There Are No Words

There are no words to describe this kind of grief. It seems futile to try. So instead of words, I'll offer an experience. Tonight I had the great privilege to enjoy another spectacular concert at my children's elementary school. Boys and girls of the same age as those who perished and suffered under the strain of someone else's pain began the night with a moment of silence, honor and prayer. And then they sang. They strummed, they clapped, they trumpeted and drummed. Into a dark room a virtuous and pure music like only children can offer played for parents and loved ones who surely held their own and all the fallen in their hearts tonight. And among the last notes, a song that sums it up for me. The song was sung by my children and their classmates, babies. Like those who died tonight, tonight and always, they are all mine and they are all ours.

"I did my best, it wasn't much, I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch. I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you. And even though it all went wrong, I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah."

Things That Annoy - Random Edition

I hate when the top of the dishwasher is packed front to back, side to side and then there's, like, one pot lid in the bottom rack. So do you run the cycle? Or wait for more dishes and then end up with a sinkful of little stuff that won't fit in the top? No matter what you do you end up either killing an innocent baby whale somewhere or suffering a sinkful of dirty dishes that no one will do until they can load them into the dishwasher.  Not cool.

Teachers, I adore you, you know that. But for heaven's sake, a little warning? If you're going to send my kid home with a project board that's twice her height and four times her width, give me a little notice so I don't have to drive from 7200N to 5200N back to 7200N at $4 a gallon only to show up late for every single thing I'm doing afterwards as a consequence. I hate being late and that dumb board has been in your building since September. I'm pretty sure it coulda waited a day.

Hey, sales guy at the electronics store! When I ask you if your rewards card system is going to send my husband an email about his rewards before I give him his SURPRISE gift, know what the heck you're talking about, ok? I've been saving for months and moving all kinds of pieces on an intricate chessboard to SURPRISE him and you've kind of ruined it in a big way. I'm a little peeved at you, friend and this may mean I won't be back to get that million dollar warranty you did seem to know so well.

Construction traffic? I can't think of a darn good thing to say about you so in keeping with my mother's advice I'm going to remain silent. But I hope you can hear every single one of my thoughts as I sit in parking lot after parking lot doubling for a main thoroughfare in this city during the freaking holiday season. (A little shrill with your rant, ma'am? Yes, thank you.)

About the Lord trying to teach me patience ~ frankly, I know. He's all about the eternal gig and I'm into it, really, but I think we should just call this one a wash. I feel the FF button on the DVR was His gift to me, and me not throttling all the incompetent people I come across in retail is my gift in return. After that I feel like we should just shake hands and walk away on this one. I suppose it's what makes Him different that he keeps trying, but the tests are wearing on my... well... patience.

The Mac vs PC argument in my household has reached epic proportions. The kids actually move away from us when we start. My husband insists that it all boils down to 'user error' when I encounter challenge after challenge with his Mac, but when he fusses over a problem with my PC the trouble is clearly technology/design related. I'm thinking of throwing apples at him when he starts this conversation so that I can show support for his Mac addiction while still protesting in favor of my PC.

I'd list more items here because, well, I have them. Unfortunately I have to go wash dishes by hand so I can empty my sink so my child can use the kitchen to complete yet another project board before we take my husband out to dinner where he will not be surprised by the damn gadget I got him. We'll have to start out an hour early because of all the damn construction traffic that is currently strangling every major street surrounding our home so I'm running out of time. Let's hope this thing posts. I'm using the Mac and if there's one more glitch during this experience I may just fling the damn thing out the window. Lord knows, I'm capable of it because, really, I have no patience.

A Letter To My Children

On  Thanksgiving Eve, some reminders and remainders for you, my babies, on giving thanks.

Don't give thanks because you have to. Do it because you mean it. Take time to appreciate the incidental person. She may be tired or worried and your real thanks may change her day. Seek out the quiet worker. He may be feeling low, unwanted and your genuine thanks may lift him up. Say thanks and mean it. Not everyone can do it, but you can.


Don't be stingy with your thanks. Thanks, like love, can be spent wantonly, garishly, every day and you'll always have enough left over the next day to spend again. Remember that every action that is taken in the world matters to you - to all of us - as we are all interconnected, and, in our system of beliefs, born of the same Father. You may quarrel with your siblings, but in the end only love remains. Remember that and don't let the politics of the day distract you from that truth.

Don't be afraid to let another think he is right and you are wrong. Thank him for his passion and interest in whatever the topic and go home at peace with yourself. You may learn something from him and his approach to the problem. Even if you do not - no matter how right you may be - he, too, feels right and wants to feel smart and appreciated for his opinion. There is time enough on another day for you to be the champion. It is your sincere gratitude for your companion's place in your life that offers you the chance to engage him again and again - in agreement, in compromise and in opposition. It is when you cease to value him that you are, indeed, the loser.

Don't forget what you are thankful for, especially in your weaker moments. Think of all the people who have come together, and the grace that has been visited upon all of us, so that you could be here to feel anything at all, much less frustrated or weary. Imagine the light in your heart at the thought of holding your great, great grandson who may bear your name. Would you ever want him to feel anything but exhilaration? You are a joy in breath and motion and we, and all who came before us, rejoice in your life. So, too, should you, and be grateful for it every day.

Be gracious in accepting thanks and don't pass up opportunities to serve for another's good, even if all you may receive is gratitude. In the end, there is no dollar, no gadget or item of apparel that will ever compete with the sincere thanks of someone who has appreciated you and your effort. Trust me. In this I am quite experienced and I can assure you that giving to another, no matter how humble the gift, has been the greatest of my riches.

Last, my beautiful babies, remember to thank God first. Nothing comes before Him. Nothing is possible without Him. And He fills you with every blessing you will ever need, and more. Do it quietly, privately or in communion with others, whatever brings comfort and connection to your spirit. In this, be most faithful, and you will always have reason to give thanks.

My love to you on Thanksgiving ~ and in every moment of every day, always and all ways ~ Mami

Vote For A Republican.. and other things worth repeating

My grandfather voted only one time during his adult life in the city, and that was to vote against Harold Washington for mayor. My grandfather, God rest his soul, was a good man, a hard-working man, a God-fearing man. And he was a racist. I was a young girl during the run-up to that election, an historic one in Chicago, and I knew why he was voting the way he was, I just couldn't understand it. I talked to my grandmother, a genius woman, even given her flaws. She said this to me, some of the best political advice I've ever gotten, and worth repeating: "Honey, it's not good to vote against something. Don't vote against someone. Vote for someone. Vote for  a Republican if you have to [she was a die-hard Democrat], if that's what's in your heart." She's right. And I have. And you should too.

Someone on FB was complaining - not strenuously - but just expressing mild annoyance at some trouble she's having with her cell phone inside her building. It reminded me that when I was young, if we were having trouble with our phone my mom would call Illinois Bell (yes, I'm that old) and a technician would come to our house and he would go to the one hallway where we had a connection on the wall and he'd pull the phone from the receiver - you'd hear the long uuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggg of the dial tone - and he'd unscrew the bottom thingy from the part where you talked and he'd blow into the phone. And sometimes, that's all it took. Coupled with this absolutely brilliant rant from Louis CK, I try to remember the simplicity of my early life when I'm fussing about the reception on my mini-spaceship of a phone: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x8m5d0_everything-is-amazing-and-nobody-i_fun. It's a clip worth repeating over and over and over again.

The other day I asked friends whether they thought men should be the heads of their households - at least in terms of having ultimate financial responsibility for their families. I asked this question because I'd heard two conversations, some eight years apart, that made me wonder.

When my little guys were still small enough to be home, I heard them playing 'restaurant'. My daughter, the oldest, was assigning jobs. Sara was cashier, Lucy was waitress and Sam had to be the manager. But Sam didn't want to be the manager. He wanted to be a cook. He complained ardently until finally I heard her say something to the effect of, "Sam, you're the boy.You HAVE to be the manager because the dad is in charge and he needs the job!" Holy cow I about lost my teeth I was so rattled. I immediately went in there and gave them all an advanced lesson on equality and choices upon which they all nodded solemnly. And then Sam proceeded to play manager. This, because Lucy is really the boss and told him to, so I was satisfied.

A couple of days ago I was standing outside my front door and I heard a little snippet of a conversation between a little boy and a little girl on the way to school. "You have to work hard because you need money." "Why? Why do I need money?" "Because you're going to have children and be a Dad and you need money for that." The conversation never touched on a mom's or a woman's responsibility -- at least not during their walk across my front lawn.

So worth repeating is this: 'No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.' A fine woman by the name of Eleanor Roosevelt said that. She was a First Lady and a great one, and would have made an excellent president, I think. I hope girls - and boys - in this country are growing up to know that they can be anything they dream themselves to be, and I hope all of us are supporting that idea in our beliefs and in our actions.

And last, worth repeating is this. NJ Governor Chris Christie was asked by a newscaster whether he was aware of one of the presidential candidate's plans to tour the devastation of Hurricane Sandy with him. Unapologetically, Christie told the newsman something along the lines of, "If you think I care about Presidential Politics right now, you don't know me." I admire someone in public life who still has his head clear about what it's all about. Being clear on what it's all about is worth repeating, to yourself and to others all the time.

You Are My Baby, Lauren

And Here's Why~


You're so cooperative when I want to take your picture.

You always have been.

 It's nice to see you're not outgrowing some of your better qualities.

You're all heart.

And no matter how you try to hide it, it shows.

You can be a little scary. I admire that in a person.

You can be a little bossy and controlling. I dig that, too.










You are an optimist! That'll serve you well in life, I promise.

You are a hugger!

 Mostly other people.

But I like it, nonetheless.

You are a good and kind daughter.

Don't ever underestimate what a great quality that is in a person. It matters immensely.

You are a nurturing person. That, too, will serve you well in life, so long as you remember to take as good care of yourself as you do others.

You are a thinker.

AND a doer.

Even helping to do what others need done.

I'm so grateful to have you in my life, not just because I love who you are, but I love the example you provide my (other) babies.

You're a bit of a goofball.

I am too.

And a sunshine girl.

(This is no reason to move to California. Ever.)

 You are a true and loyal friend.

And not just when it's easy.

And not just to some, but to all.

You wear a bang well.













Always have.









Not everyone can, so that's on the list.

Same goes for big sunglasses.  It's not always a good look, but you pull it off swimmingly. (Get it? Swimmingly? The picture is... Never mind.)

You puzzle. Standing up. Because you can't walk by without looking.



I do that too, and none of my (other) children do, so I'm so glad to have at least one child with this mania.

You've got talent and you're not afraid to put it on display. That puts you light years ahead of most people I know, adult or otherwise.

It makes me so proud!

You didn't become my baby overnight, of course.
 (Yes you did, because you were so stinkin' cute from the get-go.)



I have watched you grow up.

And I've been inspired by your strength.

And overjoyed at the (pretty in pink) person you have always been.

And thrilled at the whimsy that accompanies your gravitas. (Yes. I went there.)

And after all these years I am soul-satisfied to know that my voice of reason and good conscience will always, always be in your head.

I'm sure you're excited about that last part, too.

And if you aren't now, you will be some day, promise.









As you know, in our culture - a culture we've shared with you all these years - your fifteenth birthday marks your passage from a time of childhood into young adulthood. It's an old tradition and way back in the day would have meant you'd be good to go on marriage and children.  I'm NOT by any means suggesting we stick with the entire tradition. (In fact, it would be great with me if you would usher in an era of 'new cool' by not dating at all until college. Or after college. Whatever. I'm just saying.)

But, in keeping with the basic custom, I do wish you every blessing on your birthday, your 'quince'. The next years will bring greater adventures and challenges in life. Some won't be easy, and they won't be the ones you're expecting. That's o.k. You've got everything it takes to overcome any obstacle. And just know that if ever you are in doubt, or need an extra push -- or a HUG, even -- to get you through, you can count on me. I will always be there.

Because, lovely Lauren, you are my baby.

Happy Birthday.

C.

Here's Where I'm At

44 years into this gig I still don't know how it all works. I'm unsure of myself sometimes and worry that I've proceeded confidently, sometmes arrogantly, into a position of no return from a place nowhere on any map.

That said, I know exactly what I'm doing because all the stuff that matters is going just fine. I have barrelled through all that insecurity and ill-preparation to make sure every time the path clears I'm taking my values and my priorities with me. They may deny me for their own sakes', but never I, them.

I do have a Sunday kind of love and in case you were wondering (and to borrow a phrase) it's real and it's fabulous.

My children look like they come with the frame and while, most times, I'm humbled by God's generosity in this respect, every once in a while I look at my chubby little self in the mirror and grin shamelessly. I made those babies and - they - are - awesome!

I work hard. I get up early like my grandfather, to give as much of the day my effort because that's what my family deserves. I am devoted to my family like nobody's business, but my family includes friends and neighbors and people who just need some love, because as mima would tell me, 'quien vale mas?' (who is worth more?). And I do my level best never to let anyone see how tired I am, because my mom always thought the effect of one's good work was dilluted if others felt the pain in your back or the swell of your feet.

My clients think I care about them as people. In fact, I do. And I rejoice quite personally in handing over those keys and knowing I've sent someone else home. There is, indeed, no place like it.

My home is beautiful on the outside and in, even if she could use a little work here and there. She is tired and worn in places, but she's open and loving and generous with her gifts. I like to think she reflects me very honestly.

I'm not done yet so I can totally relate to the 'miles to go before I rest' feeling. I've got lots to do yet and some of it is daunting from my current vantage point. I don't let that deter me.

I'm satisfied with myself, if not always pleased, and there's great comfort in knowing I am who I am.

Some twenty-five years ago I dreamed I'd be right here. Maybe I didn't envision the bag of troubles I carry with me, but who sullies dreams with troubles? And how does one expect to get anywhere without a few pebbles in the path? My back is, in fact, sore and my feet swell and my hands show the number of times I've plunged them into hot and cold water. That's o.k. I can still carry a few bags on my way to where I'm going.

For now, this is where I'm at. And it's mighty good.

The Thing About Gavin

I love this picture. I think it captures the true personalities of this group so well. Lauren's fussing over the children - she's such a mom, and always so Alpha. Bailey's being a goof, and pandering shamelessly to Lauren's fussing. Sara's sneaking in, leaning on Bay - seeking a little cover in case she chooses to hide at the last minute. Sean? Sean's so delicious. He makes more of complaining about whatever the thing is than the thing actually requires in time or effort. But he always intends to do it anyway and he knows you know that. Sam's a hunk when he's not trying, and a total cheeseball when he is. This picture grabs both of those pieces. Lucy's on the end, trying to be above it all but as close as she can be to everyone because she knows she belongs right here. And then there's Gavin.

The thing about Gavin is he gives off this sense of being at ease, which he likely is in this pic, surrounded by all these people who love him so much, but he's way more intense than you'd ever imagine by just looking at him. He's got ambitious dreams, and whether he shows it or chooses to hide it from you, he's working hard to make those dreams reachable.

He doesn't always trust that his hard work is worth it, not sure it earns him the benefits he's seeking. That, even if it requires some urging, makes him work harder. It is paying off and it does matter, of course.

The thing about Gavin is that even when he's not trying to be the center of attention (rare, but it happens) he still draws you in with his easy grin and innate warmth. He's got teenage swag and bravado well in hand, but still bends his ever lengthening frame to give you a real hug and get a real one in return.

He doesn't look up to many, but he'll look directly at you - and when he's supposed to - he looks down just enough to let you know he knows you're right. (He'll never tell you you're right, you just have to know you both know and then eat cookies and move on.)

If Gavin's mad, he acts like an errant two-year-old, stomping and huffing. He blusters and boasts in absolutes. He glowers. It's ridiculous, and I treat it that way, because I know that usually when he's mad he's just covering that he's hurt. He's a softie, a sweetie and a sentimental fool.

The thing about Gavin is that you don't even realize that what is so genuine and good about him is seeping into your consciousness, until it has, and then you've no remedy but to accept it and move on - he's a part of your family now.

Gavin's turning 16 today. This is the only place you'll see me acknowledge that. Hereafter, I'll continue to refer to him as a baby and remind myself that he was once only tall enough to serve as a good armrest for me as I walked that same group up there home from elementary school. Four of the seven are now teenagers - the other three will succumb next year. I blame Sean. (He was first.)

Gavin doesn't live near me anymore or we'd be celebrating our birthdays together, as we have for the past several years, with double cakes and a huge feast prepared by our families. In lieu of that I hope his birthday is filled with good fun and a fine celebration and a super-duper cake.  I'll look forward to the time I can see him and his family again so I can give him a hard time about getting older and taller. I'll look forward to whatever teasing he offers about my stature and coiff in return. I'll look forward to sitting in the backyard with his mom and dad and our extended group, laughing to tears over something his older brother has said or done - sorry Brendan - it's your lot in life. And I'll look forward to congratulating him on whatever successes he has had since I've last seen him, on his way to becoming whatever his heart can dream him to be.

Because whatever his challenges or troubles, he's an achiever, a worker, a doer, a long-haul thinker and an optimist. He's a baker and an eater, an obsessive shoe-shopper and a sports-a-holic, he's good but not above a little deviance, smart but not stuffy, fun, funny and serious when he needs to be. He's intentional and clumsy and silly and oddly intuitive. And if you're looking for the unexpected, he's your guy. Because, actually, that's the thing about Gavin.