july, july

today & everyday

the German poet, Ernst Stadler died in 1914 on the Western Front, killed by a British shell. the poem, "The Saying" is a translation by Stephen Berg of Stadler's original poem, which ends with the line, "Mensch, werde wesentlich!" ("Man, become substantial!"). i will quote the entire poem over at the other blog, but here is an excerpt from a poem that has punched me in the face:

when I betray myself with

an easy explanation

as if what's dark is clear,

as if life doesn't have thousands

of locked, burning gates,

when I use words without really

having known their strict openness

and put my hands around things

that don't excite me,

when a dream hides my face with soft hands

and the day avoids me,

cut off from the world,

cut off from who I am deeply,

I freeze where I am

and see hanging in the air in front of me

STOP BEING A GHOST!

:: :: ::

well.

who out there is fully awake? who is living out every second, confronting fear and earnestly seeking understanding? i think there are such people. but not me. i think i am mostly half asleep.

the NPR program that's often on when i'm out driving the kids to and fro is a SoCal production called Air Talk with Larry Mantle. this week he was asking for people to call in with definitions of patriotism, and so i wrote out some of my own. they may be influenced somewhat by some of what i've heard lately on the topic of immigration {that states like GA, that are following AZ's assault on illegals, are now dealing with the reality that Americans simply aren't willing to do the jobs left vacant, no matter what the unemployment rate is} but i think these three points capture some of how i feel about being a good citizen.

a patriot is someone:

:: whose love of justice and mercy does not end at her nation's borders

:: who says, really, "let all that breathe partake," in the just fruits of freedom, no matter where they were born

:: who honors the sacrifices of past patriots by making her own sacrifices: for example, by giving generously to the poor throughout the world, and particularly to the poorest in undeveloped nations, thereby helping to spread freedom--without violence--where it doesn't exist now

a book came into my hands recently that is really answering a need for me--a need i've felt all my life without responding to fully. it's called, The Life You Can Save, and i will be happy to loan my copy to anyone who has an interest in knowing more about charitable giving.

i will probably always be part ghost, part ponytail, but this book has made me feel a little more alive in the world where i live. it's a step toward becoming the kind of patriot i want to be.

happy independence day, friends! independence from hunger, from tyranny, and from self-loathing. bim & i give our pledge.

scratch that. we're going to urgent care instead.

Liv was investigating the soft underbellies of our couch cushions the other day when i walked into the room.

bead inna ear, she said. i couldn't see anything, but she kept shaking her head as if to dislodge something--maybe a bead?

so we headed over to urgent care, where the doctor confirmed there was something "inna" ear, and tried to float it out with water. that failing, she sent us to a local ENT. it was rough having to hold liv down so tightly when she was so afraid, but in less than a minute the doctor placed a tiny googly eye in my palm. no charge.

thanks, doctor, said Liv.

later, in the car, she elaborated: doctor fix me. bead out! feel better now.

Lake Arrowhead

that should work.

"king" ally has been perfecting her emotionally-charged persuasive tactics:

i have something to tell you, mom.

i feel in my heart and my bones and in the skeleton of my body that i miss Hannah.

mom, i was wondering if you could play with me, because i need a lot of love.

she's getting pretty good.

someone's been using my computer

Here's a screen capture showing what I found on my desktop when I sat down to the computer tonight. You'll have to click on the image for better resolution. Her spelling in the Google search bar is what made me laugh. (Note: Ally is not allowed to play computer games on my laptop since she broke several important keys. Looks like she got interrupted before Google could help her out... "did you mean: Starfall?") In another open browser search bar she'd typed, "Doragams." Dora Games, I presume.

i write a fair amount about the things that my kids do that test the limits of my self control. i hope i do. someday, i hope years from now, they're going to want to be with other people more than they want to be with me. and when that happens i'm going to want to remember why it's good for them to grow up.

we have so many good days. and so many days like this one, when i lose my mind repeatedly. i broke a plate today--on purpose. i knew i was going to break something for hours before it happened. i had to break it.

we've made up, ally and i, and she's sleeping peacefully. at least i think she's peaceful, though of course i don't know what she dreams about. she's quiet now, i can say that much. and i have no energy left except to feel humbled, and spent.

when i think of the kind of mother i had, i can't bear that my girls would have anything less. yesterday, as per our memorial day tradition, i told a memory of her. last year lauren's memory was about the wooden spoons that mom named, and threatened to paddle us with. i remember being chased, but not hit. by far the balance of my memories are heaped on the gentle side of the scale, and i can't imagine any better mother-daughter relationships than the ones my sister and i had with our mom. there is redemption.

today the mystery of human relationships bested me. i prepared and offered the healthy food, i respected the nap, i held the little hands, waited patiently and spoke kindly. until i didn't. it's not unlike playing a game of chutes and ladders: every move could bring a windfall or set me way back--way back. you said thank you: advance twelve spaces! you broke a plate: go back twenty spaces!

and yet despite everything, despite my distaste for conflict and annoyance with over-stressed parenting, i do admit these little forest fires into our domestic wilderness, even though i know they'll make my goals that much harder to reach in some ways. ally will have to decide to trust me again, and i her. she's four and i'm thirty-four and harmony will come with its price.

i'm not writing about discipline, or guilt or even frustration--just about this moment in my real life, which resists categories and neat solutions. and if it resonates with any other parent out there, that might be a good thing and if it doesn't, it can be another place for me to tell my girl that i'm sorry. ally, you wanted me to say so. i am sorry. i'm sorry.