Mother

Here’s a thank you to all the mothers out there.
Mothers who become mothers via the traditional and non-traditional routes alike.
Mothers who are near and mothers who are far.
Mothers who are involved and mothers who are not.
Mothers who meet expectations and mothers who fail miserably (by their own fault or not.)
Mothers who have loved and lost.
Mothers who have gained and lost.
Mothers who have lost and won.
Mothers who have won no matter….
Mothers who are proud and mothers who are frightened.
Mothers who pray and mothers who have lost faith.
Mothers who never knew us and mothers we never knew…no matter their physical location.
Mothers who understand us more than we understand ourselves.
Mothers who baked cookies and packed lunches.
Mothers who gave us lunch money and keys to the front door for afterschool.
Mothers who worked one, two, three jobs.
Mothers who stayed home but still made us do our own laundry.
Mothers who nurtured us and mothers who trained us, and mothers who taughts us…
to love, be strong, believe, know, care, speak out, speak up, and be quiet.
Thanks to all the mothers who ever, how ever, where ever, when ever, why ever they may be or were.
Thanks to all the mothers who have been mothers and will be mothers.
Thanks.

On Preschool and Proposals

Michael is a red headed boy. If you ask him how old he is he’ll say, “five and one twelfth!” But it will sound like, five and one twelf because his speech is kind of slurpy. He doesn’t have a speech impediment, just an inordinate excess of spit bubbles. If you ask him when we met he’ll happily shout, “when I was free!” He’s not bound now, except maybe by the confines of the no potty talk rule at school. He might find that more difficult to handle than any physical prison cell.
I met this little man back when he was barely three years old and could hardly wield a crayon let alone build teetering brick fortresses for Spiderman action figures. Over the years he’s really come into his own in several areas of life including social skills. He’s built some excellent friendships and I suppose it shouldn’t be shocking that such a man of the world is ready now for marriage. He announced his intentions today at the lunch table while I was pouring milk. “I’m going to marry Camp ‘cause he’s my betht fwiend!” To which Camp promptly but not unkindly responded, “Boys don’t marry boys in this state.” Camp is five and two quarters so has a bit of an edge on Michael in the sophistication department.
“But why?” asked Michael, bewildered. “I want to marry you. We’re betht fwiends!”
“I can’t marry you Michael. I’m going to marry Violet.” Responded Camp with authority.
“What?” exclaimed Violet, nearly spitting her half chewed Orange chunk across the table. Obviously her upcoming nuptials were news to her. And Michael looked about ready to cry. So I put the milk jug down and squatted to the level of their truncated table. “Here’s how the whole marriage thing works guys,” I could almost feel them lean in closer.
“First you find someone you enjoy spending time with and who enjoys spending time with you. You find someone who makes you laugh ….”
“Camp makes me laugh till milk comes out my nostril!”
“That’s important. You find someone who hears you and someone who you can fight with. You find someone who likes some of the same things you like.”
“Like Bakugan?”
“Yes. Like Bakugan. And someone who you like to listen to a lot and who you like to be next to a lot.”
“Mia always wants to sit by me and listen to knock knock jokes. “
“Yes, its very important to find someone who likes your jokes. So when you find this person and you think you’d like to promise to do all these things with them for a very long time…forever…then you ask them if they feel the same way. Do they want to promise all the same things you want to promise? The asking part is VERY important.”
“It’s good manners,” added Violet with a decisive nod.
“Yes, much better than telling. The asking is important but not as important as hearing the answer. If you ask someone to make you all these promises and they don’t want to or don’t think they can make them then you have to listen to them. You have to hear that they said, “No thank you.”
“But I want them to say yes!”
“And maybe they will say yes. You have to hear whatever they say. For now though we should all just be friends till we’ve met a few more people and know better what kinds of people we are willing to make so many important promises to. There are a lot more people in the world than just the twelve people at this table.”
“Camp, promise to marry me, please,” Michael pleaded.
“No thank you.”
“But I said please!”
“No thank you Michael.”
“Awwww…I guess I’ll marry Violet then.”
“Rude! ASK me.”
“Will you promise to marry me Violet?”
“No thanks Michael. I’m going to marry Camp and Paul. Elia will you marry Michael?”
“No thanks. I’m going to marry potato chips.”
“Nobody wants to married me!”
“ Michael, there will be other girls. You haven’t’ met everyone yet. Why don’t you wait a while and see who else you meet in the future.”
“Ok,” he sighed heavily. “Maybe in kindergarten.”
Stifling a nearly uncontrollable giggle, I resumed pouring milk. The kids dropped the subject and Michael went about pretending to burp to great applause throughout the remainder of the meal; a testament to his bachelorhood.

My world is…

so happy today. Happy, and hopeful and inspired. Thank you friend. And thank you Lord.

Where We Dwell

Dwelling in memories like houses-
Every new addition to life now connected to all that passed before.
Are we spinning the web or caught in it?
Creator and destoryer or destroyed creature?
Its all in where we dwell-

“Memories live in the hippocampus and the prefrontal cortex. After that, the entire question of how memory works is up for grabs.” (from an article by Bruce Duffy in the April 2009 edition of Wired Magazine)

I just finished reading…

What I Talk ABout When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. And I think you should read it too. It’s about running, writing, being human, being machine, and simply being. I’ve never really read anything like it before but that doesn’t surprise me coming from Murakami.

A friend has suggested reading a different title by Murakami which wasn’t available at the library yet so I grabbed this one, which I’d never even heard of. A small, unobtrusive yellow book of few pages. Reading felt like having a conversation with someone very wise, well-meaning and no non-sense. It felt like having a conversation with someone’s grandmother…if their grandmother knew a whole lot of first hand information about long distance running.

I feel like this book may have changed my perspective on life in a drastic way and when I closed the book (after reading the final 20 pages or so twice) I wanted to immediately share this change with an expectant world! But then, as now, I don’t have the words to explain the difference. It’s like watching a travel program about some foreign land vs. visiting some foreign land vs. living in some foreign land vs. adopting citizenship in some foreign land and calling it foreign no longer. Something like that…but not quite.

I’ll keep mulling…if I get a cleaner grasp I’ll try to pass it on. You go out and read this book!

Inspiration