homework helper

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, known as West Allegheny Junior High School, I found myself drawing a lot of maps. At least it seemed that way because Mr. Campbell, the geography teacher, always assigned a drawing of each and every country we studied in our classroom tour of Europe. For me, map assignments were easy. I aced maps. I was so good, as a junior high aged kid, that I imagined that I would grow up to be a cartographer – a great cartographer. It would have been really cool, except for the math part. Dammit math!

But forty some years later, my map drawing skills come in handy as I assist my eight grader with his research project.

Just the map, Mom.

Best part was saying Phuket and snickering like a junior high boy.

That’s not how you say it, Mom!

a classy woman who says fuck a lot

In a world where alternative facts are more true than what one’s actual eyes actually see and where NyQuil texting is an actual excuse for bad behavior, marchers in Washington DC, New York City, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Boston, Portland, Oakland and literally everywhere in the United States and across the globe should be held responsible for the things that Madonna said during live news feeds yesterday.

What a time to be alive y’all!!!

I am not responsible for anything Madonna (or anyone else involved in yesterday’s unprecedented event) might say. I do agree that to our detractors that insist that this march will never add up to anything, fuck you. Millions marched peacefully everywhere. Law enforcement officials in Washington, New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland and Oakland report no arrests or property damage during those peaceful assemblies. The movement is not done yet either as we launch 10 actions in the first100 days that literally anyone and everyone can participate in. We welcome to the revolution of love, to the rebellion, to our refusal as women to accept this new age of tyranny, where not just women are in danger but all marginalized people, where being uniquely different right now might truly be considered a crime. It took this horrific moment of darkness to wake us the fuck up.

Yesterday was amazing on so many levels. For me this was the best.

From a daughter to her mother…a woman who absolutely says fuck a lot. Am I classy? I don’t know. Perhaps not. But I am a mother who says fuck a lot; and a mother of four wonderful women who make me very proud and say fuck a lot too.

thirty years in the making

Thirty years ago, I embarked an adventure. I was fearful of the changes that were to come, but I was more anxious believing all the declarations that there would be nothing but pain that would take me into this adventure; and that there was literally nothing that I could do about it.

Accept it, they told me. Submit to it, I was advised. Wisdom passed down to me by those who had been there and done that…and who shaped me into the person who believed that I had no strength, no power in anything.

And then, Hollie was born. Thirty years ago.

Thirty years ago, I began to see some of my deepest fears about myself and realized that I was so much stronger than them.

Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything.

– William Macneile Dixon

From my nothing, or at least the nothing I was raised to believe to be true about myself came the possibility of everything. Thirty years ago today, it all began.

Thirty years ago today, it all began with her.

Here again I literally gasp out loud finding it hard to believe that I am the part of someone so beautiful in all the ways…in spite of the million mistakes I have made along the way of this adventure. But I am.

Thirty years ago began the adventure.

Happy birthday my dear, darling daughter. Thanks for making me Mom.

seems like a mighty long time

This week in Epic Mom Fails, I sent my kid to school sick. Me, trying not to feed and encourage the Man-Cold Beast, assures him the occasional, dry cough over the holiday weekend is just allergies and he is fine…and he believes me! So off to school he goes Monday morning and the only thing I feel guilty about at the drop-off is the fact that it is 48° and he is wearing basketball shorts. That cough is just allergies.

Monday afternoon pick-up he is flushed, feverish and that cough is wheezy and rattly and, he reports, has been bugging him ALL DAY.

Why didn’t you come to the office and ask to go home?

You told me that it was allergies.

I did.

Epic. Mom. Fail.

And as I beat myself up with all the mom-guilt while we wait to see the pediatrician, he takes my hand and tells me that he hasn’t been this sick since he was in third grade. Actually the last time he was this sick, he was in sixth grade. But looking at that face I don’t have the heart to correct him. Plus I am trying to not to feed the Man-Cold Beast.

Those allergies are actually a raging sinus infection and bronchitis. My I-Am-A-Healthcare-Professional took a serious hit this afternoon.

It’s colds and flu season, y’all. get your flu shots and wash your hands early and often.

photo dump: the “momsoon” edition

No autocorrect, it is not monsoon, it is MOMsoon. Just accept it, okay?

Family weekend at ASU with Jodie.

Aside from the massive thunderstorm that soaked me upon arrival, Tempe weather was glorious with a high only up to 90 degrees. We won’t discuss the humidity that created the ball of frizz that was my hair…the low humidity they tell me. My hair vehemently disagreed.

Oh well. I was spending the weekend with my 4th darling daughter.

At the movies.

And the obligatory Costco re-stocking run followed by lots of eating together.

Plus a little politics too including this discussion which I wholeheartedly support.

Followed by bowling.

Bowling with the roommate and her family.

Twins versus DG Twins.

The DG Twins win…the right twins they tell me.

The next day brings football and the call to wear maroon for the Maroon Monsoon which is what we do. But first, tailgating.

Tailgating Greek-life style, a first for me and where I become acquainted with the Maroon MOMsoon and that the Greek guys love the moms.

We shall imagine that it was the MOMsoon that brought it for ASU’s victory over Cal and not their now 4-0 season.

And as the MOMsoon recedes, it is back to the books and studies and work and bringing back out all the stuff hidden from the parents for the kids. Thanks, kids! This mom had fun!