Another Mother's Hoverboard

pride.

2011-10-15T06:43:00.000-07:00

She rides each tear out clutching
it's weight before it drips away
following the one before
a runaway train of wild emotion

Years of thoughts and wonderings
led to this new day and suddenly
debate and yearning have been swallowed
by the reality that has arrived: Asa.

All questions have been left behind
and we travel forward with hearts
so brimming with love they
risk overflowing, cracking and falling apart

but...they will just grow bigger.

Humbled by the immensity of
change and newness we are
awed by the greatness of the
journey and we walk proudly forth

We will not let down this perfect gift
for he was so deeply wanted
and needed
and will shine on, a bright star.

Indeed.

A decade and a belly.

2011-09-06T04:33:00.000-07:00

In 5 days we recognize a 10 year
anniversary
of 9/11
And as I ruminate on this
piece of historical tragedy,
I rub my baby boy belly
just as did...all those years ago.

Life has a way of cycling
and as it rolls through
and things change
we can either get caught up
in our own path
fixating on how to best
control it

or we can look around
as we move and
be grateful
be thoughtful
be kind

we can uncover the
hate in our hearts
and nurture love
so that as new life
arrives,
earthside
he shall be greeted
with all the possibility
in the world
not devastation
rage
despair.

These are the lessons
we share.

journeys

2011-07-11T04:27:00.000-07:00

sitting with my hand on my belly
i watch the tigerlily bend and bob
at the weight of a small bird
drinking from its
innards

and you my dear child
awaken

your flips and pumps
inside of me
strike me as peculiar
and at times uncomfortable

however i will remind
myself
the gift that this experience
truly is
and you have allowed me
the precious chance to remember,
just one last time...

my belly swells with your
growth and potential
and i cry when i consider
the sense of completion
you will bring all of us

a shift in reality
was certainly in order
and our world
will spin in a whole new
unpredictable and
wonderful way

welcome baby
welcome

we are so excited
for your arrival,
travel safely.

love you,
mama.

see you in the fall...

2011-03-20T09:25:00.000-07:00

In less than 30 weeks
a gray shadowy illusion
will become
the brightest strongest being

and with you,
brings new hope
new contentment
new fear

alas, you will be here

once and for all
you,
my dear little one
are no longer:

an idea
a whim
a hope
a choice

you are a reality
and
reality has never
been so sweet.

Roundness

2011-01-02T19:33:00.000-08:00

Roundness like reason taints the beauty
but helps maintain the whole
and the softness of this keeps her
far too protected

Risk scares her and yet
tempts the soul inside to
come out and dance
a chance for fullness

In a life where there is only
one shot, day by day
to do
to see
to be
that which
is you
that which is she and he
that which is me.

Yes, roundness includes excess
But excess includes a life well intentioned...

even if you fall, get up.

2010-09-10T08:03:00.000-07:00

pushing through yawns like crowds around
the pope
there is a process and she will entrust that
the universe is holding her tight
she will not break
she will merely stretch
it might at times hurt,
as the pulling might
be fast
intense
cruel
but this is her choice and her voice
is spoken well to many
with much approval
she is here as one person
made up of MANY.
there is much love.
in her ride....
the journey is full of thrills.
this is the first.

for my little man-joy

2010-05-26T18:59:00.000-07:00

my heart breaks into a myriad of pieces
as you sleep
your tiny heart pumping hard and fierce
through it's surrounding ribcage
like the sun finding its way through a
complex mountain range
looking to set with grace and without apology.

i am your mother and the utter honor of this
strikes straight through the core of me
taking away my own breath as i watch
you take your own...

in moments like these i smile at your freckles
there at my fingertips to count or kiss, endlessly
which would earn me a few
hours of time at the very least...

simply to stare at you is overwhelming
you are my baby yet
more than half my size
and growing with a purposefulness
and a pride and and unwillingness to hide
who you *are*

never will i truly understand the power
of my love for You
i will settle instead,
to bask in these moments
where i can drink in your beauty
and swallow this warmth and name it
LOVE.

you are a gift:
to your Mother.
to your Mother Earth.

2010-05-25T08:23:00.000-07:00

It seems as though, all of a sudden, a switch was flicked on and everything looks brighter so much so, that all things seems possible and the anxiety of waiting for something unidentifiable has simply slipped away leaving a cool residue of calm and confidence squashing doubt with hope and purpose... inspiration multiplies endlessly as this occurs making so many more things seem realistically beautiful and necessary... she is empowered in a whole new way, recalling birthing children the process of not thinking or worrying just doing and doing *well*... this feels very reminiscent and her heart swells with new energy there is so much to do in this life we must only have the courage to dream.

Dirty hand, fresh flowers.

2010-05-06T10:16:00.000-07:00

It was that sort of day
where the chaos of children's
schedules, assignments,
drop offs and pickups,
to-do lists and errands
grab at the efficacy of the mind,
tempting
it to bend elsewhere and forget something but
as unnerving as a day like
that can present itself to be,
it is also a day where what is
really at risk of being
tragically overlooked is simply:
perspective.

this lesson was delivered in the form of a
literal boom with a heralding thunderstorm
crackling it's cadence of impending doom
her child at the ball field
stuck waiting for his mama across town

she races forth to just keep on
keeping on, rescue her boy
from that which she cannot
define until,

out her windshield
she sees the most beautiful thing
in the entire world and remembers
to stop. to live. to dream. to be.

a homeless man trudging the
sidewalk who, daily,
walks and walks and walks
these peaceful streets of her town.
she seems him nearly everyday
his tattered dirty clothes;
a knit cap storing years
of thoughts and yearnings.
yet today, in this rattling rain,
he walks on.

In his hand?
Fresh spring flowers,
Tightly gripped. Held
with a purpose and a pride.
A discordance so grand
and magnificent
she is brought to instantaneous
tears. This man is alive.
She is alive.
Living....

With this vision,
heart and mind become
fully whole again.
Life is splendid.
She owes him so much.
We all do.

on the wall

2010-02-25T10:50:00.000-08:00

a life is not something to mess around with
she thinks
while her ability to respect common suffering
and collective fear knocks her into action.

alas!

the rain falls and we rant
the sun shines bright and hot and we gripe
the snow piles up and we groan

we are a the country of complain
and blame all around
and for as vain as we are,
obsessed with the mirror's reflection

it seems we forget to actually
look at ourselves in it,
deeply and with purpose
past the makeup and age:
to uncover our passion
our person.

are we kind?
are we really living?
are we done learning?
giving?
changing?

choose wisdom.

one shot

2010-02-02T09:36:00.000-08:00

things like sudden death
and the perfect line in a song
can change your life
for the better
in the matter of
a moment;
how
splendid!

all of what one clings to
for perspective
tight and stingy
is suddenly released as
a million doves in the air
call to you...
and you suddenly follow
that proverbial dream

sure, when doubt
creeps in
another death or song
comes along
serving as a reminder
to just breathe
and believe
to give
and take
to smile
and laugh

marley will tell you
you must walk tall
even when you fall
you have to stand tall
you simply must.

simple.

2010-01-21T06:30:00.000-08:00

things i promise (no one BUT) myself to do. every day:

1. drink at LEASt two large glasses of water, if not more
2. do at least 40 sit ups
3. do at least 10 push ups
4. write. something
5. organize something
6. floss
7. laugh
8. choose kindness instead of criticism
9. hug like i mean it
10. take 5 deep cleansing breaths

SILENCE

2010-01-20T07:23:00.001-08:00

MY MIND AND HEART ARE ENGAGED IN A WAR

SORTING THROUGH BULLSHIT MINUTIA LIKE
BOOKING
APPOINTMENTS TO HAVE A 285 DOLLAR FILLING
PUT IN A TOOTH THAT WILL FALL OUT IN 4 YEARS
AND
DESPERATION, SHAME AND PANIC
OVER THE ELECTION OF REPUBLICAN
SCOTT BROWN
TO THE UNITED STATES SENATE

THERE ARE LAUNDRY AND BILLS PILING UP EQUALLY
INSERTING STRESS INTO THE AIR
AND THERE IS HAITI GETTING HIT; AGAIN TODAY
RUNNING INTO THE STREETS, ASHY WITH FEAR

THERE IS A CAR IN THE DRIVEWAY
IN NEED OF MAJOR WORK OR REPLACEMENT
THAT IS SIMPLY UNAFFORDABLE
AND A FRAGMENTED POLITICAL SYSTEM
DIVIDING FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS
CAUSING CONFUSION AND HATE

THERE IS EATING AND DRINKING TO
EXCESS OUT OF SHEER
BOREDOM AND ESCAPE
AND DIRE NEED FOR FOOD AND WATER
ALL OVER THE COUNTRY
AND THE WORLD

THERE ARE DISHES THAT NEVER GO AWAY
AND AN OVERLY CLUTTERED ATTIC AND BASEMENT
AND FAMILIES ACROSS THE NATION
LOSING THEIR HOMES ALTOGETHER TO
FORECLOSURE

BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN my REALITY
AND the REALITY
I CANNOT FEEL BALANCE
I CANNOT FEEL STRENGTH
IN MYSELF
AND SUBSEQUENTLY IN
THE WORLD AROUND ME

I HAVE LOST SIGHT OF THE BEAUTY
OF SIMPLY ENJOYING THAT WHICH IS
GRAND
IN
LIFE

I SUFFER SADLY FEELING
FULLY IMMOBILE
TO PARTICIPATE IN any REALITY

SIMPLY
SITTING
AND
STARING

AT STRIPES
AND SHADOWS

MAKING NO PLANS FOR A NEXT MOVE

UTTER SILENCE
WITHIN AND OUT

i FEEL STRETCHED TO THE POINT OF ACHING
i FEEL TIRED TO THE POINT OF TEARS
i FEEL ANXIOUS TO THE POINT OF WILTING

WHERE IS MY MIDDLE?
WHERE IS MY TRUTH?

BREATHE.
IN AND OUT.
OUT AND IN.

SURELY. I WILL FIND IT.

matrimony.

2010-01-16T08:29:00.000-08:00

i am trying to find you
in the rage and the tears
and the silliness and the passion
you are all of this and more

i am trying to connect
the dots skipping odd
numbers in hopes to create
a new image

i am trying to love you
wholly
i am trying to
love me honestly
i am trying to fit a love
into a heart that has
become obese and confused

i am trying
and yet there is no try
there is do
and do not

for now, i will stick with
i do.

Be well.

2010-01-14T07:18:00.000-08:00

On the radio the songs all sound the
same as they poetically slice
right to the core of the human
dilemma

love
fear
meaning

we juggle these things like
oranges or knives
well and not

it's all the same
we are all connected
by these things
that we cannot quite
manage
paralyzed by our
efforts to do it all
"right"

not knowing that
relativity holds the
reigns.

mostly we have to
go ahead and
Just Be.

and with that,
Be Well.

pushing out.

2010-01-12T07:20:00.000-08:00

webdings.
remind her of wings, grounded
and she relates;
binding herself back with nagging
self doubt
financial worry
confusion about the "right" path

starting life anew
she crawls towards the baby steps
unsure if any of these risks are
altogether worth it and really
after all, being coddled is quite
pleasant.

her hunger begins slowly
and gnaws silently
and without notice
until the time when it is suddenly
not so soft, not soft at all.
nor is she.

she must swallow fear
stand up inside of herself
and walk right on out,
the world is awaits.

resolve

2010-01-08T07:39:00.000-08:00

snowflakes fall animated like butterflies
until pavement requires they lay flat
much like the laughter that she chortles
only to land on her face in the form of crow's feet

her urges to makes change
within herself in order to change the world
bubble and quell, repeat, and thicken
the tendency to remain mindful cements her

the lists and daydreams and chats and searches
harvest a lot of hope for the future
yet yield few options for the behavior of the now
she will rally and sort, somehow

she is starting each moment
again and again
to see the potential power pooling
and propelling her morphing form forward

a snowflake that will land, sticky
and out of shape.

things in my head at this very second.

2009-09-17T07:12:00.000-07:00

-the new schedules are kicking my butt while i just wait for it to all settle into routine, fearful it will jump right over routine and move onto mundane. nah.
-i am writing a book. for reals. it's still secret.
-i am really interested in purchasing a sectional, with chaise. on the hunt.
-i thought i wanted another baby, turns out i was wrong. phew.
-is it just going to jump right into being cold? like, THIS fast? no thanks. slow down susnhine, don't run off so fast!
-i am in SERIOUS need of a good halloween costume. stat. a good one.
-i still like bacon. baconatarian.
-office and fringe. holla!
-i need a new book to read. a good one. that i will finish.
-i will go look right now.

her lessons.

2009-08-23T15:59:00.000-07:00

words scratchy and thick with
good intention
struggle to find their way out
about
instead: a shout.

she sees the true
challenge as finding
one's own fiddle
and playing it hard
and well

bon iver pulls
tears from her eyes
as effortlessly
as they strum; hum
each day spent
inspiring someone.

she will find her way
to give this eternally
happy feeling
to those around her

lessons in listening
present
the air to us
as a gift
to do.

it will be done.

her search.

2009-08-14T05:16:00.000-07:00

she yawns cat-like
stretching the new day
into her arching back
so she can support herself
and her simple ambition:
to find you

you, who she now
pens letters to

you, who she
sneaks into her dreams

you, who she thinks
up names for

you, who she believes
simply must exist

somewhere

each day
begins to rememble
a moment
a sweet kind moment
that will be later catalogued
as 'before YOU'

she will keep looking
she will find you

and when she does
her nights, though
sleepless for a while,
will be full of
more contentment
than she has
ever
known.

she will rest
easy,
because you,
my dear:

you will be home.

an august haiku

2009-08-06T14:54:00.000-07:00

more of summer gone
it is a reality
that the sun will set

real work.

2009-08-06T14:07:00.000-07:00

i think my seven year old needs therapy. or might soon. or something equally horrible. up until oh, about now, he was purely brilliant, confident, sincere and amusing. all traits he inherited from me. of course. suddenly, he has turned into a sportscenter watching, overly selfindulgent, bragging, punk with a giant (and not the slightest bit delicious) CHIP on his shoulder. (ahem, i think we all know who he turned into...)

the thing is tony has a legit temper. (i will preface that it is his own personal achilles heel and aside from this, he could pretty much be a perfect human being- shhh. don't tell him i said so!) and in spite of all of his OWN work (and there is a lot of work he has done) to cope with these angry outbursts, he has succeeded at handing this behavior over to his son. plain and simple. i wish this were a blameless situation but it's not.

the bottom line is, when lil ole manda was at YMCA camp as a child, playing capture the flag, she simply did NOT walk over and push stupid jenny down (to the ground!) when jenny took off after the flags before the whistle was blown. mini-manda would probably be a little ticked (7 year old manda was already a giant fan of justice.) however, she would probably have just done the child version of writing a person off. pfft. who needs her. look at her dumb ponytail anyway. the end.

on the OTHER hand, i have a sneaking suspicion that the lil tyke known as tiny tony would have also nailed the kid down to the ground too. unapologetically. and called him a cheater. never EVER feeling as though he was in the wrong. justice prevailed! damn straight!

and now, i am starting to understand that *this* is who ezra is. or at least who he was at camp today. according to my sister who called to tell me. i am not sure words can explain how eternally grateful i will forever be for hearing this sort of news from my sister (world's best camp director), instead of a camp director that is a stranger (who would in turn hate me, and my kid, and i would be forever mortified.)

ez has inherited this attitude from his dad. my heart wants to jump out of my chest cavity and throw itself off a cliff. or really, it just hurts. a lot. this is my little boy, my BABY, the one we took to peace rallies and dressed in tie-dyed pajamas. the one we have always TALKED to in a way that we feel has made him a smart person, sure, but moreso, a KIND person. the little dude who really seemed to GET THINGS, like big amazing THINGS, has suddenly turned into a punk. a punk that pushes kids down. a punk that when tattled on by a peer has this said about him: "well you know that ezra and his anger issues..."

WHAT!? he is SEVEN. oh man, here come the tears again. this simply cannot be. but it is. and oh wait. for crying out loud! i am also currently experiencing my monthly mood swing... so this dramatic babbling is really quite enhanced right now. hormones. (i wish ez would get back from camp and punch these damn hormones right in the face for me! they won't stand a chance against my prize fighter!) oh look, i can make jokes. phew.

what i really want is not altogether that complicated. or, in my opinion, too much to expect. i just want a nice boy. and the thing is that he IS a nice boy. why is this all going horribly wrong all of a sudden? is this the real work of parenting? when they grow up and spend time away from us and we can no longer decide exactly the sort of beings that they will be? control is not something i am good with freely giving. i pretty much like to keep it all. crap. this really is the hard part.

letting go. yet hanging on for dear life.

so it goes....

i love lists.

2009-08-06T07:41:00.000-07:00

-i haven't posted any lists lately
-or even jotted many down
-i think this means i haven't actually accomplished very much
-most of my lists motivate me *to do* things
-oh well
-i swim a lot
-and read blogs. i really like dooce.com
-she's funny
-after years of saying the only time i would ever "run" was when chasing a ball was involved, i turned into a runner!
-holla!
-almost...not quite there yet, but i am actually ENJOYING the experience of jogging.
-remember in anchorman they called it Yogging?
-i am on the toilet.
-i think that is funny to point that fact out.
-i also tend to point this out to friends while i am on the phone with them.
-i like good mental pictures.
-giving and receiving.
-i live far too close to my neighbors.
-this concerns me when the redsox are playing poorly and tony shouts extremely loud and embarrassing obscenities.
-mostly at "nancy" drew.
-this list is not really a good list.
-it's like a run on sentencethoughtthing
-with the dashes
-the dashes are what allow me to get away with writing in 'list form'
-my daughter is singing a song about her Love Box that she made for a boy named Liam
-it is not what one might think
-it is a box. with love notes inside: a Love Box.
-i am now talking with remy about muggsy bogues being the same size as me.
-AS ME!
-i really love the NBA. well the idea of it anyway.
-it's definitely changed since i was a wee one.
-once, when i was a kid, i spent a good couple of months sketching Magic Johnson on lined notebook paper. over and over.
-A portrait:it sucked.
-i moved on to sketching a basketball shoe. a kick?
-if shoes are sometimes referred to as "kicks", would a single shoe be called a kick? that's weird.
-i like saying 'nice kicks'
-i also like calling a car a ride or a whip.
-and yelling holla! at silly times.
-remy wants to get married when she is ten, she just informed me.
-clarified: 'i will just MARRY them at 10. i won't like STAY with them or anything.'
-phew.
-wait? she said THEM. plural? so confusing, this girl.
-my mind certainly jumps a lot.
-just remembered the time i was home sick in my apple pj's in 5th grade.
-my mom left for an errand.
-the fire alarm went off (a bug got in there? a spider?)
-it wouldn't stop so i freaked.
-ran around the neighborhood seeking help. in my apple pj's.
-everyone was doing errands.
-errands: such a funny word.
-also, i wasn't really sick that day.
-i thought twice about faking after that.
-oh and there was no fire.
-also no smiles from my dad when he pulled up to see three fire trucks a my house.
-alarms still ALARM me to this day. ALARM. funny.
-what's it called when a word is it's own definition of itself?
-i should really go get the laundry.
-or have another kid.
-they are so darn expensive.
-but well worth it.
-the end, for now.
HOLLA!

gratitude in the shape of gumballs.

2009-07-08T20:58:00.000-07:00

wow. gratitude. it's free!
and holy cow
do i feel it.
in that deep down in the pit of your soul
sort of feeling
as i look around.
really LOOK at things:
the rug: bought at home depot, a hilarious adventure and a TOTAL compromise of each of our personal taste and styles. we settled. and were happy. i should remember that more when vacuuming. but i won't.
the table on top of that rug: noticed at yard sale. we went BACK for it. negotiated. and honestly
were able to spend THREE dollars. we love it. it's perfectly imperfect. in every way. like us.
the card on top of the table, for my birthday: amazingly selected and the inscription, precisely why i always think i have made every right choice.
always.
so so so very grateful.
i AM gratitude.

through tears, i write.

2009-06-09T18:17:00.000-07:00

this is the first day i feel like a real grown up.

i have a neighbor battling with her next door neighbor to be allowed to build
an addition on her tiny house to accommodate her family, which includes a five year old with cystic fibrosis. the energy i have expended expressing my support for her seems to be endless. i will constantly refuel, a million times over, if it means helping these people. some of the *kindest* people i know.

also, my cousin's husband learned today that his 23 year old brilliant, beautiful, healthy sister has a stage four brain tumor. this my friends, is terminal. she just got a new job, a new apartment, a new boyfriend...she was beginning her new life as an adult.

last week, my good friends witnessed a car drop on top of their neighbor (who was working underneath the car) and kill him.

also, last week my mom's best friend received a call that her brother hung himself in the woods after a wonderful day of fishing with his best friend, his ten year old son.

WHAT? holy hell, this shit is REAL? and happening to people i actually KNOW? this sort of pain and suffering seems impalpable. it's like i can feel my heart gaining weight. growing heavier with worry. with compassion. with grief.

i recently contemplated the difference between pain and suffering. and thought perhaps that pain is something inevitable. something we all MUST endure. a natural part of life. albeit, unenjoyable. yet, suffering can be understood as the INability to LET GO of pain. or in other words, to allow pain in, so that it can pass through and leave again...it is not being mindful. it is a lack of acceptance of reality.

right now, i am feeling pain. and i am feeling the suffering of those around me. i want to believe that those who suffer are entitled to that. it seems hard earned and something to hold onto right now.

but more than that, i am terrified. none of these things are happening to ME. just all around me, buzzing about like flies feasting on shit. i am reminded that this is reality.

i just want to focus on my reality.
and live with compassion and love.
and respect the pain and suffering of others.

that's all i can do.

in the meantime, i weep.

finding peace.

2009-06-02T08:26:00.000-07:00

as she pushes through every ounce of fear and
doubt,
she runs.
she runs not away from any particular
thing
or toward anything new
she is simply running
and while she makes these changes in
her physical self
she works to adjusts her mind
in slight but significant ways in order
to judge those in their struggles and journeys,
a bit less.
these changes bring about new awareness
in her spiritual sphere
and she finds new meaning
in being in the company of others.

she can breathe.
she can listen.
she can run.
she can hope.
she can speak.
she can think.
these are things which make her
the best sort of self.

that which she is happy to be.

Boot Camp

2009-05-18T11:30:00.000-07:00

boot camp, day 1:
up at 4:59 am,
a minute prior to the
alarm ringing me awake;
ready.

at my high school track,
we are timed in a half-mile
a constant test performed
(twice as long)
15 years ago....I ran with ease:
back then.

Today, I struggled with
my body
wanting it to move
faster and feeling
the weight of the world
or perhaps just the weight
of being out of shape.

I will push through this
I will be strong again
I will be healthy
I will drive through the pain
I will conquer the fear of failure
I will fight the exhaustion

I am reuniting my mind
and body and it is exciting.
The two have not been working
together and it is a necessary
step toward living a more
whole authentic life.

I will be proud of myself.
6 more weeks. Smile.

not again.

2009-05-13T07:24:00.000-07:00

back to that cognitive dissonance thing again....

one minute sitting fully mindful in a quaint, yet exquisite playhouse in
a remote cape cod town i find myself
harvesting fields of emotion and inspiration
for poems and writings and a life
lived authentically.
and my chest reverberates with the power of this music,
while perfect tiny tears spring to the corners of my eyes,
and i must force myself to take a deep breath, or i will
forget as this place seems to hold it for me
as does the energy of these interesting people
around me,
that i can see now in fact, are me.

the next morning, i am in a suburban preschool drop off line
talking about banal minutia and chaperoning field trips
and complaining about nothingness
and fully investing
myself into the drivel that fuels these people's lives,
and i see now:
my life as well.
it feels all sorts of colors of uncomfortable.
and yet, easy.
and i want to shake these people and tell
them to open their eyes, to see bigger, to think deeper,
to walker further! just LIVE LOUDER.
but i don't.
instead i say to myself.

and then i take a walk.

the chatter in my brain continues to alternate between:

scheduling in a birthday party, various practices,
a spelling pre-test
and 'what she said about so and so'

and writing a serious piece of work
taking an off the beaten path road trip with the children
and reading more inspiring prose
campaigning for change

it is a struggle of selves,
of uniting that which makes me whole
not feeling a falseness anywhere,
and yet always being kind everywhere.

i wish to be more positive in my tone
and in my intention, always.

to me that is a logical first step.
from that, all else will flow.

and in doing so,
whatever the setting,
whatever the subject,
i shall be free, always fully me.

whoever that might be?

suffering as.

2009-05-07T19:39:00.000-07:00

i longed to fast forward through this
day
to skip experiencing suffering of any kind
yours
mine
ours
and now
after that was not ever a choice
and walking each step through this
painful path
we have chosen
and shedding each careful tear
with deep aching inside of a
now bigger heart,
i know.
i know that suffering is a gift of its
own.
it allows us the opportunity to
grow in an uncomfortable new way
to learn
to reflect
to move on
to cherish
and to love
again.
it brings power in it's ability to
change us forever.
suffering is real
it must not be skipped over
it's indelible mark
bleeds and rips through us
but in doing so
makes us who we are.
more.
every moment.
we must understand this
and accept this.

For Chacha.

2009-05-07T12:59:00.000-07:00

the clickety click click sound
of your nails on the hardwood
still echoes on the floor you will
no longer pace
and sobs roll forth thinking of
all of the things we will miss...
and
i giggle when i think of your first visit with us
how we knew your last home was
carpeted:
the sliding and slipping as if the floor
was covered in slime
and
of course, as if it wasn't going to be
hard enough on you,
your first real night with us
it rained. thundered too:
your biggest fear.
you were wet
you were scared
you were disoriented
and new
and now you are gone
and in the truest of circles
i will remember you the same
as you came:
wet
scared
and asking for help
a different kind
and
now we *know* that
the massive tumor that multiplied inside of you
forced you to leave the comfort of our home
for three cool rainy spring days in order for you
to TELL us and we begged for you
to tell us something else
we pleaded that you just 'come out of it'
but no, you knew.
it was time.
and
when i finally knew too, you knew that.
and you gave me love to help me face
those next steps.
today you were so grateful
so graceful
so sweet
so loving
and kind
you wanted me to remember that
about you and i promise, i will
your tail wagging
your ears
perked
your pleasing smile
and that was how we chose to remember you
so please forgive us for not choosing to stay
to watch all of that good intention slowly slip
out of you, we are simply not willing
to see you any other way. certainly not
void of your most perfect spirit.
and
i also would like to thank you for being
my first dog.
you will never know the gift
you have given me, all that you have taught me
about myself.
the doggie footprint imprinted on my heart
is a forever kind, a mark of love.
a new kind, and i
thank you, chacha marie.
rest in peace.

Connection

2009-03-30T09:52:00.000-07:00

Freeing oneself from desires
getting to the core of the self
only to find there is no such thing
and looking back outward
actually able to *see* the
relationships as webs slung
in all directions, a beautiful mess
of connection and hope and ultimacy
and this is who i am-ness.

Perception marries perspective and
give birth to total awareness.
It is my life that i live. mine.
yet, it would be value-less without
the lives of all others.

They nourish me, and I them.
We shall give back and forth forever
giving life ultimate meaning and purpose
and it is in this sense,
that the true self as anything separate
and apart from all else,
becomes a laughable concept.

Laugh! We are all alive:
Together.

verge of spring haiku

2009-03-19T05:28:00.000-07:00

springtime comes on slow
thawing out and growing new
all of us, the same.

winter woes wafting away...

2009-03-07T10:24:00.000-08:00

yes, i am merely sitting on the couch. that's all. yet, the window is open. and i hear things outside. i hear the airplanes overhead in the distance. i hear the loud unstable rumble of the neighbor's truck pass by the house. i hear a child call, "throw it to ME. throw it to ME!". i hear footsteps. louder. wet with mud and melting snow. then they pass by quickly. a dog walker. of course. and oh my goodness, this is GLORIOUS.

i took a walk this morning with my daughter and a friend. we met halfway and then off we went. simply following wherever our FEET took us. and it was brisk. and it was thoughtful chatter. and it was perfect. it was joyful. and it was zen. this brings about a feeling of being connected to a neighborhood. a person. a group of people. a family.

this deep sense of connection to self is satisfying to the soul.

bring on the sunshine.

namaste.

struggle

2009-02-19T04:41:00.000-08:00

A spirit laded with inspiration has been
muddied
and the squelch and squish of
trying to rise up
is as painful to hear as it is to watch

she who is moved daily with compassion
and through the wonder of simplicity
and truth, is lost.

a cultural wound has sought her
out and managed to nick her,
band-aids are just that:
a temporary disguise
altogether unwise
to the truth of the matter

things are not okay
but today truly IS another day
and for the sake of the children
joy is the only way.

strung out

2009-02-11T07:25:00.000-08:00

i think of ee cummings and i wonder
about the string of thoughts that as would
twine
connect me to the divine
in myself

and unfolding myself as this part
is unexpected but of interest as i can see now
there is
more

reluctantly the thought of a destiny
propels the mind to flip to the last page

the ending

but it is this final breath
that gives meaning and purpose to

the stuffy nose of today.

new winter haiku

2009-02-04T07:50:00.000-08:00

tree arm dressed in white
strong and forgiving of snow
we can all learn peace

things that don't make sense to me:

2009-02-04T07:06:00.000-08:00

things that don't make sense to me:

how i can sit outside in a snowstorm and just smile from the inside out at the kid's SHEER GLEE just playing in the snow. They are the truest illustration of "being in the moment". Moreover, I can even just lay in a snowbank for minutes on end and allow snowflakes to flutter carelessly from the vast sky, only to land on my glove, where I simply MARVEL at each of the unique designs that snowflakes can show off! Which then allows me to contemplate *impermanence* when I watch each one melt away...ONLY to then, an hour later, *bitch and complain* about all the shoveling. and snow tracked through the house. and wetness on the bottom of my pants. Grrr. Stay in the moment, mama. Be happy!

so it is confusing that we seem to have a failing economy and parents in town all talk about "how tight times are" and "budget issues" and then everywhere i look, another family is taking off to disney for a week. or buying a new car. or dressing their newborns in baby uggs. i don't get it.

i don't understand how the two and half hours of preschool can accomplish anything with the children, seeing that i get NOTHING accomplished in that time. weird.

i don't understand why big business and banks are getting bailed out of their crisis and debt. while i wallow in panic about how to dig out of this hole. i really just don't get it.

i DO get that i will continue to give give give. all of me. and the universe WILL repay me. somehow.

i just have to believe that THAT makes sense.

oath.

2009-01-29T05:31:00.000-08:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
Your playing small doesn't serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory ... that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
- Marianne Williamson

Walking through quaking fear of being remarkable
i realize now, i owe it to *myself* as well as my relationships
to actualize my truest self.
i shall not live to make others feel comfortable with themselves
but by being the most comfortable with ME by being ME
in all facets.
right now, i am not serving others as i have in the past and this
does not please me, or help me feel most myself.
i can do more.
i will do more.
i will be the person i want to be.
i will be remarkable.
this is an oath to myself. no one else.

inaguration of a lifetime....

2009-01-20T16:35:00.001-08:00

today my mind is all over the place, like a map of my life is unfolded flat before me. and i am perusing the pushpins of my all my social journeying. i think about my participation in the youth group called Future Problem Solvers. i think about my volunteer work in high school. i think about my year of Americorps service. i think about all the dialogue shared with fellow public service majors in college. i think about the work i did with a group home filled with essentially homeless girls. i think about the peace rally we attended with our very own children. i think about today. i think about my path and my part. i think about my voice and my power. i think about our country. splendid in it's potential. provable as is evidenced by this election. and what's *wrong* with being inspired? what's *wrong* with being moved into action? what's *wrong* with believing that a group CAN be led authentically into being better? into positive social change? nothing is wrong with that. nothing at all. barack h. obama, you are blissfully burdened with a heavy responsibility inciting all this excitement in our country. yet i think only someone *capable* of following through could raise all this hope. hope is good. nothing false about hope. yes, we can. change the world.

Fibers of love.

2009-01-14T05:25:00.000-08:00

Ezra. i love this boy with every fiber of my being. in fact, at this point, i believe he IS the fiber of my being. each day i feel fortunate enough to simply BE in his presence. to listen to his amazing mind. to get to volunteer in his class where they clamor and compete "Ezra! Ezra!" to talk to him. He is a very special boy. I am biased of course, but I believe there is something extra there. I just cannot wait to see how he shares that with the world one day. Last night, at 1:40 in the morning I awoke to him standing next to my bed. He had on his oversized graphic t-shirt. It had a rocking chair on it. In heavy metal font below it reads "I ROCK". Haha. The humor was not lost on him, and he adores this shirt. He had on his monster pj bottoms and the saddest little face I have seen in a long time. It took me asking a few times to hear the unusually small voice tell me that he had "thrown up". OH no. Then I realized we had put the kids to bed *together* in Remy's large bed. Oh no. He followed me down, without words. He stood by and watched me wrestle the layers of vomit COVERED sheets off the bed, while still keeping Remy asleep there. It was gross, I was tired, and sad. These things are never fun. And then I heard him behind me, "Let me guess, Mom. You are really mad at me." WHAT? Oh good lord. Have I *ever* told him I was "really mad at him"??? Not that I can recall...But my child. My child. Darlin. How in the WORLD could I EVER be mad at him right now? I told him just that. Finished ripping the sheets off, curling them in a ball near the basement stairs to deal with later, and took him to bed with me. I cuddled him, and realized, how fragile we ALL are. Inside and out, and every which way. Even in his moment of phsyical weakness he was concerned about my emotions. New fibers of my love for him were sewn in last night. He is stitched in tighter, every day.

archives!

2009-01-14T05:03:00.000-08:00

an old one, dug out from the vault. well, really kodakgallery. i love how remy looks the same age as ezra, if not older. it makes me realize that 2 and half years apart really is close. i love that.

my heart is a poem.

2009-01-12T06:28:00.000-08:00

my heart is a poem.

tragedy defines itself, in words of a life lost
and a future put to sleep.
children with no father
parents with no son
a sister with no brother
a wife with no husband

it's interesting how an
absence can cause a
such intense swelling, fullness.

pain thick and heavy.

it is confusing and sobering.

the disturbance in sleep
in focus
all of it seeps into a powerless
sigh that wants desperately
to make something beautiful
out of this

but there is only a putrid
glare
everywhere.

authentic sadness.

2009-01-06T12:53:00.000-08:00

the shock is thick
i clear my throat as
choking on the words seems
quite plausible:
he died.
the words that really,
should not be all
that surprising, as in:
it will happen to all of us.
sometime.
it's just that when it does,
and when the news is told to us,
the world closes in tight,
suffocating us
and for a moment everything stops
and it is only that person whom we
can think of, their final exit
and it's as if they, themselves might be gripping
you tightly around the shoulders,
supporting your weight, as you
see them off. they hold you,
in case the awe of it all, may be just too much.
it is the only sure thing we know of in this
world.
that we MUST leave it.
and we fall to pieces
just the same.
rip brandon.

my new church=me.

2009-01-05T08:03:00.000-08:00

i recently started attending the northshore unitarian univeralist church (nsuu.org) and i pretty much adore it. it is everything i believe and would want my children exposed to. everyone there is so truly authentic and kind. and tolerant and compassionate.

words not heard in church: sin. worship. lord. christ. salvation. damned. pray. hell. heaven. jesus christ.

but the best part is, many people there may believe in jesus and many of those words. and that's OKAY. but it's not dogma. it's a liberal place. where people can BE together in community and explore our OWN spiritual truths.

the sermon about zen buddhism yesterday was amazing. rev. freida articulated SO much of who i am, and then when one thing she said would lend itself to a thought or question in my mind, she'd address it! in the next breath! she is a gifted writer and thinker. and being in her presence. in the presence of ALL of those people, i feel myself at such peace. calm.

our kids are at home there. and that was instantaneous.

we are all better (already) for joining this blessed community. yay.

zen moments

2009-01-03T19:14:00.000-08:00

this is my family. these are the only glimpse i have into this *seemingly* fun adventure. i was home, watching the other girls. i can still appreciate all of this. and what i really really like is that the expressions they wear on their faces are much like the hats they wear on their heads. they are simply THERE. there is nothing else at all going on. just that moment. just those emotions. just those grins. those eyes. each breath. one after. the. next. pure and utter zen. perfect.

captured in time. just right.

2009-01-02T09:32:00.000-08:00

perfection
zen
melodies
smiles
peace

what, what

2009-01-02T09:24:00.000-08:00

i think it's pretty remarkable that this was 6 months ago. it feels like yesterday. is this how the rest of my life is going to go? like my eyes blink and *these two* will be taking THEIR kids on vacation? no. it will not. i will make sure to slow it down. to be in the moment. and even more than being in it. i will take some time like this, to RECALL those moments. assigning even more meaning to these memories...so they will never be taken for granted. it's easy, especially in our cultural climate, to always being thinking toward the future. to think of what next. what we NEED next. things. stuff. trips. appliances. cars. but i think really, all i need is them. tony. ezra. remy. and time with them. we have slowed down quite a bit lately, and really tried to just *be* together. lots of family movie nights. lots. and sleeping in together. and taking walks. together. i want us to not get distracted by *stuff*. stuff gets broken. gets lots. old. replaced. relationships, even in death, are forever. making the most of mine, now.

wrapped up with a bow.

2009-01-02T04:21:00.000-08:00

waking up before the rest of them, i brew the coffee, fold the quilt, organize clutter. i greet remy's new "big girl doll" with a smile and then think of her: a big girl in her own right. asleep in *my* bed still, with her daddy. safe. i recall hearing her fear a flight away from her. a gasp perhaps, a bellow, something that jarred me awake. sitting up waiting, it took only moments to hear her frantic pitter patter. she was coming. she was frightened. panting she swatted at each step with her tiny little hands as she climbed the steps, determined. she scurried into my awaiting embrace and when i asked her what was wrong, she kept it simple: bad dream. i pressed, curious, and asked. "what was it about?" she lowered her head to her chin and nestled in closer to me, "i don't want to tell you." and that was that. her vulnerablility only goes so deep. such as with her, always. it makes me think of how both remy and her brother, ezra are growing into their own people. it makes me think of their personalities, budding and new. each day. they reveal something about who they are. authentically *them*. i remind myself NOT to do what my mother and others have done with me, my family. i will not box them in. i will not, in an proud effort to "have them figured out" ever 'tell them' who they are. or expect that they need to KNOW that just yet. i will resist the urge to ask them "what they want to be when they grow up" in a way that suggests that this MUST be decided now. never. i want to continue to unravel them, each their own rolls of ribbon, beautiful and continous. it is not necessary for them to ever dress themselves up with a bow. real childhood, real people are messy. on the inside.

so...stop tryin in 2009

2008-12-31T14:49:00.000-08:00

i have officially lost my napping mojo.

#1 college napper ever, is out of the game. totally.

being kidless, i jumped at the chance to rest up and jumped into cozy flannel sheets...so psyched i'd be able to 'make it' til midnight to ring in the year...seeing as 2008 was..um...not so great.

spent the better part of the day *trying* to nap.
really. just trying. and trying. and trying.

foolishness. i suppose laying here watching shitty tv (kim kardashian's large ass is disporportionate to her infinitely teensy amount of personality) and reading mama blogs (that bring in half a million dollars a year BLOGGING....read:envious) can still be considered: resting.

resting + deeply desiring sleep + shitty forms of media = finally *now* yawning and a stiff neck.

time to get up and shower for dinner.

so be it.

40 before 40

2008-12-31T08:44:00.000-08:00

so i am 31. (i think. never so much good at remembering if i am the age i AM or the one i am GOING to be soon. already.)

anyway, i am copying some other shmoe's idea of creating a list of 40 things i would like to do before 40. of course, my list will involve *my* own creative endeavors. okay, really, some of them are pretty silly. and are simply put ON the list, so they can be quickly crossed off. i like crossing things off lists. it's true. sometimes, i make a daily "to do" list simply so i can cross things off. it brings great glee.

like for example, if i have already showered, i will write: shower. then triumphantly cross it off. duh, right? anyway i do it. i also put things like: eat. or: clean up from eating. things that just happen on their own. yet doing this, SOMEDAYS brings such a feeling of accomplishment. it's hard to feel inspired some days...and crossing off silly things makes me feel better that the slightly more challenging tasks such as: fold laundry or: pay bills...might not get done. i think to myself, "phew. at least i pooped today and got those shoes picked up" ...that's how banal my lists can be.

SO.

this sort of a list (as serious as it is to me) WILL have stupid things on it. so i will feel not so bad when forty stares me down and i look at the list and realize: shit, i didn't do anything!

i started it on paper. but lost it, already. oh well. it will come back to me, if they are things truly worth accomplishing, right? here goes...

1. make list of 40 before 40.
2. learn how to do that thing on the computer where a word or sentence looks like it's crossed out.
3. jump off a bridge.
4. go ice skating with kids.
5. go to block island.
6. attend a movie alone.
7. become a foster parent.
8. take the kids to washington, dc.
9. take the kids on a long train journey.
10. come up with a new recipe for and *make* a fabulous veggie lasagna
11. change the baked mac and cheese recipe to be better
12. begin service work
13. join church. uu?
14. listen more.
15. write MORE, than ever before.
16. purchase a volvo wagon.
17. hike one of the good mountains in new hampshire.
18. visit brother in law in oregon.
19. turn off the tv for an entire week.
20. read: prayer for owen meany
21. read: on the road
22. actively help to get bike trail constructed in town
23. learn to knit, and actually MAKE something. nice.
24. attempt to publish something
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
37.
38.
39.
40.

peptalk

2008-11-12T07:39:00.000-08:00

the well of compassion is threatened
weathering, stripping, dwindling
reserves
cause panic, stress, anger

she must refocus
or face the loss of
true self

this
is not something
she is willing to give up

not without a fight

the thing is this is a
battle
within

she must accept
reality
breathe
center

move on

challenge is okay
change is good
compassion is urgently

in need

hang tight.

2008-11-10T09:19:00.000-08:00

money does not grow on trees
and yet it seems it would have branches
long like fingers
clawing at her chest scratching debt
on her chest
her heart
her breath
she loses
each time she hears the word:
overdrawn

how to scrape oneself onto
level ground
it seems like drowning is
one breath away

and yet she must breathe
deep
into the chasm of what is
real
what matters
withdraw from that core
of love and substance

and know that life will
go on
things will be okay

making peace with
roots of despair
until calm spreads
from her toes
to her hair

her inner quiet
is all she has
she must not let
the wind of change
pull it away from her...

times are a changin...

2008-11-05T08:04:00.000-08:00

tears spring from tight eyes
that share shock and hope, equally.
we have done this.
and after feeling so deeply SHAMEful of my country
for close to a decade, my heart swells.
pride.

this is the fabric of our people.
our character as a country is stitched with
diversity and therein lies its true strength.
we are remarkable.
suddenly, it seems we believe that.

it is the day after we elected barack obama.
we TRULY elected him.
a full laundry basket stares at me waiting for
me to tend to it. perhaps, another day.

today is HISTORYDAY.

i cannot pull myself away from the videos
the people in roxbury, chicago, wherever.
CRYING.
i CRY with them. here at my laptop.
the invisible thread that joins us all, as americans
is delicate and yet keeps us intwined, united.

i cry for the pain our country has endured
for too long.
for the promise that equality is REAL,
not just an ideal we pretend to applaud.
we did this? yes we did.

i cry for my children,
who can grow up in a country that
no longer makes me nauseous with horror.
i cannot stop crying today. and that is okay,
i think it's grief on a raw level.

i am mourning the loss of illusion.
we have reality now, we have to make it ours.

i will not stop this flow of emotion within myself
i admit it surprises me somewhat,
as i never realized how tightly guarded
i had grown over time. that's okay.

i exhale for the first time in a long while,
realizing only now how fierce
i was holding my breath.
for two long administrations.

change. social change.
is possible.
i do believe that.
it took one strong man, to remind me.

i am very proud.
let's do this.

bleck

2008-11-02T17:54:00.000-08:00

note the color of my words: it's pretty much the vibe 'round here. tony throws up. and poops liquid. repeatedly. i have head cold that renders me unable to put any of this any better than that. gag, sorry. i am simply toast at this point. and with this cold i have shattering anything resembling an immune system, i will probably be eating only toast. very soon. once the husband and i trade tricks. and that bug befalls me. befalls? what? into tissue. picture me tossing said snot rag to the floor. white little pillows of nastiness create an almost SNOW like surface around the bed...ahhhh...i drift off for a second imagining a clean room and a full clear breath. and winter snowball fights. but then i cough, wheeze and honk again and realize, chances are...THIS is more likely how i will be feeling MOST of the next socalled season. winter: the anti-season.

things that flap.

2008-10-29T16:36:00.000-07:00

i want to write something coherent yet cannot escape the feeling that i have so many things swirling around my brain like cilia in an amoeba. hmmm. why do i remember cilia? and amoebas for that matter?

when in reality it embarrasses me that i have retained SO little of the things i learned in school. elementary. middle. high. even college. my mind resembles a strainer. i guess there are some huge (OBVIOUS) chunks of material that accidentally remained lodged in there, but the rest is plain irretrievable. sad, really. especially, considering all the labels that were affixed to me throughout my youth. "talented and gifted". "advanced". "smart". nope. not really. they were stamps i used to feed an ego that i am spending most of my adulthood trying to escape. no mind. no self. no i.

point is, i was just indoctrinated with stupid crap.

and now, i fear i am doing the same things with my kids. but i allow myself to pretend i am powerless to change it. too poor for a "cool school". too lazy to "unschool". so what do i do? i swallow a huge spoonful of denial every day when my son opens his folder from school and i see stupid crap spilling out. mocking me and my delusions. THEN, i talk OVER all of it. i tell him columbus day is a scam. i tell him that grades are not important even though he is only in first grade and not eligible for a real grading system yet anyway.

but then i go and i confuse myself again. i buck up and join PAC under the guise of introducing a "recycling" program into the school (there is pathetically LITTLE green practices taking place). Of course, then the PAC meeting rolls around...i prepare my "update" (in fact proud of my work on the project) but then realize that much of the meeting will be spent discussing MCAS (standarized) test scores of the school, and i BAIL on the meeting.

I don't want to look a MAJOR foe like that in the face tonight. The one real thing that could force me to pull my kids permanently from public school. and i just want to live in lalaland a little bit longer and pretend these major things aren't really a problem. When in two years, I have to decide: do I take on the school system? Not allow him to take them? Give in (because I know my son will fly through it?)...UGH.

Instead I will push "pause" on that issue. For now. While the cilia flap around alive. and well.

Lessons on impermanence

2008-10-27T06:45:00.001-07:00

The notion that parents who stare at (to the point of nearly swallowing) their babies while they sleep, ever STOP doing this, is ludicrous. Here i am, with my almost SEVEN year old (baby)boy. He is the same to me as he was sleeping on my chest 6 years ago. Only moreso. He is perfect to me. Each day he grows in his authentic ability to just BE himself, and I relish this. His freckles, though plentiful and speckled oh so perfectly across his face, are massively outnumbered by the ways in which I love him. He breathes easily in his sleep and with each exhale I long to inhale him. To keep him inside me forever. As this. As a child. Away from the potential for any harm. The dangers of this world that will threaten to steal him. Not from me, but from himself.

My mind wanders to the show, Intervention, with the drug addicted young adults. I watch with desperation and this feeling that it HAS to end okay. With the individual BEATING it. And it often doesn't and I weep. The interviews with the mothers never fail to shatter my heart. I end the show shackled emotionally with fear that this COULD be my child one day.

But for now, I will sit with my little (Man)boy and watch. His eyelashes long are like stories that he has to share. His breath like that which shall experience awe, the kind that takes the breath away. But just for that moment. It is all I can do. All I can hope for.

Please.

2008-10-16T05:36:00.000-07:00

quick rant. my husband reads from a current article about all the cuts governor patrick is about to make...about 1,000 state jobs: gone. then, it details further all the social service agencies that will be slashed and hacked at, in attempt to "fix the budget"...

The article states:

"The reductions will be spread across almost all sectors of state government, biting deeply into state university campuses and community colleges, the state's health insurance programs, and dozens of social service programs - from assistance for at-risk teens to services for the mentally ill and the elderly." - Boston.com

I just don't understand why THESE groups are the ones that get to be considered "non-essential"...At risk and poor teens who NEED community colleges get overlooked. Mentally ill are no longer advocated for, or supported- HOMELESSNESS? Hello? Even the blind are getting crapped on. It's just insane. My husband works for another "non essential" youth program which will undoubtedly face devastating cuts. It makes me wonder how they think that these programs which parents and children alike all contribute to "saving their lives" become the first to go...Don't they see the connections between removing support for HUMAN programs, and the inevitable SOCIAL consequences? The crime, the drug use, the homelessness, the illiteracy...on and on. These things WILL happen if we let PEOPLE down.

Tony pointed out, being in this profession that they are one of the only sectors without union representation. Oh right. Oh yah, but...Duh. Of course they don't have an organized union to work on their behalf, because they are TOO busy out HELPING others who are in DIRE need of help. They don't worry about themselves, which makes them true servants to others. But then the government faced with the task of chopping budgets sees them as defenseless unlike all the other sectors so heavily guarded by their unions and chops at them, first. So so sad.

I just needed to rant. Because I have a husband working in a field that I also hold a degree in, and hope to get back into very soon and I just feel as though it's SAD how little people respect those that do SELFLESS work. And do it with passion and care. And love. How many people LOVE what they do? Lots of those people in cubicles with jobs nice and safe right now, do NOT love what they do. They are all working for the weekend, so to speak, but not us. We love this work. The line between job, and other life, blur because it's just LIKE THAT. It's all good. We are whole for the choices we make professionally.

That is always threatened, in our culture. We must fight back. We must fight with the same love and compassion as we work. Always.

adventures in rejection.

2008-08-16T06:39:00.000-07:00

so it is.

my child has a modeling contract. one he desired, thus pursued, and in the end, GOT.

whoop dee frickin DOO.

he has not booked ONE single job.

poor guy.

one time his sister tagged along with him on an open call where tons and tons of kids just have their photo taken real quick so it's put into a database for Hasbro and when they need a kid, they have them all there to choose from.

she booked a job. a baby alive doll box cover. she should appear on the toy in the next year. just like that.

to be fair, he hasn't had ALL that many auditions/opportunities in the 7 or so months since he started, maybe 7? But still...

I just feel bad for the little guy, who clearly REALLY thinks this is a good avenue for him and yet just doesn't seem to be selected...the rejection is heavy. I can handle it (sort of...although, i have to admit, i didn't face TOO much of it as a kid- i really only went out for things i was sure i was going to GET...) but how much more can he?

Or does he even know? I do try to shield him from the pain of NOT being chosen. I try and NOT bring it up. Which is easy, since it is simply a LACK of a phone call. It's simply this ABSENCE of anything happening that I must fill in with distraction and love and all that is the REST of ezra. He is so much more than these chances to be famous. I think he knows that. Which is why he keeps smiling and going on out for these auditions like he's been doing it forever...and he has. Only it's the audition part he's been doing forever. Maybe soon, he'll graduate to the actual bookings.

We'll have to see. Keep yer head up bud.

reminders during sad times...

2008-08-11T16:00:00.001-07:00

walking in a thawing manner
not quite numb to it all
not quite at ease either
all of a sudden the world seems
dangerous and unfair and cruel

the inspiration has elapsed like
the last breaths of two local teens
both connected to me
but aren't we all?

we are all limbs of one another
and suffering extends from toe-tips
to hair's ends like wits

i pose as vulnerable and
i move like scared

and i dig deep to the buddha within
and find that
the dharma of these lessons
swaddles me and understands
all pain and suffering is transient

albeit always real

we must embody compassion
or else the world will die too.

just keep finding these old gems...

2008-07-28T16:35:00.000-07:00

i call it: winged harry potter (hairy potter?)

truth

2008-07-28T16:34:00.000-07:00

taken almost one year ago. my how she's grown. someone, please make it stop...

Summer. As it should be...

2008-07-28T10:56:00.000-07:00

This is joy. In purest form. Only THIS moment, matters. Always.

love list

2008-07-28T10:33:00.000-07:00

i love going away (like i did this weekend) without my kids and how their voices sound when i call them from anywhere "away"...they sound small and young and different and new.
i love coming home to eyes that light up at the first sight of me and that remember me in a whole new way.
i love seeing THEM in a brand new way.
i love the discussion of our separate times.
i love making it all disappear in our togetherness.
i love that i can still cuddle them both to sleep.
i love that my children are healthy and strong. i feel grateful for this EVERY day.
i love that i CAN be a BETTER mom, each and every day. and that i work to do so.
i love that being a mom simply means BEING.
i love making lists about my kids. and life. and just love, in general.

So, you wanna be a FOSTER parent?

2008-07-19T06:25:00.000-07:00

Um. Yes, please.

It's really all I've ever wanted. Since the time I was a child myself and I witnessed my aunt and uncle foster many MANY children, first hand. They were amazing. The way they absorbed these children into their families, so TEMPRORARILY at times, yet with such loving compassion and positive enthusiasm for their lives. They gave them hope, and helped guide each small child through as many challenges as they could. Of course, it was not always rainbows and butterflies and "Aren't we saints, look at the good we are doing!". Often they saw the horrible realities of life, and fully experienced their OWN limitations as people and a family. That they could NOT change everything. Or everyone. Or sometimes, ANYTHING. But they pursued with compassion always and their journey ended, (or perhaps just began) with the adoption of one special little girl, my cousin Maddie. What a JOY she has been in all of our lives and I cannot IMAGINE life without her.

For all of this and more, I have ALWAYS wanted, with everything in my being to DO this work. I worked for The Key Program in Rhode Island directly after college and met many young women who had been in various "placements" in their lives (some being foster) and heard them talk about how cruel some of them were, even abusive. It was then, that it was solidified for me that I would DO foster care. I HAD DO. THIS WORK NEEDS ME. I WANT TO. I will....But when?

Well I have to say...it seems after a woman has one child, she is perpetually asked, "Will you have more?" Then even after two, "Are you all done?"...And people truly feel it is their job to tell you their thoughts on YOUR situation. Which is fine. It IS nice to consider different perspectives...especially when you're like me and you really don't KNOW how many biological children makes sense for YOUR family. It's nice to hear the pros and cons and things I might not have thought about. BUT, my response to all these people for some reason always involves my confession that I WANT TO BE A FOSTER PARENT. I explain why and whatnot and finish with..."So my fear is if I have too many biological children, I will convince myself I should NOT have foster children too." This usually gets people to realize the world is bigger than ourselves. I want to always remember to see it that way. And to teach my children these lessons as well.

So now, we have been flipping over and over like a pancake that won't cook, the idea of expanding from our two children to three. Biologically. We have discussed it a lot and cannot seem to come to the place where it just "feels right" to go forward and have another. Not yet at least. So we have let the topic fall away, AGAIN. And yet, during these months of "thinking it over" I have also retreated inward (when I have a few free moments in my brain) and have TRULY tried to dig deep and center. I am trying to uncover my passions. When this current childcare gig is up (which I honestly sincerely LOVE doing, but DO want to see and end to in the next few years...) I want to return to ME. Career-wise. I KNOW that it involves social services. It has to. When I mull over fun NEW ideas (a mama magazine, poetry writing, children's book authoring, opening a business etc), as unique and novel as they all are, none of them create a bubble of rising excitement in me. (I like to think of that as a sign or symptom of PASSION).

So I move on from those ideas, but now, like always I have arrived back at foster care. I am staring right at it. I cannot avoid it, nor do I want to push it into the ambiguous future ANYmore.

I have always said, "Someday, I want to be a foster parent..." having NO idea when that day would be. Well, something inside me, tells me. It's NOW. It IS what I feel is RIGHT. RIGHT NOW. Finally. I am open and ready. WOO HOO!

Peter Pan complex

2008-07-17T18:14:00.001-07:00

Bedtime.

We talk for a LONG time, he and i. hard to believe he's closer to a decade-old than to the baby that slept on my chest each night. It's especially hard since he's been having a Peter Pan complex lately. Any time the topic of "how big" he's getting or "when he's a grown up" arises, he verges on tears, and declares he doesn't WANT to growup. Then ACTUAL tears follow these assertions because HE KNOWS he has to. He understands that's not something he CAN choose...AWFUL. I WOULD LOVE TO KEEP YOU YOUNG FOREVER TOO, LITTLE BUDDY!

Then, we settle down and start to cuddle all snug ready to close our eyes and imagine. Our "garden" meditation (from our children's book of meditations, his favorite) is the old standby for visualization. Tonight I tell him I am changing my garden to be the location of our summer vacation rental cottage instead. I just can't wait to get back there...

He tells me he's not doing a garden at all tonight. Rather, he's going to imagine he's chasing a giant, running CHEESE! Who is hugging his best buddy, Bacon. And Bacon is hugging HIS best buddy TUNA!

He giggles and rolls over. Peter Pan is alive and well!

oh just a day...

2008-06-24T17:24:00.001-07:00

things that occurred today, for fun:

-pooped BEFORE morning coffee, causing me to question whether or not to even bother to DRINK any coffee...conundrum
-arrived at tennis lessons early
-drop entire icey water bottle under car
-played for a while
-tennis lessons begin
-other 3 children fight over "communal" snack.
-fight continues, louder and shriekier.
-communal snack flies into air. gonezo.
-two of three girls fight for my lap while i TRY to discuss fave show, intervention with friend, during tennis
-tennis concludes
-off for a "quick swim" at my parent's pool
-arrive, enter...open a bottle of water, have sip
-look out door, realize left van slider door open
-attempt to go outside to shut it, fall down three wooden steps
-immediately examine arm: forearm appears to have grown a second elbow.
-ponder the possibility of BONE sticking out?
-panic under INTENSE amount of pain i am suddenly struggling with
-parents arrive
-husband arrives
-phone calls made
-ER advised
-several hours later, i leave with a prescription for conjunctivitis.
-no joke
-i do realize that pinkeye is a much gross, and cuter way to describe ailment.
-cousin calls to say her dad (my uncle) is on way to (same) ER for constant vomitting/diahhrea
-kids dress up in wrist brace and sling
-try to leave parents but son's modeling agency calls with audition for part in feature film
-return to let dog out that has been cooped up all day.
-refuses to exit house due to rain.
-dog is limping and bumps head into door. just great.
-same cousin texts saying her mysterious two week nausea could be TUMOR on ovary. lord.
-open thank you card from cousin whose dad just passed. BAWL eyes out.
-i was her ROCK through all of it. who? me?
-attempt to clean children in bath.
-0ne has yearly physical tomorrow.
-the other a chance to be in a movie.
-clip fingernails.
-bang arm three thousand times.

then magically the red sox are on...and all is okay.

interesting.

2008-06-12T17:17:00.000-07:00

so. while typing previous post, remy comes to the stairs calling my name. i immediately do the annoying "shhhh" as miss charlotte is up here too (in the other room napping)...so she plops her butt on the stairs below me as i type, and inevitably, block her out. this is what i hear:

me: type type type

her: rablbelbhoeoe SCISSORS slepe cuz then CUT boto into rabble rablle the ROBOT adnthow MOMMY mubmelble SO COOL.

me: type type type (i am SO adept at ignoring my children when i want to)

her: did you HEAR ME or do i have to REPEAT MYSELF? MOMMY? HELLO?

okay. blog over. time to do more. notice less.

the things they have learned...so proud

2008-06-12T10:57:00.000-07:00

my kids are sweaty and thirsty walking into dance class, so we dart into the little newpaper store nearby (which in my entire life LIVING in this town, i have YET to ever be inside- weird right?)...anyway, there was only a vending/soda machine. overflowing with cruddy choices. eh, whatever. the battle against dehydration is a never-ending fight. we must stand up to it fearlessly, with WHATEVER resources available...i digress; they both choose ginger ale. then this happens:

me: you BOTH want ginger ale? then why don't you just SPLIT a can?

remy*: i do NOT want to SHARE a can with him...(insert sassy head bob here)...i am NOT drinking his backwash..."

ezra**: yah, i am NOT drinkin HER backwash EITHER...

me: alrighty then. (insert shocked face here-who are these children?)

**age 6- learns about 'backwash' and teaches concept to younger sister
*age 4- applies learned material in context with extra sass for good flavor

Is is Friday?

2008-05-08T14:16:00.000-07:00

Ezra does (or says?) something profoundly stupid. Me, deliriously fed up and tired from late night of softball/post game drinking responds:

Me: Wow, Ezra that was not so bright. Sometimes, I wonder how you can be SO NOT BRIGHT. (horrible right? horrible things I say when tired, and overworked).

Ezra: I think you are NOT BRIGHT TOO!

Me: Oh yah? I am so bright...um...I am as a bright as a shooting star (which I later think are really sort of faded, if anything at all...thus, illustrating HIS point...jeesh)...

Ezra (getting more angry): NO! YOU ARE AS DARK AS A POOP COMING OUT OF YOUR BUTT!"

Me: Wow. Now that was clever. Bright, even! Conversation: OVER.

yesterday and today.

2008-04-16T09:44:00.000-07:00

yesterday was a series of events with the son, ezra. wacky child that he is woke up (in my bed again, of course) and was hiding from me under the blankets. playing some sort of spy game, with himself. finally after realizing the day was going to start without me, i dragged my lazy ass down to the shower with him in full sound-effect mode following behind. straight INTO the bathroom with me. at times, he will join me in the shower. not yesterday. no yesterday, he chose to stand on the closed toilet and DANCE. each time, i thought he left and would peek out, there he was, doing the mashed potato, or some other random hula dance. in his underwear. on the toilet. oh wow. it's not even 7 am. later, when my cousin's girls caroline and charlotte (whom i take care of) arrived, the fun continued. ezra concocted some game with caroline a main pawn in his plans. probably some thing to torture his sister, remy. caroline, being well, still tired herself as MOST NORMAL humans would be at this hour, backed out of his scheme. no biggie. oh but yes, to Lord Ezra this was major. He actually announced, fully irate, "CAROLINE HAS BETRAYED ME!" Let's just say my laughter did NOT improve the situation. Alas, his DREAM popped into his head. And my laughter spread to his body, as he LAUGHED OUT LOUD TO HIMSELF, remembering the details. Once he had fully retrieved all of it, from the "dream bank" he told me. Mom, "I had a dynamite dream. But the wackiest part was that I was interviewing someone eating a cookie the SIZE OF MARIE's (classmate) HEAD! It was sooo funny" Guess ya had to be there bud. Later, after bugging me all morning to play some game (that used to be MINE as a kid) he found, I found myself waiting for HIM. I called to him busy on the porch doing Goddess knows what...telling him, his time was up to play the game. At this point, he comes sauntering in with a plastic candy cane LAWN ORNAMENT and an oversized Cowboy hat on, and in his most aloof voice says, "okay mom...NOW we can play this game that you speak of..."

WHAT?

Then today, I deal with Remy. WEIRD. But her weirdness is so entirely different from his (mine). She dragged three stuffed animals through Trader Joe's in plastic bin tied with a shoelace. She told me someday she was gonna have big boobes like me. Cause she was gonna be a momma too. She played on the swings in the yard with the dog for a while. Then came to the back door and instead of opening it or knocking, proceeded to WOOF loudly and then scratch at the door. Chacha style. When I went down and asked her if she was trying to trick me, she denied it with a straight face she could hardly keep straight. She played about a while, and then finally yelled out, "MY NAME SHOULD BE CHANGED TO RINGO!"

these two.

i pinch, apparently.

2008-04-11T04:14:00.000-07:00

avoiding bedtime routine (again), i am allowing remy to cuddle in with me on the couch, show she will promptly pass out and i can carry her off to bed. i am SO lazy sometimes. but i DO enjoy the cuddling. and the watching them while they sleep too.

me: i love you remy.
remy: i love you too. even though you pinched me.
me: WHAT?
remy: yah, you pinched me. a coupla times, actually.
me: when?
remy: thursday and monday. you did.
me: ummmm....
remy: you DID. mom. you did.

remy: i still love you. zzzzzzzzzzzzz....

girl's day. it's rough.

2008-04-09T15:06:00.000-07:00

bathtime with remy:

telling me she is going to trap me, remy says:
"i will put you in HAND cuffs, and SHOULDER cuffs, and CHEEK CUFFS, and TONGUE cuffs, and FINGER CUFFS! andd....BOOBE CUFFS! and...toe cuffs....that's all momma."

me: "ouch"

later on---
remy: "why are your eyes THAT color momma?"
me: "what color?"
remy: "goo-ish green"
me: "umm...BLUE-ish? green?"
remy: "NO! i said GOO-ISH green! like, as in, the COLOR OF GOO!"
me: "oh i didn't know they were...well...what color are YOURS?"
remy: "just light green. so are ezra's..but daddy's, his are goo-ish green like yours"

i am not a pig.

2008-04-09T06:18:00.000-07:00

last night- watching American Idol...i take off my very uncomfortable-by-the-end-of-the-day Bra and remy laughs...
Remy: Nice berrrr-Rah.
Me: Thanks, rem.
Remy: It's a berrr-Rah.
Me: Yep. Are you going to wear one someday?
Remy (now putting it on): Am i? Are my boobes gonna be floppy someday too?
Me: Are mine?
Remy: Yep. They are VERY floppy.
Me: Thanks rem.
Remy: You're welcome.

today-hanging on my back while i check my email...
Remy: Piggy-backy! Piggy-backy!
Me: Okay, you want a piggy-back ride, Rem?
Remy: no...no i don't. I want a mommy-back ride!
Me: Oh, a MOMMY-BACK RIDE???
Remy (in her most compassionate voice): Yes, mom, because you are NOT a pig. (adds a patronizing pat on the head)
Me: Thanks rem.

my daughter talks funny

2008-04-07T10:23:00.000-07:00

so, i fully respect you Karma. dearly. i believe in you, and fear you. no, i don't have fear. but i do wonder how you know me SO well. anyway, it is quite clear dear karma, that you have delivered me not a daughter, no. you have delivered me a mini-meghan. the meghan, i refer to is my sister, 15 months younger than me. yes, conceived, before i could crawl or sprout teeth. she encroached on my babyhood, and i fully resented it.
evidence of this can be viewed in a variety of old curled at the edges yellowing photos where only her legs can be seen, as i am sitting on top of the rest of her rancid little baby body, smiling brightly. let's face the facts here, the bitch, was tryin to steal my spotlight, and i was the mean one? (and if i truly was so horrible, why was my mother snapping 'adorable' photos, and not rescuing the newborn?)
...anyway i spent my life torturing her in all ways wrong and hurtful. my attacks contained pretty much anything that she absolutely could NOT change about herself. yes, those were things i belittled her for. example, not being endowed with a cute lil nose like moi, i apparently (she remembers this far more vividly than me) felt the need to tell her-in case she'd never noticed-that, "wow, your nose is so strange, it looks like someone hucked it from a really far distance and it just LANDED SPLAT on your face!"...that's how she retells it, which garners all sorts of eyebrows raised, "wow, you were awful" hurled at ME...and "you poor thing" drizzled all over her...and of course, she loves it. wah, wah, get over it, i think. and anyway, if we are going to go into detail i remember it being MORE like, "your face exploded and all the parts got tossed up in the air and that's how your nose landed"...potatoes, poTAHtoes.

and of course there were many MANY more examples of my unabashed older sister CRUELTy that i spilled onto her innocent little (chubby) self as a child...drowning her in pain and humiliation...one of my favorite teasings, had to do with the way in which Meghan spoke. Meghan had a way of not quite pronouncing her R's...sure, we live in Boston, but this was simply a speech impediment. She was also dirty always. Had messy crazy hair, and liked to day dream and sing to herself. She would tell me she was lookin at the "bords in the sky"....oh was I awful. Everything she said. She couldn't have been WRONGER in my mind. In every way.

Now, I am mother to a new, small version of HER. I have been chosen to mother this girl that embodies most every quality of the sister I looked at as silly and dumb. And it is my lesson to learn how to see these traits as endearing and sweet. Oh Karma, you crafty little wench. Oh how you have certainly had the last laugh. Not a day goes by, where my husband and I do not look at each other and say, "And yet another reason for which she is Meghan..."

This morning while watching Sunrise Earth, an un-narrated nature show that documents a gorgeous sunrise from a new place each day..."Awright, I alweddy KNOW what Bords look like, now GET to the GOOD STUFF!"

Oh, did I mention she's insanely funny. Um, just like my sister...?

attempts at alone time

2008-04-01T07:30:00.000-07:00

1. lone bathroom occupied by husband showering.
2. my "coffee stomach" is at wit's end
3. announce loudly, for husband's benefit, that toilet services would be helpful...however, actually state, "I REAAALLLLY HAVE TO POOOOOOOOOP"
4. son responds, "must you tell the world, mom? it doesn't need to be an ANNOUNCEMENT..." then he scoffs and actually rolls his eyes. 6 years old.
5. day rumbles on...take off to computer for a few minutes of solace. the two children home, find me. drats.
6. i proceed in my email reading and attempt to pretend they are not there. almost 2 year old decides to lay on my feet. meh. i can deal with that.
7. 6 and half year old draws next to me... perfect.
8. until..."doinga doinga boinga...doinga doinga boinga...doinga doinga boinga".
9. said approximately 3 THOUSAND times. super fun.
10. trick sister on Instant Messenger that i am prego. aprils fool's joke. she falls hard.
11. oh yah.
12. "shinga minga linga. dinga winga hinga"
13. who is this child? how is he related to me?
14. more of day rumbles by...laundry put away, tidying done. dishes dried.
15. sneak off up here to write this.
16. son begs me to "Get off the stinkin computer! You are WASTING our TIME!"
17. um, WHAAA?
18. yeah.
19. that's my life.
20. i love it always. shinga linga.

trash and the philosophy of what's okay.

2008-02-28T05:58:00.000-08:00

SO. i am running around this morning cooking breakfast, cleaning up, packing "lunch" for preschool (normally it's just snack, but today is 'pretend to have a picnic day'...fun, it's snowing up the waa-zoo) feeding the dog...etc etc etc.

i go to dump the remains of a bowl of oatmeal that one of the four children has deemed "finished" and i see the trash is full. ah-gain. what the HELL. i seriously am SOOOO sick of changing the trash. i despise this for many reasons.

1. we produce too much garbage. this is not good for the planet. arrgh.
2. it's always overstuffed and messy and icky. i don't like to touch it, really.
3. i am ALWAYS the one to do it.
4. it's a pain in the ARSE to bring it outside. a kid always wants to "come with me" and it turns into a pick ordeal, meltdown and overall aggravation. for a bag of trash to be gone.
5. then it's just filled up again.
6. i want it to NOT be MY job. but it is. i wish it were my husband's "job". but that would be silly...seeing as it becomes miraculously FULL when he is NOT here. he is NOT here, far more often than I AM not here.
7. i vent about these things...stating, "i wish it didn't have to be ME taking out the TRASH SO MUCH!" (implying my desire for HIM to have to deal with this nonsense as much as i do)
8. my husband's response: "really it should be EZRA who takes it out..."
9. THE SIX YEAR OLD? the one who still has me check his butt to see if he "wiped good"? the one who cannot tie his shoes yet? the one who you are reluctant to let walk across the room with the scissors that i ask for? you honestly think THIS is a good job for HIM? NOW?
10. the face i make at him, causes him to huff and puff and walk away, probably thinking..."she never gives that kid ANY responsibility"...to which i think "perhaps his DAD could use some more"...

Back to the Blogging board...

2008-01-30T05:56:00.000-08:00

so. i'm not sure the last time i blogged. it's been a while. and that's okay, but recently being inspired (by some other great blogs- finslippy, catherine newman etc.) to get back in the game i read over some things I HAVE BLOGGED about in the past. What i realized was that i hardly remember writing most of it. i almost felt violated when i first started reading a post with my name attached, as if my identity had been ganked and pasted on someone ELSE's rant! how rude, i thought. then i saw my husband's name in the post and it all sorta came back to me. you'd think i were some sort of hippy dippy pothead, forgetting stuff and such. and perhaps that character assessment were true of me at SOME point...anyway, i digress.

so, my son lost his first tooth last night. well, actually he had a tooth PULLED already (long story), but this was his first wiggly baby tooth about to fall out on it's OWN! now, the whole thing was pretty interesting on a number of levels. first things first, loose teeth give me the CREEPS. it makes my skin come to life like three thousand little snakes crawling around on me, to rid myself of this is sheer foolishness. i just don't like em. i used to work at a summer camp in college and 'word' got out ('word'= my sister meghan, who also worked there) that i couldn't stand the sight of a loose tooth, and naturally every 6, 7 and 8 year old at camp every summer paraded by me with a pearly white dangling from their little pink mouth. smiling with pleasure in complete AWARENESS of how much this tortured me to see. ugh. i shudder with memory. so NOW i have children. i knew this day would come. in fact, i am sure that on the BIG day when my son was 6 MONTHS old and his VERY FIRST tooth popped through and i called the world to announce this, i am sure that i DID make a note to self that eventually that tooth would have to fall out. mental note slipped into the depths of my mind and now, 6 years later that treasured milestone is on the fast track to tooth fairyland.

however, the funniest part of the whole experience is that now my son Ezra is JUST as skeeved out by loose teeth as ME. I have to wonder, is this whole thing hereditary? As in, is he somehow hardwired to detest this odd yet common experience? am i? OR have I somehow TAUGHT him through my behavior to act this way too? (despite my attempts to act "normal" about all of it...) or are we both just big dramatic babies who take things like loose teeth wiggling way to the extreme? i am gonna go with a combo here.

at any rate, big giant mama steps were made last night, when i actually REMOVED THE TOOTH. yes, let me repeat, i reached in, with a wad of toilet paper (too much at first..had ZERO grip...but still quite necessary so i wouldn't have to FEEL my own fingers on the tooth) and plucked it out. like a feather from...ummm...something that has feathers? or a grape from the vine! yes, it was MUCH like that. indeed. i have to say, it was not so bad. for either of us.

i think i will rethink all my hangups as a result. maybe.

so low

2007-04-10T05:30:00.000-07:00

screams like knife show
flung haphazardly and yet
with precision
they must scratch at the throat and lungs
filling him with disgust
which borders on hatred
behavior that makes loud clamor
things fall to the floor
he is wanting something more

i search myself

over and over

all that i can hear in my head
is

what is missing?
what?

and yet, i don't think there is

anything
missing.

honestly.

and i self reflect
(as instructed)

and try to find ways to
tell myself to actually
BELIEVE
that i am wrong to prove
to me and you
that i have NO PROBLEM
with being such

yet i DO NOT feel wrong

wronged

i feel sad
and disappointed
and sad some more

but mostly stuck inside myself

i need a friend's kind words
instead
i have children's voices

my best friend is sick of me

and that's okay

but it would have made hearing
two friend's familiar voices
pretty nice

for a minute or two

i am stuck, officially.

must get out of myself

sublet needed: for
strung out body.

anyone?

walking the line.

2007-03-08T06:28:00.000-08:00

Compassion and patience lead to helplessness.
who am i?

i want them to be kind.
Mostly that's all. pretty simple, really.

When they are less than kind
often times MEAN, i try to control.

i actually find myself trying to MAKE them
kind. it doesn't work.

i try some more. insane, right?

i try KINDNESS sometimes to make them
be kind.
it doesn't work some more.

then i find mySELF NOT being kind
in attempt to MAKE THEM KIND.

then i shudder at the interest
in manipulating and controlling them so.

i tell myself, BE THE CHANGE YOU WISH
TO SEE...BE IT.

but to let it go?

to simply let them be?

let them just BE
people that others see
as filled with something
so UGLY?

and yet, that IS what i must do
i must allow them to make their
own choices

and REMAIN steadfast
that what i say and wish for them
does matter, not just to me.

to them.

and allow them to BE it

on their own terms

i love them and guide
them and raise them
and yet:

i am not their owner.

spirals

2007-02-16T09:32:00.000-08:00

there is something
to the idea of nothing

to the idea of
everything and nothing
being wed
both alive and dead

we are so close to the
fire it is wet like water

she is so old and wise and small
she is infantile even, no one at all

he is so depressed and down
he smiles through shades of brown

it is all such a cycle
of neverending
oneness

i don't try to understand
it

i just be it

back and around
and around

again.

one

2007-02-13T08:14:00.000-08:00

her fingers

stretch
and stiffen

stiffen
and stretch

arching her back
all of herself
bends in line
one after the next
she searches
for alignment

rightness

for expression
that capitulates
and
undulates

with words as her
beacon
and rythym as her
song

she cries out to herself
she cries out to the world
she cries out to the buddha
within her

she is coming in and staying out
and it is always the same
thing
the same song to sing

there is only

One.

stuff to get down. so it won't consume me.

2007-01-30T07:55:00.000-08:00

Things that bother me:

-dry hands, and mine are perpetually dry, seeing as we have not installed our dishwasher, so i AM um, the DISHWASHEr. ugh.

-when my kids or anyone for that matter, push the area rug's edges up and sorta play with it, all folded up like that. I wanna choke someone. LEAVE IT ALONE.

-when girls where baseball hats, around here they are usually Red Sox hats, and they don't fit on their heads properly. It makes me want to go over and push it DOWN. Like PUT IT ON, already. It is just propped their stupidly, almost by accident. Hate. it.

-when i ignore a phone call, and caller calls my cell. then my house again. and when i finally connect with caller they give me SHIT for 'not ever answering when they call'. OH. MY. God. Is it honestly my JOB to be there whenever the fuck ANYONE wants to talk? Most people think so. It makes me wanna scream.

-watching people write on a blackboard. it makes my nipples hard. really. not in a good way either. hate it.

-when i let someone go at a intersection or such, and they don't wave 'thank you' to me. I know dane cook makes fun of people who do this, but i appreciate it. it's nice. when people don't do it, it makes me sad. i mean, i don't do it JUST FOR the wave, but it would be nice to 'share a moment'. oh well. *tear*

-greasy hair. on anyone. no, SOME people who are super cool, can rock it. most can't. take a shower.

-foam at the corners of people's mouths.

-germaphobic parents i have to encounter while being a mom. they make me feel like i have to be like them. i don't wanna be that way.

-waking up before my alarm clock.

-walking into the cd/book store and all of a sudden forgetting EVERY SINGLE cd/book that i have been thinking i NEED to have for a really long time. gone. from my mind. i walk out absolutely HATING myself. happens every time. mostly.

-when people pinch my sides. it's where i carry some extra stuff. in the belly and on the sides of said belly. please, STOP reminding me it's there. it's not cute. leave it be.

that's good for now.

bad at choices

2007-01-09T17:26:00.000-08:00

standing on the edge of so much
she cannot make a decision
to create or procreate
the idea of the latter involves
process and progress
and well um, lots of work

the choice is no longer hers
as she totally flaked on
the backupmethod thingie
so...what shall be will be
and such and thee

she likes it when choices
that are hard
are out of her hands
and then once they are
decided,
with it,
much is defined
sort of outlined.

easier to see...
the "out of her control"
somehow reigned in
by the flourescent yellow
of the highlighter

(it's funny
back in the day
MOST of the page
lit up like the sun)

she is terrible
at choices;
even this one.

for now,
she is done.

life is fun

She's Bringing Random Back.

2007-01-08T09:56:00.000-08:00

I need to bring the random back.
Nevermind Justin and his bringing of the Sexy.
I personally pride myself on random. On silly thoughts. On interesting points. On keen observation. Yet all of this and more has waned recently. It is my new mission to bring it all back.

So I will start with this:

Mondays are brutal. They remind me of the toast crumbs that get stuck in the butter. There is nothing I can do about them but avoid them. Avoid avoid avoid until that is all that is before me. NO choice in the matter. Crumby butter and a Monday. I swallow them down. Gotta keep a movin.

Also, Tony told me this last night as I was falling asleep. I am still not sure what to make of it. "Everyone else in the world gets socks and underwear from everyone." Um, WHAT? Honestly, how is something like that simply SAID? It is filled with out and out LIES, exaggerations, and fabrications. So I said, "Huh?" And he continued to say "they" get them on Christmas and their birthday every year. From everyone. I am still stunned by this. I think he is trying to intimate that he needs new socks and underwear.

So I tell him I am sorry I was not aware he NEEDED any, as I most definitely would have purchased him some. He (of all people) is now ANNOYED. Apparently I am missing his point (and he insists he does have one.) Something about how he shouldn't even HAVE to express that he NEEDS them, rather he should just receive a constant flow of new ones every December and March as scheduled. He believes this is something the rest of the world receives twice a year. I do not know how to help him see he is not so underprivileged. However I cannot help but feel overwhelmingly guilty and horrible for neglecting him so. I decide to let it be and let him fall back asleep. Note to self. March is coming. Socks and underwear must be purchased.

My bladder is very full.

My son is dressed in overalls today. Later on he puts on his Batman costume and admires himself in the mirror for a while. Then he colors a few pictures. Then he tells me he wants to take the overalls underneath his Batman costume OFF since he looks like a 'fat' Batman with those things underneath. Why does he have a negative self image? He is a five year old boy.

My daughter's face is always dirty. I clean it, I swear. Sometimes.

She calls her boobes, nudies. Insists that is their true name.

That's all for now.

my list. a good one.

2007-01-01T14:07:00.000-08:00

1. i will drink at least two glasses of water a day
2. i will do one fun project/game/activity with the kids a day
3. i will exercise at least once a week
4. i will drink once on weekend and once during week only
5. i will write in my blog at least once a week
6. i will read more
7. i will yell less
8. i will LOVE more
9. i will stop spending money
10. i will eat less junk

not the same

2006-12-28T20:13:00.000-08:00

Shivering with words
poised at her fingertips
she, for the first time
cannot fix this.

The hollowed canyon
echoes it's calls
footfalls back to the
danger back to the loss

Frozen hypotheses
laugh at her
she has no idea of
what is real

Are these merely
inflated problems easily managed?
or lethal worries
downplayed?
by the downtrodden...

she cannot breathe
in the same space
as him anymore
his aura is toxic
everything about him,
harsh.

if something does
not change
he will most
definitely kill her
from the inside out

loved one...

2006-12-28T17:12:00.000-08:00

I don't know how to be myself
around you
I am whole and full and at peace
And you are none of these things
You are broken and empty and constantly in struggle
with someTHING or someONE
You don't seem to see a true reflection
when you glance in the mirror

Do you look inside yourself?

And you fish, constantly
for affirmations and praise from ME
that you are good enough and just so
darn GREAT.

Sure,
I can give it, but it's weak, transparent
and insincere...because it is being
ASKED for

Honestly, you steal my ability
to be HONEST with YOU

I see you as the Glass
Menagerie
Frozen and fragile
Taking up space

If with a few sharp
observances I could make
you TRULY SEE

you would shatter into
a million pieces
Never to be the same
Never to be repaired

But to be this?

Which is worse?

cold mortality

2006-12-11T18:05:00.000-08:00

Faced with mortality once more
she looks away
she tries to hide from it's
shadow it's glare

it's still right there

there is only herself
a shelf of moments
captured and kept
and this cold cold cold
like the body
empty now

the frigid air around her
the fire in which she breathes
does not help, seethes out
as sadness,
a wet blanket
she cannot remove: heavy and numbing

her instinct to do something
leaves her motionless
and paralyzed

there is no way to let
this pass
there is no words to
make THIS okay

there is nothing left
to do, but let this one
pass
and remember

and then just
be. She, while she can
for it even when
one closes their eyes
to mortality it is still
tall and dark and always
cold

down in two rounds

2006-09-01T17:27:00.000-07:00

hardwood dreams
in a particle board
world
she realizes that
she lives each moment
watching them through the
reflection in her mother's
eyes
despise found there
often...

soften, please mum,
please?

no, not the case
She is cracked and
hurting but cannot fix
her broken parts

turns her tools to us
for help? noooo...
criticism she
lays out thick and blobby
never
quite able to get it off
even when
directed (briefly)
elsewhere
the saint of all things
righteous

she has been in this
ring before:
"round one"

fought this battle
with gloves up
always and even
when she felt she gained
a lil advantage she
so badly wanted OUT
OF THAT RING
to gently hold her
hand and just sing

but it was of Her design
and she was not about
to bow down then
when all she had was
her inner fight
her knowledge she
was right
or could be, if she was
given the chance
she'd just walk out
and dance

and "round two" is here
and it's harder
the martyr always
ready to ring that
bell and swell herself
with pride that
She was right
oh yes, SHE WAS RIGHT.

lost sight.

and now with compassion
as her guide she must
find another way to
reach into that ring
and tap her ever so gently
on the shoulder,
(so she doesn't startle)

and tell her it's over

round three is the challenge
that will never be.

need not be.

it's just you and me,
remember, mom?
we're your family.

our burdens to bear

2006-07-31T10:16:00.000-07:00

tidal moon waves
paves
angst and
irritation like a
rash

a constant itching
a constant
nag here on the rag

like her mother
her biggest ally
WORSt enemy
now and always

and compassion
proves itself to be
powerful and an
all consuming
EFFORT

to hold tongues
and look at the bigger
brighter
side to the
tide which pulls

on negativity
adding to nothing
subtracting
self worth and

constant
defense
constant
defense
constant
defense

is this so
she will never
have to be on
that side of the
fence?

pushing
onward and
outward

and down the road
this right now
is her heaviest
load

skulls all around, a person in the middle

2006-05-20T10:00:00.000-07:00

since when did i become a therapist?
the paychecks have not yet arrived
yet i am doing work
i'd like to think of it as
SOUL work
for everyone but myself.

how can this be?

how do i look him in the eyes
after pouring all of my
devotion and compassion
into other people's
crumbling relationships

he feigns understanding
but does he?
can he?
does he know what i am
listening to come out of
these people's mouths?

it's heartwrenching
and i cry and i get angry
with them and FOR them
and it's as though this
SHOULD be my job.

except it's not.
these are friends.
and this is real.

and i never EVER
want to have to be
the one to MAKE these
kinds of phone calls.

i don't.

FEATed

2006-02-23T05:27:00.000-08:00

straddling the line

thread bare

between the

question,

THE question.

did i not accurately

express my desire

or did they simply

not care?

reflection holds the

burdening weight of

an answer she knows

to be true

but cannot face the

pain of being so

although

the picture is bigger

than a piece mangled

and missing,

still beautiful and complex

but not quite ever

complete

a feat

licking pavement

2006-02-02T05:11:00.000-08:00

she wakes up
her days happen

to themselves

she is bored
but busy

like licking
pavement

it's almost futile

but then epiphany
or milestone
or moment of
sheer joy

melts away
the hardness

her lines soften
she is no longer
all held together

a whole
contstructed

an assembly of
many parts

seamless

meaning search

2006-01-31T06:20:00.000-08:00

flutterbee trickles
like fun filled tickles;
euphoria that
can tiptoe ever so
slightly over that
line, imaginary and suddenly

shards of PAIN

worry, doubt,
and regret
she never wished
to walk about
nevermind talk about

having everything
you wish for
presents itself
precariously

a paradigm of expectations
fulfilled

and then flattened

a line of straight blandness
steamrolled day after
day, new concrete
dark and then not
as much

peaks and valleys
manufactured

when she walks
her bones on that
elliptical machine at the
gym, each day a whim

her psyche LAUGHS
at the symbolism of
the endless effortless

pretending.

but what for?

this IS everything she
yearned for.

and more.

keeping on

2006-01-17T07:28:00.000-08:00

She knows not where to begin
fill in
the time
between shitty wipes
and hubby gripes

it all blends and settles
like layers of rock

each settling differently
still in this concrete mold-
she resides on the top always

above it typically
beatifically

yet somehow she lost her
footing, her stronghold, her grace
the surface lost it's density
propensity

the more she reaches
to grab hold of it
of SOMEthing
of ANYthing

like loose silk
it slips
hauntingly away

GONE

all of her:
waxy and dangerous

she suddenly feels
like she is drowning
in a swell- of herself

one that builds and
recedes continously
and flames in her
chest and she cannot
let it out

release it

you see, it is trapped inside
her meditations
and her yoga
breaths
and her exercises and
her dialogues
and her inner most thoughts

STUCK

it is all around her
so breathes in
each exhalation
taking right back the
toxicity she just pushed
out

disgusted now and sick
to her stomach

vomit is not the
answer

unfortunately there
does not seem
to be one

not this time

so the tick tick tick
of her watch at 2 am
the heartbeat of this
heartache

is turned off

and is turned to
the tap tap tap
of the key board
beneath her heavy
soulbreathweightheartlife

she will start acting like it. (for tony)

2006-01-06T08:45:00.000-08:00

ben folds piano curls about in her ears and years of unknowing is reduced to a swelling growing stormy waves crach and tickle her into awakeness her stony heart in slumber yawns and stretches and then the flood which she cannot dam and these tears which pull forth common memories and simple features: illuminated now and tell her her own story paint a portrait of them anew and "Yes, YES! he IS for YOU" she stops tending to diapers and puzzle pieces and her cup of joe to just sit and Know and finds her self melted into a wild puddle of herself and wades through the joy he has endlessly provided her Always she considers repayment but sharply kills this thought like a song she is not in the right mood for it is not about that it is about chords of emotion she fearfully avoids playing for him and therefore muffles the beautiful chorus he bellows for her his love is all he is and all he has and childishly she tucks it away and murders it and her love for him all neat and contained and sporadically parcelled out to him as though it could run low or run dry ugh sigh during this one tiny moment this one tragically romantic melody her feelings seem to leak out of their bolted box and spill messily about herself and she does not have to decide a single thing choices are obsolete she IS the luckiest.

the day

2006-01-05T09:24:00.000-08:00

change cracks into our
psyche, a spiderweb
in our routine

anxiety sits
comfortable
a bubble in the chest
waiting for the right
moment...

POP!

or...to discreetly
dissolve
resolve.

the anticipation of these results
like an election between
two morons
both clever
and cutting
jutting is this move
this day
this season hath no more
purpose than
this reason...pleasin

and i see it all play out in
his mood
and his face
and the words he is NOT
saying
the gesture away and
up the stairs
anywhere but here.

and i wonder
am i doing this right?

is there ever
any way to know?

SHIVA

2005-12-19T16:38:00.000-08:00

stale elder breath
spoils down on his
minty exhalations
which he pours like
sand...weightless and
infinite, it cleanses

a sound!
it's a sudden pucker
of his lips
and then a movement
toward her with
lips: two wax molds
of perfection and potential

wax that burns and dwells in the
chaotic curls that
it creates for itself
and then avoids
upon destruction

a moment is recalled:
an 18 block construction;
a tower

a new record!

excitement and awe
consume and inspire
the team

and in a moment of
pure zen with a moment
of fire in his eyes
he slashes
at it...

9/11 terrorists
crashing in horror
resonates

in his karate chop to
his own beloved work

he BURSTS into
tears..abhorred at
the reality of himself
his actions

he has truly
become the goddess
of creation and
destruction

2005-12-13T04:15:00.000-08:00

gingerbread house making...so fun...and yes, remy does have a mohawk in this photo.

2005-12-13T04:14:00.000-08:00

loving the snow!!