Happy Halloween

October 30, 2004 | Category:

We wish for you, a wonderful weekend.

Bear and I are off into the wind, flying to Boston. We're visiting my Aunt and Uncle, and every other relative too. We're Trick or Treating in the same town that I first Trick or Treated as a little girl.

We'll be back Tuesday.

Poor CD, meanwhile, will be sitting in the Den with a large bowl of candy. Alone. With the candy.

Happy Halloween!!

The Raining Down Leaves Blues

October 29, 2004 | Category:

Late in the evening, window open, train rattling off in the distance, wind blowing - hard. It's raining. Water. Mist. And leaves. Showers of golden leaves in the streetlights.

The cold feels good.

I'm caught, as Big Head Todd sings, in the "Bittersweet. More sweet than bitter ...more bitter than sweet".

The sweet, it's there for all to see. Life with Bear is so wonderful.

It's the bitter, that's hidden in the shadows. It's why I've been battling the blues for months now.

Since that morning early in summer, when we realized... no baby. No sudden magic fertilitity. No "look, Baby.the.sequel - no money down, no credit check." No easy path to repeat the glory, another one to join us and Bear.

Blues. Every few nights it's like this, 2AM and not asleep. In my days, life goes on. Although I notice that I am avoiding exercising (gee, did I finally spell it right?) or anything else that would actually help me work through this.

I'm feeding the blues. It's like the injury that you make worse by hiding it away.

The injury needs to be cleaned and bandaged. Out in the light.

The blues need to be faced.

Blues. Not Depression. I know this because I asked an expert about it. Actually several. Thought there might be a magic pill I could take that would help me.

Nope.

We've been grappling with choices. And even begining to deal with them has been so hard. So very hard.

There's this great line, in Farscape. When Areyn wants to get together with John Crichton again. And he can't do it. Crichton says to Aeryn: “I would put my life in your hands, but not my heart.”

That's how I feel.

After Bear was born, CD and I faced a crisis. It had been 7 months of bedrest, of emergency after emergency to finally get Bear delivered - alive and healthy.

And then he was. And suddenly, we weren't living under seige anymore. How wonderful. And... how hard. It was a bumpy road, filled with therapy and prayer, to recover.

The thought of of doing it again. Of losing more, and hoping to make it to the finish line... Of walking through that gauntlet again, day after day after day. Of ripping of ourselves inside out to try and have another baby scares me sick.

Because to do this, it means putting not just my life and my body but my heart back into the hands of this process.

He says, please.

I say I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to hope anymore. I want a line in the sand. I want to stick my tongue out at the bogeyman and waggle my fingers in my ears.

CD, he can't make this better for me. And he can't stop wanting.

But wanting won't make it so.

So I'm up late, and I've got no answers.

Just the window open and wind blowing and the raining down leaves blues.

Autumn Morning Idyll

October 28, 2004 | Category:

[note: click any picture to see larger in a new window]

Bear and I rolled out of bed early this morning to give CD a ride over to the El train. The sun was barely up. As we were heading home the "Dunkin Donuts way" (the path amazingly takes you right into the drive-thru lane) - we passed the park. The morning mist was still clinging to the lawn. I had to stop and roll down the windows and breath it in.

For long minutes, we sat in the quiet car looking out the window. The sun turned brighter and the fog burned away before our eyes. "Look," I said to my sleepy Bear. "Isn't that lovely? Let's take some pictures."

"Me, too?" he asked.

"Sure," I agreed. And I passed back the camera.

"That man is excersizing!" Bear told me as he passed the camera back to me.

"Look at the sunbeams," I pointed. "Autumn is my favorite season."

"What's Autumn?" Bear asked me.

"The time of year when the leaves turn pretty colors and fall to the ground and we rake. It starts with your birthday and ends with St Nicholas Day. And in between we have Thanksgiving and..."

"Halloween!" Bear announced.

"Autumn is my favorite, too," Bear told me.

We watched the sun rise up a little longer. It was brighter and the leaves so lovely in saturated color. I began to hum, a song from my childhood.

"What's that?" Bear asked me.

"An old song, your grandpa likes. Let me see if I can remember it....
The falling leaves
Drift by the window
The autumn leaves
Of red and gold"

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Bear."

"I've got to go potty."

Idyll crashed to a stop; we buckled up and dashed home.

A few hours later, he came into my office and patted my arm.

"Mommy? I am going to the park now. Are you going to come with us?"

"I have to work," I lamented.

"That's OK, I will bring you some leaves. Does that sound like a good idea?"

And for an answer, I just hugged him tight.

Do you need a laugh??

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Don't be drinking coffee when you read this. It will come out your nose.

You've been warned.

"Just got a postcard from my brain. It's somewhere warm and sandy, enjoying a drink with an umbrella, and enjoying the cabana boy as well. It doesn't miss me at all." ....
Read More: Jenny's Brain Takes A Vacation

In other news...

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I've been working on-site this week (can't blog on company property, y'all) so in between lapping the house in my Red Sox outfit and rainbow wig, I've been catching up on my reading. Oh, I am SUCH an addict to your lives.

JIM got a J-O-B! (Whoop! Who Da Man?) Snooze Button Dreams: Here's the skinny...

Anna, whose husband moved out last week, has reconciled with him. She's been going through a lot:

All day I thought how odd it was that I was able to get through it with almost no tears, and how... I must be messed up for adjusting to life without (him) so quickly. And then the end of the day came, and I can't end it. I can't stop moving. And here I am typing, because it's something else to do, it's not stopping. I can't stop. I can't stop.

And Frum Dad, bless him, has outed himself as a Kerry supporter. He tackles the issues straight on. The hard stuff, like Abortion and Iraq, from his perspective as a person of deep religious conviction.

As You Wish

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In my life, I have watched a man walk on the surface of the moon, touched a piece of the destroyed Berlin Wall, cheered as the Americans beat the Russian National Hockey Team, lost a game of Chess to a computer, made a phone call while standing in the Atlantic Ocean, and listened to the sounds of my son's heart beating inside of me.

And now I add this:

I have seen the Red Sox win the World Series.
SI.com - MLB - Red Sox win first World Series in 86 years - Thursday October 28, 2004

Nobody change their socks

October 27, 2004 | Category:

Red Sox beat the Cards in Game 3 (4-1)!!!!! Manny Ramirez, honey, you did good. You too Pedro. Now everybody go home and get some rest - tomorrow's another big day.

And nobody change their socks.

A strong woman's story of survival

October 26, 2004 | Category:

I was very moved by this post. I Am Dr. Laura's Worst Nightmare: The Dark, the Light and the Gratitude

Let's all have a moment of silence before the game...

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He said how I feel....

If you're a Cardinals fan, you wanna hurl right now.

You're down 0-2 and you just want to cry.

But here's the thing -- you're better off than a Sox fan right now.

Because a Sox fan, being a Sox fan, is more worried than you are.

Exercising Your Right to Ignore Corporate Mommy

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This is what has come of me learning about site statistics and stuff. I joined something called the The Truth Laid Bear and it shows who and how many people link to you.

According to TLLB, 9 stopped linking to this site last night. That's a huge bump for a little site like mine.

I thought it might have to do with my post about Librarians and the Patriot Act. But a nice reader pointed out, it probably was a glitch.

If not, if they disagreed with my 'Librarian Love' - and dropped the link, good on them.

I hate when people complain about reality shows but keep watching them. These people did exactly right - they chose to delete Corporate Mommy from their worlds.

And in the grand scheme of things, I don't care much if a I'm a TLLB "fish" or a "rodent". It's a fun thing, but it isn't important.

Now, I'm off to the library. Because I go every week. And because I've decided that Bear and I are making some cookies for our own personal "Thank a Librarian" Day.

Save the Librarians

October 25, 2004 | Category:

Tonight, a warm autumn full moon overhead, the three of us went for a walk around our Pleasantville block.

"Did you know about the Libraries and the Patriot Act?" CD asked me.

"The Federal Government can pull records of Internet usage and stuff without a compelling reason why...

"Now the Homeland Security people want to pass an act that will send Librarians to jail if they even reveal the FBI has been there. Sending LIBRARIANS to jail."

And CD, he loves Librarians. He loves books and Libraries and Librarians. "Jail. Not for saying WHAT was raided or anything. Just for saying the library was raided. 'Oh hun, you wouldn't believe my day - the FBI had me running around for hours...' This they would make ILLEGAL. Conversation. In America. By LIBRARIANS."

"I guess it's that old saying... what if it was your kid that was in danger.." I mused.

"No. No. This isn't about safety. How is safety served in gagging Librarians? In curtailing Free Speech? Can there be justice in secrecy? No, this is about power. This about control."

"What can we do about it?"

"The Librarians are erasing the records of the computers every night. An act of rebellion."

"Librarians?"

"Yeah."

"To protect free speech?"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

And I thought back to the world, before.

This is the world, after.

And I don't have anything more to say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: This entry was previously prefaced by an anecdote of how easy it was, being an American in the world, prior to 9/11. How I ended up accidentally in Turkey one time and was penalized for traveling (without passport, papers, or even a full set of clothing) with 2 cups of Nescafe and a free ferry ticket. Because I said the magic words "I am American." But I thought about it, and realized - I just want to talk about the Librarians. Because really, I'm not so brave. And I think they are. In a world where it feels a little more McCarthian every day, I want to say - I admire these Librarians. And thank them, for their conviction.

Road Trip (Here comes the sun)

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Dear People of California and the Pacific Northwest,

Sun received in excellent condition.

I am out to hunt free-ranging Republicans per our agreement.

Thank you for the prompt delivery,
Signed,
Elizabeth
aka Corporate Mommy

P.S. While I am roving the streets with my butterfly net and Phil Donahue tapes - here is the story of our weekend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Friday night we drove to Indiana, Bear and I.

I have a good friend who lives there; her oldest and mine are the same age. Our boys talk on the phone once a week or so. One of these days SNL needs to drop one of the lip-synching acts and do a skit on 3-year-olds talking on the phone:

Boy1: I just wanted to say Hi and I watched Digimon this morning.

Boy2: Spiderman is my favorite, he has a web shooter.

Boy1: You come to my house tomorrow. I have 2 shields and I play knights.

Boy2: I am eating spaghetti for dinner.

Continue reading "Road Trip (Here comes the sun)"

What a lovely way to say goodbye

October 24, 2004 | Category:

As we were getting ready to leave our friends in Indiana last night, the previously rainy sky had burst into this. I didn't know if the digital camera would be able to capture it.

I'm tired of squishy shoes

October 23, 2004 | Category:

Dear People of California,

In response to the ad we saw in your paper, we respectfully request that you package the sunshine equivilent to one (1) day of warmth. Please send it in an insulated carton to us, C.O.D., express mail, overnight, with a big old bow on top. Send it now. Right now. Please.

In return, every third person who was going to vote for Bush will now vote for Kerry or, if that is impossible due to health or safety concerns, Ed Asner as a write-in candidate.

P.S. The pinky sunset kind of sun is all right if you're low on the other kind.

Thank you.
Yours sincerely, etc etc
The people of the Midwest

Overheard, Some Bear Stories for a Friday

October 22, 2004 | Category: Mother to the First Power

This morning, while Bear and I were in the car:

Bear (this is a common question): Mommy, what is this song mean?

Me: This is a song named "Amazed" by a man named Paul to his wife, Linda

Bear: Do you like this song?

Me: Yes. It is a good song.

Bear: (a few minutes later) What about this song?

Me: About a boy who is asking his Daddy for help because he's in trouble.

Bear: Lawyers, Guns and Money?

Me: Uh.. yes. He is asking for those things.

Bear: What's a Lawyer?

Me: Someone who can go in front of the judge and help you if you have been arrested.

Bear: OK. And guns?

Me: You know what guns are.

Bear: Well, that's naughty, right? Is he a bad guy?

Me: I think he is just saying he wants help.

Bear: Well, guns aren't help, silly! He just wants his daddy. He should say he's sorry and then his daddy can come. And the lawyers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This evening, Bear and CD playing & chatting after dinner:

Bear: Daddy, what did you do today?

CD: I helped people with computers.

Bear: Good Job!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later:

CD: What are you doing?

Bear: Playing pretend. This is my store.

CD: What are you selling?

Bear: Potties. For girls.

CD: Uh. OK.

(wait for it....)

CD: Uh, Bear?

Bear: Yes?

CD: Why?

Bear: Just because!

Linking Love

October 21, 2004 | Category:

So my site was down today.

Good reason to check out other people's sites... when I wasn't busy twirling around my house in red tights singing "We are Champions" and offering ritual sacrifices in gratitude for Johnny Damon (Remember Game 67? Oh, I heart the Red Sox.)

Today? It's all about the love.

ben wrote the love story of his family, set to the lyrics of "It's a Wonderful World" and it made me all misty. Check it out at Hey, you: What a world.

Kimberly also wrote the love story between her and her husband Paul - that has been interrupted by his cancer more than once.

Kalisah has an idea that will allow more of us to love our fellow drivers, at least on the highways near her.

And someone loves me, although she doesn't actually read me.

So here's some love back, taken at the store next to Bear's pediatrician. I thought it was a nice snap:

Proof of a Benevolent God

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RED SOX ARE GOING TO THE WORLD SERIES!!!

Last year, we watched both the BoSox and the Cubbies blow historic oportunities.

This year.... this year.... this year!!!

Riding on the City of New Orleans

October 20, 2004 | Category:

I used to hate Halloween. It always went horribly wrong for me. I have only one good memory of it prior to the arrival of Bear. It is a story, told with a thick accent, that has entered the annals of family lore.

Many years ago, I was planning to spend Halloween in Normal (Illinois) with my partner at the time. He’d invited me down for a costume party, merriment, lust and spiked punch. I was in Chicago, and raced from work to Union Station to catch the last train south.

And I missed it.

Frantically, I jogged to the ticket booth. The best they could offer me a seat on the City of New Orleans, which had a stop about 40 miles from Normal. It was pulling out in 5 minutes. I bought a ticket, and left a fast message for my partner that I prayed he would get in time.

And then I began running.

Crazy people, business people, dressed-up people, tired people - they all conspired to get in my way. Oof. Bam. Sorry! Excuse me. Excuse me. EXCUSE ME!

Out to the tracks where it was cold, the train huffing and just releasing its brakes. I was sprinting hard when the strap on my duffel bag, across my chest, broke and the bag fell down my back. I, stumbled, scooped the bag up by the handles, and started running again.

From nowhere, a guy came up from behind me and pulled the duffle bag from my hand and raced ahead of me.

So now I was chasing him.

My lungs hurt from the cold, but otherwise I was in fine shape. But this guy? He was fast. Like fast Eddie, moving in a blur.

He jumped the train just as it began to move. My bag with him.

Then he turned and held out a hand for me.

Surprised, pleased, I reached for him and he pulled me aboard. We stood, close, huffing and looking at each other.

The conductor came along and herded us into a passenger car, almost empty. My kind thief dropped his bag in the first seat, and turned to me.

"I'm Jamie," he said, extending his hand. There was a burr in his accent.

"I'm Elizabeth," I responded, and shook his hand. Then he reached over and grabbed my left hand and held it for a second. He looked at the ring, which had been my great-grandfather’s - but I wore it on a certain finger to make a certain statement. Jamie said "ach" with a question in it.

"Yes," I confirmed. "He'll be waiting at the station."

"Right," Jamie said, gently releasing my hand.

I picked up my duffle and moved to the middle of the car.

The next 15 minutes I spent not reading the book in my lap and watching Chicago recede from view.

"Lass!" Jamie shouted. "Elizabeth!"

I poked my head up. Jamie was leaning against the front wall, holding a 6-pack of Coca-Cola. He held one up and I moved forward to accept. Not playing favorites, Jamie went up and down the car and offered one to the other 4 or 5 people on the train. Turns out he'd bought a couple of 6-packs in the food car.

"They're so cheap, here!" He announced, cheerfully. "I can't afford a soda pop where I come from."

"Where are you from?" asked a woman who'd scooted over to the edge of her seat to join in the conversation. I dropped into the seat across from Jamie.

"Scotland," Jamie said. He told us about his evangelistic church, how it was part of the new, more fundamental, Presbyterian movement in Scotland. How an America group of churches had sponsored him to come to America to study and travel around the states visiting churches and talking about his group and their work.

Suddenly I noticed that we were no longer a group of dispersed strangers. We were a half dozen, huddled at the edges of the benches and chatting like we were at a party.

“Oh, Halloween’s the Devil’s own isn’t it?” I heard Jamie saying.

“You think so?” I challenged. “It is very secular in this country. More a fall celebration than one of demons or witches.”

Jamie shuddered. “You indoctrinate your children with this? Promote the images of happy ghosts and kind witches? Aren’t you afraid for them? That they will turn away from God?”

The lady next to me brought up the tainted candy and the razor blades that had been pushed into apples.

Jamie nodded. “People say to me that they don’t believe in the Devil. They say that there is only God. But I know that isn’t true. There is evil, isn’t there? People do bad things just to hurt. For no other reason. What do you call that, I ask you?”

And then we were off to the races. For the next hour, we argued theology – we random people joined by Jamie’s Cokes and a famous train. We argued Devils and Angels. We argued Halloween. It didn’t hurt that he was beautiful and charismatic, and that he never turned defensive or angry as we disagreed.

It was exhilarating. You could feel the good will. We were in such an alive state. The best of what debate and fellowship can be.

It was an amazing ride. And it was over too soon.

The conductor announced my stop and I moved back to my seat to get my things. I was surprised to find Jamie standing in the windy exit, too.

“Is he a Christian?” Jamie asked me.

“No,” I said quietly.

“A believer of another faith, then?”

“No,” I replied again.

"I’ll pray for you,” he said.

“And I for you,” I replied.

And we stepped off the train.

My partner was standing there, and moved to embrace me. When we stepped back, there was Jamie. Who moved in and grabbed up my partner in a massive bear hug. Jamie didn't let go. “The devil is stealing your life away a day at a time, man!" Jamie warned him fiercely."The Devil is stealing.your.life.away a day at a time!!"

And then Jamie was gone.

My partner looked down at me, not knowing how to react to a drive-by squeeze and warning from a Scottish male evangelist. “Honey,” he said finally, “you’ve GOT to stop bonding with strangers.”

And we headed to the parking lot.

It's an honor just to be nominated...

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It's been announced: The Zero Boss: Blogging for Books #4 - We Have a Winner!

I am so thrilled. If someone accidentally bumps off Lilly then I get the crown AND the free year's supply of ink cartridges.

Farscape meets Foxtrot?

October 19, 2004 | Category:

CD just sent this to me, and not because I made him sit through about 15 hours of Farscape in the last 2 weeks.

No.

Wait.

YES, because I made him sit through 15 hours of Farscape.

And? He loves me. And is completely secure in my returning the feeling. Ben Browder's blue eyes notwithstanding. Ahem.

Forgiveness

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There are people in your life who've come and gone
They let you down and hurt your pride
Better put it all behind you; life goes on
You keep carryin' that anger, it'll eat you up inside
I've been trying to get down
to the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
and my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness
Forgiveness
-The Heart of the Matter, Don Henley

Prologue: This was inspired by my writing "The Turning Point". It has been edited since its original posting today. But it is still not rated "G"

A few months before this picture was taken, my innocence had begun to crumble away. And I've never been able to forgive.

Every story has a beginning. Mine started in a hotel room on a vacation. A guy, a teenager, taking advantage of a puppy-eyed crush.

My life was chaos. My family was chaos. School was chaos. My emotions were chaos.

The next July 4th, still 14 years old, found me celebrating in a park with a group of kids that included him and his girlfriend.

Before the fireworks began, I slipped away and hopped on the subway. Cold and shivering from the rain, I disappeared. An hour later, I ended up at my Aunt’s house and refused to explain how I got there.

My mother’s face, once I was brought home, was a puzzle. I shrugged it off. The night before he'd had his hand under my shirt during Kirshner’s Flower Hour – and I'd liked it. The next day he'd teased my existence in front of a crowd while nuzzling someone else. How to explain?

He was older, and high up on a pedestal that I built for him out of the clay of my own emotions.

The first year blended into the second and ultimately into the 5th. The years of the secret. The years of memories, of friendship that was also something else. Of sitting in his car and talking about the stars overhead. Of his hand creeping up my thigh under the cover of a blanket. Of my heart pounding and the adrenaline rushing behind my ears.

Of sleeping in reach of each other, of touching but never kissing. Unspoken. Hidden.

Hearing him say he didn't want me 'like that' even as he was pulling my nightgown over my head. Quoting song lyrics to me in the dark, and a week later urging me to find a real boyfriend. Someone else. Anyone else.

And then pressing against me jealously when I did.

I never knew, if what happened between us was abuse or love. I still don’t.

It was done once I’d had my Turning Point. The therapist had traced back the self-destructive spiral to that relationship. That relationship that, off and on, I was still in.

My therapist challenged me to bring it out into the open or to end it. To take control of my heart and my body. So like a blonde warrior, I swooped in for a showdown.

Caught a plane, a rental car, and sat across from him in a smoky bar sharing a pack of his Camel Lights. We went back to his place, and spent the night struggling with each other.

By morning, it was clear. He refused to own our history. He would not legitimize us, nor would he apologize. In the face of my righteous empowerment, he offered me silence. No elocution. Like in a courtroom, as a condition of a plea bargain that the defendant must speak clearly and admit what has been done. Closure. Validation. As a path to forgiveness. He denied it to me.

And even at the end, when he watched me get in the car and drive away, he wouldn’t kiss me goodbye because someone might see.

And he never asked me to forgive him.

So I didn’t. Haven’t. For 20 years.

It’s not like I am an unforgiving person. Last Sunday CD made a decision without me. That night he was on his knees beside my chair, eye to eye (because he's that tall and I'm... not). Looking at me and saying "Please, forgive me?" and me saying "Of course."

This morning I lay, still half asleep, and listened to my son packing up for the long trip across the hall. He arrived at my bedside with his sippy cup, his blanky, his stuffed bear, and some toys. I reached out and pulled him, stuff and all, across my body and into the nook where his daddy had slept, empty now with CD gone to work. As Bear was snuggling into the warmth, he accidentally got me hard in the eye with his sippy cup.

"Oh," he said, startled to see me reel back and announce 'Ouch!'. "Sorry, Mommy!" and he leaned in and kissed my owie.

And I said "That's all right, Bear. Just be careful, OK?"

And he said "OK, Mommy."

And it was done. Transgression, forgiveness, done. See? That’s me, easy and comfortable with asking for and granting forgiveness.

Except. Not.

Obviously.

There is this hypocrisy.

That I have allowed myself for 2 decades. A grudge I’ve nursed and used to hurt other people if they disagreed with it. I have refused to accept peace. All those sins of my youth and I’m guarding just this last small piece of it in the shoe of my soul. Hurting.

You know, just a little stone. Which passes by most months and years without me even noticing.

Most of my life is a blessing. There is so much, in every aspect and every day that makes me feel so happy. I savor my husband, I adore my son, my family and friends, I enjoy my job, and there’s a large misshapen pumpkin adorning my little home in Pleasantville.

But there are some heavy decisions that need to be made in my life… and for the last couple of weeks this has been working on my heart. I think… I think that maybe, if I can... I need to stop clinging to this old wound.

It is time to let go. I wish I had some kind of rite, to lead the way. An Erev Yom Kippur.

Because I need to release this. And not for him, who never cared one way or the other.

But for me.

So here it is.

(Deep Breath)

Look, wherever you are. I forgive you.

I forgive you for everything we did to each other. I forgive you for hurting me. I forgive you for denying me.

I forgive you for not being able to count to 10. For denying what was ours.

I forgive you for making me feel like the aggressor. For blaming me for tempting you.

I forgive you for all the things we did, said, and believed. I forgive you for the years that I hurt and dreamed of us. I forgive you not loving me.

I forgive you.

And I ask you, please, to forgive me.

For all the ways that I hurt you. For all the pain that I helped make.

For the end, when I walked into the sun and told my story and dropped a bomb into your world – without warning. And for doing it with malice, with anger, with a desire to cleanse myself at your expense.

For all this I am sorry. If you can, please…

Forgive me, too.

Housekeeping on Aisle 13

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- Thank you for all you thoughts and prayers for my Uncle. It doesn't look good, but we're taking the Winston Churchill approach (Never, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never Give Up).

- Please send some love to Anna, who designed my website. She just up and volunteered and did it for free. What a generous person. But yesterday her husband moved out. She has an adorable baby- they could use a little sweetness just about now

- Thank you for exhorting me to bring over my archives, I am doing them one at a time. The problem is that they look like This. Ugh. Obviously, Anna can't help and Scripty Goddess didn't have anything on the subject. Does anyone have any ideas on fixing this? Please?

- And most of all, Thank you for responding to me with so much kindness these past weeks. CD and I have been facing some wrenching issues and for now we have decided to "stay the course" on a path of improving our chances and then revisit our choices later.

CD suggested that some lighter posts might not go awry. So let's see what happens next....

How far would you go?

October 18, 2004 | Category:

How far would you go to have another child?

I'm so torn.

The Great Pumpkin

October 17, 2004 | Category: Mother to the First Power

Today was the annual trek to the pumpkin farm.

Since he was born, we've used a picture of Bear atop pumpkins as our Christmas Card. Yes, the hair. Right. So off we went, in eleventy-degree freezing weather. But clear as a bell, with colors aglow.

This place is nearly an amusement park. With food stands and a gift shop and pig races (yes, Arnold Schwartzenpigger won!) and a maze through the corn fields. Bear petted everything at the petting zoo, including some animals that would surprise you. Baby Water Buffalos, as it turns out, have warm tongues. In case you were wondering.

We got our pictures, and even a pumpkin. Bear threw himself atop a large misshapen thing that he hugged and rolled towards us, pleading with his big blue eyes. We gave in. We're suckers. CD carried the beast for a quarter mile back to the car, a sleepy and grateful Bear tagging behind happily.

I'm wind-burnt, full-up, happy, and not entirely de-stressed. I head off to dreams of John Crichton and caramel apples. Good night.

With This Ring

October 16, 2004 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

It is a cold and dark and blustery day in Chicagoland. The three of us burrowed under the down comforter this morning until the last possible minute. Reluctantly Bear and I dropped CD off at work.

"Where are we going to go now?" Bear asked me as I turned onto Lake Shore Drive.

Good question.

The lake was deep green and almost deserted. Navy Pier was lit up like a neon sign. So I swung into the $19 parking lot and in we trundled - over, over, around the strange singing people, and up the escalator to the Children's Museum.

Bear liked everything: the dinosaur dig, the water works, the construction zone, the ambulance and safety display, but his absolute favorite thing was Clifford's world.

He strapped on an official mail bag and delivered and picked up letters from the mailboxes scattered throughout the display. Then he would sort them at the 'Birdwell Post Office'. Giggle, concentrate, triumphantly match, rinse, repeat.

I was struck by how many Dads were there. Usually, Bear and I hit the Children's Museums (we have a national membership) during the week when, and not to be sexist but reality is what it is, there is hardly a dad to be found.

Today, though, it was Dads-aplenty. All ages, sizes, colors, and shapes. And wedding rings galore. Big yellow gold numbers, thin silvery ones, and all kinds in between.

As Bear did his rounds back and forth, I watched families sifting around us. I smiled as one man gently tucked a strand of hair behind his wife's ear, the engraving of his ring catching the light. Another man, handsome and leather jacketed, enwined his fingers with his wife's and then pulled them up so he could kiss the back of her hand.

I laughed as one dad with gold practically down to his knuckle laid down in submission on the floor while his 3 boys (THREE!) pounced all over him. His wife held their pile of coats and tried to stifle a laugh as her man caught an accidental knee to the groin. His "oof!" had 20 of us, nearby, in a compassionate group groan.

I missed CD, and thought about how much fun he'd have with us. I thought about how his ring would join the tonnage of husbands' rings in the room. I thought about how profound and sacred it is to push a ring on someone's finger and claim them as your mate.

It's that moment. That intimate, vulnerable moment when the question is asked - "will you? me?". A wedding ring shouts "yes"!

In my religion we call it 'an outward symbol of an inward grace'.

I know not all cultures use them. My parents never wore wedding rings in the 22 years they were married. So I have no idea how I come by this... conviction. But there is something about them that resonates deep in my soul.

On an autumn night a long time ago, I once danced on a sidewalk under a streetlight to Anita Baker's Giving you the Best That I got as it echoed out to us from a party. I remember getting choked up at the line "I bet everything on my wedding ring".

I still get choked up when I hear that line.

Shaking off my thoughts, I saw that the big dog himself had showed up for an interview with a television crew. Bear informed me that the “guy in the Clifford costume�� gave him "a bad feeling" so we put away the postal tools and moved on.

Bear held my hand, and twirled my ring.

I smiled to myself.

Back on the road, the hard winds rocking the van at the stoplight, dang if that Anita Baker song didn't come on the radio. Guess I was in synch with somebody out in radioland.

I sang loudly and badly as we looped out of Navy Pier. I got choked up at the end like I always do. The streets felt almost deserted. The wind was pushing aginst the few people out on the sidewalks. The threatening sky was a dark ceiling overhead, and I wondered if we'd make it hom before the rain hit.

“Mommy?�� Bear asked, puffy-eyed and tired in the back seat.

“Yes, Bear?�� I answered, turning down the music.

“Next time, we should bring Daddy. OK? Does that sound like a good idea?��

“That sounds like an excellent idea,�� I agreed.

And I thought of CD, wearing my ring as he worked. A physical, visible, unspoken announcement that he is a part of me, wherever he is. And me, a part of him.

And we... a part of him.

Countdown to Farscape

October 15, 2004 | Category:

48 Hours until Ben Browder (um, yum) and Claudia Black return in Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars on SciFi Channel.

Gentlemen and Ladies, Start your TiVo's.

Have You Seen This?

October 14, 2004 | Category:

Is this real? Because, wow.

Too much

October 13, 2004 | Category:

The Zero Boss: Blogging for Books #4: The Top Seven has selected The Turning Point as a Top Seven selection. There is a follow-up to the post entitled From There to Here. Thus ends the 2-part experiment in retelling my own private Cukoo's Nest.

Thanks, Jay. I'm melting tonight from all the complimentary... compliments.

I'd like to thank the Academy...

| Category:

Corporate Mommy is a Genuine Site of the Week. How cool is that?! Hello GENUINE people!

*whew, look at this traffic. Kind of makes me wish I'd cleaned the bathrooms*

Welcome to Corporate Mommy. Thanks for stopping by. And when you see Genuine, would you give him a kiss for me and thank him for the compliment? The big galoot.

*blush*

PS: I heart comments. I really really heart comments. Just saying. Great way to break the ice and all. OK. Probably made my point. Comments.

Welcome to America

| Category:

Dear Dude,

I read about what you did, and I figure you're new here.

Sorry about the sign, I've been bugging GW to get it fixed for ages, but you know how HE is... oh sure, he'll charm the pants off you but does he ever get to his To-Do list? That's what I'm saying.

So you missed the sign. Yeah, I'll catch you up - no worries.

'Home of the Free'

Here's how it works - you are free to make any choices as long as you don't interfere with the choices of others.

This means you can be a reformed Druid and drop to your knees and pray to a Ficus. How cool is that? Just think of all the places this is illegal.

It was once in this country, too. In the olden days there was an assumption that society had to litigate Christianity to preserve the souls of its citizens. But in the last century, we've been exposed to enough Roddenberry to realize that legalizing any religion is stupid and wrong and always leads to very bad things.

Sure, you might see some old 'moral' laws still around, or people trying to put new ones on the books.

Ignore them.

Turns out that organized Christianity has problems enough. Oh, and this just in - turns out that Christianity isn't the only religion on the planet.

So stick with me here, I wouldn't lead you astray. Focus on statements like Voltaire- "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."

In America we embrace this Freedom within an imperfect social and civil law system meant to make sure that your rights end at your neighbor's nose. It's a dream, the one at the foundation of this country.

It means that you absolutely have the freedom not to take part in a sin by your definition. You may lay down your life for your Ficus, bro - and hey I'll applaud you for it. Not enough Ficus-loving going on.

And you are free to grab a sign, step on public property, and warn away anyone you feel is in dire risk of their soul. Oh - yes, this is part of your freedom too. You can shout up and down in front of the Municipal Building that garage sales can cause demon possessions. You can warn people away from getting garage sale permits and invite them to donate their worldly goods to your Church of the Ficus.

But. Here's a quiz. What can't you do?

You can't go to school, get a job at the Municipal Building, and then start denying people garage sale permits if they are legally entitled to them. Because? That's right! No interfering with other people's freedoms.

This also means you can't go to school, get a job at the Brooks Pharmacy, and tell the person with the prescription that they can't have their drugs.

I know that there has been a trend of this lately, and that maybe you even think that you showed courage. And maybe you did.

It's not for me to say.

I can say that a safe, effective Birth Control pill was a battle before your time, and that toothpaste isn't going back in the tube until hordes of men clamoring to wear condoms make it obsolete.

And maybe, maybe, just maybe, you're thinking - well there's no law against denying it.

Ah.

But you forget. I said "Social and Civil Law System..."

Don't be embarrassed. Many foreigners get confused by this. Now you can see why I've been on GW about that sign...

Honey, in this country, our power comes not only from our laws but from something almost as strong - our wallets. That means while it's not against the law for you to refuse to do your job in the face of your religion it's also not against the law for you to be fired for it.

Ain't capitalism a bitch?

I hope this all helped you; I could see you were unclear on the concept. My heart went out. If not, hey - at least it was something for you to read in between the want ads.

Oh, and Welcome to America.

Promise Me

| Category: Family, It's a Trip

Make me a promise.

Promise me if CD and I don't work things out, that you'll help me hold on to my humanity. Promise me you'll print this out, this open letter of Post-Nuptial promise and you'll stick it to my head with Crazy Glue so I can't avoid my own words.

Promise me.

Not that we're getting divorced. I know love isn't enough but it counts for some serious glue - and we do actually have a bulldozer full of it for each other. Adoring, sweet, scrumptious kind love for each other.

But.

I was reading Emily's blog today and she isn't the first one to demonize her Ex. To end up in an angry battle where she and he are slinging unholy mud at each other. I mean even in my own family, this has happened before my own eyes.

Two people, who make a child together. Who will be the only two people in the world who will ever, ever be so in love together for that baby and who that baby grows up to be.

Please.

Remind me that CD was the one, who believed even after the doctor had given up. Remind me that CD roared Bear's name, grinning, when that heartbeat showed strong. Remind me that we slept together, and it was CD's neck that pillowed our new Bear, and how I wept with too much love.

If it all falls apart, and I strap on the gloves, stop me.

Point to CD, and tell me again how this man has every right that I do to our child. That he is flawed and infuriating sometimes but he is good always. That he should never have to beg for his access to his child. That nothing he does to me as a husband should be taken out on him as a father.

Remind me.

If I forget and allow this miracle, this child we walked through coals to have, to become a bone between two dogs. Kick me in the ass.

Remind me that I am an adult, and can use my words. That I am an adult and can use my ears. That I am an adult and know how to share gracefully.

That every tragedy does not have to have a bad guy.

Promise me that you will squeeze my hand and point my anger to ground, where it will not defile my son's heroic vision of his father.

Promise me that no matter what, I will not assume that I am somehow the more entitled parent because of biology.

Promise me that you will help guide me away from retribution or fear to a place where I remember that no divorce could ever stop me from sharing parenthood with CD.

I know that we don't all get happily ever after. I learned that a long time ago. But I fully intend to spend the rest of my life with this man, and torture my son with the embarrassment of finding my dead body astride his father's - with a wicked grin on my face and my false teeth in a glass by the bed.

But just in case. I mean, just as a plan for a very last resort ...

Promise me.

Please.

Definitely the BLUE Power Ranger. Definitely.

October 12, 2004 | Category: Mother to the First Power

I sat down with Bear yesterday and explained to him that we were going back to see his Nana in Boston. That we would be spending Halloween with Uncle and Aunt and not, as originally planned, here at home.

Bear: But I'm still going to be a Blue Power Ranger?

Me: Yes, honey. You're still going to be the Blue Power Ranger. With your sword AND your shield. That will be just the same. I just have to hem the costume to make it fit

Bear: But not cut it

Me: Yes, a little bit. We talked about this. The one we got is too big

Bear: No, it's not

Me: Yes, it is

Bear: Is not

Me: Yes, it is

Bear: Banana Farts!

Me: No Banana Farts! Bear, I still need to hem your Power Ranger outfit. It's dangerous to have you tripping on it

Bear: NO YOU CAN'T OR ELSE YOU WILL TAKE ITS POWER LIKE SAMPSON!

Me: Power Rangers do NOT have hair, they have helmets and this is not the same thing

Bear: Yes IT IS

Me: No, it's not

Bear: YES IT IS BANANA FARTS INFINITY. And Power Rangers DO have hair under their helmets. Especially the Blue one. And the Black one

Me: Bear, yes I understand that you are the leading authority in the Power Ranger field and that is very cool. But Daddy and I are responsible for your safety and tripping on that suit in the dark is NOT safe. If you don't let me hem it up for you, then you can't go out trick or treating with it. Do you understand?

Bear: Fine. I only want it for bad guys anyway. I don't even LIKE trick or treating!

Me: Fine

Bear: Fine!

Yeah, I'm a bad mommy. Cuz you know what I did? While he was napping? Yes. I CUT THAT SUIT. I did. And? He didn't notice! So. There.

Meanwhile, in adult-land... Dee bought us tickets to our (hers and mine together) 8th Lyle Lovett concert as an early birthday gift! Lyle's coming to town with John Hiatt in February.

Heavens, just get past that hair, which is some kind of freak of nature, because you have got to LOVE a man who writes a lyric having Tonto finally say "Kiss my ass Kimosabe" to the old Lone Ranger. Yes, baby, if I had a pony - you know I'd be riding him on my boat; and if I had a boat I would ride out on the ocean...

From there to here

October 11, 2004 | Category:

I want to thank everyone for your kind emails about my Blogging for Books entry. I published it on a weekend, when I figured traffic would be slow, and was blown away by the kind responses. I've tried to write a thank you for each one; but this is my deep bow public thanks. I am so terribly touched and grateful.

I've read most of those other entries and frankly, some of those bloggers should, and probably will, be Top 10 authors. I recommend them.

The overwhelming question that has been asked is "However did you ever get from there to here”?

It was a slow climb. For years, I kept getting into relationships where I had to "test" my partner, to make sure he would hold fast - even if I was pummeling him with little rabbit punches in anguished fury. It took me years to learn how to argue, how to share, how to give up control of the relationship but not responsibility.

I made many mistakes. It took a counselor's help but the cycles grew looser and healthier. I had to fight perception, the ones that kept me pegged. "Oh, she's broke again" they would complain. "Oh, they're breaking up. You know how she is with relationships."

In May, 2000 I kind of had that "epiphany" moment. CD's company had flown both of us out to California so CD could manage an IT migration. They put us up at a gorgeous hotel, and I was on a brief lull from bedrest in my second trimester expecting Bear.

We took our new digital camera to Santa Monica one afternoon, and I realized as we walked barefooted down the beach: Hey, I'm happily married, solvent and debt-free with a down payment for a house in the bank... we have a counselor teaching us good relationship skills, good friends, love, good careers, and we have a baby on the way.

More than a dozen years since that fateful court date, and ... I was here. Giggly and pink-cheeked and happy, I told CD that we were walking in a dream come true.

"That's funny," he said, kissing me soundly. "I thought we were walking in California."

And I had some additional realizations in that tangerine sunset:

1) They don't send down an actual angelic choir of angels when there's an epiphany. More like a flock of seagulls dive bombing your rental car.

2) Drama, crises, orgasmic joy - these things happen in everyone's life. It's OK to have a juicy existence and to live out loud - as long as it is from a center of confidence and faith, and there is a state of grace within.

3) Digital cameras don't like sand.

4) Reenacting that scene from "From Here to Eternity" won't have the same zing if wearing maternity panties.

5) The secret to my future happiness was in nothing that was said back then, it was in Linda's example: Kindness. Just that. Kindness.

6) And wherever "here" is, it will never be so far from "there". Both places are indelibly a part of me. It keeps my perspective grounded.

So, who would have guessed that doting mommy living with her tall husband in Pleasantville - the lady who manages programs larger and more expensive than governments of many small nations - would have, long ago, spent a tortured week bottoming out in a Red Roof Inn?

Yeah. So. The good news is that I became this person from those experiences. The bad news is, with those experiences I'll never be President.

As. If.

Goodnight, Superman

| Category:

Christopher Reeve died Sunday, October 10, 2004.

I certainly have the motto that nothing is impossible
- Christopher Reeve

The First Weekend

October 10, 2004 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Fall is our season, me and Bear's.

I was a stay at home mom and he was a newborn in the fall of 2000. I pushed him marathons of miles on those city sidewalks deep with leaves. We were bundled against the brisk wind, and would often stop at the local coffee shop to breathe in the warm steam.

After that, it was set. It gets colder, and Bear and I seem to reconnect.

I remember last year, one afternoon, Bear came up to me and announced that we should rake the leaves. So out we went, and for crisp sunny hours we built and destroyed the same piles over and over.

This weekend felt like the first real weekend of autumn. The chill has settled into the mornings, although the days are fine. The leaves have just begun to turn.

With CD working, Bear and I indulged ourselves. Friday night we grabbed a flashlight and walked for almost 2 hours around the neighborhood admiring all the Halloween displays.

Everywhere else is amateur league it seems, compared to here - my own personal Pleasantville. Here, people decorate for each season as if, at any time, a truck could come by and haul your house off to be in a parade. Bear and I admired the dozens of displays, the colored lights and ghosts and giant spiderwebs. The orange spotlights on scarecrows and pumpkins.

Saturday we dawdled for hours, playing at the park and leting Bear ride his bike along the sidewalks with first fallen leaves crunching beneath his wheels. His Spiderman backpack filled with a snack, and his PowerRanger sword from his costume near at hand, in case an Immortal should suddenly appear and need to be dueled.

Today we snuggled at home, he dressed in full Blue Power Ranger kit and me, well, not. He dragged over a chair and helped me finally clear out the backlog of dishes. We made apple smelling suds with Dawn and scrubbed side by side, playing an alphabet game - coming up with as many words as we could for a particular sound.

At bedtime, he pulled over his current favorite book - a poem by James Riley - and we read it together, the words we've almost got down by heart. These are the days that take the sting out of the rest of life. It was a good weekend. It was a great weekend. And I think? We both needed one.

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here --
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock --
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries -- kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below -- the clover over-head! --
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

From: WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN, by James Whitcomb Riley

The Turning Point

| Category:

This post is for a writing contest called "Blogging for Books". The assigned topic is "the edge of insanity".

PLEASE CONSIDER BEFORE READING.

Know first:
This entry includes extremely personal information, violence, sexual content, and profanity.

If you know me in real life, if you remember these events, and if we've made peace since then. If you didn't know me then, and can't imagine it, and never wanted to. Stop now. Move along.

Writing this post was a intensely private experience. I appreciate your feedback, but not in an open forum. So I am closing the comments. Thank you.

Continue reading "The Turning Point"

Houston, we almost had another Bathroom Incident (TiVo, how we love thee)

October 09, 2004 | Category: Mother to the First Power

This boy is SERIOUS about his daily half-hour of Rescue Heroes.

Bear (holding himself and bouncing up and down in front of the TV): I got to go potty!

CD: Then GO, don't just dance!

Bear (bouncing and pointing at the TV): But it's Rescue Heroes! Pause it!

CD (Lurching towards the TiVO): OK! Go! GO!

Bear (From the bathroom): OK! I made it!

CD (To me): What happens if he has to go somewhere where there is Rescue Heroes and no "Pausing"?

Me (Shuddering): There are places without TiVo?

Breakfast Orders are Due on the Door by 5

| Category: Mother to the First Power

Me: Bear?

Bear (looking up from empty Cheerio bowl): Yes, Mommy?

Me: Please put your bowl in the sink if you're finished.

Bear: But I'm stil hungry, Mommy. Very very hungry.

Me: Oh, I didn't realize. OK, I'll pour you some more Cheerios.

Bear: No, my tummy wants bacon and pancakes. Hear it grumbling?

Me: Oh, no. I'm not in a cooking mood this morning, Bear. Let's stick to Cheerios. Or there's yoghurt.

Bear (heaving a big sigh and reaching for his little apron): No, thanks. I'll just cook it myself.

P.S. Well, of course I ended up helping.

Oh, the Ya-Ya's we'll see

October 08, 2004 | Category: Family, It's a Trip

Never heard of ya-ya’s? Strap a preschooler into a 5-point harness in a minivan. Start driving. No matter how many DVD's, sing-alongs, sticker books or snacks you run through - eventually, the child's head will start to spin in complete rotation while he screams the theme to Digimon over and over like a satanic chant.

Remember that? From the never-ending fairy tale that was our trip to Boston JUST THIS AUGUST?

Like labor and my wedding planning, I'd had the Asgard remove those 60 hours (there and back) from my memory banks so I wouldn't go stark raving loony and start doing illegal things with flowers beyond just the getting-to-know-you conversations we've been having lately.

But now, now it rushes back to me. In Technicolor. And I am afraid.

I am very afraid.

CD (in the background): Honey? Which route are we taking this time? New York or Ohio?

Me (shuddering, muttering, to myself): help

Be Like Homer

| Category: Family, It's a Trip

Today we found out that my beloved Uncle is sick. He is very sick. As my Aunt wrote: "Keep us in your positive thoughts. I want more time with this man."

After I found out, I wasn't doing a good job of holding it together. This was definitely a "Take this job and shove it" day. But some things couldn't be rescheduled on account of life sucking. So I called up this old picture, and put one foot in front of the other.

Like my husband's favorite Simpson's episode - the one that ends with Homer, at his job station, surrounded by pictures of Baby Maggie. The sign above him has been altered so it reads "Do it for her."

P.S. They still fall asleep like this, and I still sneak up and take pictures when they do. I've learned to turn off the flash, though.

P.P.S. All good thoughts for my Uncle are deeply, deeply appreciated.

The Bathroom Incident

October 07, 2004 | Category: Mother to the First Power

Tales from the Mommy-front ~

Bear (bending down and wiggling to look): Wow, Mommy! That's the most biggest poopy I EVER SAW!

Me (averting my eyes): Mmhmmm, hold steady now while I finish wiping.

Bear (excitedly): And it's GREEN! Mommy, my poopy is green goblin!

Me (glancing quickly as I throw in the TP): Well, honey, it's really mostly just brown...

Bear: No! It's green and it's FLOATY! My POOPY IS FLOATING! MOMMY! GET THE CAMERA!

Me: No... honey, now...

Bear: I think we need to take a picture! RIGHT NOW! OF MY POOPY!!

Me (reaching over and flushing): No, honey. No, now we're just going to wash...

Bear: MOMMY! You flushed my poopy! It was MY POOPY! I wanted to flush my poopy! I wanted to take a picture!

Me: OK, I'm -

Bear (throwing himself unconsolably on the bathroom floor and wailing): You FLUSHED MY POOPY! That was naughty!

Me: Next time you can flush -

Bear (sniffing): I miss my poopy. It was my favorite poopy ever.

Me: Well, poopies are waste, Bear. They are meant to go back into the ground and -

Bear: And it wasn't yours. It was mine. I flush my poopies, Mommy.

Me: Well, from now on -

Bear (sighing, last BIG sniffle, standing): It's OK, Mommy. Everyone makes mistakes. Now I have to wash my hands. You stand over there, OK? You just watch.

True Story

October 06, 2004 | Category:

Me: Hello?

Her: Yes! Hello, this is the Green Dolphin!

Me: The jazz place?

Her (perkily): Yes, we're Chicago's premier jazz club! May I take your reservation?

Me: Do you serve seafood, by any chance?

Her (still perky): Why yes! We have.. uh... Halibut, and Salmon, I believe.

Me: Any saltwater seafood?

Her (little less perky): Uh, saltwater? Can you hang on?

Me: Sure.

Her (back and quite perky again): OK, I'm back! Yes, we have Scallops as an appetizer and we also have duck on special.

Me: Duck?

Her: Yes.

Me: Scallops and Duck?

Her: Yes! Would you like to make that special reservation now?

UPDATE! Countdown!

| Category:

UPDATE!!! It's Official!

Tina, you fabulous reader! Thank you for being my 10,000 visit! And thanks for sending the screen capture! Respond to my email so we can get you that reward!!

Please go pay Tina a visit and say Hi! She's pretty bored tonight, and she may even share her cocoa...

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

It's a big day at Corporate Mommy...

We're probably going to hit 10,000 today on the "Big" site meter that I installed when I started blogging! Could the person who gets the magic number PLEASE send me a screen capture? There will definitely be some kind of reward.

It's over there, on the right. Down.. down.. yes! The BIG BLUE one :)

What about that other one, you ask? Well, I installed that in late July, and it links to something called statcounter - which was supposed to give me all sorts of information. Darned if it wasn't. And darned if I can figure out what use they are to me. I am dim. I must have a button made to this effect. Maybe someone will someday help me understand how Corporate Mommy can be made better for the people via stats.

Penises

October 05, 2004 | Category:

I try to keep my posts to what is originally mine. But some days are made for tattling. So inspired today by her Funkaliciousness, let's review what's been going on in the world of penises. Shall we?

1) This guy, he accidentally mistook his penis for a chicken and cut it off. And then the dog ate it. Really.

2) This guy, the courts said he can use his procreatively - despite being a deadbeat dad. Of 7 kids. By 5 women.

3) And did you know about this guy? Last winter he raped a 5-year-old and in a show of community spirit, the town got together and cut off his penis. And had Bingo. But that was later.

Back to Good

| Category: Family, It's a Trip

Everyone hides shades of shame,
But looking inside we’re the same,
We’re the same and we’re all grown now,
But we don’t know how
To get it back to good
- Matchbox Twenty

Since we got back from our Boston trip last month, it's been a struggle. It's like depression is catching and I caught some. It’s been harder to laugh, and easier to cry.

A lot of invisible lines have been crossed, and instead of dealing with things I just kept lowering the bar. It's OK to gain those few pounds back; it's OK to let this report or that presentation slide. It's OK to watch people I love flounder, let them sort it out for themselves. The laundry is just as good from the basket as the shelf.

And then the other night, I was looking for that thing that you use to clean ceiling fans, and it wasn't in the first place I looked. I sat on the floor, angry and frustrated and CD said from the doorway, hands on his hips; "What?”

And I said, "I don't want to live like this, anymore."

And his mouth made an irritated moue, with a gust of exhaled air. And he made some defensive noises - like yes, he knows. It isn't all peaches and cream right now. So, why was I rubbing his nose in it?

But I wasn't. And he's bright, our CD, so he caught on quick. This is about me. This is about me and not him and not Bear. This is about something going on in me, maybe a mid-life crisis. And it isn't going to be solved easy.

I can't talk, about what's in my head. Not here. Not yet.

Progress comes in baby steps towards improvement. Making it a little better each day until some of these bigger knots get a little looser.

And tonight? Well, tonight was a miracle. It was a trip back to Normal, and it was like a tonic. A fresh warm breeze in the morning when you expected frost.

We caught the magic hour of afternoon might and headed over to Fantastic Sam's. You know the place? They have a Barbie's Pink Convertible for Bear to sit in and Dum-Dum Lollipops for after the haircut. And the people there, they come running for my Bear. They admire his manners and bring little plastic bags so we can capture the glorious copper silk they chop from his head.

Then we drove over to the shopping plaza, windows open. Talking about Rescue Heroes, and going out pumpkin shopping next weekend, and household stuff. Admiring the way fall was flirting with the bits of Illinois prairie visible here and there.

Pulled into CD's secular Mecca. Got stripper for the antique door we hauled 1000 miles ("Thwacka Thwacka Thwacka"). Bear investigated every snow blower on display. Every. One. In fact, gave a tour to one of the HD Employees - showing which ones had "pusher spouts" and which ones "were not very big".

And as the sun set over the strip mall, we headed home again home again lickety split.

The guys made nice with the king of domestic power tools - the canister vacuum. They Hoovered and I attacked the kitchen. It was the most non-kosher meal ever created (I know this, because I once served it to a Kosher Jew. One doesn't forget being caught THAT much without a clue) - Beef Stroganoff. Made with steak and mushrooms and red wine and cream, over Lite egg noodles. Like drinking a Diet Coke with a Big Mac, but the effort was there.

And Bear went to sleep, in non-Superman pajamas (because both pairs were in the wash). And CD took a hot bath, after satisfying himself that I was all right. That it had been an OK night.

But it had been more than that. It was a normal night. It had been a baby step, back to good.

Meet my very own troll, BBR

October 04, 2004 | Category:

It happened this morning….

A dark ugly cloud appeared on my screen. What? Who could THAT be?! There! In the ether of the ‘net! Is it a monster? No, it was an IM drive-by from my very first outspoken critic: Bitter Bitch Reader?? (That IS what “BBR” stands for, right?)

Wow.

Does this mean I’ve “arrived”? When I’ve written something that pisses off another human (hey, benefit of the doubt here) SO MUCH that they actually go out of their way to instant message me all about it. And? I’m pretty sure (but not certain) that this person is in no way related to any of my exes.

Unfortunately, I didn’t foresee this occurrence and unthinkingly clicked the little window closed in disgust. Thus the diatribe went *poof*. Oh, NOW you tell me there’s a way to save these things. Dang.

But I am not deterred. Being the kind of woman that thinks of a snappy comeback in the elevator, 5 minutes later - I have this to say in an open response:

Dear BBR,

I can't begin to say how disappointed I am that it was rummage sales that got me the flak. Not Kerry Vs. Bush. Not Afghan courting restrictions. Rummage Sales. Ah, well.

I'm going to be gentle here because you are, as I said, my first troll. That's something for the scrapbooks and I wouldn't want to muddy it all up forcing you to drink from my firehouse of indignation.

Onward, then.

To your point. Yes, I make a good salary. And when my husband isn’t raising our son or studying, he makes a decent wage as a contract systems whore-er, admin. We live within our means, pay for things in cash, save for the future, and are paying down a debt from some bad times not long ago. By making sacrifices, we can do this and still raise Bear at home.

How exactly do you think this good fortune hurts you? Who exactly am I stealing from, being the first in line at a rummage sale on my own time in the cold?

Hey, BBR - answer me this. Why weren’t you in line ahead of me? If it was that important to you, why didn’t you show up when it mattered?

You want to cut ahead of me in line because your life seems harder by some superficial measuring stick that you created out of a website and ceiling wax? Just try. I guarantee you that you will be run off the fairgrounds by a mob so pissed it will make you shiver.

You get your spot in line the way every one of us did. By arriving there, parking, and moving your body over to the door.

That easy.

This is the country of bootstraps and gumption, BBR. Not of entitlements – either by richer or by poorer. You want something? Go get it. No one is stopping you. Certainly not me.

Warmest regards, etc. etc.,
Elizabeth
“The Corporate Mommy”

PS - the words “don’t” and “you’re” are contractions and contain an apostrophe. Leaving out the apostrophe doesn’t (see? apostrophe!) help your case. Personally, I find these things of small matter but your other targets may not be so kind.

Stupid Snaps and Bad Puddles

| Category: Mother to the First Power

Twice a year, I wake up at Freezing Forsaken Crack O'Dawn and drive 45 minutes to a county fairground. There, I stand in line for about 90 minutes, hopping up and down, and drinking the last of my very-bad no-good McD's coffee (with about 100 sugars). And finally, at 8AM, I pay my dollar and get the 30 seconds all that effort bought me.

30 seconds as the first (FIRST!) one at the piles of boy's clothes at the worlds nicest and best-run rummage sale you will ever find.

Here, gender stereotypes are proven. Because the piles of girl clothing actually teeter; pastel towers that reach up to eye level. Adults smoothly sort through them, chatting to each other. Chatting!!

By comparison, the little piles at the boys' tables are scraps. They are grabbed up indiscriminately by snarling, territorial parents. Sweat pants and pajamas are pounced on in rabid packs. It's not all 'Lord of the Flies' though - some civility remains as we growl "Excuse me" to each other while ripping windbreakers off hangars.

There are "sorting tables" at the back, where you can surreptitiously flip through your booty. My piles of blue and red give me away as a “boy” parent, and anything I discard into the "return to tables" box is immediately grabbed up by a pack of wild adults, who've been eyeing me and drooling.

This is a 'good' resale - all the clothes are good quality. No visible stains, rips, loose hems or anything like that. The clothes I bring home are a mix of Tar-jay and Old Navy labels as well as Gap, Children's Place, and Gymboree.

But it's getting harder and harder. Boys' clothing past 4T gets worn out, not outgrown. There was less to choose from at this recent sale and I was hard-pressed this time to find even half of what Bear will need for the next 6 months.

Plus, the women who have been my partners and advisors in this twice-annual pilgrimage have all dropped out, one by one. I was alone in the crowd.

So it was a uniquely poignant frustration that followed Bear's accident on the bathroom floor last night.

He was wearing a pair of his "new" pants for the first time and I hadn't realized when I bought them that the snap was very tight. Bear couldn't undo it in time, as he bounced around doing the "potty dance" while I was running his tub.

By the time we got him free, there was a small puddle. He looked so sad, as I quickly wiped it up.

"I’m sorry," he said, from atop his throne and using an entire roll of Charmin on that which was about to be in a sudsy bath.

"No worries, sweetie. I’m sorry that there’s a bad snap on the pants," I said, pulling on the fastener to make it a little looser. "But now it should be fixed. All better."

And even though I knew that I could have just as randomly spent $25 on a new pair of pants and had them be just as stupidly designed, suddenly I was just overwhelmed. I love our life. The sacrifices that we make are negligible, when weighed against the reward of bringing up Bear ourselves, at home. So I don’t mind, that he’s wearing used pants with a stupid snap.

But sometimes? I do.

Bear flushed the toilet a couple of times just to be sure and clambered past me into his tub. Then he clambered out again and hugged me. “I like my blue pants,” he whispered in my ear. My chest hurt so bad with love, that I almost started crying.

When he was back in his tub, he looked down and said “Oops, puddle!”

I threw down a towel on it and smiled. “This was a good puddle,” I said, doing the “twist” to wipe it up with my feet.

And he laughed. And it made me laugh, too.

Taking Attendance

October 01, 2004 | Category:

HELLO!

IS ANYONE OUT THERE?

I'm begining to get the sinking sensation that only a few people besides Munvians know that Corporate Mommy has moved. Am I really here? Are you?

HELLLLLOOOO?!

*mutter* I gotta stop mixing Dayquil and Sudafed. Wow! Is that flower talking to me? Hey! Flower! Are you talking to ME?! Did I give directions to this place? Did I? Is this like the time the sign fell down and the students wondered the hallway looking for me? Oh, man. That would suck. Is anyone out there? Not YOU Flower! If only I had a sign. Hello? *mutter*

Hello? Anyone?