Jonathan Christopher...

As long as you live, you may never fully comprehend just how in love with you I am...and have been from day one.

But as long as I live, I'll surely never comprehend what makes you tick. You have, no doubt, thrown me some curve-balls in your first two years...and with each one, I become a better mommy. Of this I am certain.

But lately, Jonathan? Lately?

You're killing me.

And I'm not referring to your antics during meals, your destruction of your brother's toys, your obsession with "buttons!" (but only the ones on our DVD player, stereo or computer)...no, I am not referring to the many ways in which you make me scramble on a given day.

I'm talking specifically about what you've been cookin up at night.

And by "night" I mean any time between the hours of 1 and 5am.

Of course, I get the fact that you're cutting your molars...and that most kids, at different stages of development, go through nighttime wakings. But most of these kids, Jonathan, are suffering from some kind of bad dream, sickness, or just your run-of-the-mill mommy separation.

Not you, though. Not even a sore gum or two could be causing your latest adventures. Why am I certain of this? Because not once, in the past few weeks (oh shit, maybe it's even months) have you:

1. cried for mommy

2. been visibly sick/ had a fever

3. been the least bit troubled at all

However, you have been fairly consistent with the following:

1. climbing out of your crib

2. playing with random toys in your room

3. climbing into and sitting quietly in the bathtub

4. bum-rushing your brother's bed and throwing yourself on top of him...thus waking the world's LEAST RECEPTIVE 3 year old to sleep interruption

5. sitting in your glider chair and singing...and lately, counting (we're proud of this new skill, but not at 4 in the morning, big guy)

6. and my favorite, as of last night: sitting in your blue Thomas chair in the middle of the kitchen.

I am glad, Jonathan, that you are not sick or going through some sort of emotional ordeal. For this, I am surely grateful. But for the love of God, my sweet boy...WHAT is happening during your slumber that says to you--"This shit's gettin old...gonna go see what's happenin round here..."??????

And I love the independence, I really do. The fact that I've found you in/involved with items 1 through 6 is evidence enough of your independent spirit. Not once have your daddy and I seen the whites of your eyes peering at us in our bed, asking for attention.

But by now I'm past the point of concern or worry...or even sheer frustration.

I'm just f***ing tired.

Tired.

Exhausted.

Spent.

And also kind of amazed. And...ok...giggling a bit on the inside (though I'll NEVER let on).

But mostly?

I'm just really, really tired.

Don't cry over spilled milkshake.

Today we went out for lunch with my mom, right after preschool.
Both boys were in rare form. Jonathan was on a music-high from Miss Michelle's class (and pure lack of sleep adrenalin--ask me bout THAT madness later), and Benjamin was all hopped up on post-preschool giddyness.

Both boys have milkshakes...which spells trouble, no matter what. But just when I decide not to watch Benjamin with his chocolate shake--sans lid or straw--he reaches for the ginormous menu off the table and knocks the whole shake over...spilling across the table, and into my mom's and my lap. She and I quickly react, cleaning it up, and I say "Benjamin...honey...you've got to watch what you're doing!"....and here's HIS reaction, totally non-plussed, totally hidden behind the menu and studying it closely:
"Hmm...sorry, guys. I just had to see what was on the menu here."

Sorry, guys? You've got to be kidding me...I want to burst out laughing, but don't. My mom and I just stare with big eyes at eachother and try not to laugh.

Waitress comes over and asks if we need more napkins, which is when Benjamin decides to peer out of one side of the menu (picture Ward Cleaver, saying something to "The Beav" while reading the paper) and says to the waitress, in his ever-famous and hilarious drawl:
"Yeah...I kinda made a mess there. But they're cleaning it up. We got it."

Loved it.
Not the world's best behavior from a 3 year old in a restaurant, but you gotta give him points for style. And besides, I blame the spillage skillz on his daddy.
That one had Brian's name written ALL over it.

Meanwhile, Jonathan's face is so submerged into his cup of vanilla milkshake, that there's a ring around his face when he pulls it away...gap-toothed grin, huge laugh...and sheer delight in his ice cream treat.
That one had his MOMMY written all over it.:)

Not a Bad Monday

*Random free coffee at Bigby's! (spread the word--they give one out once a day to an unknowing recipient)

*Jonathan asking me in a complete sentence, "Mommeee? Isss dinna red-eee?"
(Last night after playing with the babysitters at church during youth group...he announced to me, "Mommee...I have fun at chawwch!"

*Dentist forgot to send stickers home (for the boys) with me at my checkup last week...so mailed them to Benjamin. He got them in the mail today, with his name on them. Loved that.:)


Anyway...had to share.
Brian leaves for the rest of the week, will be in San Francisco.....sigh....time to rock it out.

A Referendum on Relationships

If only I were gay... I'd have married my best friend Gaby years ago.

Ok, so this is a bit of an odd way to begin a post...but the idea came to me--well, to both of us--over a recent phone conversation. And before I go on, I must thank you, Gabs--if you're reading--for one of the best chats I've had in a long time...and I don't need to explain why. My gratitude for you and the kind of friend you've been to me since the day we met is unending...thanks for being who you are.
And since I know certain dudes are wondering (Christopher? Shawn?)---the answer is No. I'm not about to make out with Gaby. Not at all. Though I dare say her hugs are far and away superior to those of my husband's. But anyway...

It's impossible for most men to understand the closeness of a girlfriend...but what I think they truly underestimate, is just how necessary that friendship is to our survival. We--and I speak for anyone who may agree here--love you, dear husbands...but there are just certain things you'll never be able to appreciate.

For example, the need to be noticed. Appreciated. It's not that my husband is necessarily bad at these things...it's just that certain close friends of mine, and family members, are far better at it. A friend who writes a thank you note for a gathering at your house...a sister-in-law who goes out of her way to always write back (almost always within minutes, I swear) with "comments" after you send out pictures...a friend who always notices your ass in your jeans and isn't afraid to say so (LOL)...a mom who swoops in and takes one of your kids for the afternoon without even asking, knowing full-well how close you were to the edge of insanity that particular day...or a brother (getting special mention in a list of chicks, here) who doesn't hold back the "proud of you" statements after you've poured your heart and soul into something.
I guess we all just want to be seen by others, don't we?
And let me clarify: by this I don't mean seen in a way that makes us the center of attention, or that praises us unneccessarily for something we've done...or that enables a sense of neediness or insecurity on our part.
What I mean is the feeling that somebody gets you. That they understand your intentions, simply because they have taken the time to get who you are. That they grant you the benefit of the doubt in any situation, based on the context of knowing where your heart is. That they absorb the meaningful things you say to them...the gestures you make...and remember them, even when they're unsure of where you're coming from sometimes.
That they are listening...aware...engaged.

I say this, because, I've been adrift lately.
Lost, even.
And some days, drowning in my own self-induced chaos. Struggling (physically and emotionally) to somehow prioritize the things, and more importantly, people that need my attention...when my kids seem to drain every last ouce of energy and focus I have each day.
But I haven't stopped being aware of who the important people are in my life. If anything, I've become more acutely aware of their presence...in new and eye-opening ways...and in other ways, aware of the places where I falsely imagined real, true understanding.
I wonder if anyone else ever goes through this...?
It's almost as though the person you perceive to have let you down isn't even at fault. You are. I think we've all experienced this, whether it be with old college friends, members of our extended family, our friends of "life circumstance", etc....once in a while you realize you've given someone too much credit for really understanding you...while in other cases, you realize that someone you never imagined got you, really does.

I worry a lot. Way too much, in fact.
Lately, I've been operating under this dark cloud of guilt for not being in touch with the people I love the most. I want to talk to my brother Jon so much more than I seem to have time for...and I worry that he isn't equipped to understand the complexities of my daily life--or rather, LACK of time. But then I wind up feeling like a total jackass for doubting his inability to get the place I'm in. Because even though he hasn't a clue what it's like to walk in my shoes...he continually and unselfishly grants me the benefit of the doubt.
Same with Gaby. She is the other person I've been aching to be in better touch with...and yet not once has she been impatient with me or jumped to irrational conclusions as to where my priorities are.
And this list isn't limited to my brother and my best friend...I am beyond grateful for so many people in my life, particularly when I realize just how much they're willing to forgive in return for my own shortcomings. A good friend who gives me the chance to share just how busy and crazed I've been with my kids, and only offers more support and friendship in return (love you, D.W.)...a cousin who insists on finding consensus on our political opinions in a compassionate way...a brother who, after I leave an apologetic message about being unavailable on his voicemail, leaves me a message with nothing but Coming to America movie quotes and makes me piss myself while driving...or a husband, who just quietly listens while I bawl and rant away, and never...not even for a second...loses composure. He just listens.

These people...all of them...they get you.
And if they don't, they want to and are trying.

Ughh. Not really sure where I'm going with this.

I just know that relationships in general have been on my mind a lot lately...my own ability (or lack thereof) to maintain them the way I'd like, as well as the overall health of my expectations.
I suppose it's all begun with my own increased awareness of self and how I relate to others.
Yoga maybe? I know a lot of it comes from my practice and meditation during class, for sure. It's the only time I am truly afforded the opportunity to go deep and reflect...and analyze. I suppose that's why I've been having revelations left and right lately. A kind of "teasing out" of priorities, intentions, expectations, etc.

That's where I feel like I am lately.
Nothing earth shattering or on the level of epiphany...but just a slow whittling away of the stuff that isn't real or authentic at all, but rather a product of my own "projection". I've been bad about this as long as I can remember...placing too much stock in someone or something...and being devastated when things aren't as I once imagined them to be.
Perhaps I'm just in a nesting phase. And no, I'm not pregnant. Maybe it should be called cleaning house...emotional catharsis...or even more simply, and most accurately in my case, an allout breakdown. And not the lying face-down on the kitchen floor, drool coming out of the corner of my mouth kind...actually, the image is much more uplifting. It's the kind of emotional fallout that leads one to introspection, re-aligning of priorities and relationships, and an overall sense of inner wellness and renewal.

I know, I know...cue the sanskrit chanting CDs and dim the lights...
But I rather imagine it's a phase we all go through from time to time.

So, for what it's worth.
That's where I am right now.

For weeks I've struggled with how to keep up better with so many things...and this blog is one of them. And so while my catharsis might not be very articulate or at all decipherable...it's finally out there. Outside of my head, written down.
The best and most time-tested way I know to work through shit.

A Week Ago Today!

For some reason these uploaded in reverse order...because the last picture is from the beginning of the day--me with my voter registration card. So proud that morning. And a little teary when I walked out of Wealthy Elementary after voting...I'll never forget it!

The election party was truly a memorable gathering, for so many reasons. For now I'll just leave you with the pictures. Not much else I can say that hasn't been felt by so many others already.

A night to remember!

(oh, and the kissy shot was supposed to be last...and titled "Obama Wins!!!")

On the Eve of Change

I have some things I feel like saying...or writing down, rather.

Always a fan of a good metaphor, here's mine for today: I am in labor.

I say this for several reasons...one, there's no doubt that I've been carrying a heavy load around the past several months. And as with both pregnancies I've endured, there has surely been a great deal of physical burden, but even more so--an emotional one. But mostly, it's been pure magic. Complete exhilaration, marvel and total empowerment.
And yes, at many times an experience wrought with fear and panic.

But today--tonight, really--as I stare Election Day in the face...I am oddly enough in the same exact state I was when I went into labor: the picture of calm.
Okay, so with Jonathan it kinda helped that I was getting a pedicure at the time...but you get the idea. The amount of angst, preparation and sheer excitement that predicated the event itself was in sharp contrast to the serious calm and focus I felt when the time came.
Such is how I feel tonight.

And I guess what I want to write most about tonight isn't that I'm so proud of myself for not blowing a gasket by now (because let's be honest, I still have 24 hours and the polls haven't even opened yet...), but rather the fact that after all of these months of devouring, pouring over and ultimately getting involved in this election, the thing I'm proud most of isn't the result. It's the process. Always...the process.
This is why I wanted to write this post tonight. Because regardless of tomorrow's outcome, my feelings about being involved in this current election are real...and unattached to any result. Of course I'm hoping Barack wins...OF COURSE I am...but if he doesn't, it won't make me any less proud of the weeks I've spent putting myself out there in the discourse and momentum of the campaign. It won't make me regret any time I spent making phone calls, talking to complete strangers about something so intimately personal to me, standing in long lines just to see a candidate or political figure...and it sure as hell won't make me ashamed or regretful of the way I've allowed this election to transform me.

Brian likes to say that it's just how I am...that it's virtually impossible for me to harbor an opinion on something and not share it. And he's right. But what even he didn't understand until the last few months, is that this particular "cause" has been unlike any other I've encountered. Sure, I have opinions on a whole range of topics...and rare is the occasion that I keep them private.
But it's not often that a moment in history becomes personal for me. It's not often, in this moment-to-moment life I lead that I find anything happening outside the realm of immediate family as relevant.
And it's not often that a political figure inspires me to not only believe in my own ability to affect change...but even more significantly, to call upon my civic responsibility to make it happen.

Perhaps the most difficult aspect of this process for me has been dispelling misperceptions...and not just of my candidate, but of myself. My demographic. My intentions.
Some people think that young people such as myself get involved because we're still young and idealistic. To such people I would ask the following: "How can you blame me for the former and expect anything less than the later?"

Another notion some have is that "moms" like me are just bored, that we need a hobby...and that getting involved in politics is just something to do with all of our spare time.
I'm not even going to go there on this one.

Wait, yes I am.
To these f**knuts I would ask the following: "Have you met my kids?!? What exactly do you consider spare time? Because I wouldn't know it if it hit me square between the loads of laundry and dishes and fights over toys and sprints down the block after my two year old who just figured out the child-protected door handle and is now running half naked down my street..."
I'd also show this person my family budget...how tight it is...and ask them to consider my paying for a babysitter while my husband's traveling, just to go and volunteer my time to the campaign.

But I think the worst misconception of all is one that any of us with a political opinion faces...that we are somehow too close to it all...or investing too much of our attention and emotional well-being in something that is beyond our reach or control. It's the same argument, I feel, that suggests it's somehow possible for teachers and social workers to not take their work home with them at the end of the day.
It's impossible.
And you know why? Because the minute you decide to even give a shit about any of it, is the minute you promise yourself to its cause. The very reasons you have for committing your time to seeing it through are so closely linked to who you are, that they aren't even separate from you. They're your true nature.

I've often talked with Brian about my philosophy courses from college. There were two that I'll never forget, largely for the impact that the professors had on me. But one particular "philosopher" always comes up when I find myself in a conversation with Brian about causes...how we relate to them, and how we know when our passion for them is real. His name was Foucault, and it's impossible for me to summarize the theories and ideas of his that made a lasting impression on me. But one notion of his will always remain when I think of any kind of activism...or volunteer work, if you will. It's the idea that having passion for and attachment to any kind of cause or movement is, in itself, real. But by placing yourself squarely in the midst of its energy and intent, you are claiming it as part of yourself.

So to anyone who is curious as to why I've placed such importance on this current election, I might offer the following: "It's personal."

But to my children...my boys...I will one day ask them to look not at the outcome of this presidential race, but rather the process...and hopefully know something important about their mom for having placed herself squarely in the center of it.

A Blog for my Blog

I need one of these, for real.
A place to jot down all of the little moments that happen throughout the day...the observations that are touching and thought-provoking. And then, of course, the over-arching themes that tie it all together. I need an actual, separate blog meant just for these thoughts. That way, when I find myself with actual "time"...I have them ready.
I love when I can come up with ways to string together all of the bits of randomness in my life...or even better, when I can find the alone time to just really write about the best parts of my day. Because that's why I started this blog in the first place--to create a space for the authentic and honest--and often hilarious--moments and observations of my life to be chronicled. Mostly I just want to look back and remember them in all of their vivid messiness.

But lately?
I don't seem to have the time.
Or attention span, maybe. I'm less disciplined with my blogging...and even more with my own train of thought.
Perhaps I'm suffering from a bit of ADD...I wouldn't rule it out, anyway. Especially with what I know about "environment" and its affect on the attention span.
It wouldn't take an educational scholar to figure out why my focus is a bit...oh, how shall we say, EFFED up these days. Just look in the next room--one boy jumping on the train table while he launches trains into the air...the other boy coloring on the floor underneath the train table (wait--it's not as good as it sounds) and TIRELESSLY peppering me with questions about the colors, pictures, nature of and overall meaning embedded within the page of his coloring book.

What I'd like is to be able to effectively convey what this scene tells me about my children...that one, with all of his CHINESE WATER TORTURE-STYLE questions, is likely going to love Philosophy as much as me.
And the other one, with all of his...his....not sure what to call it yet....is nothing like his mom or dad. Except when he squirms and giggles when you snuggle him...that's got his mommy written all over it.

Sadly, though, I seem to struggle with my blog. I see it, hear it even, in my head all the time...but then I open up the link on my computer screen and all I see lately is pictures. And the random "list"--a real favorite of mine...clever, observational, and often funny...but always a mere stand-in for actual thought and substance.

Honestly.
I suck at this.

Time to go clean up milk that has just been squirted out of a sippy all over a sofa chair...and is now dripping onto the carpet*.
I'm so not kidding.

* denotes things that can and always will happen while I blog...five feet away.