Birds and Bees

April 20, 2006 | Category: Mother to the First Power

As we were leaving for school this morning, Bear excitedly pointed out two birds 'fighting' on the front lawn.

"Mommy!" he shouted, pointing.

Now, it should be said that Bear's class has two finches - Batman and Princess Leia - who laid 14 eggs last month. So you'd think... but, no.

"Uh, honey... they aren't fighting..." I murmured, hustling him into the van.

"Well, they're being loud!" He complained. "And the big bird isn't showing respect!"

Humanity

| Category: In My Life

I've been running around the last few weeks volunteering for anything I see.

Which is how I am going to spend 7 hours on Saturday at a zoo, setting up a charity thing.

Yeah. The zoo. 7 hours.

Clearly, I need medication.

I thought it was the weather. The burst of spring flowers. The warm sunbeams. But I was wrong.

The last 5 years is begining to unwind. Really.

Not the way I expected it to, either.

Not in a few weks of abject misery and then "sproing" ....All Better!

The house is still a wreck. CD is still the only one making attempts at daily dishes or laundry. Bear's lunch is still being made on the fly 5 minutes before we run out of the house. I still watch too much TNT and Lifetime.

On the other hand, Bear and I have had a few adventures now. And each afternoon we run errands. The other day, the high school's drum line was practicing in the park and we pulled over for 20 minutes and listened. That would never have happened before.

The winter coats are at the cleaners. The library books are returned. I've started a new project (for money). I only cry every few days, instead of on the hour. Bear and I are planning to visit 5 states this summer in the Stupendous Mommey-Bear Road Trip.

Last week, I was agonizing to Dee about all the monumental screw-ups I've made since hanging up my laptop.

She cocked her head. "You're just human, Elizabeth," she reminded me.

And that got me. Humanity. Flaws and all. How unexpected.

It's hard to admit, but I really thought that because I was so good at the "Ruler of the Corporate World" thing that it made me somehow... super-competant. Because mistakes there could cost millions of dollars or people's jobs, I lost tolerance for them - especially in myself.

So I had all these superhuman ideas of how I would be as non-working person. Even though the entire world, you, warned me different.

Michele hoped I would find some light - and I think I have. (Unfortunately, it shows up the dirt on my kitchen floor.) But it is here. It is why I could go back to the Cathedral. It is in the daffodils my son picked for me. It is in the lunch I am about to pack for him. And it will follow me as I volunteer at the zoo on Saturday.

Thank you for believing I would find it.

Visit to the Past

April 19, 2006 | Category: Mother to the First Power

OK (I write, as I nibble some MORE chocolate)... so the flip of going to hell is?

No, too easy.

But I did take Bear and CD to the Cathedral for Easter services. I hadn't been back in almost 10 years, since I quit.

I'd forgotten how beautiful the place is. Breathtaking.

It was Bear's first Communion. We practiced on Friday, the whole kaboodle. Time came, we got in line and up we went.

Priest gave Bear the wafer. He forgot to say "Amen", but being such a great kid he did say "Thank You".

He cupped the wafer in his hands all the way back to the pew. Finally, he looked left. Looked right. And nibbled it.

And immediately spit it out.

"Mommy!" Bear announced in a loud whisper. "This thing is NOT yummy!"

I practically laughed the wine out my nose.

CD was a certified angel. He tood Bear out a couple of times as the service drifted on for about an hour and a half. (Bear's internal "We're done" buzzer went off at 45 minutes.) The orchestra, choir, pagentry all entraced him for a bit but then he bagan to squirm mightily.

And when the lady behind us began to sing very loudly and off-key, poor Bear just about lost it. He has an incredible sensistivity for key and pitch -which he does NOT get from us - and CD swooped him out before our favorite red-headed critic actually turned around and said something. (And he would have.)

After services, I gave the guys a 2-cent tour. Secret gardens and passage ways and the elevator to my old office. It was all very nostalgic and somewhat lost in time. I felt detached for most of it, and then suddenly would realize I was misting up.

"Mommy!" Bear asked, marching down a hallway lined with photographs. "Do you know these people?"

"Some," I told him. Pointing out the Bishop, a few priests. Bear reached up and touched the frames and I lifted him into my arms for a hug.

Then we made our way out into the spring drizzle. Back to the car. Back to Dee's for lunch. Back to the now.

Although I will admit a bit of me is still there. Lost in ....

Going To Hell

April 14, 2006 | Category: Well, That Was Random

I never understood Lent.

Being brought up East-coast Episcopalian, complete with a clapboard church with a steeple, Lent wasn't something that ever sunk into my world.

The most I ever noticed it was when I would ask my pastor, a couple of weeks before Easter, why there were no flowers in the church. A couple of years later, I would wonder again and because I'm so thick around the head, I would ask again.

The answer never "took".

There I was, 17 and in my first year of college. And I had a professor teaching something about Lent. How it is considered '40 days" because we don't count the Sundays.

I burst out laughing. *ahem* Sorry.

This was the kind of skewed-up counting that made "On the 3rd Day He Rose Again" such a big pill to swallow.

Like I don't have a hard enough time with regular Math, I gotta learn Religious Math?

I've been Christian since I can remember. Don't get me wrong. I love Jesus.
But some doctrine just sends me right around the bend.

And giving up chocolate for any 40 days of my life ain't gonna happen.

I've reconciled myself to the possibility that I am taking a bag of Cadbury Bars with me to Hell.

The Permanent BandAid

April 13, 2006 | Category: In My Life

Note: I want to promise that this is my last "self-absorbed belly-gazing writing about my big change of life and oh, mutant insect bites" posts but, maybe not.

When I was about 13, I went on a month-long kayaking trip with a bunch of other kids to Quebec. It was a freaky and amazing trip, and I still carry the indelible memories.

Like bonking a moose on the antlers with my paddle. The moment I tipped down to ride my first (little) waterfall. A sidetrip to a old mill with a cute (and injured) guy. The look on everyone's faces at my first supper home when I looked at my favorite ham and potato casserole and sheepishly asked for salad because I'd become vegetarian.

But the biggest memory from that trip has to be the mutant insects.

I will never forget the look on my mother's face the first time she saw my back after I got home. I think there were over 100 bites - all red and swollen, like stings.

But the bite that was the worst was actually on my shin.

I got it one of our first days out. We made base camp at the bottom of what was supposed to be a fairly easy river. Good for getting started.

Yeah, ok. Bad maps, inebriated guide. Long story short, we spent most of the first few days portaging, thankyouverymuch. Miles and miles in pairs, carrying our kayaks and packs through brush.

At the end of one of those treks, I remember looking down to see this huge welt in the middle of my shin. At first I thought it was a snake bite that I somehow didn't remember. Nope. Mutant insect.

That bite drove me nearly insane.

Day after day once we found good water. I spent hours in the 1-man kayak with my legs tucked out of reach and I remember being in near tears because I wanted to itch it so bad. And when I would give in to it and strip open the plastic diaper that sealed away my lower body to scratch the thing - it would be so sore that I would actually break down and cry.

It grossed out the other kids, too. We became the bug-spray addicts our parents had always dreamed we'd become.

But too late for my poor, lamented shin.

On our next run into whatever local town we happened to be near, we headed over to a chemist and bought me a box of big huge band aids. The kind you put over bullet wounds - I am so not kidding. That and first aid spray and enough surgical tape to stock a mobile hospital.

And each morning, before we headed out, we'd douse my leg bites in spray and calamine and whatever else was on hand and then wrap it in the band aid. (A guy named Yuval made a great medic, if you got past the white man's 'fro he had going on).

And the thing is, it healed.

Slowly and with lots of little disgusting scabs. But it healed.

And yet, I would still insist on slapping a band aid on it every morning. A pair of keds, my maroon one-piece bathing suit, about 2 gallons of sunscreen, whatever t-shirt was least filthy, a helmet, and a band aid over most of my shin.

I got so in the habit of protecting it that I was scared to stop. Which is strange when I remember how I ignored my back completely at the same time. (And it got absolutely infected, much to my mother's horror.)

And it wasn't until I ran out of them when we were probably at least 50 kilometers from the nearest store that I finally slipped my legs into my kayak one morning without my gauze companion.

I don't know why I thought of that today.

I have been so retreated inside myself for so many weeks.

Even though things are so much better.

Really.

The sun is out. The lilacs are budding. Most days now, I remember to shower and do errands and I'm even starting to track today's date again.

Corner turned, right?

I have offered myself up to a couple of charities. And the library. Andeven started battling Bear's school again - so, yeah. Right?

But I am not sure how to stop reaching for some kind of gauzy buffer each day.

To stop wanting to hide the healing wounds away.

I am a rock

April 11, 2006 | Category: In My Life

My father introduced me to to Simon and Garfunkel when I was knee-high to a tadpole. I knew the words to "59th Street Bridge Song" before I'd learned the Pledge of Allegiance.

You have to admit, them there some damn fine harmonies.

The last few weeks, as the world has thawed and my life has spun around, I've been humming alot of Simon and Garfunkel. I've been remembering pigtails and my mom's dinners and the way my dad would burst through the front door - coat slung over his arm, keys jangling in his pocket.

I've been watching the forsythia bloom in my backyard and remembering the rows of forsythia that bloomed back then. Bright yellow branches in an almost-warm breeze.

How much of love is real? How much of it is wishing it were so? How much of life is a sheer force of will? How come we lose the ability to live in the moment as we grow older?

The birds fight over the straw, the chirp through my open window. Bear and I will look up what kind they are later.

We will rake, and seed. We will cook, side by side. CD will burst through the door, calling out that he's home. I will put on Simon and Garfunkel, and try to get them fed before Karate class. Our life is my son's memories, yet to be.

Free. Or Cheap.

April 03, 2006 | Category: In My Life

OK, now that we've turned a corner on my nervous breakdown - time to figure out what's next. So I am offering myself up to the world.

For the next 6 months, I am entitled to Unemployment Benefits. As long as I am able to work (check), willing to work (check) and looking for work (check - there's an executive search firm as part of my severance pounding the pavement on behalf of moi as we speak).

They say (you know, the unknown "them") that it takes someone at my level 6-8 months to get a new job. OK.

In the meantime.

I am solvent, and free. (or Cheap).

Looking for a volunteer or at least charitable gig.

My skills are a mixed bag. Hmm. I am a computer savvy, overeducated, professional project manager, former Episcopal layworker with multi-faith experience, fluent in English (most days) and American Sign Language and a smattering of French and Spanish and Pig Latin.

I have experience with grant writing, proposals, publishing, event organizing, and lug wrenches. Also? I answer phones and do windows.

My availability extends from morning dropoff until it is time to pick up my son from school at 3PM.

I'm looking for a few good ideas.

Anyone?

Anyone?

....Bueller?

Too funny.

April 01, 2006 | Category: Mother to the First Power

It rained here the last couple of nights - along with a thick sprinkling of thunder and lightning. As I came to bed, a particulary loud 'BOOM' shook the house.

From across the hall I heard his small, tired voice; "Mommy?"

"Yes, Bear?"

"Could you please tell God to turn it down? I'm trying to sleep here."

(I guess I'm the last one in the house still scared of thunderstorms, then!)