All fathers are heroes. The young, the old...the working joes, the famous authors. It is not what they do or what they have but what they are. Simple..nothing fancy or flashy..residing somewhere between a tender whisper and a belly laugh that you know is genuine. I have always believed that a man is truly defined by the way he nurtures. In my life, its light shines in the way he holds my baby on a zip-slide, the gentle pat on a sore tummy, or simply in the quietness of a teary profile at a recital.
Today we celebrate that strength..neither brute nor brawn..but the kind who puts us and our babies first, who aren't afraid to love deeper and more selflessly than ever...the exemplary courage to don a tiara and pink stole to the tune of abundant giggles.
This one's for you Dad..and for you, G-Man. Thanks for delivering, for the shelter, and for the heart that goes along with it. Happy Father's Day!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
the lonesome tide
It was only last summer that my family and I swam in the warm waters of the Gulf. We peacefully slept on a breezy 4th floor and spent our tranquil mornings eating cinnamon toast with the symphonic sound of the sea playing before us. It was a quiet, special week..one where memories of birthday smiles, dolphins frolicking at a stones throw and regal sandcastles were made.
As I ran my way down the coast most early evenings..the sun sinking behind a soft, pink horizon, little did I know that I would be watching the ghastly images I see today. That black, gushing plume sickens me to the core every time I see it. My heart heavy with the sight of all those weighted wings, my prayer- fervent; that life there whether feathered, scaled or shelled will live again and we can clean up what those greedy bastards have set in motion. Ironically, it will probably be more of my tax dollar that will do it and very little of the 17 billion that line their silk pockets. That seems to be the way these days. As a woman, committed to my faith though, I can not and will not lose hope that we will eventually turn poison into medicine and that this karma, no matter how immutable it seems now will unfold itself to heal, to renew, to begin again. This preventable cause has been made into a disastrous effect and it is by our will and self destiny that we must correct it. But unless we change the way we consume, and own up to what has manifested by our hand then how can anything move forward? I have no concrete solution, no degrees, no political seat...just a blogging mama who prays that her babies will get what they deserve- the world in all its glory..life as sweet and simple as it was for me.
The prioritization of not only we humanoids in the life web but all others as well must be moved into place...lessons learned, mechanisms corrected, a-holes called out- a civic demand that will be heard like a shot fired, a final fix that will plug the pipes a mile deep once and for all and also the suits who've shown themselves to be nothing but an o-ring of blame, denial and neglect. And in my book, I'm talkin' to you, Mr. and Ms. B.P.-a sin so very deep, that as a mother of two young lives perched on an edge of discovery and wonder, I shudder at its magnitude and wonder how your eyes are able to shut in sleep at night. I struggle with the fear of my darkest demon..that one day we will not have any tools left for battle and all the links in the chain will lie broken like a Pic-a-Parts junkyard. There is something so innately tragic at the demise of the ones who can not speak for themselves. We owe an allegiance to both child and creature- a mission so noble that you would think its task alone would be enough to satisfy us. Our future is shining but we are blind to its light, I'm afraid.
The oxygen of the bay's bottom is already 20% below normal. It is home to over 400 species who are now seriously threatened. Those who are able to leave the hypoxic area, will; and those who can not, will not. Heaven forbid, if there is a bad hurricane season and that slop, in its sinister spread, will cover even more of our deep blue. I am reminded of the frantic scramble of the majestic sea turtle. It's odds of survival one in a thousand. After poking its head up through the sugary sand, it dodges the swift talon of the seagull, and then beats its tiny flippers against the current and other fishy threats. Today, its odyssey made even more perilous by the poison that washes in before them. Life on the tiniest, organic microbial level now must fight this deathly underwater cloud for breath and our wetlands will lose. I saw firsthand, at Dauphin Island's amazing estuarium, the profundity of the marsh and its place within this eco-system. The intricate tango between river, ocean, matter and life.
And so it goes. The jubilee falls silent and we continue to drive, consume and glutton ourselves into oblivion. My trek to school is always behind a mass of guzzling gas hogs with support our troops bumper stickers. I should be passing a lot more recycle bins on my way, but sadly only one or two on my block. The technology is out there to make a Prius that the average joe can afford. I just don't get it. All I can do in my humble way is to create a ripple in the proverbial pond as best I can and encourage my kids to do so, too. I haven't shared a rocket-science solution, nothing Huff worthy...not anything that you don't feel in your own tickers. This was simply an entry where I just needed to vent, I guess....and for a love song about a place that I shared with my children.
As I ran my way down the coast most early evenings..the sun sinking behind a soft, pink horizon, little did I know that I would be watching the ghastly images I see today. That black, gushing plume sickens me to the core every time I see it. My heart heavy with the sight of all those weighted wings, my prayer- fervent; that life there whether feathered, scaled or shelled will live again and we can clean up what those greedy bastards have set in motion. Ironically, it will probably be more of my tax dollar that will do it and very little of the 17 billion that line their silk pockets. That seems to be the way these days. As a woman, committed to my faith though, I can not and will not lose hope that we will eventually turn poison into medicine and that this karma, no matter how immutable it seems now will unfold itself to heal, to renew, to begin again. This preventable cause has been made into a disastrous effect and it is by our will and self destiny that we must correct it. But unless we change the way we consume, and own up to what has manifested by our hand then how can anything move forward? I have no concrete solution, no degrees, no political seat...just a blogging mama who prays that her babies will get what they deserve- the world in all its glory..life as sweet and simple as it was for me.
The prioritization of not only we humanoids in the life web but all others as well must be moved into place...lessons learned, mechanisms corrected, a-holes called out- a civic demand that will be heard like a shot fired, a final fix that will plug the pipes a mile deep once and for all and also the suits who've shown themselves to be nothing but an o-ring of blame, denial and neglect. And in my book, I'm talkin' to you, Mr. and Ms. B.P.-a sin so very deep, that as a mother of two young lives perched on an edge of discovery and wonder, I shudder at its magnitude and wonder how your eyes are able to shut in sleep at night. I struggle with the fear of my darkest demon..that one day we will not have any tools left for battle and all the links in the chain will lie broken like a Pic-a-Parts junkyard. There is something so innately tragic at the demise of the ones who can not speak for themselves. We owe an allegiance to both child and creature- a mission so noble that you would think its task alone would be enough to satisfy us. Our future is shining but we are blind to its light, I'm afraid.
The oxygen of the bay's bottom is already 20% below normal. It is home to over 400 species who are now seriously threatened. Those who are able to leave the hypoxic area, will; and those who can not, will not. Heaven forbid, if there is a bad hurricane season and that slop, in its sinister spread, will cover even more of our deep blue. I am reminded of the frantic scramble of the majestic sea turtle. It's odds of survival one in a thousand. After poking its head up through the sugary sand, it dodges the swift talon of the seagull, and then beats its tiny flippers against the current and other fishy threats. Today, its odyssey made even more perilous by the poison that washes in before them. Life on the tiniest, organic microbial level now must fight this deathly underwater cloud for breath and our wetlands will lose. I saw firsthand, at Dauphin Island's amazing estuarium, the profundity of the marsh and its place within this eco-system. The intricate tango between river, ocean, matter and life.
And so it goes. The jubilee falls silent and we continue to drive, consume and glutton ourselves into oblivion. My trek to school is always behind a mass of guzzling gas hogs with support our troops bumper stickers. I should be passing a lot more recycle bins on my way, but sadly only one or two on my block. The technology is out there to make a Prius that the average joe can afford. I just don't get it. All I can do in my humble way is to create a ripple in the proverbial pond as best I can and encourage my kids to do so, too. I haven't shared a rocket-science solution, nothing Huff worthy...not anything that you don't feel in your own tickers. This was simply an entry where I just needed to vent, I guess....and for a love song about a place that I shared with my children.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
seven
Happy birthday, baby. You are my light, my love..the spring in my step, the Darlene to my Roseanne.
Monday, June 7, 2010
slip slidin' away
Yesterday was a sweet one. The windows down, vine-ripened tomatoes, bluegrass and two sleepy girls. My sister and I have made a commitment to Sunday family dinners from here on out. No schedule blips, no buts, no excuses. These mild days just at the beginning of summer, the smell of coconut on a warm shoulder, the suns rays through my baby girl's curls as she blows kisses to her Bobo..all moments I memorize and shelve in an already over-stuffed heart. The lazy goodness of just living is a precious gift to all of us. One that we may not always stop to savor. From the untamed swatch of wildflowers I pass on my morning run to the melodious call of the owl who just moved in next door. My promise is a strong one. It resides somewhere between the inhale of fear and the cushion of your love. It's weft to your warp, in an ever-changing world on its travels through the vast unknown.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
here comes the sun
Apparently, my air conditioner has a G-spot. Humidity has finally reared its ugly head down here in the Ozarks. Wrap that muggy schmata around some hormonal flashing and you have one hot Mama. After roasting at the park the other day with the kiddos, I made a mad dash home to crank that puppy up, and nothin'. Oy. Not only has it been a full two months since I've blogged about my crazy life..but the last time I was waxing heretic was about ten inches below this entry as Mercury was spinning up some electro magnetic funk in my Mag world. Well, this time, 'karma be damned"... I was mad as hell and my checkbook and I were not going to take it anymore. So I tore the front plate off that sucker and took a gander. After staring intently at its innards for about ten minutes, hoping that was all the repair it was magically going to need, I couldn't help but notice a blinking amber light with a rotating disc like thing in front of it. Well, I'm no dummy- green means go and red means stop, so I figured all I needed for yellow was a little pedal to the metal..give her a little love to get her going. So I tapped, I knocked, I rapped and I bonked. And just when a teeny drop of sweat was sliding down my drawers and I could visualize the beady-eyed Heat and Air guy visiting with his hand out again, I gave it one last rub and said, "Work it, b*tch!" And that was all it took. She cranked up full throttle and had the casa cool in no time. Too bad I don't smoke.
Yes, life here with my brood remains pretty status quo. I have one kid finished for the year and one to go. Can't wait to get them in the same school for the Fall. Of course, our mornings will still be something out of Carrie but at least the drop-off will be in the same place and within a half of a mile from home. Big Daddy can just pull the pillow up over his head and pop an Ambien...no more of the poor guy having to get up from his groggy slumber to give a ride to our oldest one.
It has been so long since I last posted, that Spring has completely sprung and it was ab-fab! Lovely...the scent of honeysuckle thick in the air, those heavenly puffy dogwoods...the bodaciously purdy red buds abloom. I just love the four seasons and really missed it while living out in L.A. all those years. I could do without the heat though, but you can't have everything! My morning runs were sheer perfection the past couple of months but now that it is toasting up, it looks like a return to the boring treadmill. :( Just like the little hamster, I am.
Let's see, what else is happening...I've developed a meth problem since I last Eblogged. Well, sorta. I'm hooked on Facebook and its gotta stop. All the dry one-liners and silly links..I can't help myself. I need to perform a self-intervention and get back on the Daily Mag wagon. But my pals are just too darn funny and it has become a boost for this stay at home mother- an encouraging cyber 'what's up' beyond the confines of my four humble American Traditions Callaway walls and endless loop of Disney movies. My problem could be worse, I guess. Thank God, I'm not a gamer. Then DHS would have definitely have to be called in.
Yep, my Sandwich-Generation life couldn't be more mayo-ed up with school activities, doc appts., birthday parties and all the goings-on in Momville. It is also that dreaded time of year. It starts with a B and should be outlawed in this country, frankly. Bathing suit season. Yuck. I don't think there's enough Grey Goose on the planet to help this old gal through something so scary. I had managed to postpone it for quite some time..a few years in fact. Back in '06, I bought an expensive super duper Spandexed one-piece jobbie that miraculously managed to withstand gallons of chlorine and keep me all sucked in, but most unfortunately, the "trimmer-deluxe tummy panel" bit the dust and now my two pigs wrestling under a blanket have come out to play.
My depressing journey took me to Kohls and it was there, in the back stall of the dressing room that I had my seasonal affective melt-down. Trying to blink away the tears, I wrangled piece after piece, each one more horrifying than the next until I settled on a Pucci tankini and a black swim skirt. I would have preferred the Little House on the Praire Swim Line, complete with matching bonnet but what are ya gonna do? Donatella just won't give us mature Mrs. what we really need. I'm still at the stage where I have to get in the pool with my kids or they're gonna drown, so there's not much I can do about the situation. Can't wait for the day I can have the freedom to sit by the palm farthest from the pool, under the dark veil of my mommy dearest hat, Prada shades and jigger of Patron. At least I was not alone as my sorrow was shared with two other ladies perusing the swimwear with that very same sour look on their mugs. I thought of maybe trying to cut through all the tension with some humor but refrained as the gal in the Razorbacks tee-shirt looked like she might bite me. So there you have it- an uncomfortable blend of Lycra and sadness. ;-) Tom.
On the other hand, T-Mag had a ball. She had been given a gift certificate from her Aunty on her birthday, and she couldn't wait to shop. She made a bee-line over to the only thing that kid will wear- dresses. She is a girly girl with a capitol G. It must be nice to look sun-kissed and cute beyond words in everything you try on. She settled on three sweet little numbers (1/2 off sale..ya gotta love it!)..all color-coordinated and ready for summer fun in the sun! That was an easy and sob-free find, thank goodness. And just when Mama Mags thought it safe and we were headed to the shore of check-out, I spied a j'adorable black hoodie (75% reduced clearance!)and a cute pair of skinny capris. I cut through Jewelery, trotted 20 paces beyond Shoes to nab my fabulous buy. The fun stopped mid-forearm. Literally. That was the only part of my body I could fit into it. I was aghast and on the edge of ending it all (or at least returning home to eat a box of dark chocolate Ferrer Rocher) when I realized I was in the Mylie Cyrus section. Size Zero. Really? Ugh, I can't wait for her and all the High School Musicalers to pop out a coupla kids and have an "ass-back" of their very own someday. ;-) Lisa. (I told you my Crackbook pals were a hoot).
On to a more fitting subject....I am beyond excited as the girlies and I are loading up the jalopy and Goin' to Cali next month! Cement ponds and movie stars! Too bad L.L. Cool J's yummy brown tatooed guns aren't going to welcome me when I get there. Oh, well, I'll just have to settle for the I-Tune, I guess. Yes, we've managed to swing a trip back to our homeland..only our second visit in the six years since we moved away. We are thrilled to be seeing our friends and having a little beach play. Daddy is not going to make it, I'm afraid. We're taking Jon and Kate va-cays this year. Separate and bitter. Well, it's not th-a-t bad, I guess...His 40th high school reunion up in Wisconsin is a go and that was all he could fit into his busy work schedule. He missed his last one and they were all a very close class so..I am certain he will have a blast with his fellow Greyhounds 'round the SHS flagpole. Rah, Rah and pass the Geritol!
W. has been busy, busy with her Ballet and just had a wonderful year-end recital. She looked like a little angel on that great big stage and did a terrific job. Though I still remain gravely challenged as a ballet mom. I can not make a bun to save my life. The instructor had to re-do it. "The crown..the bun must lie atop the crown". Poor kid. It looks like a tumor after I get ahold of her. I ask you, are scrunchies so wrong? My oldest one also ran her first 1-K the other day. Tres cute. She really booked it at first and then pooped out a little bit near the end, but was able to raise both arms in a red-faced finish. I called out to her father who was waiting in line to take yummy advantage of sponser Ben and Jerry's ice cream for he and the kids while I grabbed some healthy fruit for me and my ass, "Hey, Dad, there's Kiwi Vitamin water!" "Vodka water?..Right on!", he replied. I couldn't help but chuckle everytime someone helped themselves from the iced cooler. I don't think the second grade teacher who overheard thought it was funny though.
All jokes, unfinished homework and exhaustion aside, looking back on this active school year, it surely has been a beautiful one. T-Mag blossomed in half-day pre-school Montessori, proudly became a best friend and is now poised for all sorts of Kindergarten discovery. Seeing the girls immersed in all things alphabet and song is a precious gift in my life. I cherish each performance, each milestone, and am realizing that it is all so fleeting. Before I know it, they will both be grown-up young ladies...mommy's boo-boo kisses and watchful eye no longer needed. My heart is so very full and humbled at the sunshine and promise that lie within my two little ones.
Yesiree Bob, this is gonna be one big bunch of dog days that I am actually looking forward to. I'll be jet-setting a bit to break up the hot monotony and as long as I soak the kids in some water for a few days of it, they'll make plenty of solstice memories and be happy as clams. They're easy to please when it comes to a watering hole of any kind. Throw 'em a piece of watermelon and a fucshia swim noodle and short of beating the crap out of each other with it, they are going to be in splish-splash heaven. Not only will I miss the guy, I am feeling just a wee bit o' trepidation that I won't have Daddy Mags to help out with the munchkins...particularly during the chaos of "de-shoeing" and running our stuff through airport security or white-knuckling it down the 405, but with a little help from my friends, I think I got it covered. Besides, I have plastic martini glasses for pool safety and that's what is really important.
Yes, life here with my brood remains pretty status quo. I have one kid finished for the year and one to go. Can't wait to get them in the same school for the Fall. Of course, our mornings will still be something out of Carrie but at least the drop-off will be in the same place and within a half of a mile from home. Big Daddy can just pull the pillow up over his head and pop an Ambien...no more of the poor guy having to get up from his groggy slumber to give a ride to our oldest one.
It has been so long since I last posted, that Spring has completely sprung and it was ab-fab! Lovely...the scent of honeysuckle thick in the air, those heavenly puffy dogwoods...the bodaciously purdy red buds abloom. I just love the four seasons and really missed it while living out in L.A. all those years. I could do without the heat though, but you can't have everything! My morning runs were sheer perfection the past couple of months but now that it is toasting up, it looks like a return to the boring treadmill. :( Just like the little hamster, I am.
Let's see, what else is happening...I've developed a meth problem since I last Eblogged. Well, sorta. I'm hooked on Facebook and its gotta stop. All the dry one-liners and silly links..I can't help myself. I need to perform a self-intervention and get back on the Daily Mag wagon. But my pals are just too darn funny and it has become a boost for this stay at home mother- an encouraging cyber 'what's up' beyond the confines of my four humble American Traditions Callaway walls and endless loop of Disney movies. My problem could be worse, I guess. Thank God, I'm not a gamer. Then DHS would have definitely have to be called in.
Yep, my Sandwich-Generation life couldn't be more mayo-ed up with school activities, doc appts., birthday parties and all the goings-on in Momville. It is also that dreaded time of year. It starts with a B and should be outlawed in this country, frankly. Bathing suit season. Yuck. I don't think there's enough Grey Goose on the planet to help this old gal through something so scary. I had managed to postpone it for quite some time..a few years in fact. Back in '06, I bought an expensive super duper Spandexed one-piece jobbie that miraculously managed to withstand gallons of chlorine and keep me all sucked in, but most unfortunately, the "trimmer-deluxe tummy panel" bit the dust and now my two pigs wrestling under a blanket have come out to play.
My depressing journey took me to Kohls and it was there, in the back stall of the dressing room that I had my seasonal affective melt-down. Trying to blink away the tears, I wrangled piece after piece, each one more horrifying than the next until I settled on a Pucci tankini and a black swim skirt. I would have preferred the Little House on the Praire Swim Line, complete with matching bonnet but what are ya gonna do? Donatella just won't give us mature Mrs. what we really need. I'm still at the stage where I have to get in the pool with my kids or they're gonna drown, so there's not much I can do about the situation. Can't wait for the day I can have the freedom to sit by the palm farthest from the pool, under the dark veil of my mommy dearest hat, Prada shades and jigger of Patron. At least I was not alone as my sorrow was shared with two other ladies perusing the swimwear with that very same sour look on their mugs. I thought of maybe trying to cut through all the tension with some humor but refrained as the gal in the Razorbacks tee-shirt looked like she might bite me. So there you have it- an uncomfortable blend of Lycra and sadness. ;-) Tom.
On the other hand, T-Mag had a ball. She had been given a gift certificate from her Aunty on her birthday, and she couldn't wait to shop. She made a bee-line over to the only thing that kid will wear- dresses. She is a girly girl with a capitol G. It must be nice to look sun-kissed and cute beyond words in everything you try on. She settled on three sweet little numbers (1/2 off sale..ya gotta love it!)..all color-coordinated and ready for summer fun in the sun! That was an easy and sob-free find, thank goodness. And just when Mama Mags thought it safe and we were headed to the shore of check-out, I spied a j'adorable black hoodie (75% reduced clearance!)and a cute pair of skinny capris. I cut through Jewelery, trotted 20 paces beyond Shoes to nab my fabulous buy. The fun stopped mid-forearm. Literally. That was the only part of my body I could fit into it. I was aghast and on the edge of ending it all (or at least returning home to eat a box of dark chocolate Ferrer Rocher) when I realized I was in the Mylie Cyrus section. Size Zero. Really? Ugh, I can't wait for her and all the High School Musicalers to pop out a coupla kids and have an "ass-back" of their very own someday. ;-) Lisa. (I told you my Crackbook pals were a hoot).
On to a more fitting subject....I am beyond excited as the girlies and I are loading up the jalopy and Goin' to Cali next month! Cement ponds and movie stars! Too bad L.L. Cool J's yummy brown tatooed guns aren't going to welcome me when I get there. Oh, well, I'll just have to settle for the I-Tune, I guess. Yes, we've managed to swing a trip back to our homeland..only our second visit in the six years since we moved away. We are thrilled to be seeing our friends and having a little beach play. Daddy is not going to make it, I'm afraid. We're taking Jon and Kate va-cays this year. Separate and bitter. Well, it's not th-a-t bad, I guess...His 40th high school reunion up in Wisconsin is a go and that was all he could fit into his busy work schedule. He missed his last one and they were all a very close class so..I am certain he will have a blast with his fellow Greyhounds 'round the SHS flagpole. Rah, Rah and pass the Geritol!
W. has been busy, busy with her Ballet and just had a wonderful year-end recital. She looked like a little angel on that great big stage and did a terrific job. Though I still remain gravely challenged as a ballet mom. I can not make a bun to save my life. The instructor had to re-do it. "The crown..the bun must lie atop the crown". Poor kid. It looks like a tumor after I get ahold of her. I ask you, are scrunchies so wrong? My oldest one also ran her first 1-K the other day. Tres cute. She really booked it at first and then pooped out a little bit near the end, but was able to raise both arms in a red-faced finish. I called out to her father who was waiting in line to take yummy advantage of sponser Ben and Jerry's ice cream for he and the kids while I grabbed some healthy fruit for me and my ass, "Hey, Dad, there's Kiwi Vitamin water!" "Vodka water?..Right on!", he replied. I couldn't help but chuckle everytime someone helped themselves from the iced cooler. I don't think the second grade teacher who overheard thought it was funny though.
All jokes, unfinished homework and exhaustion aside, looking back on this active school year, it surely has been a beautiful one. T-Mag blossomed in half-day pre-school Montessori, proudly became a best friend and is now poised for all sorts of Kindergarten discovery. Seeing the girls immersed in all things alphabet and song is a precious gift in my life. I cherish each performance, each milestone, and am realizing that it is all so fleeting. Before I know it, they will both be grown-up young ladies...mommy's boo-boo kisses and watchful eye no longer needed. My heart is so very full and humbled at the sunshine and promise that lie within my two little ones.
Yesiree Bob, this is gonna be one big bunch of dog days that I am actually looking forward to. I'll be jet-setting a bit to break up the hot monotony and as long as I soak the kids in some water for a few days of it, they'll make plenty of solstice memories and be happy as clams. They're easy to please when it comes to a watering hole of any kind. Throw 'em a piece of watermelon and a fucshia swim noodle and short of beating the crap out of each other with it, they are going to be in splish-splash heaven. Not only will I miss the guy, I am feeling just a wee bit o' trepidation that I won't have Daddy Mags to help out with the munchkins...particularly during the chaos of "de-shoeing" and running our stuff through airport security or white-knuckling it down the 405, but with a little help from my friends, I think I got it covered. Besides, I have plastic martini glasses for pool safety and that's what is really important.
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