Dream

I dreamed that I was tired, walking down the street in the kind of light that is just yellow enough for the mind to recognize that everything is dreamy - a little too white, the edges blurred - but not enough for conscious wakefulness. The world is a bit too surreal if this is real, and a little too real for the surreal, I think as I walk. I wonder where I am.

Actually, I know. I recognize my street. I am two doors away from my house. but my house isn't where it should be.. unless it is and I don't exactly recognize it. I mean that one there - the white one with the bushes out front. That's mine. Isn't it? Sure it is. I go in.

All of the walls are bare. Wow, I think, Rich has been busy packing our stuff - the mementos on the walls, the pictures of Paris and London, the crosses at the door that I didn't know exactly what to do with. All gone. All white. A canvas, but not so hopefuly as I know I will not recognize the new paint that will be there when I'm not.

But this is moving on, isn't it? This is part of the adventure - the falling away of the old and the introduction to the new that I distinctly remember signing up for when I started this part of my life. I should love it, right? So why is Jack crying? Why is he crying? Because I'm moving him away from all that he recognizes as his? From his neighborhood, his room, his Ms. Laura? But he's crying. Loudly.

And then I awake. Jack is crying; the explanation is that he's fallen down. He's ok. It was just a stumble. But I'm awake now. The surreal is vanished into a more concrete reality - the one where I've avoided packing the personal. The one where sometime soon I'll have to buck up and marry the comfortable past to the unknown future, one day at a time, one box packed and then another.

Cheers

And finally, here's to all of the exhausted parents who have to make a choice during their exhausting toddler's naptime: sleep or sex.  May they all choose wisely.  Cheers!

The Journey

by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

New blogs

Baby Jack has a new blog:
Come and visit the Bug Barn: A blog exclusively for and about Jack and Jack's mom.

Also visit Ginger's new space: De-Composition.

With my apologies for any and all setting changes..

Baby Jack!

Baby Jack is here!!!! and is completely adorable if I do say so myself. 7 lbs; 7ounces; at 7:00 am on his due date.. (miracle!) Mom and Baby are fine. Rich on the other hand.. :)
Stay tuned for pictures and information on new blog sites!

Am thinking about ditching the Viaggio for newer, better journeys.
This place seems a bit stale, no matter how I change the font and colors and pictures. Plus, there is so much change around me, and, as odd as it may sound, because the change is affecting mostly everything in my life, I think I want to embrace it as much as I can, blog notwithstanding.

A new place to hang out might be just the thing I need to scratch that 5 year itch.. And I am happy thinking about the limitless possibilities!!

I'll definitely keep my Flickr account so that you can see the baby, if he ever gets here, that is. In the mean time, I'll be over here dreaming.. :)

Conversation

Three very pregnant women stand in a circle in a public place, bellies almost touching. Whispering.

Preggo 1 (to others): When are you due?

Preggo 2: In a month.

Preggo 3: A month after her.

P1: Oh really? I'm due on Wednesday. (Internal grin, obviously trying not to show it outwardly.)

P2 and P3: Oh Wow. You're lucky. (Maniacally glancing back and forth) You don't even look like he's dropped, yet.

P1: Yeah. Doc says he may not, until the last minute, anyway.

P2: Well, I want this baby born already.

P1: And how. (fidgeting)

P3: You know, I heard that there are (ahem) ways to make that happen more quickly.

P2: Yeah. Like walking the mall or doing tribal Indian dances.. Squats.

P1: I heard spicy Mexican food is also a trigger.

P2: And (glancing around nervously) (barely audible) sex.

P3: Oh hell no. Get that the hell away from me.

P2: Yeah. That's not cool.

P1: (sweating, trying not to sound inauthentic) Yeah. Uh. What you said..(overcompensating) We hate men.. and their...that.. um.. act.

(awkward silence)

P2 and P3 (in mumbled, jumbled voices): OK. Better go.. things to do.. baby stuff.. diapers.

Preggo 2 and 3 scatter in opposite directions.

Preggo 1 stands stoic - a little proud, a little smug, wondering if after lunch at Abuelos if she should tribally ask the gods for rain, etc..

Shake and Take - and I Heyulpt!

I got pinned yesterday AND I was recognized for ten years of excellent service. ya-yuh!

(wink)

Ok. So, what it really means is I've been officially teaching in my school district for 10 years. I am a 10 year veteran. I have been out of college, contributing to my retirement plan, paying taxes, and functioning as a productive, responsible member in grown-up society for 10...freaking...pantyhose wearing...paying-a-mortgage... years.

10. !

But 10 minutes after they presented me with my 10 year award (shake and take, then smile for the camera), I was participating in a little jackholery and lost my pin.. Literally. It's gone. I can't find it. Buh-bye.

And I'm sort of relieved about that.

Still irresponsible. Still a kid.

Updates

Life is changing very quickly lately, and I've been coping by ignoring that it's happening. Healthy, right?

Anyway, maybe if I catch a few of the curve balls hurled at me and lob them in your direction (sorry if I throw like a girl), I'll be able to dig my way out of the dug out.**

Here goes:
1. The new principal for my school (i.e. my new boss) will be announced tonight at the school board meeting. I will not be attending in person so I made a cardboard cutout of my face and taped it to a ruler (a convenient handle) for Fougs to hold up at the meeting. That way I can be there in spirit and support the person who has been appointed (unless God truly does hate me and the position is given to someone else). You think I'm kidding - about the cardboard Ginger head. I'm most certainly not. (I'll be pissed if you forget me at school, Fougs. I must be there in spirit! And a cardboard cutout of my face (which I carefully crafted using a mirror and my best markers) apparently represents my spirit these days.. so sayeth the preggo, and so it goes.)

2. I cut my hair.. short. Really short. Shorter than I've ever cut it. Or really, a stylist cut it. I just sat there. And she dyed it. Yes. I am pregnant and I dyed my hair which, if I may remind you, is way better than doing heroin. BUT it looks a lot better than it has for the last several months and I'm pretending that all of that mousy, excess hair is what was weighing me down. When I got home I sifted through my closet, through all of the clothes I could wear a year ago, until I got to the shoe pile. I located my rockin' stilettos - you know, the ones that got me into this mess - and blew the dust off of them. I thought they would be perfect to wear with my new do, and then I remembered, "Oh yeah. Pregnant..doomed."

3. I'm so sick of the word "pregnant". Give me my life back!!!
If the baby does not come by the 11th I will be induced on the 17th, at which time, Jack will receive his first grounding for not coming home on time. We don't play. Mess with the bull and you get the horns. You know what I'm sayin'?
Are you even listening, Jack?

4. Today was the last day of school. As always, I am relieved and sad and ecstatic all in one gut-filling yarn ball. I haven't let myself think about it too much because I really will miss several of my students, especially those I've had in class for the last 2 years (my IBers - not the delinquents.. Well hell. I'll miss my little delinquents, too). Ick.

**Using a baseball metaphor makes me want hot dogs.....and pie. Mmmm. Churros! And what the hell? My sport is hockey! Congrats to the Red Wings. Y'all are a hell of a team.. a hell of a Scandinavian team with all your red beards and pasty skin! But a hell of a team none-the-less.

Backstreet Birdie

My sis-to-be Sarah sent this for a laugh. I like it because it makes everyone watching bob their heads, too. Mimicking a parrot is funny AND ironic.
Rich especially appreciates the headbanging at the end since for him getting through the Backstreet part was a bit painful..
Enjoy!