Holy Shit!

It's the eve of 2009! My blog post title really has nothing to do with the date or the meaning of it. Rather, it's what Mia declared when V came in from letting the dog out this morning. He opened the door and shivered while saying, "Brrrr...holy...." leaving the end of the phrase off for sensitive and innocent ears. Mia detected this error immediately and said, loudly, "HOLY SHIT!"

She knows the "sh" word? HOW? We all know of course that I have the mouth of a sailor (as RMP coined) but not in front of Mia! I have perfected the art of using words like "Gosh" and "Holy Cow!" I say things like "Jeepers!" and "Silly!" In fact, I'm so good at using these fillers that after I get her in bed, I have to turn off the G rated self and slowly dig around inside to find the passionate me that uses words only for the ears of grown ups.

It's a good thing to not swear; I know that. Perhaps that should be a New Year's resolution. But, I have no interest in giving it up completely. None at all. My only resolution is to be more positive this year. I want to live life without having qualifiers tagging behind every positive thought...."I'm talented enough" "I'm smart enough" "I'm good enough" Enough with the "enoughs"! My goal is to just be what I want to be without having to rank myself and my abilities. So, in 2009, I am talented. I am smart. I am good. Period.

Happy New Year everyone! Let's bring in a year of change and hope!

Foreign Senior Citizen Moving into the Guest Room

I'm fully entrenched in my winter vacation and things seem to be going along smoothly now. It took a while to settle into the idea of not working, nor being dressed with make up on by 7:00 a.m. I actually woke up this morning and enjoyed the putzing with messy bun rather than fidgeting nervously and wondering what the hell my purpose in life really is, as I've done a few mornings this past week. (Except Christmas morning. That's a rule - you MUST walk around unshowered with messy bun for most of the day on THAT day.) That's always the case isn't it? Once you switch up your routine and schedule, endure the brutal torture of being completely thrown off from "the norm", you have to switch BACK to the old routine right when you get settled into the idea of a new norm.

We are busy preparing the guest room for Mia. We are turning it into a place perfect for a two year old, which is a ton of work. The guest room rarely plays hostess to guests but does house A LOT of stuff that really can't be thrown out, but also can't conceivably defend itself well in the court of "State your case: trash or treasure." Old music books of mine when I was an 11 year old playing the piano? Music writing theory books of V's when he was in his early 20s and he was convinced his gig as an undiscovered musical talent was just around the corner? My childhood dog's collar? (Let's all bow our heads for a moment of silence for dear Rags.) I thumbed that well worn piece of leather between my fingers and smelled it, comforted by the familiar smell (after all of these years). Treasure. For sure. I packed all the stuff up neatly and moved it all into the furnace room, which now goes by "storage room."

We are at capacity folks. We really can't handle any more stuff. I remember when we moved in here I ran from room to room, shocked that we OWNED this place, and wondered how we would fill it. Well, we did. I now scour the "urban living" sections of magazines for creative ways to store things. I carefully consider any purchase, knowing that we simply don't have the space to keep anything extra. I try to get rid of things as I see fit. I like being forced to live carefully - simply.

Mia and I went to the Children's Museum with Aunt Emmy and Hadley yesterday. It was super fun and crazy stimulating/overwhelming all at the same time. Screaming kids, crowds of parents, and my own 2 year old created a mixture that warranted a cocktail. Too bad I can't imbibe. My sister made a funny remark about life with a toddler. Mia was frustrated as she was trying to explain something to me near the wall sized magnetic board with letters. "What Mia?" "Tell me again?!" My sister laughed and said, "It's like living with a foreign senior citizen, isn't it? They know the language. They just can't access the words they need. They also need your help physically more than they'd like to admit."

Yes. Precisely.

While life in this quasi assisted living center can get tedious, our little senior citizen is morphing into a true little girl, almost in a big girl bed even. She tests my patience and makes me be MUCH more thoughtful about what I say and how I say it. To be honest, she makes me so much better of a person. Who knew that someone so little could present such huge hurdles and challenges? And then to actually meet them? That makes me feel successful, even if I am putzing around in a messy bun.

A few more Christmas Photos

These were taken Christmas Eve at Emily and Peter's house. Thank God for the piano, which was a huge hit with Mia!

Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow

I leave my boots by the door so they are at the ready when I walk the dog. Mia loves to put them on and then smoosh her face in the small window by the door and stare out at the neighborhood. She loves this ritual, as do I.

Things she's saying that I don't want to forget....

1. She calls Cookie Monster, "Cookie Mackster"

2. She calls her booster seat, her "gooster seat"

3. When she asks for something and I say, "Mia, What do you say?" She looks at me and says, "Please and thank you Mama."

4. She tells me we should name the baby "boy".

5. She thumbs through her clothes or clothes on racks at stores and says, "Adorable!" really slowly, like I do.

The Great Equalizer

My Dad used to say the great equalizer was the public transportation system in Boston, the "T". He's right. When I lived in Boston, I would jump on the T and gaze around at everyone else on board. Single moms balancing several kids, a bag of groceries, and a flimsy purse filled with nothing more than enough change for a transfer. Business men wearing impressive suits but shoes sensible enough to walk to and from the T stop to their apartments or cars. Doctors. Lawyers. Maids. Students. We all rode the T with the understanding that there is no hierarchy on the train, unless of course you are too old to stand or pregnant. Then, you get the good seats. We would pack in during peak hours, like juicy pieces of produce being crated and shipped up North. We would all be tethered into our slots by holding the cable just above our heads. A sudden stop could potentially cause a collision between a have and a have not, and no one would blink an eye. This is the way of the T. The great equalizer in a city divided by money. To think that the means of transportation to and from the very place that defines you, your work, was the safest place to escape from your lot in life. We were all just urban dwellers, holding on tight and occasionally passing smiles.

Brilliant I think....my Dad that is. To see such true moral strength in his beloved city's transportation system. To see that this tube of traveling metal, literally, was the home to a kind of democracy that didn't really exist anywhere else on the outside. And to be so right on. I've often wondered if any other "great equalizers" exist. Education? Maybe, but then we can play the game of which university or college you attended. Ivy League can chomp on prestigious private who can in turn chew and spit out plain old private who might snub big state schools who in turn will cast a pitiful eye to smaller state schools. You get the point. While my heart truly knows that education just might be the greatest equalizer, it doesn't work in this context. Simply having an education doesn't put you on equal ground with the man standing next to you. So, I've thought, what else could be the very thing that allows everyone, and I mean everyone, a level playing field.

And then it came to me.

Children.

They are the great equalizer in a world that isn't so equal. Their cries for "MORE!" will send even the coldest CEO scrambling through the cupboard, fishing for more to present to his or her demander. Their shouts of "NO!" will make even the most poised of women shrivel inside and wonder how to curb such defiance. Their constant quest for discovery will send very very very expensive heels clicking down a hallway just as much as it will send bare feet padding across a dirt floor. I noticed this at a party just recently where a group of diverse women were gathered with their children to celebrate the season. We all chatted while shifting heavy toddlers and babies from hip to hip while balancing tea cups. We tried to ask meaningful questions of each other all the while saying, "Wow. That is fascinating. Hang on...." as we chased after a child holding something breakable or spillable into another room. Conversations were started and never finished or were simply never started. It was refreshing seeing every mom in the room sweating bullets a few times. We have a tendency to think that other's lives may be easier than our own, especially if their exterior wafts of ease and expense. But seeing people with their children speaks to the truth of who they are. And children never waft of ease and expense, no matter what they are wearing. They bring out the very rawest element in all of us. They humanize us. Strip us of our images and armor. They demand that we speak honestly and kindly. They make us equal.

So, in honor of my Dad, I'm officially adding to his single item list of great equalizers. Now, the list is: the public transportation system in Boston and children.

Hope that's o.k. Dad. I wonder if you'd agree.

Mia's Favorite Gift

Check out Mia's new rocking horse! She loves it! When you push his ears, he will whinny and move his head.

A Happy Holiday

Merry Christmas (a day late!) from our family to yours! Hope your holiday was full of love and laughter.

(photos courtesy of rachelolsenphotography.com)

Too bad Mary and Joseph didn't wear fleece

I took Mia to see a living nativity tonight at her school, housed at a Presbyterian Church just down the street. It's been on the calendar for weeks and I knew Mia would love it. I felt a bit odd all day using the experience as a threat for bad behavior. I knew it was manipulative and wrong to dangle the evening in front of her but it just slipped out several times. Like when Mia refused to get into her car seat, instead choosing to whirl and twirl just out of my reach. "Mia, get into your car seat or there will be no visit to baby Jesus!" Or when she balked at the idea of taking a nap. "Mia, we're napping or else we will not be seeing baby Jesus!" I swear as I said it, my voice became tinged with a Southern accent and I morphed momentarily into one of those religious zealots who sees apparitions of the Virgin Mary in remnants of ham sandwiches and at the bottom of oatmeal bowls. It just felt wrong and very foreign to be threatening my child with the idea of NOT being able to see the one and only baby Jesus.

Mia did however win the opportunity to see the most famous babe of all time through her good behavior all day. Whirling, twirling and nap dodging excluded.

We bundled up in fleece - hats, gloves, extra socks and sweatshirts and headed out to the outdoor scene. It was so sweet and so utterly perfect. A young couple stood as Mary and Joseph holding what appeared to be a sack of potatoes wrapped in burlap as their infant son. To the innocent eye though, those potatoes were the most beautiful baby you've ever seen. Mia's eyes were glued to the small manger set up with hay strewn all about. She loved seeing the REAL donkey, sheep, and lama. She audibly gasped when she caught sight of a camel out of the corner of her eye. She said, "A camel Mama! A camel!" Her newest phrase has been, "Oh my Gosh!" because I say it a lot. Out it came. A really quiet, "Oh my Gosh!" That was like a pang through my very heart. I know I really wouldn't have denied her of this experience because of a few toddler moments but the thought that I would even threaten it disappointed me. We sang Away in a Manger and Silent Night and to see Mia singing along with the latter just about made me weep. I probably would have if I hadn't feared my tears would freeze to the side of my face. The performance was short and ended with everyone leaving the manger, just like a moment frozen in history. We were all ushered into the main building where there was a string quartet and hot chocolate for everyone. Mia drank hers and pointed out the angels to me as they laughed wickedly behind a group of boys as only 10 year old angels can. We then went out and pet the animals and ran to the car quickly. The whole experience from start to finish was about 35 minutes. A very sweet and memorable half hour.

Take my hand....

Mia and I went to a Christmas open house today and she was having trouble choosing what toy to play with, and with whom. I told her to take Isabel's hand and watch her play with the plastic animals. Mia took her hand. And never let go. They stood this way for a good fifteen minutes or so. It was a fun festive atmosphere and I had my share of egg nog and mini quiches. Oh how I love not really thinking about size or weight this time of year.

I'm including a bump picture just for good measure. It's funny because I feel REALLY pregnant but then seeing this photo makes me reconsider how pregnant I really am. I keep looking at the photo thinking, "the bump must disappear for photos because I SWEAR I'm bigger."

No room at the Inn

What I'm most pondering as the birth of the baby draws somewhat closer is, where are V and I going to FIT into the whole picture? This is already how our bed looks on Saturday and Sunday mornings after breakfast when I let Mia bring "a few friends", the dog, and a stack of books into our bed.

The Pellegrinos - Snail Style

We were playing with Play-Doh yesterday and I made a small snail. I told Mia we should make a mama snail to go with it. She was delighted and told me that now we need a dada snail. So I made a third big snail. She patted my belly and said, "Now make a little baby snail."

Here is our family portrait as conceived by a 2 year old.

Joy

Our Christmas tree is up! (Is it just me or is this tree really spectacular? Seriously. I think V chose the best one out there. It smells just as good as it looks too. ) The house is decorated! The cards are out! In fact, I'm feeling so holidayish that we went to the farm this morning and traipsed through the mud and muck and snow to say "hi" to all of the animals for Mia and to check out the homestead houses in all of their merry decor. When we walked into the 1860s cabin, the fire was lit and two volunteers were shucking corn and knitting at the table. A modest tree was set up with homemade ornaments and very simple garlands were strung along the window. I fell in love all over again with this place. It's so charming. One little girl sat with the volunteers and was making an ornament with some scraps of fabric that were in a basket. She was wearing a homesteading costume. Her mom stood nearby and waited for her daughter to finish up. I so get it. You can go to the farm and just become someone else. It's so fun to take on a different persona and to pretend that life really is as simple as keeping warm and putting food on the table. A heartwarming morning.

Which was much needed after a long night. Mia woke up several times really upset and still trying to break her fever in the middle of the night. I finally mumbled in my sleep to V to just pull her into bed with us around 4:00 a.m. She snuggled tightly in between us...and proceeded to snore like a steam engine. I stared helplessly at the ceiling. Should I go downstairs to sleep? Will sliding out of bed wake her up? If so, will I encourage her to go back to sleep in here or will I bring her back to her own room? So I lay awake and listen to her little congested body snore and watched it rise and fall. I myself finally fell back asleep despite the racket this teeny little creature next to me was creating.

We've been really excited since the news of baby boy Pellegrino broke on Thursday. It just feels very real now that we know the sex of the baby. I can begin to picture how our family will look in just a few short months. Mia has been telling me that she wants to be my helper. She says she wants to help change the diapers, feed, and rock the baby. I think this is a brilliant age to introduce a sibling to a little girl. They are somewhat baby obsessed. I can't wait to watch it all unfold. And to be honsest, and I might have to recant this statement when I'm sleep deprived with two kids, but I can't wait to do it all again. Even the late nights. There was something really romantic about that time period that I'm excited to relive. Again, you may need to remind me I said this when I'm working on 3 hours of sleep with a toddler on one hip and an infant in a sling. Just typing that though doesn't send a shiver of fear up my spine. On the contrary, I can't wait.

Good News!

Thanksgiving Pictures

I didn't take a single photo on Thanksgiving day so I've had to rely on my family members to send me their photos! As they trickle in, I can post a few.

Mia was permanently attached to a juice box the entire evening because it is the forbidden sweet in our house. I may have to begin giving it to her here at home because she is becoming that weird kid at parties that runs screaming to the fridge for juice. She will suck down several cups of it just trying to fill up until the next occasion when she can have it. While the rest of us were laughing and really recognizing how lucky we are, Mia was scheming for more juice!

Yes, there is Santa Claus Mia

This morning we have officially begun the holiday season; we went to the mall to have our photo taken with Santa. Now, you might think I mean that we took Mia to the mall to have HER photo taken with Santa. No. We ALL had it taken. Yes...like big dorks we have a family photo with Santa.

The plan was to have Mia sit on his lap and we'd get the classic Christmas photo. No such luck. She did wave to him and tell him exactly what she wants for Christmas ("Tinky Winky, Dipsy, and Po, books, and toys"). When I suggested that she just sit for a moment with the big guy in red, Mia clung even tighter to me. I was so proud of her for even talking to him though because her voice was shaking as she did so. She could barely make eye contact she was so afraid....but she did it. I was quite impressed. Santa, being the excellent salesman that he is, suggested we ALL get in the sled together and have our photo taken. V and I awkwardly stepped into the sleigh wearing regular Saturday morning clothes; we never intened to be photographed. Even Mia began looking around wondering why in the hell her seemingly reasonable parents had agreed to crawl into a fake sled to pose for a picture. It was totally embarrassing but at the same time, really gratifying. I was proud of us...as a team. We didn't abandon poor Mia to scream in the arms of a stranger. We all just decided to endure the tradition together - to make the best of it. When we stepped out, Mia sweetly waved and said "Fank You" to Santa.

A quick story about the outfit. Mia's Christmas dress is darling and I've been secretly excited for today, the day we could put it on for the first time. She chose to freak out - screaming that she wouldn't wear it, tearing at the neck to get it off, all the while making gutteral animal noises. What choice did I have but to let her choose from two other options I pulled out of the closet? She chose the skirt so reminiscent of my childhood uniform at All Souls. I wonder if wardrobe decisions will start getting difficult at this point.

She and Freddy (the tattered stuffed animal she is holding) made quite a pair this morning with Santa. Yes, even Freddy made it into the photo with Santa.

Baby Bob Dylan

Mia has discovered the harmonica and it's hilarious. She loves to play it. Sometimes, she'll walk around with it in her pocket and pull it out on a moment that calls for it. She'll give a little blow and then put it back. She plays guitar with her daddy too. She loves to collect picks and help him tune it. We might just have a future musical legend living among us.

The best part of this picture is that it was taken while Mia is crouched in a cabinet in the kitchen. She loves to empty it, put herself inside of the cabinet, and then shut the door. You'll hear this little voice say, "Mama...Dada...find Mia...where is Mia?" When she brought the harmonica in one day it was a dead give away. How do you explain to a 2 year old that you're not technically hiding while playing the harmonica from your secret spot. Ummmm...we can hear you.

Bed Head

Quietly Grateful

My mom just sent an e-mail with quotes about love from 4 to 8 year old children. There was one that really stood out from the rest, and rang true for me.

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."

I love that. How often I've fallen into bed lately, really only with the energy to raise the corners of my mouth because of the feelings I have for the people in my life. That's love.

Thanksgiving just passed and it was time to really reflect on everything we all have. What wealth...in all areas of our lives. I looked around and I saw my mom, looking radiant even with such loss, siblings laughing, kids running around and playing, food covering the table, my own Mia and V sitting nearby. What else is there really?

It was hard for me to go back to work and sit with some of my favorite kids because their home lives break my heart. T, my mentee and truly such a special little boy, told me he ate turkey, corn, and rice. I watched him shift as he then told me the "grown ups all went out." I asked if he had fun, with his cousins. He nodded but then a few minutes late proceeded to break down crying during a quick reading assessment. He told me it was the test that upset him but I knew in my heart it wasn't. I learned later, from his little brother J, that the grown ups did indeed go out that night. And got so drunk that his uncle started a fight. He was knifed in a bar and came home in the middle of the night bloodied and nearly unconscious. He was taken to the hospital as the kids lay together pretending to be asleep. Happy Thanksgiving to my sweet T.

Another of my little roses, a quiet boy who I'll call E, lives among thorns and weeds in one of the trailers near school. He told me he didn't have a Thanksgiving dinner. He shrugged and said he didn't care. His parents acted out a typical episode of their home life during parent teacher conferences just last month. As I sat and explained some of the significant deficits E has, they lashed out at one another - biological mother and boyfriend/"stepdad"/guy living in the house for the time being. They screamed at each other and blamed one another. Suddenly, what should have been a quiet meeting about how to best meet the needs of their child who was struggling to read, became a heated match with the "dad" saying, "This is why he's so stupid. You're never around to help him." Meanwhile, E was sitting in the classroom library quietly thumbing through books which he couldn't even begin to decode. I ended the meeting immediately, reminding them that E was a child, a 10 year old, within ear shot. What choice did I have though but to say, "See you tomorrow kiddo" as I squeezed his shoulder and watched him trail away behind his parents.

I'm not judging. I'm not blaming. I'm merely observing what I see happening to a few of my very favorite people who happen to be kids. Poverty doesn't necessarily ruin children. Plenty of children have grown up with slightly rumbly bellies but love brimming from their little bodies and opportunities splaying themselves open at their eager feet. What ruins kids is neglect, and hatred, and abandonment. I see some of my students come to me mere shells of what they should be and I wonder how I can help them. I know though deep in my heart, that my love isn't enough. They will only be as good as the environment I allow them to walk home to at 2:15. And that's hard as hell to recognize. I'm not even angry anymore, because I know those that I see abusing these kids have been abused too. It's a vicious cycle and I can only hope that I can equip them with enough to want more.

So, I'm quietly grateful because I feel almost embarrassed by what I have, by what I can give to my own daughter. I'm quietly grateful because there is recognition of what others don't have when I'm counting my own blessings. It isn't fair to be too content when some have nothing. I hope that those who feel empty though, can find some sort of love when they just let go and give into exhaustion at the end of the day.

Hopefully they too know that love is what makes you smile when you're tired, even if the love in their lives comes from their reading teacher.