the first half...

Let me just start by saying I get it. I get why people race. Why it is SO much more fun than going out your doorstep and cruising 12 miles around your town. There is a chance I may be hooked.



What would you ask for when you are doing your first real half-marathon?

An almost summer-type day in November?

Three of your dearest friends running too?

Your kids happily taken care of by your partner who got the day off work to be there with you and took all kinds of great pictures?

A beach for a playground for them to play on?

How about 1200 women to run alongside you?

A body that felt just the right amount of strong and rested, able and willing?

How about if you got all of it?



A three hour drive, a little bit of nerves, the sun rising high with the promise of warmth, a happy albeit, un-napped toddler...we head into the gym to find these incredible women. Sandi said, "Can I just say how lucky I feel that I have friends who run marathons?!" (Author's note: these women are all members of the other 3 families that we feel at least somewhat responsible for moving to Hampden.)

Ready to go.

We are all excited and anxious to start. Mindy, the real trooper of the day, had been battling flu-like symptoms for the past 24 hours.

Maya getting a good view from up on Charissa's shoulders. Plus it had the added benefit of us not needing use the dog's leash to keep her with our group.

First few minutes of the race it was a thick sea of women (there was a lottery and "one lucky guy" got to race with us.) Mindy was there but hiding behind someone. In front of us, the back of one woman's shirt said, "Marriage inequality is so gay." Awesome.

Our cheering squad. Packed in the stroller and ready for the first stop cheering spot.

Mile 3.5. Mindy looking amazingly strong for her poor, flu-riddled body. I was ridiculously happy and high-fiving everyone and anyone that was willing. I told Mindy I felt like a parasite feeding off the crowd. She said it was a symbiotic relationship but I'm pretty sure I took more than I gave.

Meredith and Emilie looking strong. (This is Emilie of just finished the San Francisco Marathon 3 weeks ago-and my running muse-and Meredith who is doing her first marathon in February.)

No joke- this was our view...

Time for the kids to ditch the running moms and go play!

Can I bottle this joy please?

And then back in the stroller to be cheerleaders... bummer.

Mile 8.

This is where poor Mindy started to really struggle. There was not enough water on the course, for anyone, but especially for her already dehydrated body. I opted out of the photo of her looking like she was suffering. (Hope that is okay Min. Scroll down for your moment of glory.)


What we were all aiming to get into our line of vision...

Here they are, all glammed up. Check out Emerson's cheek. It looks like a tatoo you would find on a guy who smokes cigarretts, listens to classic rock, and has longer hair that you do.

I finished in 2 hrs. 15 minutes. Very proud.

Here come Emilie and Meredith. That is me holding my arm out. I was REALLY excited. Their time was 2 hrs. 22 min.

And pulling it from who knows where...

Looking strong and fantastic (and probably wondering where the closest bed was to crawl into) Mindy came across a mere 15 minutes later. Tough as nails.

What more can I say?

How about Memorial Day weekend 2010. Vermont. Full Marathon.

That is why the blog header says "Start." This is only the beginning.

meet family #4

We joke that we are on a campaign to move all of our friends to Hampden.

That being said, allow me to introduce you to family #4. (Our other 3 favorite families have all made the move and if the Smith's would even get their butts here, they would be #5.)

(As a side note, Sandi's piece was published as an op/ed in the Bangor Daily News http://www.bangordailynews.com/detail/128442.html and, unfortunately received some rather unkind comments. We have tried to laugh it off which hasn't been too hard because people say some incredibly stupid things when they are defensive and mean. Anyway, one reader wrote that Hampden was clearly "a hotbed of homosexual supporting families." I thought- wow, that would be AWESOME if Hampden became known for that.)

Alex and Katie are the two moms of this adorable blonde cutie (and Ella and especially Maya's new hero) Mikayla.


We got to together before Halloween for some good old-fashioned fun. A little cookie making ...

and some raw dough eating...

And while the cookies baked, an impromptu dance party.

And then an all out carving extravaganza. They are die hards. They even put a TARP down to collect mess. Which turned out to be very good since Maya was all about the goo.

Ella wanted to work with Katie because Katie told her she would make heart-shaped eyes. Who is surprised?

And, with our kids occupied, we went to work. Serious work.

Some VERY creative decorating...

and some good old-fashioned bragging.

To give credit where credit is due (from the left): san's pumkin had actual lips, then mine which everyone teased was very "traditional" so I had to give it some side-burns, then Alex's masterpiece, followed by Katie and Ella's heart shaped beauty.

Welcome to town girls. So glad you are here!

Thoughts on Question 1...

I write this to you in love.

In the wake of voting day and specifically the results of question 1, I have many thoughts and much emotion. I want to share some of myself and what I feel in hopes that it will reach as many hearts as possible so that we can start making this right today. If you feel compelled, please share it.

I have not been able to stop crying. I feel so much sadness for our state and our world. It is not the outcome of the vote that devastates me. It is the consciousness out of which the vote was cast that draws my tears.

Question 1 was a repeal of our state’s same-sex marriage law. But it had little to do with marriage. It had everything to do with civil rights, rights that ensure one’s ability to participate in civil life without discrimination or repression. This was a moral issue, a human issue, a spiritual issue. And I thought we were further along in our spiritual journey as a people than we are. I truly believed that the greater majority would vote no on 1. I wasn’t worried about it because I believed. And this morning I woke startled to find I was wrong. And I have not been able to stop crying.

I said this morning that I should have been more vocal, more visible, more present for this campaign. That maybe it would have made a difference. But that’s not me. I am who I am, and if I teach, it’s by example, not by standing on a soapbox or behind a podium. This morning I felt like that was not enough. And so I want to share more of myself that perhaps my experience might glean some insight into making this right today. I want to start a new campaign. Because again, this has little to do with marriage, and a whole lot to do with love… respect… equality… transcending a place of repression and hatred to a place that we can live together in peace and harmony. It starts here.

Initially, I had moments of anger that so many people would cast a vote which took away my rights. But more importantly, those people cast votes carrying a much larger message. That I am less than. That my family is less than. That we are somehow not as deserving of the same rights as everyone else. That I, as a spirit created of and by love, could be less than any other spirit of the same. As one of our dearest friends put it so clearly - This is ridiculous. Ridiculous in a very sad and devastating kind of way. Sad in a heartbreaking kind of way. Sad for all those souls that understand life as love.

Our household, as well as those of many of our friends and families, gay and straight alike, have been so very heartbroken this morning. Our hearts weep for a society that chose repression. But to look at the light in this darkness, wherever there is heartbreak, there is opportunity for expansion into a place that is more capable of love. There is opportunity for more awareness…. We can be better. We can be more than we were yesterday. This is a gift.

When one is repressed, we are all repressed. I am filled with compassion for those who hold in their hearts that which caused them to vote yes on 1. What, but fear, would cause someone to deliberately vote for repression? And usually people fear because they don’t understand. What they fear is the unknown, that which is outside of their “normal.” And we can’t fault for that. Their hearts are the same as ours… we just know differently. Anyone who is born outside of the “normal,” whether it is a handicap or a race, color, or sexual orientation, can tell you that his or her experience is different. Anyone who has had an experience outside of the “norm” can also tell you that it changes their perspective. People living outside of the “box” usually have an understanding that despite the differences, we are all the same, all equal, all created by and of the same, and all capable of the same love and appreciation. Because of this their hearts are more capable of inclusion and understanding. With more and more spirits being born outside of the “norm,” we as a world are being forced to grow and expand in love and acceptance. If you had never been outside of the “norm,” or had not allowed your heart to look outside of the norm, it would be harder to learn this lesson. It is my belief that those who voted yes on 1 fall somewhere in that group. And my heart hurts most for them. In this moment, I hold them most tightly and pray for their heart’s opening. My anger has dissipated and is replaced by compassion.

The contrast born of this heartbreaking outcome can only serve to strengthen us, if we let it. We can make a choice in this moment to find ways to be more loving, for that was what this was about in the first place. Equality, respect, movement toward acceptance and understanding… all born of love. To those who didn’t or still don’t understand, I offer my heart. It is full and rich with acceptance, compassion and love for you.

The campaign I mentioned earlier… it is exactly as I have just shared. To love those who do not understand - those who fear and choose hatred and repression, as that is what they know. My campaign is one to turn our anger or sadness into something much greater - to expand our ability for love and respect. It is said that freedom will never be given by the oppressor, but must be demanded by the oppressed. While that holds truth, I think we, on our spiritual journey, can be even better than that. I want to choose to hold love for my oppressors, break into their hearts, and allow them to know and feel something more. Only then will the change be real. I want to choose love and hope that my oppressor feels something different than the fight. Peace and love are not born of war. Love bares love. It is simple. This is my campaign. And I entrust you to share it. To live it. To fill yourself with compassion today.

This love that we have to hold and offer is the very thing we seek for ourselves. While I am deeply saddened at the results of question one, this has provided us with a valuable reminder to be the change we wish to see in the world.

And for those of you who didn’t really care how the vote turned out or didn’t get fired up in some way over it, I would offer this….. find a way to care. We need more love in the world.

As always, it starts here.

My love to you all. May we find a better place. Today.
Sandi

heartbreak

warning: this post may contain bitterness

There are things you learn as you gain life experience- things that you never would have thought of until them come knocking on your door. For instance, I now know that if tears fall when you are running in 40 degree weather, they don't really freeze but just make you cold.

And that, at age two, when you see your momma cry, you are more likely to reach out a chubby hand in compassion than just look with a quizzical expression.

That, sadly, people commit more hateful and judgemental acts in the name of God than for any other reason.

And that, often, when people win they really lose. (It was Sandi that blessedly came up with this one, lending me to bend my heart and open to a bit of compassion for the smug victors who have actually gained nothing.)

But, most of all, that when you heart breaks, you know the people who really love you.

As my friend Mindy said this morning, it is hard not to draw a line between "us" and "them"- not to eye others with suspicion. I told Sandi I wanted all the signs down- I don't want to know who voted yes, who made it their right to cast our family and our relationship aside as less than theirs, who lay in their bed last night in the arms of their spouses, arrogantly proud that they had "protected" their marriage.

Sandi said she didn't want to take our No on 1 sign down. She wanted it to rot there on the lawn.

I, on the other hand, want to go and collect 50,000 signatures to put a citizens initiative on the ballot that makes it illegal to be closed minded and prejudiced.

It isn't that I want to hurry out and buy a white puffy dress and have someone declare my partnership legitimate. I just want my children to grow up in a culture, in a society where everyone is equal, is free, where all love is celebrated and valid and recognized, in a place where their family is a family in the eyes of the law.

Sandi said it is just one more opportunity to teach our kids about love.

And all I can think is, why do we have to keep teaching love as the antidote to hate?

bees, pirates, zebras and other halloween craziness on Beals Island

What could be better than an adorable bumble bee?

How about a bigger bee with super fancy shoes?

Add to that a baby zebra...

Captain Jack Sparrow...

A couple of grown-up pirates...

And enough wind to blow one of those bumble bees right off your back... (that was honest-to-goodness fear in Ella's eyes. The wind was HOWLING.)

And you've got a Halloween to remember!

The queen bees with their baby bumbles.

The waddle the girls adopted with those stingers going to side to side were just too much...

A big thanks to Elisa who made these most amazing costumes for her kiddos last year and let us use them (which meant a lot of wipes as Maya smeared chocolate all over her face.) If we play our cards right, we might be lucky enough to inherit the use of penguins next year...

big day

I felt like today would never get here.

I'll be honest... as exciting a day as it is, I'm kind of looking forward to its end.

THE VOTE.

Last night, Sandi and I sat at our kitchen table to complete our absentee ballot (she works 12 hours today and I was fearful that if I took Maya into the voting booth, she might take the whole thing down.) I unfolded my ballot and was overcome with emotion.

Same-sex marriage. On the ballot. Is this for real??

Sandi and I have been together almost nine years. In that time we have had friends who had been together for 25 years work up the courage to come out to their families. We took what was at the time a huge risk and participated in a "walk with the ones you love" walk in Bangor and appeared in the local paper, aware that our business may suffer as a result. We saw domestic partnership health benefits become possible at Sandi's work. We saw the passing of an anti-discrimination law in Maine. We became registered domestic partners. And the biggest to date- last March we legally adopted our own children.

Biggest to date until now.


Connecting the black marks with my pencil to indicate I was voting no, not to repeal this law, this brave law that is unprecedented in any other state felt as momentous as it was. Our state is the only one whose government, not its courts, decided to allow same-sex marriage.

This is the first fight for equal rights that somehow has surpassed just the gay people the law effects. Somehow, gay and straight people are working side by side to uphold this law, seeing it as civil rights, no longer just gay rights.

I want to say thank you. Thank you to the people who have come from around the country to help. Thank you to the people who care enough to put up signs, have conversations, go into those darker recesses and challenge conventional thinking. Thank you for going out to vote. Thank you for making this about our society, the culture of our state being about inclusion, equality and fairness.

Ella's thoughts on the vote?

I had been trying to educate her about what this vote meant (and it is not as easy as one might think). I asked her to explain it back to me and this was what she said, "If you have a No on 1 sign, it means that you have two moms at your house." Then after an attempt at clarification: "No on 1 means that if a girl is married to boy now she will want to be married to a girl." Oh jeez...

When she heard that people were stealing No on 1 signs in our town: "That is just not right. People are allowed to have their own opinions and can vote how they want. But stealing is just wrong."

Which was why I was happy when she was overheard saying to her cousin while they were talking about making signs: "Let's make a sign that says 'vote no on 1.' That means girls can marry girls and boys can marry boys. Want to make a sign that says that?"

houdini

I came home from work to hear this from Sandi:

"There was a code pink at the hospital today." (this is when a baby is taken)

Gulp. Those poor parents, is all I can think.

Then: "It was Maya."

Why am I not all that surprised?

Maya, Sandi and Ella had all gone to visit a family member in the hospital and were all three looking out a sixth floor hallway window, peeking down on everything below when Sandi turned to see Maya. Who was no longer there.

Panicked Sandi searching frantically for the missing Maya, freaked out Ella... and Maya? Aboard a south-bound elevator which she had found her way into just before the doors closed and swallowed her alone inside. After scouring the sixth floor, poor Sandi, who could now hear crying in the elevator shaft (every parents worst nightmare) grabbed Ella up and ran down the stairs to the security desk at the first floor. At this point, code pink being called overhead, a housekeeper showed up with a very tearful Maya. Apparently she had discovered her in the elevator when it opened on the 5th floor.

Just think of where she could have gone... And for the 10 or so minutes Sandi was without her, she didn't know if Maya had been taken or had maybe somehow fallen into the elevator shaft. I was so glad to hear this story in the past tense, with our crazy blond-haired girl sitting snuggled on my lap.

Then yesterday, Maya and I were at the grocery store. I put her jacket back on her as we departed the check out line to head outside. I turned my head for 2 seconds (literally) and when I turned back the jacket was gone. Completely. From unzipped to off and buried in the cart under the bags in 2 seconds.

I swear she could magic in Vegas if she wanted.

Patti says we are going to have to get her a leash...

intervention?

I'm not sure if I am on my way to needing an intervention.

People have strange ways of coping, this I realize. Currently I am spreading my coping skills out over running (my old standby) and cooking. The running isn't out of control. I am legitimately preparing for a half marathon in a couple of weeks.

The cooking, however...

It is raining today and all plans are cancelled because Ella is feverish and doesn't feel well. Sandi is at work. It is raining.

And we are cooking.

I told Sandi not to be surprised if she comes home to cakes and pies piled high in the kitchen.

I have appointed myself spirit coach for Emilie's San Francisco marathon which she will be completing this Sunday and for some reason I feel the need to feed her. A lot. Perhaps I am fearful she wither up with lack of solid stores on board or maybe I am just funneling my need to cook toward her without it seeming too weird.

Either way...I told Ella we would be cooking today. "Like all day?" "Yep, all day long." "We are going to cook all day?" "Yes, we are going to do little else except cook." "You're joking, aren't you?" with a little fear.

There are worse things, no? What harm is a little flour, sugar, butter and maybe some chocolate going to do to the world?

dear, dear

Dear Martha,




I don't really know what to say. I got your letter today. Sandi and I were sitting drinking coffee and going through a mountain of mail and I saw an envelope hand addressed to me. I opened it, saw the folded pages of a hand written letter and thought, "Oh, someone is mad at me and written me a letter to tell off." And in those moments between when I pulled the lined pages out and unfolded them...those were the moments that may define my life from here.





I flipped through the pages and began to shake. I looked up at Sandi with horrified eyes. "Oh, no. Oh, no," I kept saying. "What? What? What happened?" she asked, increasingly alarmed.





I couldn't speak. I couldn't comprehend. I saw the letter and the photocopy of your will and I knew.

You see, we had an appointment the day before, you and I. My beloved friend, my mentor. I had called you that morning around 11 a.m. to remind you. So much had happened in your life in the previous 6 weeks. I called and reminded you of our appointment, telling you to call me if you couldn't make it. Then I waited for you for an hour at the appointed time, worried about your whereabouts and angry that you had stood me up. I had paid a babysitter after all and was losing money waiting for you to come. I went to the grocery store instead, my anger abating, my fear growing.




This was so unlike you. You only went far from home to go on expedition trips to Antarctica or the Falcon Islands or Egypt. These faraway places I could only dream of, places you would return from with gifts for my girls. A solo world traveler, one of the boldest, bravest, most utterly fabulous women I know. I called you 15 times. Your cell was not in service and the house phone where I had been able to leave a message earlier was now not functional. Sandi came home and I told her I had a nagging dread about it and hoped you were okay.


The truth is you were long gone and I did not know. I had no idea that a mile away from me, four days before on Sandi's birthday, you took your life.



You had it all thought out. The letter you wrote me was dated September 21 and the postmark was Oct. 7 which means you must have left it in your outgoing mail on the 6th, the day you died. You carefully outlined your wishes in a will crafted with the exact components, since you were a lawyer and knew precisely how to do it.



People have a lot of thoughts and opinions about suicide. Most feel it is selfish and that if people thought about how much they would hurt loved ones, it would rid them of the urge. As I have searched my heart since I found out, I find I think differently than I once did. I am, of course, aching with the knowledge of your pain, your hopelessness. But past that, I feel this was your right to choose your end- to plan it, to execute it and to very deliberately decide your destiny. Perhaps we are the selfish ones that would rather you be here, living a life you no longer wanted for very real reasons, in physical and emotional turmoil, just to save us the pain of losing you. I actually find myself thinking that I wish you hadn't had to be alone when you made your transition and, regardless of how impossible, I wish I could have held your hand.



I am a little selfish in my grieving you as much as I want to be okay with your departure. I will miss you so. My flower gardens are filled almost entirely of plants that you divided from your own and I wonder how my perennials will find their way back up in the spring in a world where you are not. How my tomatoes will ever grow so delicious if they are not raised from seeds in your greenhouse with your loving hands. I wonder who I will call when my sorbet won't freeze, I don't understand something Julia Child has written in the cookbook you gave me, my sourdough won't rise and I don't know if I should cut back the sage in my garden or leave the woody stems to toughen in the winter snow. I wonder if anyone else I know can make lavender ice cream and who will bring by blueberry date bread for me at Christmas. Who will call me, "Suzanne, dear" each and every time we talk and tell me what a good mom I am. I wonder how I will ever find a friend who will be in my life what you were.

I drove past your house today and I wonder how it possible that you are not there, your incredible flower gardens brown and withered, both because of the harsh fall nights and your absence. I sat in your driveway in my car wanting to sit in the front yard made up of rare and beautiful flowers rather than boring old grass, wanting you to peak your head out from the curtain and tell me there had been some awful mistake.


The invisible threads that hold life together have become completely apparent to me. Suddenly, I can see how the places that you and I intersected have become part of the fabric of my life, like sturdy stitches on a patchwork quilt. I see it with all the people I know and love. Those that we surround ourselves with, those we give our hearts to, every bit defines our life. You have helped define mine and there is a hole now I am unsure how to suture. The world felt palpably different today without you in it.


Thank you for writing to me, a letter so beautiful the first line says, "You have been just the best friend a woman could want." Thank you for explaining to me why you choose this for yourself. Thank you for freeing me of wondering if there was something I could have done differently to change the course of your destiny. Thank you opening your house and your yard to me and the girls so I know where the tea was kept, could open the fridge without permission, knew when you gave me a leg off your peony plant that you did it as a way of sharing part of your heart with me. Thank you for the tulips you gave Ella and Maya for their birthdays last year that can remind us of you every spring. Thank you for treasuring me in your heart so much that you wanted me to have some of the gifts of your life, gifts that will likely change the course of my life forever. Thank you for holding my hand this winter when life was so very hard, for sharing the secrets of living that only one who has lived 60 years knows. Thank you for touching my life. Thank you, most of all, for being my friend.

I hope you know how much I love you and how deeply I will miss you. Love, Suzanne

we need to talk

For those of you who live in Maine, it is time for us to talk. (For those of you who don't you can read on but are exempt from my soap boxing.)

We need to talk about Question 1 coming to a ballot near you in a few short weeks.

Hopefully you don't live under a rock and you know what I am talking about. Hello? Marriage Equality. Big, BIG deal.

I got a call today from an acquaintance (like we met when she and her partner were trying to get pregnant and they picked our brains and we have barely seen them since and their son is now a year and a half old.) She was asking me if I would volunteer on the phone bank next week to beg people I know or those I don't know (I get to pick) for money on the No on 1 campaign.

Oh, great. I'd been thinking about my level of inertia about this. I care. I care A LOT and yet I hadn't even figured out where to get my No on 1 bumper sticker. I had made some measly comments to people who might be swing voters. I was loser with a capital L in the gay activist department.

See, the great leaders of Maine (miraculously!) saw fit to pass a law allowing gay people full marriage rights last spring. Then the people who have made it their mission to take us down collected over 50,000 signatures (!) to put the question on the ballot for voters to decide whether or not to repeal the marriage equality law.

I have to tell you, it rocks my world that in the time since Ella was born we went from having no rights to having a domestic partnership registry (which basically gives your partner rights if you die), equal protection under the law from discrimination and, most recently and most importantly for our family, adoption rights. The fact that our beloved state has granted marriage rights blows me away. I hadn't even seen it coming.

And now it is at ENORMOUS risk to be taken away.

So I said yes, of course, to the phone bank. Which means, watch out... I may be calling you.

This is my plea... Vote no on 1 in November (naturally) but could you commit to talking to 10 (or 20!) of your friends who might be those swing voters and see if you can convince them? This is going to be a close call and every vote really does count. Please do it. Mindy and Charissa have an elaborate wedding planned for next June. They are counting on you too.

I got my bumper sticker and my yard sign today after she called.

This won't be the last you hear about this from me, just so you know.

If nothing else, if this upsets your earthy orbit, just remember what Dolly Pardon said, "Yes, I support gay marriage. Why shouldn't the gays suffer like the rest of us?"

confessions p.s.

One more to add to my confessions of a real mom.

This is major.

The things that drive me crazy in my mother are the same things in myself that I don't like.

Oh boy...

emergency

What constitutes an emergency??

Must it involve blood or the cracking of bone?

What about when the car won't start and you're already late? When you burn the preschool snack the morning of? When you can't get a hold of your babysitter while she is in school and you need to get to work early? How about when it is getting cold and you have yet to get corn for your corn stove and your pellet stove is still out of commission?

How about when you have two uninspected vehicles and every time you take it in to get something fixed so it will be inspectible they find something else wrong?

(Today I took the van in to have a small valve that monitors tire pressure replaced. It was necessary to pass inspection because without it, the dashboard light would remain on. I was on my return trip in since they had to order the part. After waiting 20 minutes, the guy comes out and says, "I'm really sorry, but there is a screw that doesn't come with the valve. Looks like you're going to have to order the whole sensor for $115." I laughed- what else could I do? I also said, "How about you back to your desk and then come back and say something different?"

I left with no sensor and the same slashed inspection sticker I went in with, practicing in my head the story I would tell the police officer should I get pulled over. Before I could strap the kids into their seats, a mechanic came out after me. "I found the screw! I found the screw!" Back in we went. Luckily the other man waiting hadn't switched off Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and I thankfully didn't have to wrestle him for the remote.)

Anyway...

Is it a legitimate emergency when your almost two-year-old paints her lips and the inside of her mouth with nail polish? Deep, vermilion nail polish that you initially think is blood streaming from her mouth? I mean, what do you do, use nail polish remover?? (You never know unless you are in this situation as I was this morning. I went for the forceful washcloth. Maya was saying, "yuck yuck.")

confessions of a real mom

-Sometimes I sit at the breakfast table and think, "Only 10 more hours until bedtime."



-I think strenuous exercise makes me a good mom, sometimes even a great mom. Without it, I am mediocre.



-I miss a clean house so much that I am starting a little side thing cleaning for other people. Why not? Make a little extra money and enjoy their clean house.



-I look at other moms, stranger moms, at the park and the mall and Target, and try to pick the one that most resembles me- in appearance, frazzeledness, parenting style, job fulfillment. I think it depends what kind of day I'm having with who I most identify. On a good day, I am the confident, self-assured, uber patient mom who has the organic snack packs and obedient smiling children- you know the mom whose hair looks awesome and she rocks her jeans? On a bad day, I am the mom who is trying to yell without yelling so she ends up hissing, has glazed, sagging eyes, has not yet showered and whose kids are eating twizzlers which is a step up from the Benedryl crackers she thought about giving them.



-It just occurred to me today, for the first time: I'm not getting paid for this.



-This thought was followed by the even worse: I think we're actually going in the hole.

-Sometimes, by the time I get my kids into bed after a day alone, I am physically shaking.

-I sometimes worry that, even with two super fit moms, Ella will grow up to be a dress-wearing, sweat-fearing, couch potato who sits around and talks about "pretty" things.

- This one is hard...but I understand now how it is that a parent can get so angry that they hit their child.

-It is more common for us to use scissors instead of a comb for severely tangled hair.

-I worry that Ella will be permanently scarred by the amount that we ask of her ultra-easy going person to accommodate the crazy that is Maya.

-I get a serious rush when I get a bargain. I have to refrain from telling too many people, and only then the ones who will really appreciate it.

-I am horrified to admit that some days my favorite time with Maya is when she is asleep.

-I watch Ella run away from me sometimes, up over a hill or across a lawn of green grass and feel like I am watching my life as a movie where my little girl runs out of sight and a grown-up woman returns. I fear my life will go by as quickly as it takes her to circle back to find her way to me.

-I am afraid of days that have no plans.

-I LOVE Storyland. Like really love it.

-I keep chocolate chips in the pantry in case of an emergency. I keep wine for the same reason.

-I have friends that I could call for any form of help at any time of day or night and I find that comforting beyond measure.

-I vacillate between being ecstatic about Ella going to preschool three days a week and wanting to lock her up in the house and home school her until she is 25.

- I really, really want to publish a book. I have one that has some 250 pages to it and it needs so much work I need to just start over. I hear that the only way to write a book it to have a writing "habit" and do it everyday. I wonder when this will start and why I keep waiting for it to happen on its own. I also wonder if you can form a writing habit like you can a coffee habit or a cocktail habit.

-I want to write a song.

-I want to run a marathon.

-Knowing how hard kids are on a healthy partnership, I seriously wonder how people that are shaky to begin with make it. I am equally confounded by the thought that having kids will fix a marriage.

- Sometimes when Sandi drives down the road to work, leaving early for a first-thing procedure in the ICU, I am overcome with jealousy.

-I worry that my brain with actually atrophy.

-When I am out by myself, driving down the road with the music blaring, I feel like a 16-year-0ld out from under the watchful eyes of her parents.

- I can, in the same exact moment of time, wish to be anywhere but where I am because I want to pull my hair out and run crazy down the street while simultaneously missing the moment that will soon be in my past, knowing I will someday long for it.

What are yours?

I wish

I wish I could get excited about little things like Ella does...