OMG/Peace

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Ol was up all night last night puking. It was chock full of salmon, covered two beds and was so vile that Tom nearly booted too. Ol and I ended up in the basement where we slept fitfully -periodic yakking will do that to you- but sweetly until it became clear that he was not going to school today. Nutmeg seemed enthused by this outward tossing and subsequently puked huge ribbons of just-eaten cat food all over our dining room. Later, I found small pools of Nut pee in the kids costume bins. Cuz it seems he has another UTI.

Needless to say, I won a medal today for sheer amount of laundry done.

Currently, Percy, who, in unanimity? support? jealousy? stupidity?, sprayed the basement couch with a wreath of urine today too, is sleeping in my left armpit, having just wiped his soggy eye boogers on my previously-clean shirt. #newitemforlaundrybin

And Jack, who I've officially tucked in eight times now, tried to convince me during his last trip downstairs that yes indeed he had washed his face even though his cheeks maintained a thin film of peanut butter from which hung celery strings and an ort of raisin. This "mask" betrayed him and he finally agreed to really wash up.

Despite this utter nutbagness, I am in good spirits because I:

  • made two Reine de Saba cakes today;
  • heard that all the food I catered to last night's party was "amazing" and a complete success;
  • smiled enormously when I pondered two recent compliments [1. I have been given the nickname Gams Grossi as tribute to legs and last name. and 2. I was told that my Daily Em-i-lis is a much-admired acquaintance's 'morning coffee.'];
  • thrilled when two women whom I love and admire told me 1. "You, on a regular basis, inspire/empower me to use my voice." and 2. "You give others permission to feel/voice things honestly."
  • have completely and unabashedly come to terms with my adoration of olive oil; and
  • laughed out loud and with utter appreciation when, during our had-to-happen trip to the mall today (Jack needs specific attire for his holiday concert which is on Friday), Oliver said as we bought more than we'd intended, "Well, you did say bringing me shopping with you could be dangerous."

HAH!

I don't often feel comfortable tooting my own horn, but shit, people, after all the puke and pee and endless rain and general assorted crap, I'm tooting away over here tonight. Just tooting to beat sixty, and I'm cool with that.

I roasted a celery root for dinner -random; obviously husband is not here- and ate the whole thing in front of a lovely fire whilst doing a crossword and sipping some wine. And now I wish to leave you with two articles.

One, the 2014 Haters Guide to the Williams-Sonoma catalog, is funny as balls. Literally, it almost shouldn't be legal to laugh that hard as tiny droplets of snot fly from each nostril over and over and over again. The second, about racial bias, is as serious and important as the Wms-Sonoma biz is crazy-funny.

You're welcome.

Goodnight!

 

A'stir

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I feel heavy right now, weighted with angst and disquietude. It didn't help that I awoke this morning in the midst of a nightmare that felt anything but; its realistic nature has left me skittish all day. I tried to exercise and cook away this prickly feeling, but have had little luck and find myself looking forward to tonight's slumber simply for its escapist possibility. One of my children has been terribly vexing since I returned from Italy, his behavior a peculiar blend of familiar impishness and atypical aggression that has us all on edge. I have spent so much energy attempting to understand, manage, counsel and repair that there's been no space to simply enjoy him. I've not met with any success in better understanding and feel only slight more adept at managing his outbursts. I wonder if my methods of handling things are right. I wonder what's at the root of all this. If it's "normal" or not. If it will pass quickly, or if I need to gird myself for a long stint of rough waters.

New negative behaviors tend to fluster me. Parenting is so hard anyway, a demanding job in the calmest of times. When stuff arises and I can tell it's fire ants versus lady bugs, my heart sinks a bit because dealing with it is going to take extra. When extra becomes the status quo, it's exhausting. I don't feel like my little family sails in glassy pools too often. No, we seem to push or be drawn towards the rougher swells, and frankly, I'm really over the watery roller coaster right now. I'm motion sick and in need of stasis. I simply want to enjoy my kids, enjoy the Christmas season and not feel like most of each day takes quite so much effort.

After delivering the party food tonight, I went to school for a community meeting about what's been going on in Ferguson and New York. Because the boys attend a Quaker school, this was a quiet meeting with no moderator; if individuals feel called to speak, they're welcome to; otherwise, silent reflection is the agenda. Tonight's was the most active meeting I've ever attended. It was profound and moving and thought-provoking. My heart was in my throat not five minutes in, beating assertively as if ingesting and then trying to process the pain and fear and frustration and hope reverberating throughout the room.

I wanted to say how heavy my heart has been since the Garner decision came down, how despondent I felt in hearing some of my co-parents' stories and concerns this evening, how grateful I felt to be sharing space with so many incredibly people, how responsible I feel for raising my boys so that, in their own little ways, they can try to make a positive difference in the world. I again tasted the bitter pill that is racial privilege, learning anew some of the things that I haven't much thought about because I haven't had to. I can't imagine worrying about my son's safety every time he left the house simply because of his skin color. What a grotesque, unjust burden. And how unfair that I (and my family) am exempt from that because my skin is white.

The comments shared tonight put many things in perspective, and I am thankful for that. But I still feel awfully churned up. When will my quartet find a better-paved groove in which we can coast, if only for a bit? When will our country finally reckon with truths too many wish to keep packed away, a behavior which benefits only a few at the dramatic expense of many? There are growing pains and there are pains that come from being bound and stunted. Both are difficult to endure, but only one offers hope and a positive outcome afterward.