Why????????????????????????????????

"Why did you want to bring us here - we're going to FREEZE?" Steve asked with complete sincerity about an hour into our Inauguration "picnic" at Centennial Park.

He was right, there was no reason to corral everyone's hat and mittens, all the spare blankets we could scramble together, and our camping chairs. It made no sense to take the kids out of school, squeeze 6 boxes of Mac N Cheese into the thermos while still piping hot, or spend 10 minutes convincing Ellie she was really not going to want to wear the culottes, even though they were adorable (the girl is just like her mother).

From inauguration

But when we got there, and I detest the cold as much as anyone, I felt I had come "home". It's the same reason I drove Kennedy to South Carolina to canvass for Edwards, dragged the children to every political rally I could find this year, went public on marriage equality, and waited 2 hours as it got dark and cold for Bill Clinton to show up and speak at a college campus. Politics is my boyfriend - I love to flirt with it, think about it, and show up for the public events for it. Like a giggly high school girl chasing boys at the Homecoming football game, I feel alive when I join with others I don't know anything about to voice support for causes and beliefs I hold dear. These strangers are my people.

From inauguration

So, when CNN showed pictures of the moving van at the White House and the crowd around me cheered, when Obama took the oath of office and we literally danced with glee (Stevie included), and when we all stood mesmerized by the inspiring speech, I knew why the bitter wind and frigid air did not deter me. I wanted my children to tell their children where they were when the country "picked itself up, dusted itself off and began again with the work".

From inauguration

It was like a family reunion, I wanted them to know their heritage, to see all those who believe freedom is not defined by the right to shop at the mall of one's choosing, prosperity is not limited to the the state of our household budget, and citizenship includes paying a price for the better good of the community, not just our own self-interest.

From inauguration

Though they are too young to "get it", I thank the Ice Queen of January and her ruthless cold, for she cemented this day in their memory like initials drawn into a newly poured sidewalk. Now when my children feel their fingers and toes begin to tingle with frost, they will think of that day as they cried from the cold and huddled together under blankets, and they will joke at the craziness of their mother, and they will remember.

Getting things done

When I was a teenager in church I had a teacher who I didn't relate to very well. She gave a lesson one week about how if she did x (I couldn't even tell you what x was, though I was clearly not impressed to begin doing x) she could "get more things done". I vividly remember thinking to myself, "what are THINGS, is life only about getting THINGS done?" I assured myself I would never have that life.

Then I became a mother. . . of four. And it seems now, life is about getting things (read: laundry, dishes, housework, homework, taxes, bill paying, and so forth) done. Last year I got so sick of getting things done that I tried to count the things I got done that could not be undone (dishes, laundry and housework clearly do not qualify). I felt like it was a total waste to clean up one mess while the next room over was being destroyed. And you wouldn't think it was that hard, but I found I was thrilled if I at least got one of those every day.

From Christmas

Then I started having my mid-mother-life crisis. My middle child is half way done being home (they are SO leaving when they are 18) and I wondered, does she find my life as dull as I found my teacher's?

From Christmas

Then yesterday I watched Wally button his shirt, a feat for which he refused assistance and took no less than an hour to complete. I thought, "I couldn't be 3 again - are you kidding, if it took me an hour to button my shirt I wouldn't get anything done. But then I thought of little Wally, and how he could look at that shirt all day long and feel a huge sense of accomplishment. And how I look at all I get done with amazing efficiency, yet feel like I accomplish nothing because there's so much more to do.

From Christmas

In response to all this waxing philosophical, I am instituting "more fun, less done". I'm hoping fun takes many forms, learning new skills, discovering more about the people I love, making time for the tasks that bring me satisfaction, regardless of my efficiency. I'm not saying more play less work, but more meaning less mundane. I have finally done the math (with some help from a calculator) and doing it all is impossible, so I refuse to measure my existence by how many things I got done. Don't worry, Randy, I'll still do the laundry since I am still too poor to hire it out. But I will dispose of efficiency in favor of what makes me feel alive.

And we're starting tomorrow with the return of the sit-down hot breakfast. It's technically more work than the "throw it down the hatch in the car breakfast bar as we rush off to school hoping to beat the bell" (which totally works if hot breakfast doesn't make you feel alive), but oh, the joy of eating muffins with the people I love while talking about the hopes and dreams for the day, even if they are limited to getting one's shirt buttoned.

Therefore, be it resolved . . .

I've heard and read this phrase more times than I can count from my debating days of old. Be it resolved that Latin America needs political stability, that old people have a secure retirement, that jails and prisons be less crowded, blah blah blah. Only these resolutions were all for the federal government, much easier to resolve for someone else to do something than me.

From new year's eve

As for personal resolutions, I've had more than my fair share. I love to set a new goal, to write it down as if it were a reality, to picture myself 6 months down the road as a veritable icon of perfection having mastered these habits. And then, life happens. I see my messy closet I need to clean, I sign up for a project I have no desire to be a part of, the phone rings, etc etc etc and suddenly my resolutions have been put in the pile of unmated socks, scattered among childhood dreams and birthday wishes, once valued, now left in a pile to get to later. Could I even tell you what last year's resolutions were?

It must be a weak resolve, a lack of focus, a twittering will, or all of the above.

I'm coming to realize that it's more like my boys on the merry-go-round (we found a park that still has one) When you jump on and begin to spin the wind blows in your face, your hair flies free, and you still see landmarks as you pass them. But as it spins faster and faster, dizziness sets in and you no longer recognize anything you pass in form or in substance. I am spinning, holding on as tight as I can so I don't fall off, frightened that if I slow down, the exhilaration will fade and I won't like the things I pass by, the life in which I am surrounded. Yet the dizziness is overtaking me.

So this year I have only one resolution. Therefore be it resolved that Mel says yes. That I affirm the things I really want, those landmarks to spin by, and let the no's just happen, or fall by the wayside of the unpaired socks. There are some things I hope I say yes to this year:

homemade bread
weekly blog posts
early morning runs
anything my personal trainer asks (can't wait to start, Santa was very kind!)
weekend dates
eating more locally
extra snuggles with the kids
organized photographs
balanced budgets
clean closets
visits with friends

oh, the list could go on ad nauseam. But mostly I hope whatever I say yes to brings me grinning, cheek to cheek with Somebody New Year's Eve 2009.

A Cast, a Quilt, and an Angel

Tomorrow, he loses the cast.

From quilt and cast

For Wally, the cast has been a nuisance standing between him and his pirate ship in the bathtub, an everyday accessory of his favorite color, and a hindrance to his getting a good grip on the rock climbing wall at the playground.

For his brother and sisters, the cast has been a weapon to be feared in the car, and, as of yesterday, the culprit of "what's that smell"?

But for me the cast carries fond memories of that night.

That night that followed that day.

We awoke with a start. Down an adult, since Somebody was traveling, we had only 20 minutes to get everyone ready and out the door, with extra pressure having played our "overslept" card the day before.

With my own hair wet from a quick shower, I asked Kennedy to put the boys in the car while I did Ellie's hair, and a ponytail's time later Wally was crying in pain.

The sound of the school bell loomed, so with no time to solve the mysterious arm cry, I buckled him up and scrambled to beat the clock.

When we got home, I found the door from the garage to the house locked, and remembered Somebody nagging me to carry a key, which I hadn't gotten around to yet. The only key was with Kennedy, at school where we had just left. Now grateful for having thrown shoes into the car, I drove back, walked in wet hair and all, and grimaced as the receptionist announced over the intercom, "would Kennedy please bring her house key to the front desk for her mom".

And Wally was still crying.

I went to make Stevie's lunch, and found grain moths rampant in the pantry.


And Wally was still crying.

I went about my day, running errands and doing whatever it is I do that sucks time, talent and energy and leaves nothing but crumbs to show for it.

And though Wally had taken a break from crying he was not using his arm.

I picked up Ellie from dance that evening.

And Wally had returned to crying.

Sensing a bad night ahead, we went to urgent care for 2.5 hours of being trapped with all 4 kids in one room, where the nurse felt so bad for me she brought my kids popsicles, crackers and juice boxes and me a Diet Coke.

From quilt and cast

And Wally was still crying.

We left at 8:30, still no dinner, to run to Michael's for the supplies to finish the science project, then got dinner at a drive through.


And Wally was still crying.

Pretty much that night, Wally was still crying.
He couldn't get comfortable in bed, so I finally resigned myself to the fate of the two of us spending the night in the big leather chair. Fall is a fleeting flirt in the South, the sun warms the days, but leaves cold nights. You don't know whether to run the AC or turn on the furnace, so you do neither. This night I was uncomfortably cool, so searching for something to keep us warm, I happened upon the quilt, the heirloom quilt.

I love heirlooms, but own very few. This quilt I begged off my mom, not because I knew some great history behind it, but because I was drawn to the retro vintage fabric in it. I learned it belonged to Grandma Nelson and was likely quilted by her mother, Grandma Johnson. I got it with the intention that it would keep me warm, not realizing it would also keep me company.

From quilt and cast

As I sat that night, drifting in and out of sleep as Wally whimpered in pain, I felt so alone. I was exhausted from a chaotic day, and now I couldn't even take respite with a few hours of sleep in my comfy bed alone, and it would be another day before help would arrive. It was 2am, there was no one to call to buoy me.

As I snuggled beneath the quilt with little Wally, I felt a strange but calm sense of strength and love exude from the stitches. I thought of my great grandmother I have never met but is revered as any woman could be in my family. I thought of her struggles, losing her husband with a house full of children in the Great Depression.

I thought of Grandma Nelson, a woman I never knew to say a bad word about anyone, a woman who found a contagious joy in every child she loved. I thought of my mom, as solid as a rock, who never sits down and never seems tired. I found strength in these women, in my heritage, and in the quilt. I felt their spirit and their love wrap around me through the quilt. And when morning came, I didn't want to fold it up and put it away.

I heard the most wonderful talk in my church's conference where a leader discussed how God sends us angels to comfort and help us, some living some not:

In the course of life all of us spend time in “dark and dreary” places, wildernesses, circumstances of sorrow or fear or discouragement....But I testify that angels are still sent to help us, even as they were sent to help Adam and Eve, to help the prophets, and indeed to help the Savior of the world Himself.

So to me, the cast reminds me of that night, and a small part of me will be sad to see it go, but my heirloom now has another story.

From quilt and cast

Love Letters . . . from the edge

warning - schmaltzy blather ahead, written by a desperate housewife

Dear Somebody,

It's the end of a long week - my nerves are frazzled, my patience worn thin, my coping skills at rock bottom. We are all wondering, "when is Daddy coming home"?

I like to see myself as an independent woman, who can run her life with no interference from a man. And my relationship with you is more like Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" than Air Supply's "Two Less Lonely People in the World". But you are my partner. My Depeche Mode "Somebody".

I want somebody to share the rest of my life . . .

. . .listen to me, when I want to speak, about the world we live in, and life in general

From love letters

. . . though my views may be wrong, they may even be perverted, he'll hear me out, and won't easily be converted (well you could be a little more easily converted)

From love letters

to my way of thinking, in fact he'll often disagree, but at the end of it all he will understand me

From love letters

someone who'll help me see things in a different light

From 2007

all the things I detest I will almost like ohh, there were too many pictures for this one :)

From love letters

but when I'm asleep, I want somebody, who'll put their arms around me and kiss me tenderly

From love letters

though things like this, make me sick, in a case like this I'll get away with it

So, somebody, come home. And I hope you're still wearing your tie, cuz I'm going to grab hold of it and pull you close for a kiss you'll remember every time you get on an airplane without me.

From Nashville

Love, Punk Rock Girl

Swing Voter

From election

So, it was every bit as fun as I thought it would be to vote for Obama. And McCain I have to say gave one of the most gracious concession speeches I've ever heard. I was proud of him, and grateful to have the old McCain I actually love and respect back.

From election

But as much fun as that vote was, I felt a victim of geography of sorts last night and would have loved to cast votes in a few other races, such as:

Senate Race in North Carolina - Hagan v Dole

Senate Race in Minnesota - how fun to vote for Al Franken

Prop 2 in California - standards for farm animals

Prop 8 in California - equality of marriage

House Race Minnesota - Bachmann (diarrhea of the mouth surrogate) v ?? don't even care who

Senate Race in Alaska - Stevens (the convicted felon) v ?? again don't even care who

House Race Florida - Mahoney (crazy scary philanderer of interns I would like to disown from my party) v ?? again I don't even care who

And most of all:

LUMPKIN COUNTY GEORGIA SCHOOL BOARD - Unc (aka Brandon Reynolds) - but he was a winner even without my vote!! Yippee!!!

From election

Party On

From rally

When I picked Stevie up from preschool yesterday they told me they'd held an election.

Me: "Who'd you vote for?" (cringing and worrying since I'd failed to properly educate (brainwash) him)
Stevie: "I voted for ROCK OBAMA" (it sounds pretty hip when you say it that way

The results:
Obama 2
McCain 7

Ellie's class was pretty similar
Obama 4
McCain 15

All this talk of schoolyard elections got me thinking about my childhood. I first discovered I was a Democrat in the 3rd grade when I was one of 7 who voted for Jimmy Carter (I think there were more than 100 in my grade - ouch).

I hear a lot about people being proud to be registered Independent instead of belonging to a PARTY and I began questioning whether I'm less intelligent or open-minded by limiting myself to my PARTY. And of course, I decided, NO.

Just because I don't agree with every Democrat or everything they do, doesn't mean I can't join the PARTY and be proud. It doesn't mean I have to vote for every Democrat. It just means the place I find the most of "my people" happens to be there. And I will not hold my nose while I vote or hide behind being undecided. I am Decidedly Democratic.

So, last night I decided to teach the children how to PARTY and took them to the Democratic rally at the state capitol. It was so thrilling to hold signs and cheer for Obama and the other Democrats.

From rally

From rally

I must give proper credit to the calendar gods who so nicely put election day on the heels of Halloween though, because the boys were mostly entertained by their candy.

From rally

But the girls got into the music and the mood. They know how to PARTY.

Today, we've lived up election day - first PARTYing with the playgroup (we also made blankets for wounded soldiers and piggy banks to save change to help the poor) and after we vote, we head into town for a results PARTY.

We're making history, my PARTY and I. And as I face the lines this afternoon to join them, I will remember to PARTY ON!

From rally