So, I’m going to give a shout out to our newest mommy blogger, my good friend JC who is writing about all things Bella.
There were points in time when I hoped I would be having a boy and a girl. Hey, the best of both worlds! Well, I got two boys and I am thrilled beyond words. But, I’ve also got Bella. She gives me a reason to look at girls clothes, to look at ribbons for girlie hair, well, just to engage in all things girlie. That, and I swear she was meant to be Yakey’s twin.Share on Facebook
I haven’t been following the presidential campaigns much these days, you know, because I’m busy doing nothing. I’ve read a bit about Hilary’s snafu’s and Obama’s middle name, I know that people think McCain is trustworth, but I think that is because he is old. Honestly, I find it all to be no different from the last election, give or take a few IQ points. The candidates will tell you what you want to hear, but at the end of the day its politics. I wish there was a way to believe that one of them will make a difference for me, for my children and for my grandchildren, but I don’t believe it. Our parents and grandparents thought they were making good choices, choices that would leave the world a better place for us. You see how well that’s turned out.
That being said, I have to admit to something: I am experiencing a new sort of hope, one not found in a million points of light or a galaxy of hope or whatever slogan the candidates are using these days. It’s the hope you get when all the things you thought were mundane and lame suddenly become wonderful and interesting.
Today, Yacob picked up his sippy cup and took a drink. Then he put some cheerios in his mouth, followed by a bit of cut up banana, then another drink. My heart stopped. It caught in my throat. My breath came out in spurts. I could see the future right that instant. I saw him as a doctor, or a tattoo artist. I saw his brother as a philosophy professor or a kept man. I saw hope.
My boys have taught me this: Despite all the chaos in the world, there is hope. I found hope today in a sippy cup and some cheerios.Share on Facebook
A long time ago, this question would give me the opportunity to say, in a nonchalant tone of voice, “oh, I’m a criminal defense attorney.” Deep inside, I was quite proud of this line, of what it said about me: I am not afraid of hard work, my life is like Law and Order or The Practice, I wear nice suits and high heels, I deal with die-hard criminals and I am not afraid. I would hold my head high and I really thought people cared, that they thought I was some sort of super-being because I had a law degree. They would ask “Oh wow, do you deal with like, murderers?” “Yeah, it doesn’t bother me. They are people too. Blah blah blah. Blah.” I would feign boredom with the question, pretend like I was above it all. Yawn, just another day in paradise. I was a lawyer. No one else’s job was as interesting as mine. When other folks would talk about their work, my eyes would glaze over – after all, they had JOBS but I was a LAWYER. I was the real deal. Gum chewing, ass kicking, rocking and rolling all over this land. L-A-W-Y-E-R.
I’ve had the chance, recently, to go out without the boys (see picture above) and a strange thing happens to me after having a drink and chatting with some stranger at a bar. They would tell me what they did and I would, as usual, pretend to care. Then came the strange part – they asked me what I did, and I couldn’t answer! I said, “nothing.” No, I didn’t say nothing. I said, “nothing”. That was my answer. When it came out of my mouth, I couldn’t believe it, but there it was. Nothing.
How do I describe what I do all day to a 28 year old sitting at a bar on a Saturday night? He’s not sitting there because he had friends come into town and his wife gave him a free pass from night duty. He’s there because that’s part of what HE DOES. In addition to whatever boring job he has, he sits at a bar, like a lot of people do. For me, it was a huge break. For him, its life.
So how do I explain what my life is like now? How do I explain the zerberts on the bellies? The teething? The laughing, trying to roll over, sitting up, waving bye bye (actually, salaam)? How do I tell this young man that I make sure dinner is on the table by 6:15 and I am a frequent user of the crock pot and I make casseroles and clip coupons and drive a mini-van? How will he ever understand that by “nothing” I mean “everything, and you just wouldn’t understand.” So, instead I say “nothing” and hope he thinks I’m a socialite that he must need to recognize, or that I’m on welfare or I’ve got a sugar daddy. If I tell him the truth. He just won’t get it. Or, worse yet, HIS eyes will glaze over. And I just can’t have that from some guy with a job.Share on Facebook
I wish I had something interesting to write about, but my sleep deprived brain is unable to come up with anything witty or clever that would hold anyone’s attention for more than a millisecond. This tiredness has slipped far into my being. It’s so deep, its actually become a part of who I am. I find, like a college kid who says they can drive better when they are drunk, that I am more aware and alert with 4 hours of sleep than I ever was with 8. It is a bizarre phenomenon, and one that is probably attributable to the hormones spiking or waning or whatever the fuck happens after you have kids. But anyway, I feel this inexplicable urge to keep this blog sort of up to date. But, is there a point if I have nothing to say?Share on Facebook