Small Circles

The boy with the broken leg

Really, what I think about most when my heart breaks, is the parents of children who have a horrendous chronic illness...  You know, parents and children who don't have the hope of, "Only 3 more weeks with a cast."  I just, I'm just so awed at how deeply humans can love, and love life, in spite of all sorts of super challenging circumstances.  And parents...  how strong we have to be for our kids, when really all you want to do is break down.  At the hospital, the x-ray tech took one x-ray, and then after developing the first one, he took another x-ray.  I thought, "Oh shit, he found something."  And sure enough, he came out the second time and said something about "fractura" and "yeso" and I just couldn't hear it.  It wasn't until the doctor in the ER said it again, and I saw the fracture across the tibia, and he said we needed a yeso for 6 weeks, that I knew I was a moment away from losing it.  I said to the doctors, "That's unacceptable, can't you tell me something else?"  (You gotta love a parent's deep love and arrogance.)  But I couldn't lose it, because there's Albie, who had been in great spirits up to this point, but he didn't want to hear anything about a cast either, and so he lost it...  And so I was there for him.  And I held him.  And told him the story of the courageous boy who really wanted to get across the monkey bars, and in his efforts, he slipped and fell, and broke his leg.  And again, it's just a broken leg... we have a time line, the hope of 6 weeks...

For the most part though, Albie is doing absolutely great.  Here he is with his new cousin on our last day in Argentina:

As an aside, this sweet baby girl is a thumb sucker.  It may just be the cutest thing I have ever seen.  When she's cranky or tired, her mama lays her down on her belly, she finds her tiny perfect little thumb, and falls asleep.  Oh how I wished that Albie would find joy in his own thumb when he was an infant and give my aching nipples a break! 

In some ways, it was a bit easier dealing with the broken leg in the city than it has been in the country.  In the city, we got into the stroller in the apartment, rolled into the elevator, rolled out onto the sidewalk, and rolled around the city.  Here, I have to carry him a lot more and my back is feeling it.  In many ways, it is like going back to having one year old.  Albie is getting a shorter, lighter cast on Monday (his current cast is plaster and goes up past his knee), one that will allow him to walk.  He says he doesn't want it, he likes being carried around.  Stinker.

Luckily, school started as soon as we got back, and that helps all of us have a bit more rhythm and routine.  His teachers are great, and carry him up and down the stairs.  And he scoots and crawls and keeps up with his buddies.

We have this tradition after school -- we all walk to the small, country train station and the kids run around a bit.  On the 2nd day of school, I brought the stroller so we could start our ritual again.  Albie's friends were running on the sidewalk, and I ran as I pushed him in the stroller, and generally tried to allow him to keep up with the action.  His friends ran around the platform, and he crawled around, and he smiled.  We walked back to our cars and his friends drove off as I was putting Albie into the car seat.  The look on his face was devastating.  Oh my heart.  I asked what was wrong and as he answered the tears began rolling down his cheeks, "Mama, I want to run.  GET THIS CAST OFF ME."  I guess it's the biggest lesson I've had so far as a mama, you know, the one we all know but perhaps find it hard to be with -- that we can't keep our kids from suffering, heartbreak, sadness, disappointment -- all those things that are just a part of the human experience. 

I have to say though, Albie has handled himself beautifully.  If this is how he'll face adversity as he walks his path, well, I think he'll do just fine.  He gets it, he gets what he's missing out on, he acknowledges how much it sucks, and then he moves on.  He is amazing.  He's teaching me about being unattached.  I love him. 

This is him, after the 2nd day of school, moving on...

I have mentioned that everybody needs a dirt pile right?

Glimpses of our summer....

Well yeah, sure, I could have been posting all along -- a picture here, a rant there.  But alas!  I dropped out!  And now I'm dropping back in with some moments from our delightful summer.  We worked a lot, played a lot, swam a lot, beached a lot, and celebrated to the extent of hangover.  Much goodness.  Now we're off to BA for 2 weeks and then back to school...  sinking in, rhythm, ritual...  Oh, but first, the Justin Roberts show is tomorrow!  Swoon...  Chris is going with me and Albie -- he's afraid of what I might do.

Anyhow -- back to the picture show...  Wishing you all a fabulous few weeks 'til the autumnal equinox...

I did mention the work right?

Every child has known God

Every child has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of don’ts,
Not the God who ever does anything weird,
But the God who knows only four words.
And keeps repeating them, saying:
“Come Dance with Me, come dance.”

-- Hafiz
 

An angry post in which I curse

Why the fuck can't we (as in we humans) make products (as in everything that is human-made) that don't fucking hurt children, adults, the planet etc...  Is it really that hard?  Would it take so much?  Is it really more important to make more money?  Whatever.  I'm not sure I care. 

But I do care!   Fuckers.

Thought you all should know about this Thomas recall:

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - More than 1 million of the popular "Thomas & Friends" wooden railway toys made in China are being voluntarily recalled because some may contain lead paint, the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commision said on Wednesday.

read more here and here...

My morning

I've been meditating every morning.  The first morning I decided to add this to my life, I didn't prepare Albie too well and he was all over me -- couldn't, wouldn't leave me alone.  I ended up yelling at him.  So much for the peace of meditation.  The next morning, Albie gave me the space I needed.  However, at one point, he stood at my bedroom door, peeking in, saying to no one in particular, "She's kidding me.  She has got to be kidding me."  It took all I had not to burst out laughing.  Well...  months later, we've got our routine down.  I set the kitchen timer for 23 minutes or so, and as soon as the timer goes off, Albie comes into my room to announce that meditation is over.  I get a kiss, he blows out the candle, and we go out to have breakfast.  Often, we take a moment for some killer cuddles.  It is truly a lovely way to start my day.  I sometimes wonder what he does for that 20 minutes (Chris is usually doing yoga), as he keeps himself happy and entertained and I can sometimes hear him talking to himself.  Living his own life -- making his own world....   Thought I'd share what came in to to greet me post meditation this morning:

Taste

I took Albie for a gelato today, in our favorite (and only) local gelateria, and he ordered his usual  -- lemon.  It was a slightly whiny afternoon, but still, I was not at all prepared for him to burst into tears upon tasting his beloved lemon gelato.  "It tastes baaaaad," he cried dramatically, pushed the gelato away and rested his head on his folded arms -- so great was the extent of his suffering.  I of course thought it was my child being odd again, the lemon tasted fine to me, and didn't he know we were in public and that I have a desperate need to look good in public with my child?!  I could barely talk to him, but luckily, my mother was with us and she provided the "poor baby" hugs.  I jokingly said to the gelato-maker,  "What did you do to the lemon gelato?"  Well -- turns out that yes indeed, the lemon gelato had changed.  Where once they were using regular old lemons, they had just begun to use meyer lemons to make the gelato, and those two lemons do taste differently, apparently.  Albie was vindicated!  It is different, I was able to say without feeling like I was being a bad indulgent spoiling mama, would you like to try another flavor?  He declined, and ate my mother's panini instead.

All this got me thinking though...  Albie tends to the picky side of the eating spectrum.  While there are some fabulous foods that he will regularly eat, he is not a try everything, eat everything kind of kid.  I generally ask (force?) him to try a small bite of new things, and unless it's a new kind of sugar, he often declines the second bite.  So I wonder -- does he have a very discerning palette?  Does he have over-achieving or super-sensitive taste buds?  I mean -- sure, if you put the two lemon gelatos side by side, I could probably taste the difference, but when I tasted it today, it was just lemon.   Lemon is lemon, right?   Is this all related?  Or I am just trying to find a reason why my kid seems to be the only one who won't touch a banana, or string cheese or a good old PB & J?

For worm lovers...

Albie is not the biggest fan of handling worms, but he does enjoy observing from a distance.  I am often asked to pick them up and transport them to safer ground -- ick...  Anyhow, I think I found the following in an old Organic Gardening and it seems like a groovy summertime activity.  Good for observers and handlers alike!

Dig a hole in the ground 18 inches on all sides and 18 inches deep.  Fill it with kitchen scraps and cover it with a piece of plywood.  Worms are attracted to the scraps and turn them into vermicompost.  A worm house!  Other critters -- slugs, pill bugs, and many more -- congregate under the plywood as well... 

Lots and lots of fun.

The makings of a good time

My mom has been renovating her house, and among other things, she is putting in a new slate patio in the back.  Which means lots of dirt, gravel, and rocks -- paradise for Albie.  He has been over there playing for days, or as he says, "Mama, I need to go help the workers."  It proves my point that the best thing you can give your kid (at least this kid) is not a swing set, but rather a huge pile of dirt/sand/gravel in your yard.  Endless hours of fun, for a boy or girl.  A hill to run up and down, a castle for dolls, a mountain for trucks, a place to dig, roll and get dirty.  And -- if you live in a place where it snows, a sledding hill the winter.  Seriously folks, if you can do it where you live, get yourself a truckload of dirt.

Oh my goodness, I love him so much I don't even know what to do with the love and it's just everywhere all love and huge and explosive and I could eat him up and I would, I really would just eat him, but then I couldn't look at him anymore.  Oh my god, the love.

 

Yellow skies and blue suns

 

It seems like only a blink of an eye ago...  Right about this time of year I'd be doing Dead mail order for summer tour.  Swimming in self addressed stamped envelopes, money orders and index cards -- checking over and over in an OCD kind of way to make sure everything was just exactly perfect.  And then going to the post office, bonding with the other dead heads in line (no matter where I was, there'd always be other deadheads), and sending everything off with a prayer.  Then waiting and waiting and hoping I'd receive tickets to all the shows I wanted and then they'd come!  And they'd be beautiful!  All shiny and sparkley and lovely and whoopee!  Soon enough it'd be hot and we'd be pulling into the lot and so excited and full of energy and you know, I'd do the dead thing.

Today, I'm going to score some Justin Roberts tickets and I have to say, I am just as thrilled (without the butterflies in the belly.)  A show that both me and Albie will dig?  Kids dancing and shaking their bones?  Sounds fantastic.   And then that free Dan Zanes' show in Brooklyn in July?  Looks like we're gonna have a rockin' summer. 

Clearly, these days, my thrills are a bit different.   And while I miss some of that footloose and fancy free dead show time of my life, I must admit it was pretty cool to wake up this morning and have Albie ask me to put on the song where "the sky is yellow and the sun is blue."  And then we all danced and sang and played air guitar.  I'll take it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday my mom had a tag sale at her house, which is across the street from my house and I was the designated helper.  She's renovating and getting rid of pretty much everything -- starting over and simplifying.  So -- I was up kind of early and went over to help her first thing in the morning. You know how it is -- you say garage sale starts at 8, but those freaks, they show up at 7 to see if you can "do any better" on a $3 tchotchke.  When Albie came over later, I could tell he wasn't a big fan of the garage sale, as he said "Jennie.  I'm not a big fan of this."  We talked, explained, he got a tennis racket (perfect for today's air guitar session), and all was super.   Well, I got the rest of the story from Chris last night.   As the cars started pulling up early in the morn, Albie started getting agitated.  He sat up on the couch, and  began growling at the cars and people.  But that wasn't enough.  He then began yelling, "STOP STEALING THE TREASURE!  THEY'RE STEALING THE TREASURE!"  Is it bad to laugh at your kid's misery?

Jack Shit

A few days ago, I received my yearly social security statement.  Apparently, "this statement will help you understand what social security means to you and your family.  This statement can help you better plan for your financial future."  I read the statement over, so that I may have a better plan for my future. 

For the last four years, I have not earned much at all, and so really did not contribute to social security.  So yeah, since I don't get paid to stay home and mother my child, I don't contribute to social security.  And let's say I choose to "stay home" until the child graduates high school... that's another 13 years of not getting paid.  And then the government sends friendly yearly reminders:  As hard as you think you're working, it don't mean a thing -- you're earning jack shit.  Hmmm -- now I feel soooo secure.

Now, let's say I did go off to a different job every morning -- you know, a real job, one in which I really worked.  The person I paid to watch my child would be contributing to social security.  Hopefully, I'd be paying that person well, but I can't image I would be as we (as a society) clearly don't value the job of raising kids and childcare workers for middle class families don't earn that much at all.  So, I'd be off at work, I'd be getting paid, and I would be contributing to my social security, but guess what?  Chris and I would be in a much higher tax bracket.  So, in effect, we'd be getting penalized for both of us earning an income.

The so-called "mommy wars" ought not to be between home mommies and working mommies...  Clearly, you're fucked if you do, you're fucked if you don't.  No -- the real battle ought to be against The Man.  Ladies -- The Man is keeping us down.  It's time for the revolution.  With our weapons of mass unconditional love (and some milk squirts in the eye) we shall love The Man until he is just a man, who can now affirm the beauty and value of The Mother.

Fuckers.