My Most Important Job (Teach Your Children · Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young)

     I take parenting very seriously.  It can't be a part-time job or a hobby.  It is sometimes hard and maybe inconvenient or when I don't feel like it but I believe that every moment that passes should have some value in one way or another.  I love the mornings I sneak three different fruits into their healthy cereal.  I crave the nights they ask to hear the chosen story again, again, again.  I adore the moments of random sweetness when they need to hug you...and I never take an unsolicited "I love you" for granted.  Every moment of everyday is a chance to make them the best person they can be today as well as tomorrow.  That means a balance of push and pull, inspired and natural experiences, calm and busy.  There are days that I know I have done the best that I can do.  I take them in and soak them up and use them to inspire the days that are tricky. 
     This summer we belong to a pool.  I purchased the floats and toys and masks.  You can bring a kid to water but you can't make him swim...or can you?  Only a few weeks later I am watching my two little fishies swim about.  The big one is getting quite confident as she does handstands and flips under water but more importantly as she does fun jumps into the deep end and can swim to where she feels safe again.  My little guy is swimming underwater and coming up with quarters and toypedoes.  I watch with amazement as I realize we have all had a wonderful accomplishment.
     I will continue to buy books that brush up their skills.  I will always look for the healthy alternative and find ways to sneak exercise into everyday fun.  I will watch as their brains and personalities swell.  I will pat myself on the back for the nights I can reflect on a day full of wonder.  The ones where we can reflect on the new butterflies that hatched or the new flowers that bloomed.   Maybe some new artwork was hung up on the walls of our home to brighten the darker moments.  I  know that this will all go by way too quickly.  I will savor.  I will learn with them.  They teach me lessons as well.  But when I say I'm a mother it is a job that I value more than any other and I will know that I did my best at making it count.  I mess up.  I lose patience.  I allow late nights and junk food from time to time.  Sometimes we snuggle too long and have to make up for lost time.  Sometimes the laundry and cleaning steals time from them.  So I practice.  It's been almost ten years and I don't think a single day has gone by when I haven't learned something.  Each day is a day to be better, do better, love better.
     We mark the wall with lines and dates as we measure how their bodies grow.  We capture moments of wonder with photographs.  Colorful doodles from each stage of growth adorn my every space.   I never let a day go by without them being taught something...and I don't let a day go by that I do not learn as well.

Caterpillars to Butterflies (Helplessness Blues · Fleet Foxes)

     There is an anticipation that comes when a butterfly is waiting to break out of the chrysalis.  It is hanging there motionless and quiet. All the while there are a million little changes happening.  Wings are developing.  Parts are changing.  Sometimes I think this planet was given these creatures not only for their beauty but for the symbolism they contain.  I realize they are food as well and play their parts in the great cycle of life.  But for a bit they are a complete mystery.  A miracle.  An inspiration.
     I believe we as humans should treat ourselves the same way.  We can be caterpillars for quite some time.  We can wiggle on leaves and eat our way through the foliage.  We can plug along slowly but surely.  But there comes a time when that is no longer enough.  We know something is stirring within us.  The process is a mystery...the unknown is somewhat scary.  But like the caterpillar knows it is time to find a safe place to hang...the spirit knows something else is coming.  Now it is about development.  Growth.  Change.  It is about taking one thing and making it completely different.  It is in this change that the most beautiful thing can happen.  The butterfly doesn't necessarily decide on all of the changes but it knows what it must do to facilitate them.  It has to fatten up with milkweed.  It has to find a safe place to be.  It has to climb to a high point and fasten itself to a trusted leaf.  Then comes the chrysalis and it is now at the mercy of the elements with nothing more than the ability to fend off the predator with a mere little shaking of its home.  When it is ready it will emerge.  It will happen.  It is just a matter of when.  Each day it is a little less caterpillar and a little more butterfly. 
     I find myself changing each day.  I consciously make different decisions.  Sure, there are moments that are tricky as I try to loosen the velcro that has held me where I've always been...but I pull.  I push.  I twist.  I maneuver.  If it didn't work before I know it won't work NOW and I adapt.  Simply wanting something isn't enough....we have to prove to the universe that we deserve it.  The caterpillar does the work that it needs to and then the beauty can happen.  Like the butterfly who is changing a little each day...I, too, am changing.  A little more the me I want to be and a little less the person that I want to let go.  All the while my heart will be the one thing that remains pure and true just like the butterfly.

Senseless tragedy (Coming Home · Diddy & Dirty Money)

     I grew up in a place where the term "senseless tragedy" was as regular as the weather forecast.  It was in reference to the father who was shot down while defending the family business that left my nine year old friend without a Dad.  It was about how kids were attacked because of the neighborhood they were from or the jacket someone else wanted.  It was over sneakers and team rivalries.  It was random at times.  Completely random.  Wrong place at the wrong time.
     Some things never change.  This past week a high school graduation took place.  It was a day of promise and hope for a future full of chance and opportunity.  For some kids it was the start of something bigger...something brighter.  But as fate would have it another senseless tragedy occurred.  This bright future might have burned brighter than most.   When you see a star you just know it but I guess the heavens will know that sparkle now.
     To the family, friends, teachers and coaches who helped nurture that shine and watch the comet blaze down the field I am truly sorry for yet another senseless tragedy.  May you always be remembered as the star that you were.
     Be at peace Isayah Muller.

Flashbacks (Between the Lines · Sarah Bareilles)

     There is a scene at the end of the movie, The Sixth Sense, that is probably one of the most memorable of any movie.  It is a series of memories being flashed at you but this time it is the reality of them.  It is the truth being seen instead of the illusion that was set up through the entire film.  It had so much impact for me as this man realized what was really going on as opposed to what he believed. 
      I have this happen so much lately.  My life as I knew it wasn't real.  It was twisted with illusion and hope.  I was given a nice stage and some decent plot with interesting writing...but now looking back I am feeling more and more like the idiot at the end of the movie.  This wide-eyed optimist was easy to fool I guess.  At times it makes me sad.  I imagine I am watching this film.  I feel bad for the character watching her life stream before her eyes.  I feel bad that she thought life was so different than it really was.  I laugh at her for thinking she had any power at all because looking back she was played so well that she didn't even feel a thing.  Other times it makes me angry.  So many decisions were made based on this life and to find out it wasn't authentic means the decisions were all wrong.
     The irony of it all is that I believed I was so aware of my surroundings.  I thought I had some hand in the movie that was playing.  I thought I held the camera and created the script and designed the costumes.  Well, the joke is on me.  I was merely a stage hand.  An extra.
     At the end of the Sixth Sense a movie is over.  All that is left is this sad feeling for this man so attached to his old life that he couldn't see it for what it really was.  I can't get up and leave this theater.  It is all still around me everyday.  I am watching those flashes of memory now...little by little...all over the place.  I see the images being shattered as the memory is shifted from my creation to its own reality.  I cringe as new ones pop up.  As I tune up my lost intuition they all become so clear.  Maybe I was distracted.  Maybe I was naive.  Maybes don't get me my life back.  They don't allow for the redo.
      So now I am here wondering what to filter out and what to keep.  Every word has doubt.  Every promise was empty.  Every memory is questioned.  That sad feeling at the end of the movie is now a partner that seems to follow me around.  A shadow looming in the background of every thought that I have.  Was this real?  Was that genuine?  No, no...not that one, too! Little strings being snipped as I rethink all of it with open eyes this time around.  I once called a boy gullable.  Well karma...I get it...the joke was on me.  So now the movie is over.  People are throwing out their empty bags of popcorn and soda cups.  They are grabbing their sweaters and checking their pockets.  They are leaving the theater and heading back to their real lives.  Only for me the movie is playing over and over and I don't get to leave the theater.  As the credits play and the words come up upon the screen I will read them all looking for hints or clues.  I will wish for some extra footage with the answers to it all.  Some huge revelation that makes sense of it all.  But the screen has gone black and the sound system is now playing generic music.  The lights are on...bright and painful.  I have to leave the theater and hope that the details fade.  I'm hoping to forget some of the scenes.  I hope that someday I can say that though I don't remember all of the details I do remember thinking the movie was a good one.

What do you do? (Let Go · Frou Frou)

     I met someone new yesterday.  As grown ups we don't meet people often.  I was asked about myself.  I realized as I was answering I sounded like a hot mess.  Just simply talking about my current state of life...I sounded so lost.  I didn't mean to and I certainly wasn't being a Debbie Downer...it was just life at this point.  I went about my business with little whispers in my head.
    Analyzing life is what I do these days.  Some people scrapbook or take photos.  Some people golf or read.  I analyze.  I look at choices and decisions and wonder what I could have done differently.  I wonder about the yesterday, the today and the tomorrow of it all.  I hush myself.  I watch the sunny hills as I drive through country roads.  I listen to the faint strings in the background of a song I have heard a million times.  I look to make old things new and new things old.  I try.  But when someone just asks what you are or what you do...there it all is.  I don't know what I'm doing right now.  It's that simple.  I also heard myself say something about how hard it was not knowing when I am such a typical overachiever. 
     But the truth is I have been enjoying this new journey.  When you watch a hoarder show and they bring in the big guns...the organizing freaks who kick ass...what do they do?  They take the room that needs to be fixed and EMPTY it.  They sort what they are keeping in a pile.  They decide what they are donating.  There is always a huge pile of things they are dumping.  Then they find out what the person wants and needs in that room.  They design it with colors and accessories that will make them happier.  They organize it.  They create systems that will help the person to maintain the scary new thing that they are doing.  Well I am doing all of it.  I am the hoarder.  I have everything that has ever happened to me all trapped in my brain.  It has been taking up space...prime real estate.  I am the sweeper who is coming in to help me purge.  I am the designer of the new space.  I am the person who will be living in the new place that is created.  I am the one taking the stuff to the dump or donating it.  I am giving away what is no longer necessary. 
     All other methods have proven unsuccessful.  Little bits and pieces of things still left to linger.  I have taken my arm and swept all contents of the table onto the floor.  Swooooosh.  One giant push.  I am now sitting on the floor and digging through the piles with a garbage can nearby.  The walls are white and bare.  The floor is unfinished.  The blank space can be quite overwhelming.  It is why people hire designers who are trained just for that purpose.  But lately I am deciding what will make the cut.  There are colors to be picked and furniture to be moved.  There might be some artwork that needs to go up.  I will pick and search for things that will make me happy in this room.  This room that is me.  My life.
     So yes...I don't know what I am or what I do at the moment.  I am new.  I am different.  If it didn't work for 38 years it needs to go.  If it wasn't my voice it needs to be quieted.  If it is no longer my taste it can be changed.  I will spend each day cleaning, searching and finding until my room is a nice place to lay my head at night.   It might be a bit time consuming spending all of this energy in finding me but something tells me it will all be quite worth it.  So when you ask what I am or what I do...I might say "I don't know" but somewhere in there is the biggest irony yet...I never really did know.  All of that time I was actually floating around lost.  Now when I say "I don't know" it's a good thing.  Now I am aware of it all and maybe just maybe can start to find my way to being found. 

Walk it all away... (Skinny Love · Bon Iver)

     Last night I walked.  It was kinda late and I had a slight panic moment when a jogger ran up behind me (too many crime shows).  The tall lights of the stadium called to the collection of moths and insects and left a surreal moment... where it was hot out yet in the lamp light it looked as if it was snowing.  I watched my shadow as it walked the track with me...tall and steady.  It reminded me of the games of manhunt as a kid in the Bronx.   There was a peace to it all back then and the same still applies. 
     I head to the track with ipod charged and emotions high because I need to get it all out.  I go for a "short walk" and end up with a weakened battery and sore feet three miles later.  I have realized the amount of walking that I do coincides with the amount of stuff I need to walk off.  This night was a big one.  The first lap was dedicated to realizing how badly I need new sneakers...they hurt.  The next lap brought me back to summer as a kid.  The lap after that I discovered the bats zipping by above me for the tasty and simple fly thru meals at the lights.   I found some good songs that kept my pace even.  A mile in I start to think about the topics that get me to the track in the first place.  There are countless ones so I am never short for material.  I do try to give them a place order though and take them on one at a time.  Some get pushed to the bottom of the list for another walk...others are right there screaming to be first. 
     I might cry for a bit.  I figure it is just burning extra calories so it's quite alright.  I don't get much time alone to cry and I don't like to get it on everyone so this works out nicely.  Plus, if someone crazy does want to kidnap me maybe he'll go for a less complicated subject.  I walk.   I push the crap of it all down in my body and with each step that I take I release some of it.  I visualize it leaving me.  It's black and toxic and as it leaves my body there is a white peace to take its place.  I then switch lanes with each lap not only to keep track of my mileage but to not accidentally step in the same stuff and pick it up with my sneaker only to have to dump it again.  By the time I head the other way on the track descending back down the lane numbers it has dissipated.  Or maybe a bat or moth has eaten it all up.  They are tasty little morsels.  Somewhere around the eleventh lap a skunk reminds me that sometimes a beautiful warm night can be broken up by the stench of a scared little critter.  We all have our defense mechanisms.  Some are healthier than others.  Some are simple and clear and others are complicated and quiet but either way they get us through.  They get us through the moments that are too hard to face.  The trick is to learn them.  Learn them and find the antidote.   Learn them and the process that they are.  It is also nice to make them as healthy as possible.  I used to drive when I needed a breather.  Walking has proven to be so much more effective.  I envision myself someday walking the track smaller and lighter in both weight and burden...maybe then I'll only need a few laps.  Until then I will walk.

For Sale: Top Loader VCR (The Show · Lenka)

     The 21 year old me had the world at her fingertips.  She had found her someday husband.  She was finishing up school.   The teaching that she had loved since childhood was right there in her lap.  She bought her first new car.  Her parents were in their own groove.  She was tan and fit and happy.  She was surrounded by good friends.   She was full of confidence.  She had good jobs and had perfect credit.  It was all playing out perfectly.  When she smiled it was from the inside out.  She was more her than ever before and it would be the last time she felt that way...
     Fast forward...through the moves, jobs, wedding, deaths, babies, trips, friends, meals, holidays, bars, anniversaries, therapy sessions, bosses, pets, paint swatches, recipes, shopping, books, concerts, wings, gallery openings, classes, seedlings, gadgets, bonuses, debts, certificates, vacations, status updates and every moment that fills in the time between those things.
     Now you will find me here.  I am sifting through old things and old memories.  I am wondering where and what and why and how.  I have to quiet the constant frequencies of the old.  They play in the background like static on an old am radio.  Sometimes they make my decision for me.  Sometimes they screw up the new.  Ghosts.  I rewind my old top loader vcr with the wire and remote with three buttons and play the same stuff over and over.  I try to figure out the pivotal moments that changed it all.  Where did she go?  What decision was perfect and which changed my life forever? 
     How many of us still use our top loading vcr with the wire that trips everyone that walks by?  None of us.  We have computers with a show or movie at our beck and call.  We have dvrs that keep our picks for us.  We watch when we feel like it and we delete as we see fit.  Shoot, we don't even waste time with introduction theme songs (well except for certain shows like Big Bang) or commercials.  I can watch certain competition shows in 13 minutes if I push through all of the stuff I don't want to see.  So why in life am I hanging onto the vcr?  Why am I playing the same old tapes over and over?  They look grainy and sound muted. 
    When you get a new gadget you have to figure it out.  Some read the directions and manuals...others play until they get it right.  There is a learning curve.  We won't be as fast with the functions or quick and nimble with the applications.  We will have to learn it all over again.  Someday it will be taken for granted that we know what we are doing.  We will forget that it was rough there for a bit as we learned the new.  There might be resistance to the learning and growth.  It's not easy.  Someday we will just be glad that the picture is clearer, the sound is pure and the functions are much more efficient.  In the meantime, it will be a challenge. 
     So here we are in present time. The 21 year old got lost but the feeling has been found.  It is all right in front of me.  The difference now is that there is experience, maturity, and a giant sieve.  It will shake life and see what is worth salvaging in the basket and what falls through to be left.  I will have moments of fear and worry and loss and regret but they will diminish and fade as the new hope for tomorrow kicks it all out of the way. 
     It is time to hit the PLAY button.