, or just exhausted. So many parts of my body are sore: fingers, toes, arms, legs, neck, back; my throat is raw, my sinuses constantly draining post-nasal drip, my stomach full of mucus, my head pounding.

The weather forecast is not mild- the winter machine is starting again... the next three days might entirely erase all my hard work on the roof. But I feel I've done something to try to protect our property and our family, and that is something, at least.

You catch your breath and winter starts again...

It snowed every day this week... We got 3" on Tuesday, 3-4" on Wednesday, and another 12-15" of snow overnight...

Since I last wrote, our family has been through the ringer a little bit.

Tuesday night, I couldn't wait to watch the State of the Union Address (SOTU). I am a little bit of a political junkie and the SOTU is like the Superbowl to me (especially with a Dem in the White house). I even had this "live blogging" idea going where instead of driving Katy absolutely nutty by exposing her to my internal dialogue, I would write it to the blog in real time.

But something was up with ML- he was breathing too fast and audibly wheezing, and had hurled the contents of his stomach all over 2 different rooms after the hot steam shower I gave him. Katy and I were both already exhausted from commuting to and from work in the winter weather and 4 separate full body clean ups on 2 children. Katy announced, "I think I have to go to bed," and I replied, "I think I do too." Then my wife passed out from the shock of seeing me wave a white flag in the face of exhaustion. When she came to, we headed upstairs and our little boy woke up not but a few minutes later pretty uncomfortable. He seemed a little warm, but it was definitely his breathing that was freaking us out. We put it off and put it off b/c who wants to bring their 16 month old out into the cold night to get him checked out at the ER? We could have headed there at 8 or 9pm, but by 11:30 pm, we couldn't deny that he was breathing too fast, retracting, wheezing, not able to sleep, and it was getting worse. I called my mom to come sit with JB and we packed the little hyperventilator up.

There is an ER 10 minutes away that I would take myself to in a heartbeat, but it is not a children's hospital, to get there means a 3o minute drive. It is tempting, but I know I will never (if it is in my power) take a kid of mine to a hospital that is not a children's hospital. We were triaged in minutes and then given a number to wait - which is surprisingly reassuring when you have a sick baby. We were taken into a room within 15 to 20 minutes, and were there about 2 hours. They gave him some respiratory treatments which made him all jittery and tachycardic, but pretty much stopped the wheezing. They suctioned him, which did nothing but hurt his moms and piss him off. They said: "Probably RSV," and "Bronchiolits" and sent him home on albuterol.

We got home at about 3am. My dad had come by on his way home from work to keep my mom company and was shoveling our driveway when we pulled in. My eyes were rolling in my head by then, but we all slept only a few hours before Katy had to get up and go to work. I got JB off to school- walked him to the door with ML bundled in my arms and shouted a goodbye without actually crossing the threshold of the day care- not wanted to spread germs. Then I spent the day trying to console a very unhappy boy.

ML is not what we call a snuggle-bug. That is not to say he isn't sweet. He is a sweetie. But he won't sit in your lap for more than a few seconds. One of his favorite games is begging to get up on your lap and then wiggling right off again ad infinitum. But these last 2 days, he would just sit on your lap and/or rest his head on your shoulder, breathing at a rate of 39-48 breaths a minute. (Which, trust me, is alarmingly fast). He was lethargic and only a little interested in food, drink, or sleep. He just wanted to sit, stare ahead, and breathe. It was pathetic and scary. At some point in the day, I was too tired to stay awake with him, so I put him in bed with me and we both slept on and off for a few hours... It was decidedly un-ML-behavior... that he was just content to lay there and play with my hands or hair when he wasn't sleeping.

Last night, he was also restless and feverish, as high as 102.5. But this am, he was better and wanting to run around a little again. I fought the elements to get to work, and Katy took a snow day/sick kid day to be home. She got him to the doctor who checked to be sure there was no obvious infection that the ER might have missed. He screamed and cried b/c now he really hates medical personnel...

This has been a long week. But one that has made me feel grateful in this exhaustion.

We have broken the record for the most snowfall in one month - I can't find the exact number, but I think it is 54". And guess what, there is more snow headed here this weekend. Frankly, I've been loving it. I really have. And the more people complain about it... that just makes me love it more. But today... so tired... so spent from worrying and caring for the boy and you look out the window and calling it 12" is conservative. I was not looking forward to the battle of the driveway.

And then the neighbor, Tom, comes over with his snow blower...
What's a 4-letter word for a neighbor that comes over at 8am with a snow blower???
H-E-R-O

SRSLY- that guy has no idea how much we needed that.

Intuititvely obvious life lessons...

1) Sleep makes you feel less tired

Turns out that when you go to bed at 10pm and don't get woken up by a teething, sobbing mammal with a fever in the middle of the night, it makes a BIG difference how you feel in the morning.

For the last several nights, I went to bed around midnight (usually a little later), and WAS woken up somewhere between the hours of 1 and 4am. Consequently, I spent the better part of the last 3 days trying not to spontaneously start whimpering like The Princess Bride's Wesley after enduring the rack.

2) The main job of Children is to collect and spread germs

I know there are a a lot of things that people think Children should be and do-
- Be seen and not heard
- Spread joy
- Pass on your genes
- Scrub this floor until it shines like the top of the Chrystler building
- (and for the RCC) Be protected from the evils of homosexuality... (protected by ??priests??... sidebar... moving on...)

But from an evolutionary standpoint, this is their job for the first few years... to build up an immune system that is capable of fighting off all sorts of bacteria and viruses so that illness won't eliminate them like those visitors from War of the Worlds (Jeeze, I'm really on a movie reference kick this AM).

Between my sister's kids and our kids, one of the 4 has thrown up at least once in the last 5 or 6 weeks. Usually, they seem perfectly happy, then they get green for 48 seconds, look at you and say, "I have to go potty." Then they shoot the contents of their stomach at you in the living room, or where ever is inconvenient. Then after their vague embarrassment passes and the clean up is complete, they resume playing as if nothing happened at all.

Anyway, these kids are not ALWAYS sick so much as sporadically sick, unpredictably healthy, and major CARRIERS of infectious disease. Attempting to quarantine them when they are "sick" is impossible as the cousins would never see each other again. Katy and I have stopped even being phased by runny noses and coughs, but we are still in the mindset of trying to avoid the ever-elusive "stomach bug". The problem is, we do not know when the next puke will come... or from who. And even as seasoned health care professionals, we do not understand the meaning of low grade fevers that come and go for a week or more without any other symptoms.

This is no big deal if I am well-rested. But if I'm particularly exhausted, I start to get paranoid that my tiny children are trying to kill me.

3) Your tiny children are NOT trying to kill you

Your snowblower CAN'T HELP YOU NOW!!!

We have soooooooooo much snow here right now.











The week after Christmas, we got 10-12" of a powdery mix. A snowman was built and several days later, some of the snow melted, the snowman broke into three separate balls, but certainly, we never saw the grass again. Friday the 7th, we got about a foot more. That snow was so fluffy and powdery that you could not even put a snowball together. I tried and tried, but could not make a snowball- SO FLUFFY!!!


(See the snow behind him on the deck?)


(JB is in front and ML is bringing up the rear)



Then last Wednesday, we got another TWENTY inches of the same pure, dry powdery snow. We have been shoveling our asses off, but it has been a pleasure- I mean, you could go through several New England winters and not have a snow anywhere as near as awesome as the last 3 we have gotten in the last 3 weeks. Also, the temp has only been getting up to about 32 during the day, so it is not melting and getting wet and then refreezing. It has been fluffy and puffy and dry, cold snow for about 3 weeks.



Today, we got about 3 inches of snow followed by 6 hours of slushy, frozen rain. This is more like it... This is more like the weather I am used to expecting and enjoying. This is the stuff that really hurts to shovel. This is the stuff that God invented to mock you for running out and impulse-buying that shiny snowblower (we did not do that, btw). This is the stuff that leaves the trees full of sharp ice-bullets and your back yard shiny like a Zamboni'd hockey rink.



For the last 3 weeks, when the snowplow came by to barf up that extra foot of junk onto the edge of my newly dug out driveway, I could barely complain- it was so fluffy... Deep, but still not icy, you know? But tonight, this is the stuff that pulls groins, and spasms lower backs, and leaves grown people weeping icicles. THIS is what I'm talking about, THIS is New England!!!





BUT this ice is on 22-36 inches of snow, SRSLY. So THAT is not normal at all.

The middle of our front yard has over 2 feet of snow on it. The snow banks that line our driveway are at least as high as my waist. Many sections of them are higher than my shoulders. The mailbox is buried. It is insane! Shoveling icy, slushy, sleety snow over your head is a work out. You get dressed in your winter clothes and they get wet from the inside out.

Thing is, it is exhausting. And I'm starting to get all worried about the roof holding up and the gutters not falling down, and the basement not flooding...

Still, I'm enjoying it. It is extreme and fun and awe-inspiring.
And look what it is doing to the boys:








(Young boys, obsessed with plows)

NOTE:
all of this pics are from 1 or 2 storms ago... I did not yet include any pics of today's additionally precipitation. Also, I am going to try and get some footage of downhill sledding up on the blog asap... So adorable!