Thursday, September 11, 2008

HELP

So tonight at bedtime, JH was in a super chatty mood, having just gotten a new computer game from Dad, and he was rattling off stuff about light sabers and such, when the topic shifted to school.

Okay, it didn't just shift. I said, "Let's talk about school." Because I can only talk about Star Wars for about 10 minutes before my eyes start rolling around in my head. He tells me about who he played with at recess, we talk about math, then he says "Mom, 'M' has a crush on 'S', because he has crushes on lots of girls, and sometimes he even kisses girls!" I ask him what he thinks about that, and he says, "I thought I'd better ask you what you thought!" So I told him I thought that it wasn't appropriate for second graders to be kissing, but that getting crushes was pretty natural. I told him that when I was in second grade I had a crush on twenty one boys. At once. He called me a slut and rolled over. NO HE DIDN'T - I just wanted to see if you were still with me.

ANYHOO, he giggled at my story, then I asked him if he had any crushes. He said "Oh, GEEZ, I KNEW you were going to ask me this!" He put his hands in front of his face and thrashed around like I'd thrown lemon juice in his eyes, then he said "I do have a crush!" I asked him who it was, but told him that if he didn't feel comfortable telling me he didn't have to. I promised not to say anything to anyone (you don't count, internets. he was TOTALLY talking about anyone at his school), and so he told me he had a crush on basically every girl in his class. I said "well, you know, crushes are really normal at your age, but you should just treat those girls like friends, because they ARE your friends, and you know, no kissing. It's just not appropriate for second grade". He promised me no kissing, and promised that he would just be normal around the girls, and focus on school. And he promised not to talk about s-e-x at school. Which is good, because he he only knows enough right now to confuse anyone who happened to be in his path.

Then he said "Mom, if I marry 'MK' (his friend who is a boy), like they do in California, would I have to kiss him?"
Me, without skipping a beat: "well, yeah. that's what married people do. if they're doing it right."
Him: "would I have to wear a ring?"
Me: "Yes, probably".
Him, with concern in his voice: "could it be a man ring?"
Me, in complete seriousness: "Yes."

a quiet moment, then: "Mom, who do you want me to marry?"

Me: "I want you to marry someone you love."
Him: "I know. But who?"
Me: "Whoever you love".
Him: "I know, mom, but WHO?"
Me: "YOU ARE SEVEN YEARS OLD! When you're old enough to know who you love, that's who I will want you to marry. But I have always wanted you to marry 'G' since you were babies*. But, you know, only if that makes you happy. GOODNIGHT".

I felt like I stepped into a lovely row boat for a gentle paddle on a quiet lake and wound up navigating Class 5 rapids.

Geez, parenting is interesting sometimes.

*And if you really need to know if I want him to marry 'G' because she's a girl, it's truly not that. It's because they are such amazing friends. But if he grows up and still wants to marry 'MK', because he would make him happiest, it will be a mom's wish come true for me.

Some of the Nicest People I know

Joe-Henry's birthday is in November, so the rush of holidays that come directly after that always leave my head spinning. Never was this more true than the year he turned one. We had moved out of our apartment into a condo, and were getting to know our neighborhood. But it wasn't until the following holiday season that I would meet some incredible people who lived right across the street. It was sometime before Christmas, and Charley was carrying Joe-Henry on his shoulders, and I was wearing a pair of light up antlers that my sister had sent me that day. I had tried them on to amuse the boy and forgotten to take them off. We had gone for a walk around the neighborhood, and it wasn't until after I had a full conversation with our neighbors about the fact that we should get together sometime because we both had babies, that I realized I looked like Blitzen on a bender.

She handed me her number, and after a few days, I gave her a call. I was nervous - I hadn't done a lot of mingling, or playdates, or whatever new moms did. We'd just bonded with our little family and other friends who had babies the same age, but we didn't venture outside of that tiny circle much. Would she like me? Would my house be clean enough? Would we have anything to talk about besides our kids? As it turned out, she became one of my dearest friends, and her first-born one of Joe-Henry's first best pals. We'd meet around 4:00 in our little cul de sac, trading our catalogs we'd gotten in the mail, while the boys played in the "rabbit garden", making us "cowboy drinks". We'd watch them and laugh, scolding on occasion as they learned the social niceties about sharing and not playing too rough. She had another baby boy, then a couple years later, another baby boy. We became friends or acquaintances with others in the building, and they'd all come and go, laughing at our kids covered in dirt, or throwing sticks into the water meter.

We had been friends for a while when the last election rolled around, and we discovered that we sat on opposite sides of the aisle on many issues. We agreed on many, as well, and I like to think that we both have our hearts in the right places regarding doing what we believe is best for the country. But at some point, I think we had to agree to disagree, and stick to other topics in order to keep each other healthy. I never doubted for a moment that we would stay friends; we were too important to each other and kept each other sane in so many ways to lose a friendship over politics. We kept it civil from there on out, and I give her great credit - she never, ever gloated. She was a gracious winner. I like to think I would have done the same, because I love her dearly.

She moved first. They packed up their family and moved to Arizona, and we left the 'hood not long after, moving to the Northwest. I miss her so much. She would like the neighborhood I live in now. There are a lot of friendly Republicans here, too. I have one right next door who knows Sarah Palin's husband personally. He is so excited about the election, and ribs me constantly about my lonely Obama sign on our lawn. He tells me he's going to put up his McCain sign, and I smile and tell him he should, this country is big enough for both of us and our opinions. None of the rest of our neighbors have signs up, but they don't really have to. I kind of know already.

I am doing my best to load up on facts, to keep civil, to fight the GOOD fight - sticking to facts and trying to remember that my neighbors don't wish me ill personally.

But during THIS election? It's really so hard sometimes I think my head might explode. But I know if I collapse on my lawn, my ears spurting blood, one of my nice Republican neighbors will call 9-1-1.

"facts ought not be debatable"

Saw this on the Huffington Post, and I think it puts to words the feeling I've been having that has left me screaming at my radio and television.

"But facts ought not be debatable. The media have an obligation to point out when a politician is lying about a matter of fact, but the right-wing attack machine has so cowed some of them you can almost hear them moo. Steve Schmidt, McCain's top dog, is a brilliant and audacious strategist. His candidate has had the most favorable press coverage of any politician of the last century -- fawning, adoring, sycophantic press coverage. And yet he is brutalizing the press, waterboarding them into pretending that whether Gov. Palin supported the "Bridge to Nowhere," or hired an Abramoff-connected lobbyist to secure massive earmarks are somehow debatable.

The real debate is over whether the media will be vigilant watchdogs, sounding the alarm when McCain and Palin lie, or fall back to the role they've played for most of McCain's career: lapdog." Paul Begala

Here's the rest of the article.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Working Girl

Last year was the first year that I worked as a parapro in a specialized communications class. I sought this job because: it payed better than the other aide jobs (but not as much as bus drivers - those folks are livin' the dream: they drive for a couple hours, and spend the rest of the day reading or buffing their nails or eating donuts or something), and I would be able to put JH on his bus to school, and be waiting for him when he got home. I would also have all the same holidays and days off, which would save us in childcare expenses. I also took the job because in my previous life (before JH) I was an actor, and though I loved it so much at the time, I have lost my burning desire for it. And that's what it takes to make money at it. And we need money. And insurance. And I know that starting all those sentences with "And" is going to have me burning in Grammatical Hell, but I still have that side of me that just HAS to call attention to myself, so I just turn all BadAss with the English Language and say "TAKE THAT, Blogosphere!"

Where was I? Oh, yes, my job. It could have been a disaster, but it has been anything but. Yes, there are days when I want to cry and run away, but mostly, I am so excited to go to work, so thrilled to be trusted with these amazing kids, and so energized by our joint attempts at communication.

I happened to walk into this job a complete neophyte a) working in the public school system, and b) working with a population that has all kinds of special sensory needs. If I were to write a job description for someone considering this line of work, it would go something like this:

"Part Australian Blue Heeler, part Rodeo Clown, part mud wrestler, part wind talker. Humor is a must. Fashion Plates need not apply. Creative thinking is a must. You will spend your day running, or waiting. You will get dirty. You will get frustrated. You will need a good stiff drink at times. But you will also fall in love on a daily basis. You will see examples of heroic attempts to overcome obstacles several times a day. And you will leave each day wondering how you can make the next day better."

I'll be managing better after a month or so. But I remember last year at this time, I was taking afternoon naps, the kind where you wake up in your own drool and wonder where you are and what year it is. This year is a bit better, but I'm still dragging my ass. Of course, it's closer to the ground than it was this time last year, but we're working on that.

So now you know a little bit more about how I spend my days.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Magical

Maybe I was just so taken with Suttonhoo's tweet that she has BUNNIES in her backyard, but I've been realizing that, what with the Election and everything, I'm needing a bit more MAGIC in my life.

A friend sent me this link, and I knew I had to share it with you all. Enjoy your Sunday. Hope you find some magic of your own.


Little Girl Giant Plays in the Park from XINERGY on Vimeo.

I Tried...

But I just couldn't do it.

Darlin' Melanie sent me this clip, because I haven't been up late enough to see my secret boyfriend Jon Stewart and our tivo is out. Enjoy.

Friday, September 5, 2008

HeadSong Friday: More Love

Happy Friday! Hey, we made it! In a week that brought us the Republican Convention and some truly fantastic mudslinging, I wanted to offer my own olive branch to my conservative brothers and sisters.

I know there are some out there who believe very differently than I do, and the snark and sarcasm has been flowing freely out there on both sides, so I'd like to wrap you all up in a big warm hug and ask if we can't all get along? Or at least agree to do our part to focus on the real issues rather than take the nasty pot-shots that are just too easy to come by during any political season.

I'm not making any promises, I'm just saying I'll do my best.

Have a lovely Autumn weekend, all.