What the hell just came out of my mouth?

This isn't a real blog post, but I wanted to share because I think I might be on to something here. I've decided to write a book. It's going to be filled with nothing but the completely ridiculous and totally inane things that parents find themselves saying when they are talking to their children. Here are a few of my most recent winners:

"Do not put Legos in your sister's food."

"If you would just eat over your plate, you wouldn't end up with honey on your feet."

"Fine, you can have the archery set. On 3 conditions..."

"Plates are not frisbees."

"Yes, well, I'm sorry your shirt got wet, but that's how gravity works."

"I don't know how to explain gravity to you, son."

"I don't know how to explain humidity to you, son."

"I don't know how to explain plumbing to you, son. Just stop putting your head in the toilet."

"Take your feet off of your sister's face."

"My uterus is not a trampoline." (This was directed at my daughter)

My favorite moments are when I'm in the car with my not-yet 6 year old, and he starts asking completely simple questions that I think he should already know the answer to, until I start to respond and realize that the answer is actually complicated enough that even the thought of explaining it to him completely exhausts me.

An example from last week, while driving home from an open house at my daughter's daycare:

My son: "Mommy?"

Me; "Yes?"

My son: "Is it night?"

Me: "Yes."

My son: "Why is it night?"

Me: "Son...................I don't know."

I am a college educated, business professional. I am hardly the most intelligent person I know, but I managed to scrounge up a master's degree while working two part-time jobs and taking care of a newborn. Of COURSE I know why it's night. I can even explain it to you, really. Having to explain planetary alignment and movement though, at that particular moment, brain-fried after spending an hour in a daycare with my son and his 2 year old sister, along with several hundred other brain-fried parents, teachers, and children, all of whom were hyped up on cookie and Capri-Sun benders--nope. Just. Nope.

So yes. A book filled with this stuff. Filtered in, I could also include pages filled with all of those annoying things that people say to you when you're a young parent that make you want to start punching old ladies in the grocery store. "Enjoy this time, they grow up so fast!" Right, because that's totally what I'm thinking when I'm driving around the interstate at midnight with my toddler who will not stop sobbing but simultaneously thinks that the VeggieTales book that plays 'Jesus Christ is Risen Today' on a loop is the best thing ever. No, dear child of mine. Sleep is the best thing ever. SLEEP DAMMIT.

OH! In the back, instead of an index, there could be recipes on how to make awesome cocktails out of your kids' juice boxes, alcohol samplers, and the countless packages of instant jello that are taking up room in your pantry. IT'S LIKE THE BOOK IS WRITING ITSELF, PEOPLE.

I'm going to be rich. If I don't spend all the profits on booze, that is. To help me deal with the ridiculousness of being a parent. Vicious cycle.

#Memphispride

Something I hear on a regular basis is that no one believes in Memphis anymore. For all of the momentum we have going, it's just an unsustainable, rundown, burned out city, too tarnished by decades worth of crime, corruption, and (worst of all) indifference, to recover any hope of promise. That's what I keep hearing, from people I know, people who live here, people from around the country, visitors, tourists, people who ran away because they were too afraid to stand up and fight for their home. Sadly, that's what people say about this city.

Do you know something though? Most people don't feel that way about Memphis. The problem with social media and news outlets is that the people who are heard these days are the people who have only negativity to breed. Most people who gripe about how awful Memphis is are people who visited us once, maybe twenty, thirty, even forty years ago, and have no idea exactly what they're talking about anymore. Those of us who have stayed to fight for our city, those of us with pride for our home, those of us who are willing to shout out how much this city has to offer, are simply being drowned out and ignored by the naysayers. It doesn't have to be that way though.

Do you know what I see?

I see my home here in Memphis. I see a city on FIRE with potential. I see a phoenix rising up out of the ashes. I see a generations of citizens that have been itching to stand up and fight for her--not just for her future, but for her history.

What does Memphis have to be proud of?

Seriously, I hear this all the time. Let's start with the obvious, and that is her history. Let's talk about Memphis' role in the Civil Rights Movement. Let's talk about the impact that Dr. Martin Luther King had on this city. Let's talk about how Memphis is the home of the National Civil Rights Museum.

Let's talk about it's place in the history of American music. I'm not just talking about Elvis Presley, although it is absolutely worth noting that arguably the most prominent singer in the history of Rock and Roll, who made millions and could have chosen anywhere in the world to live, adamantly refused to leave Memphis. I'm talking about the role Memphis has played in the development of the blues, it's place in the engine that steam rolled rock music on the radio waves. I'm talking about Memphis as the home of Stax Records, now Stax Music Academy and Museum, where a generation of musicians from all over the world--and of all races--not only worked together for the love of music, but embraced one another, fought for one another, grieved for each other.

Let's go further back, and look at the Yellow Fever epidemic that nearly wiped Memphis off the map, not once, but twice. How a group of priests and nuns stayed in Memphis to tend to the sick and dying, and most of them lost their lives as well. They remain in Memphis, buried in the historic Elmwood Cemetary, and are regularly referred to as Constance and her Companions--the Martyrs of Memphis.

These are just three small examples of how important a place Memphis has had in the development of this country. There is more history--real, important history--in one corner of Memphis than there is in the entirety of many cities of comparable size, but the sad truth is that most people now don't care about history or historical importance. They care about the here and now. So fine, let's look at what Memphis is now. Let's look at the reality of what this city is, and what it has the potential to be.

Memphis is a singularly unique place. It's a bona fide city, with the feel and attitude of a small southern town. There is genuine affection amongst Memphians, even total strangers (often, especially amongst strangers). There is fierce pride in its communities: Raleigh, Frayser, Binghampton, Midtown, Orange Mound, Hickory Hill, and many others. The problem is that the same pride that gives steam and energy to the continued revitalization of those communities seems to be lacking in the larger collective. There is Frayser pride, there is Binghampton pride, there is Downtown pride--there is a distinct shortfall of Memphis pride. We here in Memphis have a tendency, like many places, to fall victim to the mentality that it is "us vs. them." The only time it abates is when it involves sports.

Memphis is a town that is damn proud of its basketball legacy, whether it's the Grizzlies or the University of Memphis Tigers. When they are winning, the city is proud of the University of Memphis' football program too, which appears to be on an upswing. Sports fans are often fickle, and Memphis is certainly no exception. We're also proud of our food. Memphians LOVE to eat, and we know what equals good food. So anytime a Memphis restaurant gets national attention, or is the subject of a documentary or a visit from one of those tv chefs over on Food Network, you'd better believe it's going to be celebrated and plastered all over every piece of news media, social media, and news print that we can find. During these times, Memphians are Memphians, no matter what suburb or community you live in, no matter what school or church you attend.

If we could only have that sense of pride all the time about our city, and WE SHOULD, because here are a few things that Memphis has to be proud about right this minute--

A city that is steeped in history, that survived years of fiscal mismanagement, political corruption, and social indifference, still managed to score an NBA team and nurture a college basketball program worthy of national attention. A city that was almost removed from the map due to disease in the early 20th century suddenly became an industrial giant, and houses the headquarters for such companies as FedEx, AutoZone, and International Paper, just to name a few. Bass Pro Shops just turned a stagnant arena shaped like a pyramid into a first class outdoor park, shopping center, entertainment venue, and resort. I see a city that suddenly has the attention of corporations and business across the globe, that now want to settle down in our little corner of Tennessee.

A city that grew its musical heritage from just Elvis and Beale Street, and is now known around the world for its depth, inclusion, and diversity across all music genres.

A city that fights for the continued preservation of its parks, and that (despite the currently divisive nature of their arguments) simultaneously prides itself on it's world class zoo, one of the top ten in the nation.

Our city overcame what many view as one of the greatest tragedies of American history, and used it as a means to create something positive out of the horrific; the assassination of Dr. King in downtown Memphis has given rise to the National Civil Rights Museum, and educates thousands and thousands of visitors every year on equality, perseverance, and the work that still needs to be done to guarantee real freedom for every single citizen of the United States, not to mention around the world.

I see a city that is rich with possibilities. Do we have issues that need to be addressed as quickly as possible? OF COURSE WE DO. Everyone does. There is no perfect town that doesn't have its trouble. In the last year, Memphis has gotten attention for its continued problems with youth violence, black on black crime, and shake-ups with its public education system. Those problems are not going to go away, and let's face it--the reason that these issues have grown the way that they have in the last decade is because we spent several decades before the last one dealing with a government that did not care about it's children. Those children grew up feeling neglected by their leaders and with no options for their futures. Those children gave birth to children themselves, and the vast majority have no idea how to raise them.

I am a librarian. I work with children every single day, and have worked with children for the last ten years that ranged from babies to high schoolers. Do not let the news media fool you--there is no such thing as a bad child. Bad children do not exist. Children who need to be shaped, molded, helped, and given a path DO exist, and that has been sorely lacking in our city. Is anyone surprised, after 25 years of city government that cared more about industry than its future, that our children have no direction or idea how to make something of themselves?

They are our future. The children in Memphis, Tennessee today will be our future councilmen, government officials, community leaders, and educators of the NEXT generation. We owe it to every single child in this city to make sure that they are our priority. If you are a citizen of Shelby County, whether you are a parent yourself or not, it is your responsibility to care about what happens to its youth. Stop complaining. Stop casting blame. Start making suggestions on how to fix the problem, because you cannot tell an eleven year old child that he or she is a "bad seed" and then walk away. You have just condemned that child to being the bad seed, because children listen. They listen, and they believe you.

As a librarian in the Memphis Public Library system, we are making it a priority to find a way to reach every single child in our community. We are addressing problems, and reaching out to the schools to offer assistance in any way we can. We just can't do it alone. I am so proud of my city. I am so proud to say that I am from Memphis. I want to see this city continue to gain momentum and grow and thrive and become every bit as outstanding as it can be. If every single person who reads this stood up and offered to do one thing--volunteer to be a mentor, a tutor, become a member of Leadership Memphis, start a support group to help guide wayward youth, SOMETHING--then this city is going to be bigger than anyone can imagine, because our children are going to be the ones that benefit from our involvement. They will lead this city into continued success, if we show them that we believe they can make a difference, and give them the tools to do just that.

I do not believe that Memphis is merely the "liberal stepchild" of Tennessee. I can see its future. I believe that Memphis is sustainable. I believe that Memphis has an important role in our country. Every single day I witness some act that proves to me just how much people want to have pride in where they live. I am committed to being a leader, not a naysayer, for the future of Memphis, and I invite along anyone, ANYONE, who wants to make the journey with me, to jump on for the ride. I am Memphis. I am my city, my home. I will make a difference, because Memphis and I both are hell on wheels, with a path and a goal for the 21st century. No one is ever going be able to convince me otherwise.

The obligatory "thankful" post

I'm not one of those people that goes through every single day in November and lists something that I'm thankful for, because honestly I'm afraid I would run out of things to talk about halfway through the month and end up desperately trying to come up with something to post for the last ten days before Thanksgiving, like, "Uh, um, okay.............oh yeah, I'm thankful for garter belts, yay!" Which I totally am grateful for, because I hate pantyhose, but that seems pretty lame to mention in a thanksgiving tribute, especially in light of the myriads of things that other people are talking about for days on end. It's not that I'm an inherently ungrateful person, it's just that I don't particularly want to shed light on a lot of the things I'm grateful for, because so many of them are private and my gratitude for them is deeply rooted and sometimes triggers tears. Tears make my head hurt, and that sucks. So I make sure the people that I'm thankful for know that, in abundance and throughout the year, and I go about my own way of feeling gratitude for inanimate things like Diet Coke and chocolate covered strawberries (the former I consume in abundance, and the latter I almost never have, because I'm afraid I'll get sick of them and that would be the worst thing ever).

However, since I have spent the last couple of months finding my way out of an abyss of darkness that I haven't experienced since my early twenties, I decided to write about the things that I'm grateful for. Not the people. OF COURSE I'm grateful for my family. OF COURSE I'm grateful for my support net of friends, both old and some very new. They know how much I love them, or at least I hope they do. If you're reading this, and you regularly talk to me, and you don't know whether or not I love you--guess what? I love you. I truly do. I don't waste my time with people I don't genuinely care for. Know that you are loved and appreciated and that just because I may not say the words, often or in some cases at all, you have a special place in my heart that has been reserved just for you.

Instead of writing about those people that I love and who keep me going when things are hard, I decided to write about the things in my life that do the same. There are many things I am grateful for that most wouldn't consider all that important. For example:

I am so very thankful for my ability to get lost in other worlds, whether it be though books, movies, television, theater, RPGs, or video games. I'm easily distracted, yes, but I love getting completely absorbed in nonexistent realities. I love falling in love with characters that aren't real. I firmly believe that if heaven exists, my heaven will look like the world of Spira in Final Fantasy X. I'm not even a little joking, go ahead and make fun of me. No shame over here.

I'm thankful for music. I am so very thankful for music. I'm thankful that I truly appreciate it, in all forms, and that it serves as such a balm to my soul. Not only to my soul, but to my kids as well. It is a powerful thing, to see what music does for my five year old son, who can be inconsolably hysterical one moment, and then the instant I begin to sing "Feed the Birds" from Mary Poppins to him, he goes completely still, calms, and relaxes against me. A couple of days ago, my eleven month old daughter, who is teething, was in my arms, crying from pain and discomfort, and I started to sing "Not While I'm Around" from Sweeney Todd. She lifted her head from my shoulder and stared at me, wide-eyed, and after a moment, quietly put her head back on my shoulders and fell asleep in my arms. I'm thankful that I have worked so hard at piano and voice, so that I can find not only comfort, but real satisfaction from my own musical gifts. Pride in one's self, in small doses, is important. I'm grateful for Mozart, who makes me laugh when I play his piano sonatas. I'm grateful for the ocean of sound I am given over to when I play Debussy. I'm grateful for the richness and warmth of Puccini. So yes, I am immensely grateful for music.

I'm grateful for Memphis. I love this city, and all of its gifts. I love its diversity and character, and its history. I don't know where life is going to lead me, but I know that Memphis is and always will be my home. I'm thankful for the gift that is kickboxing, even if I haven't had the chance or energy to go in some time. I plan on jumping back in next week when things slow down a bit, and I think that's important because heaven knows, I need some stress release. It's a marvelous anger management tool, and I'm thankful for the therapist who introduced me to it last summer.

Mostly, I'm thankful for the quiet moments that allow me to escape the stress of life and just BE. Sometimes that's driving around in my car (despite the fact that I generally hate driving). Sometimes it's sitting at a restaurant bar by myself, drinking a beer and journaling my thoughts so that I don't go crazy. Sometimes it's going to a movie alone. These days, I find that it's often spending time with one person, just one, and talking. Maybe a friend, maybe a family member, maybe a coworker, and talking to them. Not about anything life altering or important, but getting to know someone new, getting to know someone else's story. I'm grateful that I am finally able to let my guard down for a moment, even when I don't want to, and being reminded that it might not be so bad to be vulnerable. There is trepidation, but also awe, in watching the walls that you've built up so carefully around yourself be smashed to rubble, by someone who doesn't even realize they've done anything, and discovering you're grateful to them for it. There is something freeing in being stripped down to your barest self, and knowing that there are people in the world who want you to be that person, and no one else. No false masks or body armor. I'm grateful for those moments, and for those people.

Yes, I said I wasn't going to write about people, but how could I possibly avoid it? I'm writing about gratitude. It would be one hell of a lonely existence without people in it, and all those things that I'm grateful for would mean little to nothing if I had no one to share them with. 

After two months of drowning in darkness, and finally finding a treatment that helps and has started to pull me out, I now know that my ability to recognize the important things, the ones that make me grateful to be alive, is what has kept me here. I'm grateful for that, for all of my escapes, and for all of you. I hope, if you're reading this and can't see through the darkness yet, that you can continue to be strong, even if that means you can't be strong right at this moment. Give yourself a break to be tired, and sad, and sick. It's okay. I believe you'll get back up. I hope that you can find a way in the darkness to remember that you are needed. I hope that you can find a small corner of your heart to find peace within yourself. It is possible to come out of the dark and into the world again. I'm living proof, even though I'm still shaky and pretty fragile from the reentry. I hope you all have a warm and gratitude filled holiday this week. I am going to be grateful that I'm still here to do the same.

Why I do what I do

I'm so tired of being down and serious, so I'm going to focus on what inspires me. Right now, for as stressful as it is, what is inspiring me most is my job.

I think anyone who hasn't been living in a bomb shelter or under a rock for the entirety of their lives would agree that life rarely allows you to take the path that you laid out for yourself. Something always twists and veers and leads you not to where you think you are going, but where you are headed (whether you know where that is or not). When I made the decision to go back to college in 2009, it was ostensibly to finish a degree I had started long earlier, with one slight change--I decided that, since years of playing piano through multiple hand injuries had taken their toll, it no longer made any sense for me to pursue a music degree. I changed my major to my second love--history--and in about fifteen months, I had my B.A. I never anticipated falling in love with the history program, but within six months of being in it, I was hooked. I also witnessed the collapse of pretty much any job opportunities I might have had coming out of college at that time (thanks to the housing market and subsequent economic crash), so I decided to stay in school and pursue a Master's of Arts in history. I took the GRE, applied to grad school, found out I was pregnant, was accepted into the MA program, had my son three months into my first semester, and roughly two and a half years later, graduated. From the moment I decided to pursue graduate coursework, the plan was always to either work for the state department as an interpreter, since I'm good at languages, or to work for a museum as a director or curator.

I ended up being hired as a senior level manager in the city's main library. 

Without question, at the time I considered this position to be a stepping stone job. I never intended to stay long--two, maybe three years, get the experience I needed, and move on to a museum job, wherever it might be. It really made sense though, that I ended up in the library, and with kids in particular. My entire professional career had centered around education, direction, management, event coordination, and the arts, so I certainly had the chops to do the practical side of the job. As for the books part, let me assure you that the word "bookworm" doesn't even begin to describe me as a kid. For years, my mom's nephews (by her stepsister), whenever we would see them, couldn't remember my name. They would simply ask, "Where's that girl with the book?" I've always been a particularly voracious reader. Regardless, it took me until I had been at the library for well over a year before I started recognizing that there might be a real career there for me, and that I could make a real difference in this city that holds such a stronghold on my heart.

During my second day on the job, one of my colleagues said, "The public library is the last true bastion of democracy left in the world." I had never really considered that before, but it's so true. Anyone can come in, for any reason, and have access to whatever information they need or want, no matter what. Or as a far more eloquent American that I once said:

I work with kids, so I am constantly searching out ways for them to find the best information for research projects, upcoming books from popular authors, or helping them find something new to read when they've hit a wall (we've all been there, I think). I love working with the public, talking to people, hearing their stories, making personal connections. I love testing the limits of how accepting the community can be--for example, last June I raised a LOT of eyebrows by approving and helping to implement a display for LGBT Pride month. It was a massive success though. Last summer we had a family that found themselves homeless and came to the library every day, from open to close, to escape the intense heat and to scour the internet, looking for employment opportunities. They had a shelter to go to at night, but during the day, they lived in their car. Family of five. After the third week, with the start of school coming and the end of summer reading, and aching from seeing the kids wearing the same clothes they had worn the week before, but inside out, I and a few members of my staff gave the kids some of the prize books from summer reading to put in their donated book bags, and made sure they had plenty of pencils and notebooks so that mom and dad had a few less things to have to provide. They were so happy, and we've seen very little of them since, so I'm hoping that means that the tide has turned a little. What a gift, to be able to help those in need in such a small, but important way.

Kids are the next generation of leaders, whether our current leaders want to admit it or not. The future of our communities, cities, states, countries, and the entire world, is in the hands of those children and what they are learning AT THIS VERY MOMENT. I understand that there are important and pressing problems that need to be addressed right now, that can't wait, but the bottom line is that if those problems are being dealt with at the expense of our children, we--ALL OF US--are screwed. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but in twenty or thirty years these problems will come to a head and we will have an entire generation of leaders who have no idea how to work collectively, how to problem solve, how to search for the right answers, and most importantly, have the proper perspective to know what those right answers are, not just for one segment of the population, but for everyone. Right now we have a generation of children that are being taught how to take tests, not how to learn. The standardization of public education has taken precedence over teaching the next generation how to think critically. I can't change that by myself, as much as I would like to scream it from the mountain tops. What I can do, however, is make sure that I influence every single child that comes into the library in search of information, talk to them, work through problems with them, and try to spark a love for learning and researching in them. I think that's one hell of a career to have, and those kids--and their caregivers, no matter who they are--inspire me every day to work harder for them. They truly are our future. They are worth as much time as I can give them.

WHY DOES MY HUSBAND HATE NICE THINGS?!

So my husband just walked in after being gone for several hours, leaving me alone with our four year old and 9 month old who is teething and refusing to sleep without being wrapped around mommy (the baby, not the 4 year old), and when he finally gets home, this is the conversation that follows:

Drew: "Hey!"
Me: "Thank God. Cameron won't go to bed until you go up and read him a story and he's come out of his room every five minutes for the last half hour asking if you were home yet. So get up there."
Drew: "Awesome! I can show him this cicada I just caught."

This is the point at which I noticed that he was, indeed, holding a cicada in his hands. I also notice that the cat is staring at him intently.

Me: "Oh Jesus. Please get that thing out of here before you lose your grip and it starts flying around the house making noise and bumping into things and Zeus starts chasing it and breaks everything nice that we own while trying to kill it. Because you know that's what is going to happen and he won't ever catch it because Zeus sucks at catching anything."
Drew: [laughs]
Me: [stares at him, wondering why he's laughing. I'm being completely serious. That cat can't walk across the couch without falling, tearing something, or drawing blood on someone]

Cameron, from upstairs: "Daddy? Is that you?"
Drew: "Yeah buddy! Come here, look what I found!"
Cameron: "WOAH! A CICADA!"
Drew: [grins at me in triumph]
Me: [glares back at him]

They did, at that point, take the cicada back outside to, "set him free to fly away." Apparently that didn't happen, and they walked back in discussing how it probably was just pretending to sleep (I maintain that it had a heart attack after being brought into a house where a not stealthy, extraordinarily un-ninja-like, 17-year-old cat was staring at it unnervingly. Never mind that the cat would have easily injured himself long before causing any kind of bodily harm to the cicada).

So I suppose the moral of the story is..........

I have no idea. You're welcome.

New books, new hobbies, and things that are just plain hot.

So I just reread a post I made about 18 months ago, at the height of grief over the loss of a friend, entitled "Grief, God, and Trying to Heal." Boy, was I a mess. It seems like it was only just yesterday, and yet also a lifetime ago. I was just so angry and hurt and lost. I hope I've learned something in the time since about not losing myself so entirely in the darkness. It is deceptive and seductive, and I have no intention of returning there if I can at all help it.

My life nowadays seems to be continually changing. I have always declared a deep disdain for the ideal of a "schedule," but I am, at heart, a true Virgo, and I honestly have a deep and abiding love for routine. It keeps me grounded, it keeps me sane. My sweet Gemini husband is the one who forces me to stay on my toes and gets me to stop being so cemented in a schedule. He also keeps me from hyperventilating when my routine gets shaken by the almost daily curveballs that accompany being a working mom.

Interestingly enough though, I have recently found myself changing my routine of my own volition, and I'm completely okay with it. In the last few weeks I have done some interesting things to shake up my life. I am taking a leave of absence from a part-time job that I have held for more than 8 years--a singing position that I am removing myself from, in no small part due to my third bout of tonsillitis in less than two months. I'm taking a day off this week and didn't plan it out a month in advance, and taking a short, but long overdue road trip, to see some friends for the day. I signed up for kickboxing classes, and it's AMAZING. God, I have never sweated and hurt so much in my life, while simultaneously feeling like such a sexy badass. It's incredible, and has done wonders for my self-confidence, which I actually didn't even know needed help.

Yep. I have pink boxing gloves. Go ahead, make fun of me. I dare you.

There are some other things that I have fallen into as well, but I'm not quite ready to talk about them yet, so I'll save those for another post, if they come to fruition. The point is, I feel like I'm moving. I feel like I'm going forward. I'm about to be 38 years old, working harder than I ever have before in my life, balancing a full-time career with being a wife and mother of two young children, and I can honestly say that I am making a real difference. Not just in my life, and the lives of my kids and family, but in my community. That's big. It makes me feel as strong and confident and sexy as kickboxing does, and I couldn't be happier about it.

As I stated in my last post, I'm doing a LOT of reading right now. I am currently in the middle of ten (10!) books, of varying genres. Book of the week this week is one I'm not even finished with--Once Upon a Time in Russia by Ben Mezrich. If you're into non-fiction, history, mob stories, political thrillers, murder, mayhem, and/or truth being far more bizarre than fiction, then this book is for you. It is the true story of the rise and fall of the oligarchy in post-Communist Russia under Boris Yeltsin and his successor, Vladimir Putin, told primarily from the perspective of Boris Berezovsky. It also gets into the background and story of Alexander Litvinenko, a former KGB and FSB officer who fled from Russia in fear of his life after accusing the FSB of ordering him to assassinate Berezovsky; he gained international attention in 2006, when he was poisoned with radioactive polonium-210. He died three weeks later, a seeming victim of Putin's far reaching power. This is the kind of stuff that you can't make up, and it HAPPENED. This book is just amazing, and it reads like a Tom Clancy or James Patterson novel (I assume--I'm actually not well versed in their books).

ANYWAY, I look forward to continuing onward and upward. Fighting my own demons like so many others is exhausting, and right now I'm really, really good. I hope I can continue to just keep swimming and fighting, and helping others as they fight as well. There are so many of us struggling, but there are reasons every day to keep on.

Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go enjoy one of my favorite examples of just how beautiful life is--Vin Diesel is on The Tonight Show. Yum.

Seriously. That. 

Thoughts on being "thankful," and what that really means

Every November, I see an outpouring on social media of people who choose that particular platform to think about and acknowledge the varying aspects of their lives that they appreciate. Most are thankful for family, friends, jobs, etc., but then there are those that just could not live without their double oven or mega refrigerator. That's okay too--no judgment here, many people find that they cannot express gratitude through words but have to give thanks in the way of food or crafts. Nothing wrong with appreciating the modern appliances and technology that make those little tokens of love easier to create and distribute. I, for one, will be eternally grateful if I ever end up with a bells-and-whistles dishwasher, or (more importantly) a deep, soaking bathtub with jets and aromatherapy. I could happily live in an outhouse so long as I had that and an unlimited supply of hot water.

I'm not vain, I just find happiness and gratitude in the simpler things in life. I don't need video games or a television, or even my coveted shoe collection. I love them, but I could do without all of them and really be okay with it. After years of anxiety and depression, I've realized that if I can find a place to be in body where I can simultaneously have my mind quieted and settled, then I'm really good. So I don't usually partake in the whole "30 days of things I'm thankful for" game that many play around the holidays. Kudos to those who do, because I respect so much that you recognize just how much you have in your life that is good and positive and powerful. Just not really my style.

That being said, I've been reflecting a lot over the last few days about just how precious and sweet my life is, and how grateful I am to have so much joy and love contained within it. None of it is easy, and I'm grateful for that as well. I have this paperweight that I got a few months back, that sits on my desk right in front of my computer so that I have to look at it often and remind myself to breathe.

Everything about living is hard. Marriage is hard. Even in the best of circumstances (which I feel that mine is in that category), marriage is still really challenging. It should be, otherwise you take for granted the love you have for that person, even as you grown and morph into something more. Ideally, the person you married supports that growth and goes along for the ride with you. Regardless, marriage is hard no matter what, and you have to never lose sight of the fact that you are in this together. You're a team, and nothing should take priority over that.

Finances are hard. I both love and hate working. I love the idea of getting to stay home all the time, but I just could not be a stay-at-home mom. I'd be okay for a couple of weeks, then I would get antsy, and then I would just get depressed. I love my job, and I'm grateful for that job for two reasons: 1.) because I get a sense of real accomplishment every time I pay our bills and know that I can pay those bills; and 2.) because I have the ability to make a real difference in my community through the work I do. What I do at my job really matters, and that is everything to me. It's incredibly hard and sometimes difficult to see, but it's there. That, not to mention financial security, is worth a lot, so I'm thankful for it. Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to maternity leave so that I can have some time off and bond with the newest member of our family, but I'm also incredibly grateful that I'm going to have a job to go back to when maternity leave is over.

Speaking of children--lord, children are HARD. I have possibly the easiest, happiest, healthiest, most well adjusted and relaxed little boy on the planet, he's been that way since birth. The kid never cried unless he was starving or having pain. He was sleeping through the night (I'm talking midnight to six a.m.) by the time he was ten weeks old. He just laughs and is independent and keeps himself entertained, and--like his father and me--is just as happy sitting quietly drawing, reading, or watching a movie as he is going out and playing in the city or with his friends. Even with that being the case, sometimes I just want to cry from how hard it is being a parent.

People forget that you aren't raising a pet or a plant or making a loaf of bread. As a parent, you are actually raising another human being, and they look to you for everything--for love, safety, comfort, understanding, and all of that, but they also watch and listen to what you think and do, and they learn from that. Stephen Sondheim's Into the Woods is being released as a feature film this month, and the Witch nails it--"Careful the things you say--children will listen/Careful the things you do--children will see, and learn/Children may not obey, but children will listen/Children will look to you for which way to turn, to learn what to be./Careful before you say 'Listen to me.'/ Children will listen."

I am so very grateful for that though, because it has made me a more aware and conscientious person. I am a far better human being because of my friends, my husband, and my family, but absolutely because of my son. You can't expect your children to do things as you would have them done, or react the way you want them to. You aren't training a dog, you're growing a human, and they have a will all their own. I have to remind myself of that constantly. It's not about me. It's all about learning who they are and what they need.

I am currently 36 weeks pregnant. That's further along than I was when my son was born, and boy am I grateful for that accomplishment. I have no desire, ever again, to have to witness my newborn hooked up to monitors, with tubes coming out of his/her nose, mouth, and head, and know that there is absolutely nothing I can do except wait, cry, and hope my baby is okay. For as easy as my son is, and for as relatively easy as that pregnancy was (until his premature birth), this time around being pregnant has just SUCKED. I've been lucky to not be on bed-rest, but boy has this been difficult. I've had bleeding since 16 weeks, contractions since 18 weeks, complications from diabetes, ongoing anemia, swelling, terrible heartburn from early on, acute pain in my ribs, legs, and back, and (unlike my son, who hardly ever moved while in utero) a baby that is apparently fully intending on being a full-fledged Radio City Rockette before she gets into junior high. She also apparently doesn't care that her mother is little (5' tall, not a lot of room to grow into), and such activity is causing mom a tremendous amount of pain and difficulty breathing. I cannot wait to never be pregnant again. Ever. It is hard to be thankful for something that is causing me non-stop pain, discomfort, and deprivation.

Oh, but I am so grateful for her. I am so in love with this little hellion beating up my internal organs. I want her to be here so I can hold her in my arms and see her face and tell her how much she is loved and cherished. I can't wait to introduce her to her brother and daddy, and her family members who love her so much. I want to show her everything, and teach her about gratitude, especially after a year that has been so incredibly difficult. This little girl was not planned in the slightest. She was a direct result of the intervention of stars aligning in the universe and potentially a higher power getting involved, if such a thing exists. There is no doubt that this year has taught me a great deal about thanks and gratitude though, because I could not have survived it without that support net I have up around me. This sweet little one is a message that there is beauty and light in the world, and is a reminder that I should never forget that, no matter how much pain I'm being exposed to. You have to be thankful not only for the gifts you are given, but for the hardships as well. How else would we appreciate all the blessings we have?