The Babysitter

I'm deeply saddened and more than a little embarrassed to admit that this is a picture of my children watching their fourth movie of the weekend. I'd like to say that such a thing rarely happens, but that would be a lie. We do spend many hours, too many hours, in front of the screen: Angry Birds on the iPhone, Wii in the family room, movies in the bedrooms, laptops all over the house. I tell myself that it's not so bad, but I know I'm deluding myself. Time to seriously rethink our screen time schedule and find some moderation.

A Tiny Break

NO ONE should be hunched in front of a computer for as many hours as I have been in the last 3 days. But, I found the time to venture out into the rare gift of a sunny, glorious January afternoon and take the Circus on tour. And so, in the final clutches of long-overdue sleep, I share with you the good deed that shone a light on my weary world.

Invasion of the Flat Dudes

My house runneth over with these guys. Earlier this year, my older son read the story of the famous flat traveler and created one to send off into the great, wide world. However, not being one to let things go quite so easily, he decided to create a flat companion at home. He liked it so much, he created another. And another. Like hobbies tend to do here in the Circus, it soon spiraled into overkill. At the peak of Flat-o-mania, we had well over 25 flat friends lurking about: napping under couches, building with Lego's, having a snack in the pantry. Anyone who deserved an apology received a flat peace offering - his brother has an entire flat football team. Visitors to the Circus often leave with a flat party favor. After a while, our flat wardrobes escalated from simple solids to T-shirts emblazoned with our favorite movie robot (oh, yes - some things never change) or the backwards "F" of our favorite monster burrito shop. The madness has subsided a bit, but occasionally the urge to wax flat re-emerges: like magic, a new friend will appear for breakfast, or a homework buddy will stand vigil over the math worksheet, and we welcome him into the fold.

One minute mantra post: this week, I have 175 pages to read, two interviews to conduct, approximately 30 pages of written essay assignment to complete, cookies to bake, a booth to run, and a family to remember is the reason for it all . . . "I can do anything for just one year; I can do anything for just one year . . ." Sing it with me, people . . .

Have Backpack, Will Travel

Contrary to what you might think, this is not merely a backpack. No, no - this is a traveling circus. In this humble bag lives, on any given day, 6 months of graduate work, 2,000 grades, 5,000 emails, 10,000 words of professional development notes, blog entries, Facebook posts, ARD packets, private evaluation packets, daily schedules, and a menagerie of drawings, books, pencils, flash drives, earrings, and other flotsam of the show. I can juggle, walk the tightrope, swing from the ceiling, and emcee it all from wherever I land. Don't mock the backpack - it's magic.

Sick Sunday

We've had sickness floating around our house for several weeks: first some unnamed bug, then strep, now influenza. That amounts to way too many days off of work and school, too many trips to the doctor, and too many fights over taking medicine. The silver lining, however, is that our house, unlike many, is much more peaceful on sick days. Boys get along better, play is more subdued, and everyone submits to a hug from Mom just a bit easier. Everyone is doing fine, but the Mommy in me can't help but go check just one more time before bed. Sleep tight, my babies, and be well.

Saturday Celebration

Well, they gave us some moments of panic; but, in the end, they brought it home. GO STEELERS! On to New England (unless something truly SHOCKING occurs tomorrow). Please notice that I am raising my boys right. My Cowboys-loving husband doesn't stand a chance.

Circus Music

Many years ago, when our family of four was a family of two, we discovered online music sharing with Napster.  I loved the song "Forever Young".  Not the one by Rod Stewart; the other one.  At the time, I was not clear on who that "other" was, exactly, and searching for information online was not quite as seamless as the Google magic of today.  In any event, I was simply desperate to hear this song, so desperate that I was willing to resort to dubious measures.  I started digging, and found not only my song (sung by Alphaville, by the way), but another gift buried in the mountains of insane music:  a shared passion with my husband.  That first night, we spent over six hours looking, listening, talking, and simply enjoying our time together.  Over the years, we have shared endless afternoons and deep nights engrossed in music new and old, although the times have become fewer as other joys and other obligations have absorbed our time. 

Tonight, as the boys clamored over mice trapping (please refer to yesterday's post), my husband and I whiled away the evening populating the playlist for this blog.  We debated over song choices, pored over years of playlists, and picked songs that spoke to us ("Carry on My Wayward Son"), songs that made us laugh ("Justified and Ancient" by the KLF), and songs that are, quite simply, greatness ("Fat Bottomed Girls").  We laughed and talked over each other; we yelled out through the house and put off a whole evening's worth of urgent whatnot, and in the midst of an ordinary evening, we had Date Night.  So tonight instead of a visual, the Circus offers you an audio.  We hope you enjoy our labor of love.  And, if you're interested, we added "Forever Young" by Alphaville. 

My Nemesis

My older son adores this game. He can set up the pieces in about 30 seconds and then send the poor mice to their doom for hours. A child engaged in productive play - sounds like Nirvana, right? Not always. For example, this little gem was only recently returned after a day of time-out. Why? Because someone decided to wake up at an hour most unholy for an early morning mouse hunt. I'm not sure what first awakened me, but I realized exactly what game was afoot when I heard the tiny "plink plink" of a steel marble headed down a zig-zag ramp from across the house. The game didn't start out in his room, mind you; this child, whose idea of whispering can be heard in the house next door, tiptoed through the house and retrieved this game, took it in to his room, and performed the whirlwind setup all without making a whisper of ruckus. When I went to investigate, I was greeted with a chipper, "Hi, Mom! Look at my mousetrap! I got up at 5:02 to make it!" So, after a review of appropriate wake up time (NOT before 6:00 AM, for goodness sake!), we began what was a very long day of listening to an endless litany of, "When do I get back the game, Mom? I promise that I'll get some sleep. Can I play the game if I get up at 5:59? Can I build the trap then get back in the bed? What if . . ."


I think I'm beginning to hate this game.

Task Avoidance

I have two different professional development sessions to present tomorrow, a grant proposal due Friday, 5 350+word essays analyzing two master's course reading assignments due next Tuesday, 50 students preparing for a benchmark test next week, a staggering mountain of laundry sitting in my hallway, and about 100,000 papers to grade. So of course I am updating my status, researching the X-factors for my Steelers' upcoming playoff game (side note: Steelers' head coach Mike Tomlin looks shockingly like actor Omar Epps from the Fox series House), watching Bill Cosby's Himself ("Thank you, toilet . . ."), and otherwise finding any possible way to put off any real work.  Stay tuned over the next five days for more signs that I am off task!

Making Your Outlook Calendar Work for You on Prezi

A Secret

Today is my brother's 46th birthday. It's a secret. Not really by intention: this is a secret of passing time, not dark design. My brother died many years ago, and it was of course a painful loss for my family; a pain compounded by the shame and guilt that comes with a young life lost to addiction. In the years before his death, we suffered a slow dying of the son, the brother we loved and remembered. It made the final end all the more agonizing for the secret, shameful relief. Too few words were said in the years following - too few words for the sea of emotions. And then, somehow, that pain recedes. Not gone, never gone: simply swallowed up by the events and the emotions of the present. Then, on these days, you unpack those emotions: the grief, the guilt, the loss, the love; and you air them out and give them a look. You try them on to see how they fit. For me, this day draws me to my mother, who endured that unspeakable loss and still manages to be an extraordinary person; and to my children, who I watch love each other the way I loved, and still love. I saved this story for the last event of my day, so that I could honor my brother with the peace that long eluded him in his life. Tomorrow, this moment will again be overwhelmed by the mundane, a secret once again; but, in this quiet night, his memory is my companion, and now yours.
Happy Birthday, Ben.

Back to School : Grad course #6

My constant companions for the next five weeks. Feel free to email me at 2 AM; I'll be awake.

A Flake in the Hand

You know how you have a to-do list as long as your arm and you just have to chuck it out of the window? Today was one of those moments: one minute, it's a dreary, rainy Sunday, and the next, it's magic. In an instant a freezing drizzle transforms into fat, wet flakes of Southern snow and the papers, the laundry, the homework all becomes inconsequential. I mean, really - who can concentrate on such trivia? It's SNOWING! The day has become sock mittens and catching flakes on your tongue and steamy mug of hot
chocolate. The to-do list can wait.

Lazy Day After

I spent altogether too much time on this couch today, and it was worth every wasted second. Tomorrow, I'll be productive!

January 7, 2011

This is my birthday post, although it is officially the day after. Like any day, some of today's moments were less than ideal. But, in this moment, I see only smiles. Tonight, I danced - to me, the purest expression of joy. I laughed - so much laughter, my muscles ache with happiness. I sang - poorly, and loudly, and proudly. I watched a friend stand up and shine with talent and confidence, and I screeched along with her in celebration. Tonight, I gave and received love, and I am complete. Happy Birthday to me.

The Choice

This week the bombshell that isn't - the 'landmark study' linking childhood vaccines to autism has been proven (again) to be fraudulent. For many, this is news. For me, it's absolution. When my first son was first identified on the spectrum, I was pregnant with my second son. Well-meaning (and not so well-meaning) friends, family, and fellow new mothers fed me one cautionary tale after another - articles, books, virulent websites - on how vaccines had possibly damaged my first son and would do the same to my next one. Did they know how much pain it caused me, that guilt and fear? Probably not. But I wrestled with them both as I did my own exhaustive research, then made my choice. I had my second son follow the same vaccination regimen as the first, and was openly challenged by many. Everywhere I turned, it seemed that Jenny McCarthy, autism support groups, and 'mothers-in-the-know' of one type or another were decrying my choice, despite the mountain of science that declared the connection nonexistent. Who WAS this Dr. Wakefield guy, anyway? I explained my decision to one and all, whether they deserved an explanation and, at times, whether they asked for an explanation or not. Because in the darkest part of the night, I would lie awake haunted by doubts and fear.
My second son had his shots, and he developed normally. I put this battle aside, until now, and lived to fight another battle on another day. But millions of mothers lived in unnecessary fear, and priceless time and resources have been invested in battling paper soldiers. Tomorrow is my birthday, and when I blow out my candles, my wish will be for victory in the real battle.

The Ghosts of Christmas Past

These cards are the final echoes of Christmas 2010. Every year the cards linger long after other trappings of the holidays have retreated into the shadows of closets, toy boxes, and attic corners. They shuffle back and forth between table, counter, desk, holding a silent vigil for the Christmas spirit. I find myself in a sort of emotional stand-off between my inner selves: I long to free my counter space of holiday flotsam; yet, I am consumed with guilt for my lack of sentimentality. I resolve to make a scrapbook, a collage, a placemat - anything to stave off that dark desire to trash the whole business. Five years I have resolved, only to succumb on some gloomy day in February when my winter purging instincts overwhelm me. Surely, this year will be different.
And so they sit. . . for now . . . ask me again on March first.

Hurry Up And Wait

My resolution to blog every day held for exactly two days. Inspiring. In any event, I'm jumping back on the wagon as I sit here in yet another waiting room and fill out yet another set of paperwork. Much of what we do in the Circus involves hurry up and wait. "Your child is in crisis - you need to intervene NOW. Oh, and by the way, the waiting list is three months long." "You must put your child on a 15-year waiting list for adult transitional care, and you have only 14 days left to reply before you lose your spot." "We have to decide today what modifications your child will need on a test he will take two and a half years from now."
And so we rush, and then we wait. Today, I'm waiting while my littlest man builds and talks and taps away, all under the appraising eye of yet another professional. When we leave today, we'll wait another 3 to 5 weeks for results, then rush off to the next wait. And it will be worth every minute . . . right?

My Demons

This stack of ungraded papers has stalked me my entire winter holiday. It represents some of the personality gremlins that have followed me all of my life: distractibility, procrastination, and a low threshold for frustration. I spent two weeks trying not to think about them, having a fit of guilt every time I saw the crate. Then I've spent three times as long as necessary grading them because everything else in my house suddenly seems more urgent. To top it off, I have a raging headache from quizzes that keep insisting that sand dissolves and salt floats. (Funny the first time; not so much the fifteenth.)
And so, at the bright, shiny start of a new year, I vow to battle my demons. Anyone experienced in bad habit exorcism, please apply.

Welcome 2011

My friend Janelle completed the amazing task of documenting 2010 through a picture-a-day blog. I am so impressed with her diligence that my New Year's resolution is to do the same. And so, I begin with our New Year's Day trip to IHOP. There's nothing like pancakes to greet the new year!