A friend said to me not long ago that being around CD, Bear and I can be a little hard to take because we sort of block others out.

That wasn't easy to hear.

I don't want to be that person. I don't want us to be that family. I think of myself, of us, as open. Curious.

Isn't it strange how wrong I am about the person in the mirror?

A couple of years ago, we started putting up walls because there was so much pain and anger around CD's depression. As much as I vented, there was that much more I couldn't - wouldn't - say.

And I never realized that even as we healed, the wall obviously didn't come down. Although Bear has many friends and is really social - the truth is that we seem happiest these days when we're the 3 of us, whether piled on the couch with Sara watching Mythbusters or walking along the river with our ice cream cones.

This can't be healthy. But I'm not sure I know how to let go, let in. I tell myself we're just a close family, and maybe we are. Yet...

Even after everything becomes all right again, it isn't over.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:58 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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If love is measured in how much we enjoy doing the same things, then we fail.

There are only 3 of us, but I swear we equal about 12 different opinions. Doesn't matter the topic.

For example, of all the food in all the world - there are exactly 3 meals that the 3 of us like the same. Two of which are made by someone else (IKEA Meatballs and Panda Express) and the third? Yeah, hamburger.

CD is an Icelandic Socialist, I'm a Christian Independent, and Bear is a moderate Democrat who often switches to Republican due to his strong feelings about fiscal responsibility (oh, do YOU want to be the one to explain to my 7 year old that he's too young for informed political opinions? Yeah, have fun with that.)

We took the Belief-O-Matic, and I came up 100% as a Mainline Conservative Protestant, CD was a mix of Christian, neo-pagan, and Unitarian Universalism, and Bear? A Liberal Protestant and Quaker, (both 100%)!

We have different sleep patterns, levels of fitness, taste in decorating, and ideas of fun.

And yet?

It's amazing how much common ground we find, every day. Tonight we all piled onto the couch with bowls of pasta (different sauces, of course) and watched Mythbusters. After we were done eating, Sara McFluffy jumped up and spread across our legs as we stayed in a pile, enjoying the end of the show.

Looking at us, at how much we really enjoy just being together, I sort of stepped outside myself in wonder. That we are so different, and yet have forged this wide ribbon of common experiences that are uniquely, amazingly, us.

Of all the blessings in the world, this is the one I am most grateful for. Not to be too sappy for words on a Sunday Night, but you know - there have been a lot of years in my existence when I could never have imagined this kind of happiness. So I apologize for my misty moments of awe, they are unfashionable and trite.

And miraculous.

Boomdiadah, boom.

(Our favorite new commercial, but watch out - it's addictive!)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:26 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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The other half is gone.

As we skid into the end of a crappy week, punctuated by an earthquake, we had to put down my dear companion Maggie Bear.

She and I had been together for over 20 years.

I miss her already. So damn much.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:59 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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This is the world:

Or, at least the world according to the shower curtain in our bathroom.

Now, by the authority vested in me as a Sharpie-wielding fuzzy-pink-bathrobe wearing BBC-News-watching woman of Earth... (ahem)

We, here at the Big Blue House, would like to formally recognize the world's newest country...Kosovo.

We'd like to say we were first in recognizing their sovereignty, but apparently President Bush did that...uh, and almost ahead of the country itself.

We'd like to apologize for any misspellings. No dishonor intended. We hail the good people.

Thank you for attending. Now, if everyone could step back in the hallway, punch and cookies will be served.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:45 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Last November, I celebrated my birthday by discovering a big huge honking cyst in my brain. It was the straw, as they say, that broke the camel's back.

Which, I suspect, makes me a camel.

But moving right along.

You know how people, they say to you "Everything is gonna be all right?"

That's nice to hear.

It is.

But it doesn't make it so. Wishes? Are not fishes.

However, eventually I have come to a like opinion. Everything is going to be all right.

We dreamed of moving North, of a different lifestyle and of all sorts of firefly-like floaty things.

What we got, instead, is mounting debt - much of it medical - rooted in the same old place and time and a quick slide into what life is like when good health doesn't come back this time. But don't give up, life will surprise you with - like the little flowers that peek up through the snow just when you think there's no color left in the world.

And one thing I know, more than anything else right now - we're not alone. You're not alone. Sometimes a bad day turns into a bad week and bad news begins to feel like a habit you can't break.

But hang on tight to that line, because the wind always changes. The sun always comes back. And the color will once again saturate the world.

Hang on.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 08:44 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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It snowed last night. A lot. Then it started snowing again this morning.

When I took 10-month-old, 55-pound Sara out her crate and told her to go do her business in the backyard, she seemed more than happy to follow my orders.

Until I opened the door. To about a foot of pristine snow.

Dog's pretty tall.

Snow was taller.

She leaped like a frog over to her usual spot. Squatted. Leaped and woofed in surprise.

Snow, I'm assuming, went to a place that snow had never gone before.

She swam like a dolphin through the drifts to another spot. Creamy dog, white snow, more falling. It was like watching a shadow.

Squatted again. Leaped again. Woofed. Again. Turned and gave me the dirtiest expression a dog has ever given a human. EVER.

"Get over it, princess," I told her, shivering in my pink fluffy bathrobe.

She gave me a look that said "No, YOU get over it!"

Roamed a bit more. Like a deranged mouse looking for the way out. At this point covered in a nice frosting of snow, all the way to her chin.

She eventually found a low spot in the drifts, right next to the house. I mean THIS-CLOSE. And, as God as my witness, attempted to do her business while all squished up AND leaning against the outside wall of our house.

DUMB DOG FELL OVER.

Boom! Righted herself, scrambled, tripped over her paws, finally righted herself, have herself a good shake, and looked at me with snow all over her muzzle like the Grinch that stole Christmas.

Gave me a look and whimpered.

Like somehow this was all my fault because I wouldn't let her use our bathroom indoors?

Good heavens. I marched over and informed her in no uncertain terms to get herself busy before I became a human Popsicle.

She heaved a sigh and ran off through the snow, racing in circles, until finally she had MADE a low spot that suited her, um, purposes.

Then trotted over to me, carrying enough snow to make 3 Frosty's and a good armory of snowballs.

"Get in your crate," I told her AND her snow.

She slunk there. Another dirty look.

And? It's STILL snowing!

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:06 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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1 My very short dog seems to, ummm, enjoy the coolness of snow on his ahem-ahem areas!

Posted by: Angela Klocke at February 06, 2008 02:22 AM (3K99F)

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The thing no one tells you about homeschooling? It's expensive.

Besides the thousands in taxes we pay for schools we aren't attending, there are the thousands we're not paying for Montessori tuition.

And, in between, the thousands for homeschooling.

The textbooks run you in the hundreds. Then there are the ink cartridges and sundry other dozens of supplies you'll need. The library helps, a lot, but the fact of the matter is that it isn't enough.

From supplies and education materials and library fines there are also the big ticket items - especially the additional activities you pay for to make sure your child is getting the peer interaction and specialty learning that you can't provide. Like enrichment programs that run $35 a week, and sports clubs, and art or music lessons.

In Bear's case, it's worth it. He feels absolutely perfect in the studies he has. And even though he knows that reading and writing are hard, he doesn't feel behind. And this is a critical difference. One, I believe, that will really matter to his self-esteem down the road.

That said, it's become an interesting challenge to make do. At first, I really resented it. Like a fish resents the big invisible wall at the end of the tank, I tell you. But brandy helps.

Plus, and I'm gonna share this little private bit of wisdom with ya because, hell, why not... anyone can get used to just about anything. Including the added time and energy it takes to do things on the cheap.

I'm here to testify. I'm here to say it loud.

My goal is a field trip every other week. My budget? $20 per trip. I discovered it can be done. If you don't mind planning. A lot of planning. And being really, freakishly, flexible.

The key for us so far has been that most places have "free" days - usually when the rest of the world is at school or work.

A-diggity-ha, I tell you.

Like the Swedish Museum in Andersonville has this wicked cool Children's Museum where kids can re-enact pretty much life on a Swedish farm all the way through the immigration trip via steamer to establishing a farm in the American Midwest.

And it's free on the Tuesday of the second week of each month.

Once you do the algebra on that one, the rest of the plan is simple. Street parking costs a couple of quarters. Plus the Swedish bakery and the Erikson's Swedish market are both a couple of blocks away, so you can top off the visit with an authentic treat for only a couple of bucks.

....I've been thinking of starting a website and gathering all this, plus our experiences, but somehow it seems a little silly. Despite knowing how important all this is, and being proud of it, most of the time I still feel somewhat marginalized in my new role.

A meekness I can not explain, or shed.

But that said, here's some pictures of last week's and today's $20/day outings.

"I, Lord BedHead, do claim this lake for all redheads!"
(Frolicking at Berger Beach last Tuesday)

Playing in the Swedish Museum's Children's Museum's interactive '1800's Immigration' display

"Bear, dagnabbit, I know that Swedish grocery is around here somewhere..."
"Uh, Mommy? Look behind you."

Checking out the planet at the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry today. Prognosis? Not good. Looks like we're all on status Ernie...

Checking our bad selves out in the thermal imaging scan.

Bear and friend loving the exhibit where they display, using lights and bubbles, how sludge gets clean.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:43 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
Post contains 609 words, total size 4 kb.

1 That.looks.like.fun!I.can.do.$20 Can.I.come.next.time?(Pardon.all.the.periods,my.spacebar.is.broken)

Posted by: Laura at October 16, 2007 02:37 PM (Tqoj6)

2 I use PaperBack Swap to snag free books. I don't spend more than about $300-$400 a year to homeschool my three kids, but there are more and more people out there educating their kids for free or for VERY little. Just takes a lot of creativity and some ingenuity. Hang in there!

Posted by: Christine at October 16, 2007 05:00 PM (Snb4M)

3 He is a very lucky kid, in my not at all humble opinion.

Posted by: R P at October 17, 2007 06:59 AM (op1yW)

4 DUDE! I wanna come play too! That looks AWESOME.

Posted by: caltechgirl at October 17, 2007 09:16 AM (/vgMZ)

5 Great ideas! We are big field trip people too. we've found buying memberships for those places we visit often helps a lot. The Natural History Museum is a no brainer..the one here in LA actually lends items out to home schoolers who are members. A Natural History Museum is one you'll visit for one hour at a time but frequently, just to see some exhibit that ties in...(OK parking can get expensive, that's true) but The Chicago Museum is one of the best in the world! I think $20 a week is very diable...the hard part is keeping up with all the opportunities to explore!

Posted by: The Not Quite Crunchy Parent at October 18, 2007 01:06 AM (5NrpF)

6 Very cool. You are such a good mom!

Posted by: sue at October 18, 2007 04:46 AM (WbfZD)

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God, I hate voice mail.

Prior to hating voice mail, I had a nice sideline going in hating answering machines. But you get older, times change, and you gotta update your habits.

Basically, if you call me...I'll see your number on the Caller ID and call back. Ignoring that thwudda-thwudda noise that says you said something to the computer.

This is, on occasion, I'll admit, problematic.

"Hey, it's Elizabeth. You called?"

"Thank God you called back so fast. So what's the number?"

"The number?"

"Of the emergency vet?"

"You need an emergency vet?"

"I LEFT A MESSAGE!! Diddums has swallowed a hypodermic needle full of crack and I need the number of the vet that helped you that time when it happened to you."

"I have never....! Why? Uh, I mean...."

"I LEFT A MESSAGE! Didn't you listen? This is life or death, here! I mean, poor Diddums, I think he's dragging himself to a corner to...oh, what is that number?!"

So, sure. Once in a blue moon, it causes trouble that I avoid my voice mail.

On the job, it was not unknown for me to listen to my voice mail barely once a week, on Fridays....

"You have 17,000 new voice mails! What is your frequency, woman? You think I got nothing better to do than stuff myself full of chat from your people?"

Instant messages, email, and text messages I am fine with. Prompt, attentive, responsive. But the bugaboo of voice mail has remained my nemesis.

Recently, we decided to turn off our home line. We never use it much, and it's costing us $50 a month to, in essence, give chimney sweeps and siding companies a way to contact us about their seasonal promotions.

So I've given myself permission, even though there is still some dial tone on it, to ignore the thing altogether in preparation for it being gone.

CD gave me the fish eye this morning, the phone against his ear, after I asked him if he thought I'd missed a call I was expecting.

"Please check," I begged.

"We have 33 new voice mail messages," he said with an arch of his eyebrow.

I shrugged.

"Have you EVER checked the house line for voice mail?" he pondered.

"2004."

"Prove it."

I stuck out my tongue when he wasn't looking.

He pushed some buttons and listened a moment.

"Chimney sweep. Siding company. Chimney sweep. Credit card protection offer. Oh, Katie and some kid's mom are going somewhere and want to know if you want to go with," he relayed.

I looked interested.

"In SEPTEMBER," he added, all he-man snarky-like. "Computer talking, time sensitive offer. Hey, the counter tops are ready."

I looked in the kitchen where they are already installed. Turned back to the window, where I watched the drizzle that was delaying our annual pumpkin excursion .

He pushed more buttons. He listened some more. Counted them down for me. "20 more messages..." he sighed. "15, we're finally into October..." I scrunched my nose. "More computers, they love to leave messages...." I nodded. "5 more."

I waited.

He looked at me. "Sorry, hun," he said.

I shrugged.

"No big deal," I said.

But he knew better. He knew that this is why, deep down, I really hate voice mail. Because it never seems to be the locker of good news, of voices you really want to hear.

Ah, well.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:45 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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My husband spent much of his growing up years moving from small apartment to small apartment with his working dad.

Despite all the years since, I suspect CD still harbors this deep need to roost. To be rooted, and never left.

Life has very little to do with what we see when we look into the mirror at ourselves.

The mirror sees a pink-haired woman, with too many curves and slightly creased with age.

But I see more than a reflection. I see a rebel, a mother, a free spirit, a lover. I see the scars from falls I took in small strips across my skin. And in my heart. I see my own eyes, and all the stories they hold.

I can't know what he sees. In me. In himself.

Other than this gnawing sense, that where you live shouldn't be a place easy to leave.

No amount of time could hope to completely erase this from him.

No amount of love, or help, or maturity can wipe clean the truths we cling to as children.

Maybe that's why it's so hard for him to think of selling this house. Why it is so incomprehensible to his heart that this home, that holds so many of the memories of us as a family, would belong to someone else.

And I begin to see it now.

Tomorrow, Bear tests up in karate to a blue belt. On Sunday, we take our annual trip to the pumpkin farm. When will there be time, he asks me, to get to that list of things we need to finish on the house.

And there it is, behind his eyes.

I begin to see it now.

This is home in a way that no place has been to him since he was his own son's age.

This is the place I always come back to, the bed I share with him. This is where we eat dinner. This is where Bear lays out his Magnetix creations for us to admire. These are the boxes with the winter sweaters. And over there is the bin with the Halloween decorations.

And as awareness began to dawn in my foggy head, I reached out to him.

It isn't each other we're leaving, I promise. If we sell this house and move - wherever we go, it will be home just as much as this place has been.

He nodded.

For years, I have been ready to go. To kick off a new adventure.

But it isn't only me that has to go.

And he's finding this house, hard to leave.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:56 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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1 What an absolutely beautiful post. I can relate, in a strange way. My mother didn't leave, but rather died when I was three. I spent many years being shuffled first to my grandmother, then back to my father and his new wife, and then as a family moving several times. Never feeling at home in any of the places we lived. I am an only child and extremely shy and never made fast friends along the way. Finally, when I met and married my current husband (I had one before and he and I moved frequently, too) I found home. I married a man who had only lived in a different place the four years he was in the service. His parents built a new house when he got out and he moved back into the homestead. He also farms, and you don't pick up and move the farm, so farmers stay put. Fast forward to three years ago. We finally decided to build a new house. We are only two miles away from the old one, but the old one was where my husband had always lived, and where I had lived the longest. Where I had set down roots and raised all of my children. The memories are deep. I'm sorry to get so long... I just know that if our son hadn't moved into the old house and I'd had to let it go to strangers, it would be much worse than it was. As it was, it took some adjustment... but now we are fine. As will you all be. "Home is where the heart is"... is very true.

Posted by: sue at October 12, 2007 08:45 AM (WbfZD)

2 The way you write is amazing. Instead of going back into the corporate world you should think about doing a book. You inspire me.

Posted by: Mrs Groovy at October 12, 2007 12:31 PM (qod59)

3 Thanks so much for this writing. It is indeed beautiful. I'm glad you have eyes to see and a heart that understands. And soon, he will know that what you say is true - home is where y'all are...all together.

Posted by: Janie at October 13, 2007 03:00 PM (UCqK5)

4 You are such a beautiful writer! I stumbled upon you by accident looking up things on Google. I thought I'd stop for a moment and scan down a few posts but got captured by this post and had to read it through to the end. It brought tears to my eyes. It made me think of my husband. His father left him. Thank you for sharing this post ~ Valaine

Posted by: Valaine at October 17, 2007 09:28 AM (MzPSj)

5 Beautiful post! And you're good for understanding and then reaching out.

Posted by: Monica C. at October 18, 2007 12:50 PM (FMnfx)

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I woke up this morning to find fall had arrived. Crept into the world during the dark, long night.

Closed the windows, watched the trees bend against the coming of the autumn.

Finally.

Days ago, the bizarre Chicago heat helped killed a marathoner. And I began to wonder if the Global Warming would shout like a lion, after generations of roaming in like a lamb.

And rob us of all our seasons until we took notice and gave up our vans for hybrids.

But no.

Now I'm nervous because we sort of count on late September through early November to be almost 2 months of low electric and gas bills. The 'tween time of the thud of the ancient heater kicking in and the rumble of cool from the air conditioning.

And even more than the eternal burden of worrying about money is the selfish consideration that this should be the time of year that recharges my batteries.

This is my season, my breeze and fresh thoughts and packing away for the winter.

Have I been robbed of it?. From hot winds and dry dirt instantly into fluttering leaves and drizzling chill?

I've been counting on the emotional break I get with cool nights and warmish days and colored up leaves. This is my time of year to start making soup again. This is my time of year to write furiously, ideas too fast for my hands to type.

Instead I've got a case of emotional whiplash. Sitting in a hoodie and long pajama pants and giving Mother Nature a dirty look.

I feel out of sorts and robbed by the tumble of seasons.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:57 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 It has been totally crazy weather-wise here, too, but then I'm just over here in Iowa (hi!~~) so we get it right before you do, usually. Hot hot, now cool. I'm ready.

Posted by: sue at October 10, 2007 10:39 AM (WbfZD)

2 Nicely written. If you love fall, don't ever move to the Yukon. Fall here is 2 weeks. 4, if we're lucky. Right now it's snowing, and has been off and on for days. Not good for the soul!

Posted by: Tammy at October 10, 2007 05:07 PM (M9ZVz)

3 Tis the season for pot roasts and stew. I need to find a good stew recipe ...... We're hoping for the weather to hang on for just a little longer. After months of no rain, it's been raining every weekend and so the progress on the outside of our house has stalled. I'm looking at you Mother Nature!! I have a love/hate relationship with fall. I love the leaves and the cooler weather, I don't love that it gives way to the long cold winter. The price I pay for living in Minnesota ... Heat has been on here for a month or so on and off. On for sure tonight as it's a balmy 27 out right now. Excuse me while I look for my fuzzy socks.

Posted by: Michele at October 11, 2007 05:07 PM (h1vml)

4 The weather has been odd. I water skied without a wet suit in October. The second week of October! Crazy. Strange. Surreal. It was heaven though.

Posted by: Eyes for Lies at October 12, 2007 05:32 AM (L67iN)

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Well, I forgot my blog password on this trip. You'd think I'd have it memorized - but in truth, my home computer does. So when my laptop gave me the ol' blink-blink I'm-WAITING at password prompt, I was completely lost.

We're home.

And if I may be petty, just for a second, may I say... I won't miss Chicago traffic. Wherever we end up - unless we move onto a median strip in L.A. - will have less traffic and for that reason alone I bounce with anticipation.

Each summer, the hardest part is always the last 50 miles.

From the moment we saw the 'Welcome to Chicago' sign to the moment we turned off the car in the driveway we were in excruciating bumper-to-bumper and CD and I just looked at each other and knew we were thinking the same thought.

"I hope the house sells fast"... (you know, once we actually get it on the market.)

We may still love the neighborhood. The art glass in the living room that glows in the afternoons. The walk up to the park on a soft night.

But we are DONE with the traffic.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:15 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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In a couple of hours and 2 days late, we pull out for for our annual August trip to see my family in Boston. We thought by making the trip much shorter this year (only 10 days) that it wouldn't be such a big deal.

We had no idea that the Apocalypse was coming in the form of endless rain. Tornadoes. Wind. And a mountain of laundry that has applied to the Hague for reclassification as a sentient being.

No my suitcase isn't in the car, why do you ask?

In point of fact, I can't remember if I brushed my teeth this morning. The storms have pushed the days together and at some point I remember it was dark and I was naked and the pillowcase was soft and my husband's hand was warm and then it was gray again and rainy again and Allstate was explaining how to amend our damages claim.

Bear and a friend are decimating his room constructing a Transformer-Magnetix monster that I am assured could devour THE CITY MOMMY. THE WHOLE CITY. EVEN THE TREES AND THE DOGS.

What are the dogs doing in the trees?

Silly rabbit.

I'll be in Buffalo for lunch tomorrow. Come Hell or ... well, not high water.

Any more water and I'm strapping pontoons to my house and buying a really big paddle.

Actually, if it rains every step of the way, I will not mind. My Zen now encompasses all form of airborne water.

It's the wind and the ginormous lightning that freaks me.

The little voice inside my head sometimes remembers to panic about this.

And the 7-foot long to-do list I'm ignoring.

But mostly it does Jello shots and naps.

And the rest of me?

Is going to go finish packing.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:24 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 Good luck on the move. I've done it a couple of times, cross country... hang in there. Moving is a pain in the ass. Just remember soon it will be over and you'll be settled in a new place. Can I ask.... weren't you gonna move to Canada at one point? Did I miss a decision post?

Posted by: serena at August 24, 2007 10:36 AM (z5KLn)

2 What a PITA the rain and storm damage has been for you! But can you imagine how much worse it would've been if you hadn't been there? Ugh! It would've been horrible to come home to a problem that's 10 times worse than what you had. See? You just have to know how to look at these things. But I think your Zen is serving you well too. Have a great vacation!

Posted by: Sharkey at August 24, 2007 02:02 PM (cmHYN)

3 Oh I get it now, you're not actually moving to Boston. Guess learning to read WAS important all those years ago.

Posted by: serena at August 25, 2007 09:42 AM (z5KLn)

4 Since it is drying here, I'll hope it is soon drying there... (we seem to get it all first).

Posted by: sue at August 27, 2007 05:04 AM (WbfZD)

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Last night, we got home from seeing the matinée of High School Musical and having an early dinner after with Dee in Logan Square.

CD picked up that old cast iron sink from the driveway and brought it back into the house.

And a few hours later, I had running water in the kitchen for the first time in over 3 weeks. And a working dishwasher.

I am now halfway through washing and putting away every kitchen item we own. I have never been so happy in my life to do dishes. I can't even admit how gross it was living without.

Bear has had a slow day of sorting socks and watering tomatoes as I've pushed forward on my to-do list. The pool starts family swim in a few minutes and I've promised him a long stay.

After my raw and bleeding last post, I've had a lot of thoughts. When I pour myself out like that, it is usually a great release of steam and thought.

But afterwards, I remember - hey this my REAL name out here. How crazy am I?

But today, I am firmly wrapped in my flag of productivity. Rocking out as I rotate the laundry. And deciding to let the joy of running water wash away deeper worries until tomorrow.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 09:51 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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"So the Jews killed Jesus?" some kids asked in my white-bread Connecticut Sunday school.

"That's right," the teacher said.

And so my first indoctrination into the inheritance of prejudice was made. With a simple sentence, and no blurry soft innuendo.

It was a bald statement of why Jews.Are.Bad.

And it didn't take graduating the 17th grade with a Theology minor on top of 5 years as a chaplain to realize that my pastor with the rosy cheeks and rumbly sense of humor was teaching us kids to condemn.

I knew it right then.

At 13.

Although I didn't have the courage to speak up, just the cowardice to silently disagree.

And it was sheer luck of the heart and my family that I knew better.

I mean, no one runs around dousing a pan of flaming saganaki shouting "the Greeks killed Socrates!"

And what that pastor was saying seemed just as.... off.

Now of course I know it's much worse.

My parents worked hard to raise me without prejudice, which is an amazing feat in New England. Because that bastion of Abolitionism has the demographics of Wonder Bread, fought integration right up into the 1980's, and features a basketball team that, don't forget, found the one white guy in America who could jump.

I wanted to do more than that for Bear.

My point, and I do have one, is that this is the one great fear CD and I have about moving back to the East Coast (if that's what we end up doing... and it is certainly looking that way.)

We chose the Oak Park area precisely because of its wide mix of population.
It put him with a rainbow of other kids: ones whose Mommies wear veils, ones whose skin is different color from his, ones that have two daddies...

This area is by no means perfect, but it was the best we could find with our priorities.

Yes, kids (and adults) will be mean, and segregate, and clique up. It's a Lord of the Flies world, still.

But at least he SEES the rainbow world around him. Just being on a t-ball team that looks like a United Nations conference is, in and of itself, a powerful teacher.

Yet now, at the tender age of 6, we are packing boxes. We are counting fondue forks and donating some of the zabillion odd spoons we've found. We are looking online at towns and neighborhoods.

"What will it be like?" Bear asks, carefully separating the packing paper in a pile for me.

'White!' I want to scream. "You've been there," I remind him. "On vacation..."

My husband sees my distress and tries to comfort me. "You and I ended up OK," CD reminds me, his lips in my hair. "And we grew up practically in gallon jugs of white milk."

I sigh, and nod. "But we had overcome so much programming. When I think back to all the stupid stuff I used to carry around in my brain. And the assumptions I made..." I blush, even now, in shame. "If I'd married Darnell, the cab driver from Zimbabwe, this would be a whole 'nother issue."

"Didn't he want to take you back with him to meet his other wives?" CD reminds me.

"Details," I scoff, holding him tight. Instead I married this Icelander, and we built this life together....

With this child. Who will of course be exposed to all kinds of intolerance in his life. There never really was any way to avoid it.

But the little voice inside me says it will be harder now. Maybe this my own prejudice, wouldn't that be funny?, but this is what I am afraid of in moving back where I was once told that the Jews killed Jesus.

[CD would like to add that a) Yes, the strange and not-so-lovely 'Bunker for Christ' people also live in this area so let's not pretend it's nirvana, b) That prejudice lurks even in the seemingly most integrated communities, maybe is being taught right this minute at a Sunday School near us, and that it's our job as parents to teach differently, and c) That he strongly doubts his wife meant ANY slur at all (to which I heartily agree but reminded him that it just wasn't OK then or now to teach kids to condemn, wholesale, an entire faith population.)]

Posted by: Elizabeth at 08:43 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 637 words, total size 4 kb.

[NO SPOILERS IN THIS POST - I promise.]

I'm not a HUGE HarryPotterphile, but I do love what Jo Rowling has done with her books. I've read each installment, though sometimes with tepid interest.

But this was the last one. The very last, she said. So I made plans to attend the 'Countdown to Midnight' in Oak Park. We stumbled onto the last one and had a great time.

My friend and her two kids (a boy and a girl) came over to join us and my friend handmade them all cloaks and wands. Thus we had a Harry (her son), a Hermione (her daughter - who has the perfect smile and hair for it) and yes, of course, Ron (Bear). [I have a blurryish picture of the 3 of them ahead of me, if I get permission from my friend I'll post it.]

(Oak Park Library. CD takes a picture as I take a picture of him in Bear's cloak. 7/20/07)

The 3 were so convincing that they spent the night accepting compliments, having strangers take their pictures, and merrily, blissfully, being utterly wonderful.

The event? Meh.

I think it was better the previous book release, for some reason. They blocked off the traffic more, and had really transformed the sidewalks and in-between spaces in a Diagon Alley - with street performers and jelly beans hawkers and just, more of a festival kind of an air.

(The Map for the 2007 event, and Bear's homemade wand. 7/20/07)

Our favorite last time? The 'interpretive dance' performance on the stage in the park to music from the Potter movies. I mean, C'MON - this was classic.

This time seemed like a lot of crowds for not that much attraction. Maybe I'm cynical, now. I dunno.

If I had to pick a favorite thing - it would be the people themselves. Last time it felt like there were more 'Harrys' and 'Hermiones' but this time... it was much more a mixture. Draco and Ron and just random characters. And so many adults got into it, too.

I once had a 'Trekkie' (or is it 'Trekker'?) working for me on a project who put in a vacation request for a really critical point. "You don't understand," she told me. "It's a really important convention...I won't be the only Uhura there!"

It was kind of like that - people allowing their fantasy alter-egos free reign in a truly non-creepy, joyous way.

(She gave out fortunes and trinkets. Giving Bear a protection spell. And later, a spell to remember the protection spell. 07/20/07)

I left before midnight, calling CD (who stayed behind with our son and our friends to get the book) and hearing the countdown in the background from the crowd around him. It was like some kind of New Year's Eve, hearing the screaming and celebrating that erupted as the books were finally handed out.

(He rode up and down the streets posing and smiling. And, um, handing out gourds. 7/20/07)

The next day, my friend and I both huddled over our copies... letting the kids play in the backyard as we slipped into the pages with Harry and experienced his last moments of childhood and his ultimate showdown with YouKnowWho.

"I finished," she told me Sunday morning.

"Me too," I smiled.

And there's something bittersweet in that.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:10 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Living in this chaos is hard. Agonizing. Crazy-making.

But the moment we clear it away, it will be time to put the house up for sale. And I think that's why we're moving slowly these past 2 weeks.

It's here. It's now. Look around. If we clean this up, if we shed this mess then you and he and I will have to say goodbye.

And, we're afraid. Sad. Resentful, or maybe mulish is a better word.

There's always an excuse why we're not quite ready yet to move on. Each morning, he goes off to work. Then it's our turn to get up and get going. Find a path to the fridge and the microwave to make some kind of breakfast. Trip over boxes and crap and God-what-is-that to the basket of clean laundry in the dining room.

Eventually, blessedly, we're off too. Camp, swimming lessons, art class, play date, store.

But then, we come home. And it's waiting for us.

Nearing this ultimate low point. The moment when the tide has slunk completely away. And all that is left is the stench and boil of the muddy ocean bottom.

This is the time, in the deep dark, that you turned to me and said 'it's always darkest before the dawn', and we giggled and made love again.

This is the time, you pulled my hair back off my face and told me close my eyes and rest, that our son needed me strong to be born.

This is the time, you called from far away. Woke me up with that ringing and said please, now, give us another chance. You wanted to come home.

This is the time we stood, lights burning in every room as we waited for the night to turn, as we prayed from our souls that his fever would break.

This is the time we shouted at each other in the rental car, speeding along Seine on stupid skinny streets with a stupid wrong map and trying to stop arguing but not able to, not able to...

This is the time, after all those times, that you gathered me up in bed and said 'Everything's going to be all right.... every thing will be fine. I promise.' and kissed my forehead and I believed you, and could sleep.

Weekend comes with sun and heat and day and we ... paint, spackle, study, eat. Pretend that we haven't missed every deadline we set, that the money will somehow keep stretching, that we have endless more summer days to finish this in between all the other things summer means.

In the night, we know better.

It's an ebb tide, close to bottom now.

Just around the corner. Just around the corner....

Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:51 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Here's how I never end up posting...

Yesterday morning, after some homeschool and then parking Bear in my room with some lunch and the Fairly OddParents. Sat down and started to respond to my emails, catch up on people's blogs, and check out the other places I write.

Yes, I prostitute myself. For a little bit of money, but it makes a huge difference these days. I write this blog, contribute to this blog, and as long as I'm sharing...for no money at all, I just joined this blog too.

A couple of the long emails I'd written looked like they had the seeds of Corporate Mommy post in them, so I began a draft.

Then I decided that it was too mundane. I mean, really. Who cares about our kitchen renovations and cardboard castles when the G8 summit is underway?

But I had to stop my dithering because I realized that suddenly and literally? I was panting with heat.

Feeling like someone had stuck the sun down my shirt. I could not get cool.

I decided I must be having some kind of premature hot flash and jumped into a shiveringly brisk shower.

I got out and felt about as cool and refreshed as a Bayou swamp in August.

"Bear..." I shouted as a I walked and toweled and panted. "Are you feeling..."

And there, hugging the box air conditioner like a crack monkey, was my son.

"It's hot," he huffed, his Captain Obvious cape firmly attached.

"No Duh!" I agreed, snatching up the thingy that tells me the temperature inside and out - and YES, dammit, feeling relieved that it wasn't just me.

"Well?" he demanded. "Well? Well? Well!!!"

"You don't even know what the numbers mean!" I scoffed, wishing I knew where my glasses were cuz the display is itty-biity. What? It IS!

"Mom... it's at least a 100, right?!"

(When the hell did he learn temperature?!) "Um, 94."

"OK, I think we should got ot the pool now! Do you, Mom?"

I just stood there and dripped.

Pleasant? No.

"Mom!! Puhleeeeeeze! Hurry!" he shouted, his naked fanny wiggling as he pulled up his Transformer's swimsuit.

"Uh... OK."

I grabbed a handful of towels out of the basket, dug up the pool bag, and started packing it while (at the same time) sitting in my office chair and wondering if I should save my draft or hit 'Delete'.

Started typing again, a little inspired, while out of the corner of my eye my son lost his patience. A few moments later, I was racing him out the door.

We were at the pool for almost 5 hours. Yes, with copious sunscreen, cover-ups, and even a cabana boy who chased us around with a big ol' palm frond.

Did no good. I'm pink.

When I got back to my computer last night, I didn't even check half my open windows. Yawning, crispy, I had minimum energy left.

This morning, I decided that I was glad I hadn't published what I wrote yesterday because in my time away, I had come to firmly believe that the trivialities of my life were ridiculous.

I looked at what I wrote before we'd bugged out to the massive Rehm pool yesterday.

And wondered why I felt everything I had to say since I left my job has seemed increasingly.... un-postable.

There's something important here. Part of peeling back the cover of my life and seeing the broken bits.

But I just...can't. At this moment.

(deep breath)

Here's what I found on the screen, though. Unchanged from yesterday. Silly...

.Change in plans, as always.

Instead of putting away the laundry, or prepping the kitchen floor, or finishing the homeschool chapters, or even finishing the gardening and weeding... we're heading over to the pool.

It is infinity degrees out today and the cicadas are roaring and Bear and I are going to kill each other if we don't get relief because even the box air conditioner can't keep up (we need fans to help move the cool air around).

The kitchen was demo'd a couple of weeks ago. Upper cabinets are installed. Lower cabinets are dry-fitted. Primer paint is up - we're keeping the tile, losing the wallpaper. Two-tone (cream and darker cream) paint job this weekend, if, you know, we don't decide to go to Blues Fest downtown or Midsommarfest in Andersonville. Or both. Heh.

The cabinets are mid-grade; a medium-brown maple. Pretty. Floor is peel & stick, but not criminally ugly. Pale browns, greens & blues. Countertop's Corian and being professionally made & installed with an under-counter sink - colors a little darker than floor.

That's gotta wait until after the lower cabinets, plumbing, electric is finished and inspected. Yes, we finally got a permit - with caveats for about a dozen inspections on it. "It's an old kitchen, you need to bring it up to modern codes," the lady told me with a fake smile at Town Hall.

"Do you have those written down for me?"

"You can find them online."

"Where?"

"Oh," she sighed like I'd asked her to give me her firstborn. "I'm not good with computers. Just look. Come back some other time if you can't find them."

(Note: HATE the people who work at city hall.)

No idea about roof yet - money dwindling, we're thinking how to get it done.

Downstairs basement - room just under stairs back to windows completely cleaned out, washed (mostly). That will be the staging room - all the packed up stuff will be put there so we can completely empty the other rooms and wash the basement.

Upstairs, kitchen stuff EVERYWHERE. Ugh.

Otherwise, clothes are all washed, sorted, organized. All that is left is what we wear. Bear? Has PLENTY of clothes.

He has built a HUGE castle structure out of the empty cabinet boxes in the front room - complete with turrets, periscopes, secret windows.

Tomorrow is officially our 'last day' of homeschool. Although truthfully? We'll kepp going on his reading, writing, and some of the other basic stuff - like time & money math. But that won't stop us from having a party to celebrate.

Tomorrow night, I fully expect to be doing the limbo down the sidewalk and singing shanty songs loudly to myself and the eleventy gazillion cicadas.

Sara is fine. She had a urinary tract infection that made it impossible for her to hold her pee so despite coming to us fairly housetrained, she had a bunch of accidents for a few weeks. Now we need to re-housebreak her, which means a lot of time in her crate. She gets pissed and tries to break out because if she isn't THIS CLOSE to HER boy at all times, her heart breaks and she's miserable.

Also? She likes to get her water bowl in her teeth and dump it on her head.

She's doubled in size, is very soft and sweet and smart and has the goofiest personality. And LOVES to retrieve!

OK, he has RUN OUT OF PATIENCE. As I type this, he is looking for my car keys.

OH MY GOD, he's found them and I think he's serious. Just what was my frelling my husband thinking? Showing a 6-year-old the workings of a 2-ton automotive?!

Dagnabbit, Bear's heading for the...

Gotta run.

Love,

Me

Posted by: Elizabeth at 03:30 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 1231 words, total size 7 kb.

While I avoid the big purple gorilla in the room (Hi Gorilla!), you may have heard that here in the Chicago area we've been infested with cicadas. Brood 18, the 17-year-cycle cicadas (red-eyed locust freaks), erupted this week - pouring over every outside surface like scurrying, winged lava.

There is, seriously, one on every leaf of my hosta.

At night, you can feel the vibration of the millions of them - moving, molting, mating.

They sound like a vacuum cleaner. They stick like flypaper to whatever they land on. They are harmless, non-toxic, and - let's face it - a little apocolyptic.

And?

Yummy.

Not ME. Sara.

Here's a movie we made this weekend of her snacking down:

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:44 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 124 words, total size 1 kb.

It's amazing what happens when you let go of the rope...

On Saturday, and not all prodded by my previous post *cough* and all the wonderful advice I got from it, CD and I slashed our expectations of what we can do to get the house ready for sale. Then? We pulled the trigger on ordering a kitchen. The house really can't be sold without a kitchen, or a new roof. The current roof was viciously ripped open this spring by mutant demon-spawn raccoons - who have since moved into the Radisson, complaining that our towels are not 'thirsty' enough for their tastes. Whatever the hell that means.

The current kitchen was, unfortunately, NOT ripped open by the mutant raccoons. That would have actually been helpful, since the demo is going to be a pain. No, the kitchen is just a strange 100-year-old bend in a hallway.

Feeling mighty-dang proud of ourselves, we also decided to pull the trigger on another long-promised adventure....

Please, meet Sara:

She is a 2-month old Golden Retriever/Poodle mix.

A more mellow, soft, sweet girl you have never met.

We're in love.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:28 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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1 Oh my! She's such a cutie!!!! I am a sucker for the retriever mixes! We've got a black labrador and she's a bundle of trouble, so I hope that Sara is just a sweet, INNOCENT little girl Hehehe. Post more photos! She's a cutie. PS: Congrats on teh kitchen. Living in the house whilst renovating a kitchen is a bit of a nightmare. I hope it's quite and painless for you.

Posted by: Sam at May 01, 2007 12:51 PM (tzase)

2 she's beautiful! Congratulations! And hooray for the new kitchen, they say that's the number one thing you can do to improve your home's value at sale. Good luck!

Posted by: caltechgirl at May 01, 2007 12:55 PM (r0kgl)

3 Okay, there are only a few things that will bring me out of Lurkerdom. One is you mentioning that you might stop writing here, and apparently the other is an EXTREMELY CUTE PUPPY! What a sweetie she is. My parents got a goldendoodle about four months ago, and they absolutely adore her. A new kitchen! That sounds great. But living there during remodeling and then moving out shortly after? Not so much.

Posted by: Sharkey at May 01, 2007 01:18 PM (ZzGbc)

4 I can't wait to hug that cute softie Sara! I am sure Miles and Nikita will LOVE playing with her.

Posted by: laura at May 01, 2007 03:00 PM (Tqoj6)

5 Sarah is absolutely precious ... I'll bet Bear is head over heels in love. Does it sound weird to say that I love the smell of a young puppy? Because they smell sweet to me.

Posted by: Ruth at May 01, 2007 11:57 PM (1pGHA)

6 She is ADORABLE. Yay for cute puppies!

Posted by: Cheryl at May 02, 2007 05:45 AM (eiizs)

7 She's gorgeous! I want one so badly, but the allergies are just not going away. Sigh.

Posted by: Tammy at May 02, 2007 08:10 AM (xO2S4)

8 She is precious! Yay on the kitchen!! It's so nice to take steps forward, isn't it?? We're still doing baby steps around here... which is starting to wear on me.

Posted by: Michele at May 02, 2007 02:53 PM (fcaMV)

9 Oh, she's so cute! Puppy love is good for whatever ails you. What does Maggie think of her? Congrats on moving forward on the kitchen... and heartfelt sympathies on living in the house during the remodel.

Posted by: Kimberly at May 02, 2007 06:35 PM (MxRdB)

10 What an adorable puppy. We have a Wheaten Terrier, so like your GoldiePoo, it doesn't shed, it's so worth the money!! Hope the puppy isn't keeping you up at night, it's just like having a newborn in the house sometimes, minus the sore nipples. Hope the reno goes well, sending good thoughts your way.

Posted by: Angela at May 08, 2007 02:32 AM (E24xZ)

11 I'm in love!! She is simply beautiful. How's the cat?

Posted by: Eyes at May 08, 2007 03:42 AM (L67iN)

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Tomorrow morning, we aim the car westward and home again.

This trip weighed much harder on Bear and I than any we have taken before.

Maybe because each town was not so much a discovery as a possible new home. Entered with the thought "Could we live here? Is this the place?"

Maybe because I have now been sick for 4 months, and added to Bear's allergies we have had short fuses and this tender, lingering tiredness.

Maybe because the weather has been stormy and gusty and it has been hard to feel warm.

Maybe because it is hard, sometimes, to face the relationships we really have with our families. With who they are outside the holidays, on average Mondays with errands and stubbed toes and demons of their own.

Is this really how it is?

I don't know.

Snippets of songs gather together. Home, and long roads. Wandering, and finding. Daydreams, and rag dolls and the toys that come with fast food meals. Old photographs hung on the walls, and the stories behind them. And the squish of the puddles, again and again.

I want to be homeward bound.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:01 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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