Craftiness is NOT next to Godliness, I hope.

So, I'm not gifted, but I'm game. Pinterest, you're still kickin' my butt.

Seeing Things

An author from the late 19th century is attributed with writing, "Be kind, for every man is fighting a hard battle." Later, the adage was adapted to say, "Be kind; everyone you meet is carrying a heavy burden."

Each day I see this secret sorrow etched on the faces of those around me: the burden behind the smiles, the battles that rage in silence as we laugh out loud. Today I wallowed in my own misery and offered scant compassion indeed. Tomorrow, my goal is to treat the world with kindness, and in so doing, maybe lighten my own load.

Today I Officially Sucked as a Mom

That's about it, really. No one got their meds, so Thing 2 got his first "red/blue" ever, I kicked a crying kid who was screaming, "No, Mommy, No!" out of my bed, and I threatened to pick up Thing 1's Lego masterpiece over my head and smash it into a thousand pieces. Honey, we REALLY missed you today. You're officially indispensable.

Hello, 42 - I'm ready for Ya

Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday to me,
Yahoo to 42,
Happy Birthday to Me!

Nice to Meet You, 2012

I spent the first day of 2012 doing...nothing. Aside from 20 minutes in the kitchen preparing the obligatory pork and cabbage (all you black-eyed pea people just stow it - not gonna happen), I spent this whole day lounging and watching truly bad TV. (Have you ever watched anime? What is the Japanese fixation with boobs, anyway?) No clean up, no work, no shopping - just a pillow and a remote.
By all accounts, a day wasted, yet I can't seem to regret it. What a delicious pleasure it is to simply let the day wash over me. 2012, I think you and I are gonna get along just fine.

You Say Goodbye, I Say Hello

I love to put away my Christmas tree ornaments. Not in the same way that I love putting them up, but also not in the context of, "Don't let the door hit you in the butt on the way out, Christmas."
Taking down the tree is an auld lang syne: I welcome new friends to the party, I give special TLC to those in need, and I say goodbye to those who are moving on. Ornaments from years' past sing of celebrations, whisper of forgotten moments; they dance for joy and cry silent tears.
At the end, the tree stands as it began - a blank slate, ready for the new. And so am I, on this final day of the year, wiped clean and ready to be filled again with the experiences of a new year.
Happy New Year's Eve. Goodbye, and hello!

Moments

I've lost myself a little bit this year. The finding of Julia begins with a spotlight on my boys of summer - my true north.

So, maybe not one for the record books ...

Okay, it's Mother's Day, right? Day of celebrating Mom by showering her with goodies and pampering? Uh-huh.


My day starts with screaming boys threatening to kill each other, and my husband sleeping through it all. I hoist myself out of bed at 7:15 - that's what I said, 7:15 - to referee and to get children out to the grocery store to stave off any domestic violence. As we're preparing to get in the car, my husband emerges from hibernation and says, "You don't have to do that. I can go." Well, by now I'm geared up for some coffee, so we just all pile in the car to go together. I've not showered as yet, and so I ask my husband if we're going to be doing something that involves us going out for Mother's Day. He looks at me quizzically and says, "ummmm ... I don't think so. Why? Is that what you wanted to do?" I told him a meal might be nice, so now were going out to lunch. Okay, bring on the pampering ...


That is, until my mother-in-law calls. Now my "going out to dinner" has turned into "spend a day at my mother-in-law's", the day after my husband has spent twelve hours in her loving custody the day before. As is normally the case, the boys are insane, my husband is trapped at the grill, and I'm left to tend to the madness. So NOT pampering.


Five hours later, I get to come home and spend a two hour overdue writing marathon with my older son, complete with tears, scribbling, and threats, because it didn't get done with Dad earlier in the day. The house is a disaster, and the only gift I received that I didn't buy for myself was a lovely recitation that my son made, not at home, but at school with his teacher. (Beautiful, by the way: the one really bright point in my day.)


So, there it is.  My day of goodies and pampering. Greatness. I love my family desperately, but this was maybe not their finest hour. I guess there's always my anniversary in August ... anyone wants to help my husband out with that, you just go right ahead.

The Best Mother's Day Gift EVER

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Happy Birthday to my little Dude

This has been an utterly exhausting day, and tomorrow will be no easier.  But I can't say good night just yet, because something needs to be said:
Eight years ago, at this moment, I pushed, and I prayed, and I cried, and I did them all over again.  He was a challenge from even before he entered this world.  And then eight years ago, three hours from now, after an emergency trip to the OR, he showed up with a wail and a squirm, and brought with him a breathtaking joy that I feel even in this moment, exhausted and shaking with the day, but filled with hope and expectation: in a small way, just as I felt that night.  Dude, you wear me out, you fill me up, you make everything an adventure:  how I love you.  You are the light that shines in my weary world.  Happy Birthday.

Oh, and By the Way ...

On February 27th, I threw away my Christmas cards:  riddled with guilt, in the middle of the night.  So there it is.

Dipping my Toe In

I fell off the wagon in a big way.  I don't have a good excuse - and what's even more silly:  I've had a lot to say.  So, instead of trying to catch up for two months by writing the great American novel in the next week, I'm going to start small.  Tonight, a picture that I'll be expanding on later - this weekend, we Lit it up Blue at my House.  A little blue light in honor of my boy - light of my life.

Girl's Night Out, Part 1

This what time I got home. Tomorrow morning I'm going to be sleep-deprived, dehydrated, and generally a pathetic mess. And I wouldn't trade one minute of it. Girl time is good for the soul, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

A Chair Full of Love

Some pictures speak for themselves.

Modeling Good Behavior

My husband has this innovative approach to persuade my sons to nap: he lays down with them "for a minute" so that they will calm down and go to sleep. He's been utilizing this method for several years, yet it often seems that the only person getting a nap is Dad. Do I smell a fraud, here?

Devastation

I try not to reveal too much information to identify me, for the security and privacy of my family. I'm going to make an exception to that rule today and tell you this: my beloved Pittsburgh Steelers broke my heart and left it on the turf of Jerry Jones' temple. I was so devastated that I needed a day to recoup before I could even write about it. I am still utterly disconsolate over it, and the awkward well wishes of a multitude of colleagues and students today, while sweet and well meaning, in large part merely salted the wound. I know this seems like insanity, and quite possibly, it is. What rational woman feels so passionately about a football team that is in a city half a country away?
For me, loving the Steelers was less a choice and more a condition of my upbringing. I grew up in Pittsburgh at a time when there wasn't much to sell you on the town except the Black n' Gold. I was part of a family and a community that came together to slough off the pain of a slumping steel industry and become a part of greatness. Then, the year after the Steelers third Super Bowl win against, that's right, the Dallas Cowboys, I found myself abruptly transplanted into the belly of the beast - right into Dallas, Texas. I was beginning junior high school, and my love for the Steelers was just one more thing to make me some foreign, undesirable element in the scene, along with a strange accent, an entire vocabulary of strange idioms, and a weird fashion sense. Those were the days . . .
It's been many years since my family came to Texas, and in many ways it's become my home. I met my beloved husband here, and together we founded the Circus. The accent has faded, along with many of the strange expressions. And yet, one link to the past has remained for me and my family: a passion for my beloved Steelers. This passion rests latent much of the time, appearing on the walls of my classroom and on "sports jersey day" or some other school event. But this year, this year . . . my Steelers came here, HERE, to Dallas, to play in the Super Bowl. It was an amazing experience for me and for my family. I got to take my children to see first hand the fervent loyalty of the Steeler Nation. I got to see the iconic Steelers' logo splashed everywhere in my Texas community. And finally, I got to join together with my parents, my brother, and my amazingly supportive husband to wear the Black and Gold; to talk of Roethlisberger's arm and the loss of Maurkice Pouncey and the staggering oversight of Jerome Bettis by the Hall of Fame balloting; and to watch in ecstasy and agony the game of games. The loss was crushing: I want to weep even now with my disappointment. And yet, in my sadness I am whole: I wore the Black and Gold today, and I held my head up with pride. To you, it's just a football game. To me, it's the still-strong connection with the community that shaped me. Win or lose, now and forever, I shout to the world:
GO STEELERS!

The silence before the circus . . .

Breathless Morning

When I opened my eyes at 6:00 AM, the world was holding its breath. I padded to the window to peer out onto an Earth asleep under its downy winter blanket, and I felt peace. I don't even dare go out to take a picture for fear of shattering the blessed stillness. I become part of the silent miracle for an endless moment, and I think, "At last, this is a snow day."

A light has just come on in the hall: the silence will soon yield to Act One of The Snow Circus. . . the world exhales, and we begin.

Venturing Out

I'm sure everyone will be pleased to know that I changed out of my jammies, scraped off a layer of gunk from my hair, and headed outside today. There is nothing like cabin fever to make one appreciate the simple pleasures in life, like coupon shopping. Did you know that they double the sets of coupons in the paper the weekend before the Super Bowl? Greatness. One of the fruits of our labor today will become an activity for tomorrow - valentine writing! Time for a little home-schooling . . . because enough is enough, already.

February 1. That's right - the first. Don't argue.

This is my blog for February 1. I'm well aware that the post time stamp tells you differently, but who are you going to believe?
In any event, the were the best shots I could get before everyone decided that frostbite was imminent and went indoors for . . . you guessed it: hot chocolate and a movie. That post bemoaning my family's addiction to all things digital? Well, I've decided that one might be forgiven their vices on a snow day.