{My Gravity}

Today, I'm participating in



The prompt I have choosen is "If you could stop time for 24 hours, what would you accomplish?"

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"If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save everyday
Til eternity passes away
just to spend them with you"
--Jim Croce

If I could stop time for twenty-four hours, I would spend it doing the most important things in life, even though at the end of the day it would apppear I'd accomplished nothing. 

I love my life right now, truly, I do.  There are bumps.  I am bruised. But, I see the light; and at the end of the day I smile at thoughts of the moments of pure bliss I was blessed to experience.  I smile a welcome good morning to life as its sun drenched fingers peel the curtains back from my eyes.  I attempt to treasure the smallest of life's victories when they happen, because it makes the iron clad pills of disappointment easier to swallow.  However, with all of that said, and as trite as it seems, sometimes life's neccessities get in the way of life's gravity.

I'm lucky enough to have my own forces of gravity in this world.  I have a snaggle toothed boy who reminds me to come down to earth and enjoy the simple things in life, like taking pleasure in watching a tower topple just as much as you relished its construction.  I have a best friend who literally finds occasion to remind me to breathe.  I have friends who help me keep grounded by loving the hell out of life with me.  I have family who holds me together when I fall apart.  And somehow, even though all these people tie me to the earth, keep me grounded, focused, and alive, they too help me to soar.  But, I miss them.  Life gets in the way. 

I long to stop time for even a mere minute so I can focus on my gravity.  If I had a whole twenty-four period, well, that would be heavenly.  I'd wake up early and savor the quiet that is known only by the wee morning hours.  I'd read a trashy novel and sip from a hot mug while I patiently waited for the world to wake up.  I'd play with Rowan, really play with him.  I wouldn't be distracted by email or work worries.  I wouldn't rush to balance him on one hip and put makeup on.  We'd cook breakfast together and giggle over blueberry pancakes.  I wouldn't worry about the sticky mess of the syrup smeared on my shirt or living room.  We'd leave the laundry and the dishes.  Our beds would stay unmade.  We'd race to the park for the best swing and roll in the grass.  We'd meet our friends for lunch and laugh like we'd just learned how.  We'd revel in the long country drive to my childhood home, singing at the top of our lungs.  We'd cuddle with grandparents and I'd smile over sticky dinners of ice cream, cake, and popsicles. And, after Rowan was safely tucked away into his bed as he always is in my heart.  I'd walk a slow, steady walk across the campus of my alma mater hand in hand with my love and relive all the things that brought me here.  I'd lounge in gravity's arms and deeply inhale it.  If I could suspend time, for those twenty-four hours, I'd love.

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{Oh Yea, Well I've Got One Too}

In the summer of 1997, I was already gawky and awkward in that bookworm, girl who spends the summer with her grandparents, tween-age way.  Looking back though, I knew more about being a woman in this world than I sometimes do now. 

It was a great summer, one filled with some of my fondest memories.  And, as usual, there were boys involved.  Boys who taught me the value of sarcastic, snarky wit.  Boys who laughed at my frilly outfits and pulled me down into the dirt.  Boys who rolled down hills and walked in streams.  Boys who had sisters to gossip with.  Boys who talked me into walking through the sewer to get to the park more quickly, with only one sub par flashlight, which died halfway in, leaving us to feel our way out.  Boys who challenged me.  Boys who sparked my "I hate boys!" phase.  Boys who became some of my best friends. 

These boys were different, right from the start.  These boys, having never seen me before, chased me home one hot summer afternoon in nothing but their cartoon character boxers and high powered super soakers.  I was dripping, crying, and sprinting from these maniacal strangers.  I lived in the country.  People were nice and kind and I was a girl damnit.  What were these boys thinking?  I lept through my front door and did the only thing I could think of.  I grabbed my own tiny squirt gun.  I leaned out the window and screamed "Oh yea, well I've got one too and I'm not scared".  I fruitlessly pulled the trigger and got no where near them.  They moved closer so I could hear their jeers and laughter.  At that point, genius struck.  I went in to refill my weapon and also grabbed a few mixing bowls.  The boys were reeled in closely taunting in perfect range for a quick bowl of water to the head.  They laughed hystrically and, so did I. 

Of all the things I learned that summer, of all the things those boys taught me, that was the most important lesson.  I could have closed the door behind me and cried.  I could have spent the summer indoors hiding from the hethens.  Instead, when things got scary, I joined them at their game.  I fought back and bent the rules.  I didn't run and hide.  Sometimes, even now, I forget this.  I forget that a battle is best if fought passionately and without concern. 

Lately though, I'm trying to be someone I'm proud of, who is strong and powerful.  I'm aiming to be someone I trust with myself and whom my son can look up to.  So, I keep reminding myself "I've got one too and I'm not scared".

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{Things I say...}

• "He's totally cussing me out in Velociraptor right now."
• "I love a good book about teens in turmoil."
• "No! Rowan, you may not crawl on the wood floors without a diaper.  You'll get a splinter in your penis.  I don't even know how to get splinters out of those."
• "No, thanks.  I'm not that thirsty.  Plus, I'm trying not to have to pee today.  It's too hard in this outfit.  Skirt up, hose down, shimmying and shaking.  It's just too hard.  You know, like a bad rap song. "
• "Of course I was in the circus!  Everyone was where I come from."
• "Oh, don't worry, you'll know when I stab you."
• "No, pelvis is not a dirty word.  It's allowed in our book....Your pelvis is your hip bone.  We've discussed this and even if we hadn't, why would I ask you to touch yourself in class.  Believe it or not, I don't want you touching yourself in class.  Students, please understand, do not touch yourself in class...No, you can't touch anyone else either. "
• "I wish I were home right now. Or, passed out from drinking a bucket of margaritas."

Obviously, audiences vary.

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{Thankful on Thursday} Slightly late and bandwagon jumping, but that's me

Hi strangers!  Remember me.  It's been a while I know and I'm not even going to lie this time and say that I'll never leave again because chances are...I will.  I adore writing. Period, with the word period to emphasize the period.  However, lately, like the past six months life has really taken over.   And, I hate that because writing is my me time, it's my decompression chamber, and when life is so screwy and I need it most, life rips the time away. 

Moral of the story: I'm here today and I really long to be here tomorrow.  Life, on occasion, needs to get the eff off my back.

Point of the story:  I'm going to jump on the "Thankful on Thursday" bandwagon because when life sucks what is more neccessary than reminding ourselves of all life's beauty.  Nothing. That's what. So here, in no particular order ,are the things I am especially, over the moon, thankful for this week.

*White Chocolate Carmel Cappucino on a crisp Fall morning.  Even better, that it's delectable and from the gas station for a buck fifty.  Take that overpriced coffee shops (who I love).

*Toothy grins that make me forget the worries of the world.

* A dayhome for the boy where I never, ever have to think twice about taking him.

*Family.

*Endless shimp @ Red Lobster, yes, I'm admittedly disgusting during this particular promo.

*A job that I L.O.V.E. and being lucky enough to have it in a time like this.

*These kids I GET to work with, they are the best. I hot neon pink puffy heart them.  These so called "inner city, hormonal, juvenile deliquent, special, hoodrat, blah, blah, freaking blah" kids.  They complete me.  In a way I'm absolutely positive no one else ever will.  They are good, loving, spectacular people.

*Fall. Freaking, OMG, I love fall.  I saw leaves that had officially changed colors and fallen yesterday and I almost wrecked my car staring at their beauty, even if it was only like two.

*Still having the strength to believe.

*Cuddling on the couch in sweats with just me, a warm blanket, and full control of the remote.

*Amazing bloggers, and tweeters, who inspire me daily, who make me cry and laugh until I cry, who feel like friends I always knew I'd meet. 

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{I've Never Been Good @ Taking Sides}

So, I have no idea how I will pick between the needs of my (future) children.  Last week, the husband and I went to a concert as part of our late anniversary celebration.  It was tame, country, Rascal Flatts and Kellie Pickler. So there were families swarming around us.  

Sidenote: Yes, I like country music amongst lots of other very different things.  Emery's music taste is greatly different but it was the only concert at the state fair the night we would be there.  So back to story.

Two rows in front of us there was an adorable family of four.  Their daughter was maybe 7 and their son approximately 4.  Although, I'm really bad at guessing ages so they could have been fourteen.  I'm fairly confident they were under ten though and about two years apart.  Long story longer, at first, the boy was really rocking out and having a blast.  After the warm up act though, he and his dad kept disappearing.  Once the main act took the stage the mom and sweet little girl jumped to their feet.  They were singing at the top of their lungs and dancing.  I seriously almost cried.  It was just so amazingly endearing to me to see this mother bonding with her child in that way.  The father and son returned and the little boy was clearly ready to leave.  The mother was ripped from her fun and forced to drop her daughters hand to attempt to calm the boy down.  He wasn't having it. 

So, here's my dilemma, the purpose for the post.  How do you choose?  Do you take away one child's enjoyment of an event that they have certainly been looking forward to.  Or, do you leave one child crying from exhaustion and frustration over all the noise.  No matter what choice you make, what do you do to ensure the "losing" child doesn't resent the "winner"?

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{The One About Daycare}

Until an hour ago, I had this post planned word for word.   Then, there was the car ride from hell. 

Rowan started daycare yesterday.  A wonderful little in home babysitter with just a handful of kids.  It's great.  Seriously, Row loves it there.  In fact, last week the hubs and I took him to visit/ meet the other kids and both times we walked through the door and he took off, ignoring us and loving them.  He cried hysterically when we left.  The second time he leaped from our arms to his teacher and hung on to her neck.  He hasn't cried once the past two days when being dropped off.  He eats his whole lunch AND snacks!  He takes a two hour afternoon nap. In a crib. Without being rocked. Jiminy frickin Christmas, he isn't my kid.  He's a better kid.  He's a better man for being at daycare.  Enter me, the brokenhearted momma.  Of course, I want my son to be happy.  Of course, I want him to socialize and love the people who care for him.  I WANTED to get back to work.  But, I mean, couldn't he at least miss me a little.  I'm like last weeks news.  I'm chopped liver.  I'm Michelle after Kelley and Beyonce went solo. 

Part II:  The Car Ride From Hell

So, then, tonight happened.  We had dinner with friends in Indy (Indianapolis for the Indiana cornfield illiterate of you) to meet their sweet baby and catch up.  Every time I went near the baby Row screamed.  He gave my girlfriend and the little nugget the meanest, analytical looks all night.  He refused to sit in his highchair and would only stop crying if he was sitting in my lap, or on the floor clinging to my feet.  He was a piece of work. Clingy, clingy work.  The kind of work that makes you sweat from someone else trying to exist in the space you are taking up in the universe.  CLINGY.  But that was the good part of the night.  On the way home he threw a tantrum for 45 minutes straight.  It was so intense he projectile vomited, TWICE.  The whole time he just held his arms out to me screaming mamamamama.  Again, enter me, heartbroken.  I finally got him to sleep by basically sitting on the arm of his car seat, both arms wrapped around him, kissing his forehead, and shushing in his ear.  Although it hurt me to see him so sad.  It was nice to be the only one in the world he wanted, to be needed and loved. 

I'm glad he loves his day home away from home.  I'm really, really glad he still loves me most.  This parenting rollercoaster never ceases to amaze me. 

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{A New Year}

I don't put much faith in fate.  I don't believe in meant to be's or master plans.  However, I was clearly destined to be a teacher. 

I get the same kind of rush each August that most people only experience January first.  There is just something so refreshing and innocent about the start of Fall and the back to school banter that fills the air.  I love redecorating my classroom.  I fill my head with goals and high ideals I know I'll probably never achieve.  I am introduced to a hundred and twenty new faces that will fill my days.  Likely, those faces with be accompanied by quite a few new challenges too.  It's my New Year because its a time for renewal and fresh starts.  Also, by the time January rolls around, I'm half way to a 3 month vacation.  Furthermore, I find Fall heavenly. 

This year, however, it is going to be bittersweet.

Rowan will be starting daycare soon.  We avoided it last year but this year there was no choice.  I know daycare is wonderful.  Honestly, I worked in one for years and know all of the benefits.  Furthermore, my child needs boundaries and routine like the desert needs the rain.  Neither of which I am great at providing.  Also, I am not cut out to be a stay at home momma.  I admire those of you who do, but I couldn't.  I love my son too much to make him spend his days stuck with a mother who is secretly longing to be elsewhere.  I love my son, but right now, I want to experience other things in addition to that love.  I need to feel fulfilled outside my home, in my career, in myself.  I am a better mother for some time away.  He is a better child for the chance to be exposed to other fantastic people and playmates.

Still though, it makes me a wee bit sad. 

So, we are spending the next two weeks the only way I know how, doing the only thing I've ever done -- preparing to go back to school.  We are cherishing our last full days together.  I'm getting my school supplies and classroom ready.  Rowan is getting a new lovey and crayons.  We are getting new school clothes and shoes.  And, I am reminding myself that Rowan is getting to share in one of my favorite past times.

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