They're mocking me!

Last week I took the kids to our local town beach playground for a play date. Really it was Paddy Boy's play date, as the friends we were meeting there are about his height, but Curly Girl loves a playground anytime, and Dexter pretty much goes where I go (First Son was busy enjoying first grade, and couldn't attend).

We arrived at the beach on a beautiful September morning only to be plagued by...BEES. Yellow jackets to be exact. I don't like bees. In retrospect, I should have packed everyone right back into Rosie the Red Van and headed straight back home, but....what is it they say about hindsight? Something about it doesn't need contacts? Well, I do. The bees were everywhere, not just in the parking lot, not only near the garbage cans, but everywhere. They were aggressive. At one point I ripped Paddy Boy's brightly colored tie-dyed shirt right off him because it seemed to be attracting them. I was going under the mistaken notion that bees don't sting you unless you provoke them because once they sting you they die, and they aren't generally suicidal. Well, actually that is true about bees, but I have since learned that yellow jackets are actually wasps, not bees at all and they can sting you without suffering any fatal consequence. Information which would have been good to know last week. You can guess where this is going....

So, the three 2(ish) yr olds ignored each other, threw sand, climbed monkey bars meant for 8yr olds, gave the Moms a good workout (spin class...ha!), slid down the slides, and successfully avoided getting stung by flying insects for about an hour...and then it was time to go home. There I was buckling Dexter into his car seat attached to the stroller, when...zap. The BASTARD got me right on the back of my arm, Suddenly I was the crazy cursing lady at the playground. If you've never been stung by a yellow jacket let me assure you..it hurts! A lot.

I managed to get everybody in the car, chase no less than three "bees" out of the car and drive myself home. I immediately took 4tsp of Children's Benadryl and applied an ice pack - before unbuckling a single car seat. Mother in law took Curly home with her, and Dexter & Paddy went in for a nap. I proceeded to pass out (see the above reference to 4tsp of Benadryl). When I woke up my arm was red all the way up to my elbow and it was hot to the touch. Guess what? I am allergic to bees. Hooray. Something new to add to my resume.

I went to see an allergist. I am deathly afraid of being out with my children and being suddenly overcome by an inability to breathe. He prescribed three medicines that I should carry with me at all times, including an "epi-pen" - a pre-filled syringe which I was taught to stab into my thigh in the event that I go into anaphylactic shock, an antihistamine 5x stronger than Benadryl, and a rescue inhaler. All this crap residing in my Vera Bradley just because of some little yellow bastard.

This morning I headed out to see my friends at the pharmacy (they were expecting me because it's been at least a week since I was last there). The pharmacy is located inside the grocery store, making it possible for me to pick up my prescriptions and supplies for dinner with only one round of car seat buckling/unbuckling. Convenient. Tonight I was making pasta with oven roasted squash for dinner. I decided to pick up some Italian bread. The best value seemed to be a package with three small loaves - in a sealed plastic bag. I also picked up some American cheese, apples, bananas and a box of tissues. Where am I going with this??? I get home, pop open the trunk and start unloading my purchases. I go to grab the bag with the Italian bread only....there's a freaking yellow jacket in the bag! The bastards are mocking me!

There Are Books,

There Are Novels By My Bed...

I am a reader. As early as I can remember all I wanted was to be able to decipher the meaning of words. I even remember sitting up one night with my (much) older sister's 10th grade required reading novel, struggling to "read" just one page - really all I was doing was naming each and every letter, one at a time. I was desperate to have this coveted skill that everyone except me seemed to possess. When at long last the synapses were making the proper connections, and the letters turned into words, and the words into sentences, there was no stopping me. I saw Jane. I saw Dick and I saw Sally, and I saw them run! I was reading several grade levels ahead in no time. I would read anything and everything, street signs and the backs of shampoo bottles. As an adolescent I was often getting yelled at to shut out the light and put away the books already! I would spend my entire summer holed up in the public library (truly, I am not a sun lover), my (much) older sister having to come and drag me home for meals. In one summer alone I read almost every Judy Blume novel! Actually, I remember the first time I ever heard the word "novel", I knew it had to do with books, and if D. Kelly was reading one I certainly could too!

Nowadays, although "voracious" is one of my very favorite words (what, you don't have a collection of favorite words? I bet you do...), it's not a perfect description of my reading habit. I will say that I probably read more adult content (no, not, smut - get your head out of the gutter) than your average suburban mother with 4 kids under seven. I started a book club with some friends, and in addition to creating 2 pretty neat male humans, I count that as one of my proudest accomplishments of the last two years. I also have a few magazine subscriptions, and let us not forget my blog habit. Reading is so much a part of me, I can't have down time without having something, anything (even a shampoo bottle) handy to read at all times.

One of the things about reading that I love so much, in addition to the fact that a good book can transport me to another place and time altogether, is that by reading I can learn about absolutely anything I want! There is nothing that can hold me back so long as I can get my hands on a book! I have discussed with my husband my desire that more than anything else, I want my children to love to read! If they like soccer? Okay. Art? Great. Math? Fabulous. Reading though, means that they are limitless! Some people wait in anticipation of babies first steps, or riding a bike without training wheels, for me - when First Son read the word "turquoise" the other night I almost cried with joy!

I read to my children, but I have always felt that it is equally if not more important for them to see me reading for my own purposes. It sends the message that reading is important. I mean, if Mom is taking time to do it it must be, right? Lead by example I figure. I do most of my reading before going to sleep, or on a lazy Saturday morning. At any given time, there is a stack of books by my bed. We also have a pretty impressive (at least I think so) collection of children's books, which for reasons of space and convenience, is stored in Curly's room. Most nights she falls asleep with books in her bed. She is four years old and "reads" herself to sleep. It makes my heart swell to see her learning to love books the way I do. I am sure it won't be long until the words are jumping off the page and her mind is running off with the stories. For now I am sure she is mostly looking at pictures and imagining the meanings of the words. She reminds me of me though.

The other night I found her fast asleep with my copy of Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen tucked under her arm and I thought to myself, hmmm..I wonder what she thinks about the midget?? I can't wait until the day when my children and I sit around discussing books, any more than Hubby can't wait to discuss quantum physics. I win though - in order to discuss the physics, they're probably going to have to read about it!

The conversation

I spent a lot of my day today thinking about September 11, 2001, specifically how I could deal with the delicate issue of teaching my children, and talking to them about it. I can't bear for this to become just something they read about in a textbook someday. I feel an immense responsibility to impart to my children a sense of what September 11th means to everyone who lived through it. But...they're little. 9/11 is incomprehensible for me still, and I have had 7 adult years to process it.

I asked some friends for their opinion, asked what they tell their children. One friend's son knows some because he has older siblings; One friend's son knows more because his dad is FDNY; one friend's children know some because their uncle served 2 tours in Iraq. Ultimately though, every family, every child is different.

First Son is six. He is smart. He is sensitive. I have been waiting with trepidation for the moment when he and I would have our first real conversation about 9/11. I have been so anxious that I will make a mistake. That I will say too much, or not enough. Today, my moment came, and although I felt utterly unprepared, I think it went well.

We were sitting together in the dining room going over his homework. I asked casually what he did in school today, and asked if they had spoken about it being "September 11th".

First Son: Yeah, Mrs. B asked us about it. Dylan said that buildings in New York City Fell Down
Mom: What did Mrs. B say?
First Son: She said, "yes, Dylan, you're right."
Mom: What do you think ?
First Son: Mom, could you tell me about it,.... please?

Wow. I took a deep, deep breath. Here I am, the moment. I feel completely unprepared, but as in so many other parental situations, this moment was not about my needs, but his. So, I took another deep breath and asked God to please, please help me with this.

Mom: Ok, but I need to tell you first, that I might cry when I tell you. Ok? Don't be scared. It was a very, very sad day, and I might cry, Ok?
First Son: Ok.

Mom: This happened before you were born. There were two very tall buildings where a lot of people worked, they called them the Twin Towers, or you might have heard, The World Trade Center
First Son: Oh yeah, the World Trade Center
Mom: There were some very mean, very bad people who hate America, and they wanted to do something very bad, they wanted to hurt us very bad, and they did.
First Son: What did they do?

How do you put it into language that is respectful, truthful and not scare the crap out of the kid??

Mom: They stole some airplanes, and they crashed them into the buildings, and that's why they fell down.
First Son: Did people die?
does he grasp the concept of die?
Mom: Yes, my love, a lot of people died. That's part of why it's so sad.

Some quiet time...I could see his wheels turning...

First Son: Mom, the people in the buildings...were they scared?
Mom:<> Well, I think that God was with them, so, no I don't think they were scared.
(wow - where did that come from - it's brilliant, and true...I hope)
First Son: Oh, yeah!

More quiet, then I asked if he had any more questions...

First Son: Mom, do you know what? The people, if they hate America, what they should have done was they should have not stolen a plane, no, they should have...you remember the plane like we took to go to Disney? They should have gone on a plane like that and, instead of crashing the plane, they should have just gone somewhere else...if they hate America

Mom: You're absolutely right.
First Son: Mom, you're crying...

It is hard to believe that once again, it is September 11th. Today, just like every September 11th for the last 7 years, I have a pit in my stomach. Not just a pit, a canyon. A huge gaping crevasse with bubbling bile at the bottom. My hands and my feet are numb, and I just want to throw up. I want to crawl back into bed, pull the covers up over my head and pretend it never happened.


It did happen, and I can't, won't pretend that it didn't. As much as I hate this date, and the feelings that surface because of it, how I wish we could just skip over the eleventh and go straight to the twelfth, I also know that we must stop to remember.


Despite my misery, I still have to get up and go about my business of raising four beautiful, innocent children. Children who are growing up in a world where unconscionable evil exists in the memory of every teenager and adult they will encounter today. They cannot even imagine it, we all lived through it. Of course, they are my babies, and I want to love them and protect them, and I never ever want them to experience anything like it, ever, but I also want them to know. I just don't know how.

First Son will participate in some ceremony at school today, I don't know if it will even be mentioned at Curly's preschool, but I think not. Neither one of them were more than a "twinkle in their father's eye" on the morning of September 11, 2001. I am thankful for that, because I don't know how I would have managed as a Mom that day. I could barely keep myself together, I couldn't imagine what I'd have done if there were little faces looking up to me that day. In fact, when I think of September 11, and all of the heroes involved, I often think about the teachers and parents who managed to help the littlest victims, the children.

First Son went to school today wearing a plain blue t-shirt and an American Flag pin. I told him that today was an important day, a very important day to be American, and be proud of it. I told him that his teachers would be talking about it, that they would probably do a special project. He pressed me for more information, but I was at a loss. The best I could do was tell him that he will learn more about it as he gets older. I don't know what to say to a six year old. I don't want this day to pass as just another day. I want it to be important, but for once I just don't have the words.

September 11, 2001 claimed so many victims. In the Towers, the Pentagon and in a field in Pennsylvania, yes - those are the stories we hear over and over again, and they are so important. There are others. For one, there are the rescue workers who are now suffering and dying from respiratory diseases caused by the awful things they were exposed to and inhaling in the days and weeks following the attacks. There are the families who lost loved ones. There are the soldiers who went off to fight the ensuing War on Terror - the ones who died in the war and the ones who came back changed forever. There are the families of these brave soldiers - whose husbands and wives, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers are risking all to fight an unpopular war, because they believe in America. There are people like myself, who thankfully didn't know anyone at all who was lost in any of the attacks, yet are still so profoundly affected by all that we saw and heard.

I will go and turn on the TV this morning, because that is where I was in 2001, in front of my television watching my world change forever. I will listen as the names are read by the families carrying pictures and wearing buttons with the likenesses of their lost loved ones. I will cry. I will be angry. I will relive all of the events of that time in my head.

I will comb Curly's hair, and drive her to preschool, I'll stop at the market and pick something up for dinner, I will make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, and help first son with his homework. I will change diapers and I will make bottles. I will go about my life, do my job. I will carry my sorrow in my heart. I will also hug my children extra hard, kiss my husband a few more times, and thank God for the life he has blessed me with. I will ask for Grace and Wisdom to teach my children appropriately. I will remember.

God Bless America.

Take Care of your Own Family and MYOB

Little Piper Palin grooming her baby brother Trig is the most adorable thing I have seen on TV in quite some time. I don't know if I will vote for John McCain and Sarah Palin, but I am definitely voting for Piper Palin as the cutest big sister ever! (well, Curly, sorry but you didn't make it to National TV...yet)
I just read a post somewhere from a supposed Mom of seven that she would NEVER let her seven year old (and by the way, the kid was born in 2002, exactly what type of math are you using that makes her seven?) hold any of her babies. Really lady? Seven babies and you held all of them without help? So what did you do, grow an extra arm? You said that it "says it all" - what does that mean? Is it a crime to let someone else hold your baby - or is it just because it was a very capable six year old? I let my four year old feed my 3 1/2 month old all the time. Sometimes, I need to cook dinner, or change another dirty diaper, or address the Republican National Convention - what can I do? We are a family, and we take care of each other. My older kids learn responsibility, what it takes to take care of another being, and that in order for our home to run everyone MUST help out. Maybe I should let my four year old cook dinner for her other siblings instead? Perhaps that would be more appropriate than holding and feeding and loving and caring for her baby brother?

I wonder what is wrong with people in this world who can take the most innocent of moments, (which occurred in an arena that was full of anything but innocence, talk about paradoxes..).and pick it apart? Why do people think that it is okay to attack others for the way they choose to parent? Whether it has to do with breastfeeding vs. bottle feeding; home school/public school/ private school; sandals vs. sneakers vs. bare feet; car seat with a seat belt or a latch; bedtimes; cheeze doodles or carrot sticks....or who is allowed to hold the baby...people, take care of your own family and mind your business. You are not perfect. The kids are going to need therapy anyway, so do your best and hope for an outpatient program that doesn't burn your entire nursing home fund! I for one, thought that little Piper Palin licking her little brother's alfalfa 'do was awesome. Everything that Sarah Palin had to say about how "normal" her family was went in one ear and out the other, but the picture of Piper and Trig said it all. I gotta go now - Curly is getting ready to lick Dexter! Is it wrong that she's been holding him this whole time so Mommy could blog? Hmmmm....

First Day of First Grade

That's it. The big yellow taxi has taken my love away. Off to First Grade. It's true what they say, time flies. I still haven't finished uploading the pictures I took at his end of the year picnic back in June, and now he's a big First Grader. He climbed up on the bus and went right to the back - the last row. He wasn't allowed to sit in the back when he was in kindergarten, he wasted no time today. He smiled that adorable smile and waved enthusiastically. He likes school. I like that he likes it. I just wish time didn't have to go so fast. Hubby recently switched his work schedule to a 9/80 work week - 80 hours in 9 days. Why can't they do that with school? Give them Friday off - or let them "work from home" one day?
The bus pulled away, and I smiled and waved, wished him a good day and told him I loved him and was proud of him. Then I cried. Am I the only mother who hates the first day of school? No, I am sure I am not, and truthfully, hate is too strong a word. I am happy to be getting back into a routine. I am excited to see all of the new things he will be learning, and to meet the new friends he will be making. Chances are that I will make a new friend or two myself.
Oh well, now that he's gone, the babies and Curly girl are all still sleeping so...I'm going back to bed!! Next week I'll be getting Curly out to preschool! I'd better sleep while I can!

It IS a Big Deal!

I am not one to discuss my personal politics. That said, I'd like to discuss the upcoming Presidential Election for just a minute.

In just over two months time our country will come together (separately, in little tiny curtained booths)and choose our next leader. Once the ballots have all been cast and counted we will be left with an historical outcome. Either we will have elected the first Black President of the United States, or, those who are both second and third in line to be Commander in Chief will be women. I say, wow.

In the great band of time it is only a hair width ago that these same people would not have even had the opportunity to cast a vote in this election, and now they are in a position to become the next leader of the Free World.

Someone said to me that it's really not that big a deal. These days there are plenty of politicians who are either black, or women, or black women. Someone actually pointed out that Obama is only half black. I must counter that at a point and time in our country's history (and yes, I will allow myself to believe that that time and place does not exist now, if only to use delusion as a form of self preservation) that would be just enough to have him strung up on a tree. Now he could become our next President!

My children are growing up in an amazing time in our country. When I was a kid this type of election was unthinkable. Sure, some thought that Geraldine Ferraro on the ticket was an astonishing accomplishment, others thought it was a big joke, and in the end the country just wasn't ready. A few years ago when the television show "24" aired with "David Palmer" as President it was pure fiction!

Here's the thing. To my kids, having a black President or a woman President will be no big deal. And that, is precisely what makes it a BIG DEAL. My children will not live in a time where they have to even consider that someone is not worthy of any position, be it political or otherwise, just because of the color of his skin or the gender listed on his driver's license.

I am not discussing my views of the candidates. I am not telling you who I am voting for, and I won't tell you who I think you should vote for. I do think however, that regardless of your opinions about our candidates and their politics, you really must sit back for just a minute and look around and say wow. We live in an amazing time, and I am so proud and honestly excited, to be raising my children as American citizens.

God Bless America.