blue girl

Our Children

Melissa Harris-Perry just read this at the end of her show. It's a beautiful and meaningful meditation as we think about our children today.

On Children

      And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said,

      "Speak to us of Children." And he said: 

      Your children are not your children. 

      They are the sons and daughters

      of Life's longing for itself. 

      They come through you but not from you, 

      And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. 

      You may give them your love but not your thoughts. 

      For they have their own thoughts. 

      You may house their bodies but not their souls, 

      For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

      which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. 

      You may strive to be like them,

      but seek not to make them like you. 

      For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday. 

      You are the bows

      from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. 

      The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

      and He bends you with His might that

      His arrows may go swift and far. 

      Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness; 

      For even as he loves the arrow that flies,

      so He loves also the bow that is stable.

On Children by Khalil Gibran.

Road To the White House

Thunder takes awesome shots of bees and kitties and cranes. What do I do? Take shots of my TV, of course.

But, they're awesome in their own way.

Not only because of the guy who's running for re-election. He is awesome and all. (Even if thunder doesn't always think so.)

But to me, not quite as awesome as the guy above the Road To The White House graphic.

That's my kid!

Obama was at Kent State today, and so was Blue Kid. And they were both in my living room for about 45 minutes. Can't beat that!

Side by Side Living

Silence is an extention of music. It is the spaciousness that is deep within, that expresses and is complete each moment as it lolls about, or spirals out and back in like a fiddlehead fern, and I got to be with my son in this silence...

~ From Some Assembly Required, by Anne Lamott

I Can't Lose this Pea Coat that's Chasing Me Around the Internet

Blue Kid lost his pea coat over Christmas break. Odd to lose a coat somewhere. How do you not know when you're leaving some place that you're not wearing the coat that you had to wear getting there because it was so cold you had to wear a coat? But, it could happen. He could have left it on the back of the chair in the cafe at Barnes & Noble. But he didn't cuz he went back and looked. He could have left it at the coffee shop in town the night when he went to have some time to himself and read. But, he didn't cuz he went back and looked. Could have left it in The Skimmer's car. Nope. Could have left it in my car. Nope. Could have gotten shoved into a giant Christmas gift bag or the large gift box my rain boots came in. Nope. And nope.

Could have been somewhere in the basement, on the second floor, or upstairs. Nope. Nope. Nope. Could have been on a hanger underneath other clothes in one of the closets. Five nopes to that. No wait. A gazillion nopes to that. We do have five closets here but we also have a gazillion pieces of clothing hanging on hangers and no coats were under any of those hanging clothes.

It wasn't in any of the bathrooms either.

We gave up.

Blue Kid went back to school with one of The Skimmer's coats and last week when we were visiting, I brought up the missing pea coat.

"Don't worry about it, Mom."

"What color do you like again? Blue? Black?"

And he answered, "Black" so fast that I knew he really wanted to either get his favorite coat back or get a new one just like it, even though he told me not to worry about it.

Last night I decided to do a little pea coat window shopping online. Ended up at a site where they gather all the sites together that sell pea coats. Looked at this one and that one, this brand and that brand. Clicked to enlarge the photos, looked at each one from the front, from the back, zeroed in on the sleeves, the buttons. Wool? Wool blend? 100% blend of materials that look like wool but isn't? Why are there epaulettes on that brand? Why do Tommy Hilfiger's have blotches of red in the middle of the buttons? That one looks too long, that one looks too short, that other one has a belt, what is going on? I just want a good, old fashioned, traditional pea coat that I'm not supposed to be worrying about!

I clicked away from the site that gathers all the other sites together in one site and logged onto Facebook. Figured I'd message my sister-in-law, asking her if maybe Blue Kid had left his coat at her daughter's house on Christmas eve.

I hadn't done that before because how could Blue Kid have arrived at his cousin's house wearing a coat he needed to be wearing because it was cold but leave it there when he left when he should have been wearing it because it was probably even colder? And how could The Skimmer and I have watched him leave her house that night with us in the cold not wearing a coat and not have noticed? And how then could we have arrived at my mom's house a bit later, walked through the door without my mom not noticing that Blue Kid was not wearing a coat like he should have been, when she normally notices even if one hair on his head is out of place? And then how on Christmas morning, after spending the night at my mom's, when we were leaving, did not one of us say, "Blue Kid? Where's your coat? Did you leave it at B's?"

So had I thought to look at B's?

Nope!

I messaged my sister-in-law: Did Blue Kid leave his coat at B's?

My sister-in-law replied: Yep!

Great news. Blue Kid is going to be so happy when he gets his old fashioned, traditional pea coat back. But now, every site I go to has ads for pea coats. Every single one that accepts ads. Ugly ads with pictures of pea coats with epaulettes. As if I'm in the market for one of those!

Read the Graffiti

Photo by Blue Kid. In The Flats of Cleveland, one day last week while on spring break.

Coming Out the Other Side

A man I work with and I got into a conversation today about people who've made it. Made it as in made a lot of money somehow, some way. People like Mohamed Al-Fayed, Bill Clinton, John Edwards, Sarah Palin, Tiger Woods, and the heirs of the Scotts Paper Towels' and Eastman Kodak fortunes, to name a few.

He's an optimist. He thinks most people are good people, including the people who've made it by making a ton of money.

I'm less of an optimist. I also think most people are good people but I think a lot of people (not all) who've made a lot of money have done it by not being very good people.

While the man I work with praised these people for their ability to see what others can't see, to take risks, to be harder working than other people, he also thinks he's suffered the consequences of some old, very bad karma because he wasn't born rich.

I laughed and said, "Could be." Then went back into my office to work off my own old, bad karma. I sat at my desk putting direct mail pieces together in an effort to get new business.

So that I can get rich, rich, rich!

He turned off his computer, put on his aviator shades, and threw his backpack over his shoulder. I said, "You've inspired me to go for bigger things, R.! I'm an empty nester now, so I've got the time to do it again!"

"Oh, no. That's gonna be tough." He said and then shook his head. "This is a weird time. More for women than men, I think."

R. sort of looks and talks like an old hippie, even though I don't think he's an old hippie. Haven't pegged him yet.

He continued, "It's tougher for women, man. They just sort of lose it! And we're gonna get to watch you go through this!"

I laughed and kept putting my direct mailers together.

"You're gonna be, like, all crazy!" He said, dropping his backpack to the floor, as he bounced both of his hands off the air around his head, while wobbling it back and forth.

And I knew exactly what he meant. Because I've been, like, all crazy for the last couple of years.

I laughed and said, "You won't get to see it! You missed it! I've already been through it, I think. The last two years have been rough. I watched my stepfather die, my business go down the tubes, my family split apart because of this recession, and I've been watching my son walk further and further away for awhile now. It's been horrible. The last couple of weeks, I've been a mess. But, I woke up Tuesday morning, Blue Kid's last day of school, and instead of being sad, I was excited for him. And driving home from work that day, it occurred to me how lucky I am. That kid will be a part of my life and I'll know him and be able to get to know him even better as long as I'm alive."

Rich, rich, rich!

R. looked down at the floor for a minute, picked up his backpack, threw it over his shoulder and said, "Yeah. My daughter just turned 35. I don't know when in the hell that happened, man." He turned and walked out of my office towards the front door and yelled, "Later!" right before the door slammed shut.

No Bears! No Beers! No Girls!

Blue Kid went camping for the weekend with three of his friends. They are going to be more than an hour and a half away for the next three days. When they were in the driveway this morning getting ready to leave, our neighbor, Joe, started regaling them with stories from his youth. Like all the times (every weekend) he drove from Philadelphia to New Jersey with his friends because in New Jersey, they could drink all the beer they wanted! While Joe was entertaining us all with his lively stories, The Skimmer was pounding on the side of the camper, loudly wanting to know if all the girls they had inside were all okay.

Obviously, those two were drowning out my pleas.

"Be careful."

"Please text us."

"Drive safe."

"Watch for bears."

"And hoodlums."

"Are you gonna make s'mores? I can get you marshmallows. S'mores are good."

WHICH OF COURSE MADE ME THINK OF FIRE.

"Are you going to make a fire?! Be careful if you make a fire."

"Text us, okay?"

"Drive safe."

"Please be careful."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, okay, okay," they said, and off they went.

The three of us stood in the driveway talking about Blue Kid's upcoming high school graduation. Only 10 days away. And in a few minutes, Blue Kid and his friends were back. As they rounded the corner, Joe said, "Must've forgot the bong."

Which brings me to the video up top. (Courtesy of one of my favorite bloggers ever -- Patti Digh.) Please go read Patti's whole post. She ends it this way:

This simple action Saturday is so simple, and not: love yourself. love your life.

Okay. Let's go.

I CAN DO ANYTHING GREAT! LIKE NOT IMAGINING BEARS! OR BEERS! OR GIRLS! LET'S THINK OF S'MORES! LIKE, I LOVE MY WHOLE FAMILY! NONE OF THEM WOULD EVER DO ANYTHING ROTTEN! AND NOTHING ROTTEN WOULD EVER HAPPEN TO THEM! ESPECIALLY WHILE CAMPING! NO BEARS! NO BEERS! NO GIRLS! LET'S THINK OF S'MORES! I CAN DO ANYTHING GREAT! LIKE LIVE IN DENIAL! I CAN DO THAT BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE! I LOVE MY LIFE!

WOOT!

And In The End

The Skimmer, Blue Kid and I were sitting in the living room together, a rare occurrence these days. We had just finished up a breakfast of bacon and eggs The Skimmer had made for us. Blue Kid was watching Across the Universe, I was watching it too, stopping every few minutes to read from my new book, Imperfect Birds by Anne Lamott, wondering why I was reading a book about living with a rotten yet beloved teenager when I was living with my own. Reminded me of what The Skimmer used to say to me years ago when I'd want him to watch Thirtysomething with me.

"Why would I want to watch that stupid show? I'm living it!"

When the movie ended Blue Kid said, "We were trying to figure out our favorite songs of all time last night."

I said, "Did you figure it out? What's yours?"

"I think Sam Cooke's A Change is Gonna Come. Or maybe Georgia. Ray Charles."

"Those are good ones. Listen to this. I took this stupid quiz (h/t Kathleen) on the Internet yesterday. You had to name, like, 30 Classic Rock songs..."

The Skimmer said, "Is that what you were doing? I was trying to name them."

Blue Kid said under his breath, "Ugh, Classic Rock..."

"Yes! And I only got about half. Can you believe that? What is Don't Fear the Reaper called? Just Don't Fear? Just Reaper? More Cowbell?!"

"I think it's just called The Reaper."

"Well, that's stupid. And get this. The ones I got right were, like, Foghat and Lynyrd Skynyrd. What does that say about me?!"

From the look on Blue Kid's face, I probably don't want to know what he thinks that says about me. Although I'll bet he's never even heard of Foghat.

What a dork!

"Mom, the only reason there is such a thing as Classic Rock is because at the time that's all there was and no one had a choice. Because if they would have had a choice, they wouldn't have chosen that."

"Oh, shut up. My music is awesome. It's throwing frisbees, barefoot in the park on a sunny day music. It's driving around with your friends on a Saturday night music. Did I tell you I friended Peter Frampton on Facebook last week? Well, I did!"

"Ew!"

"Heh."

BK continued, "Well, I wouldn't have been listening to Classic Rock. I would have been listening to the blues."

"Well, lah-tee-dah for you. Did I ever tell you I caught a frisbee Peter Frampton threw off the stage?! How cool was I?!"

And with that and another disgusted look, Blue Kid ran up the stairs and into his room. I went back to my book, where Rosie, the daughter character, was erupting at her mother once again:

"How stupid are you? You're a joke. Why would you ever think that?"

I paused and thought, BK knows better than to ever come right out and call me stupid or a joke. And then I heard the music he turned up loud, coming from his room.

And I thought, I think I've raised him right.

Still Caring for His Health

My 18 year old son is home sick this morning. I'm home, too, because I have to take him to the doctor.

Is it weird that I'm taking him to the doctor this morning? I am brand spanking new at being the mother of an adult -- the slacker! -- so I have no idea what the new rules are. All I can figure is that I'm the one with the health card and the money. And since Obama hasn't shown up at my door with a check, it's still up to me.

If that's not freedom, I don't know what is.

Like It, Love It, Blue Kid!

Today is my son's 18th birthday. And while I've heard this song playing in my head the last few months, I doubt he has.

Because it's so old.

And if he knew it's been playing in my head, he'd not only think it was old -- but lame and out of touch, too.

Which could be true, I guess. Right now.

When he's old, lame and out of touch, he'll get it.

Cuz he's just like his mother!

Because he seriously is. Whether he likes it or not.

Happy Birthday, Blue Kid.

Have fun runnin' in outer space...