$#*(^%@#^& winter

GD winter!

Sorry. It's just...just that... Well, the other WEEK when it was 70 degrees I realized it might be time to move, because I'm really not sure why all the people who live in the North actually still do that: live in the NORTH. What the--there are places like Hawaii out there and we live here. In Pittsburgh. Or maybe Michigan, or Wisconsin, or Illinois, or other equally cold-in-the-winter type places.

And I know you're thinking: "Hawaii is EXPENSIVE! You wouldn't even want to live there!" But you're wrong. If we all lived there they'd have to lower their prices. And besides, that's just what they want you to believe. The residents of Hawaii.

Anyway, you can tell I'm not alone here since when it's 65 degrees and sunny there is an absolute frickin' Rodgers and Hammerstein musical playing out in the street: people are holding doors open, singing "how do you doooo?" and clicking their heels together. Seriously. As soon as it SNOWED the BLIZZARD that happened AGAIN this morning, people went back to being craggy cave monsters. I live across from the post office and you can hear people shouting, beeping, flicking each other off. It's statewide Seasonal Affected Depression Disorder, and man, is it sad.

We should all go in on a great vacation together, somewhere warm. It's spring in the Bahamas, I bet. And Aruba? Isn't that where happiness lives? Hmm. Sounds like a nice place. I just want to play outside without a jacket, to stuff children in their carseats with only t-shirts and shorts on. Oh, well. In the meantime we'll all tough it out together. It's what we do every year. Invite the neighbors over, have some wine. Anyway, it'll be spring soon, so they say.

Actually, they say it is spring, right now. But "they" probably live in Hawaii.

thankful

Okay, do you ever get sick of me saying it?

I am so thankful. Thankful for my family. For our health. For our moderate mental health. I'm thankful for Spring in Pittsburgh, which falls at least 3 weeks before spring in Michigan. I'm thankful for my kids smiling eyes and laughter when they try to run each other over getting to the swingset that they can finally use.

I'm thankful that I live in the United Stated and not in Japan, because it looks like a crazy movie set over there right now. I'm thankful that Pittsburgh doesn't get earthquakes, and I'm thankful that when my sister lived in the San Fransisco Bay Area, there was one earthquake in 2007 and it was only a 4.2, and even though I called her at 4-something AM there she was able to realize that it was 7-something AM here and not kill me. I'm thankful that Good Morning America had already informed me, before we even spoke, what was happening, and that she was probably okay. I'm glad she was okay. And I'm thankful for the time when I had only one child, and she was under two, and I could watch news programs. Instead of Sid the Science Kid.

I'm thankful for college, when I was able to sleep until 1pm if I wanted to. And I wish I had appreciated that time more. Even though I couldn't sleep 'til 1pm now if I tried, I'm thankful that there was a time that I could.

I'm thankful for my family, and myriad friends, who are quite an eclectic bunch of neighbors, old college roommates, people I met here and there, moms I stalked in the mall (and in the library, and in the post office, and in Gymboree...). I'm thankful that people usually put up with my sense of humor and that sometimes they learn from me. I'm thankful that I can still learn from others, since I'm pretty damn stubborn and I'm sure soon I won't take anyone else's lip about how I do things.

I'm thankful that I got the chance to have children, and that I used the chance when I didn't have children to influence other people's children's lives in a positive and healthy way. I'm thankful that I haven't had a mental breakdown yet, and I'm thankful for all the people out there who have made that possible.

I'm thankful that my husband is my best friend (gross, right?) and I'm thankful that I waited so long to meet him, that I didn't have to wait longer, and that even when we hate each other we still love each other.

I'm thankful for when the crap hits the fan and we get through it. Because even though life is pretty hard sometimes, even terrible occasionally, I've gotten through it so far. And so have you. And there are always, always sunny days after the rain.

I'm thankful that you're reading this. And I'm thankful that after reading this, you'll be thankful for your stuff, too.

somebody's babies

My kids and I drove to Michigan this week, just me, Helena (4), Lilly (not yet 2), the van (rrrgh), and the van's DVD player. I'd like to say something for the record: Thank you, DVD player. We could not have survived those 7 hours without you.

There are definitely things that run across your mind when you're driving by yourself for 7 hours (yes, it's really a 5-hour drive) with two young children. The most benign thing that you think is "how bad would it really be if I let them out of their carseats for the remainder of the trip?" Especially crying, kvetching, screaming 22-month Lilly. In the end, you'll be proud, I resisted the temptation. I kept picturing the time when I had passed a woman on the road driving with her great dane loose in the car, halfway in the front seat, drooling everywhere. She was pushing him in the face and obviously yelling at him while she tried to still drive with the remaining, non-shoving hand covered in drool. I thought if I let me kids loose it would be a lot like that, except for less dog hair. Oh, yeah, and it's illegal. But illegality was not the real reason I didn't let them loose. I just didn't like the idea of shoving them by the face to get them out of the front seat. And all that drool.

Of course I would never shove my kids by the face. But there are definitely times that parenting involves a bit of force. Like when you grab the arm of a child not listening just before they run into the street. But what I'm talking about is loving force. Not hurting.

On the way up here I was listening to This American Life, a great, great, great radio program on NPR. And the program was about being "slow to action," taking a long time to deal with something you should really deal with. And it was a good program but one part of it was about a child being abused. If you know me, you probably know I don't watch scary movies, or even the news sometimes, because I just can't get that stuff outta my mind. I don't just feel bad for people, especially victims, especially children. I hurt for them. There's this line from the book/movie The Green Mile, where the main character, John Coffey says:

Mostly I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world everyday. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head all the time. Can you understand?

That's how I feel about other people's pain. It's so real to me, especially the pain of a child, it hurts me. Forever. So when I heard the beginning of this little segment on This American Life I knew already that I would pay for it. Of course, the story was redeeming in the end. The child who was so horribly abused grew up, plotted to kill the perpetrator, and then in the end met him at a mall and talked abut why, why did this happen? But the whole time I thought about the kid, when he was seven years old and being hurt so badly. What could I have done? What could anyone have done?

It's hard to have my own children and see the bits of horrible violence in the world that affect me so much. Sometimes I watch them at night drifting off to sleep and concoct crazy schemes: how to make an impenetrable cloth to cover them with for protection. Wiring them with electricity so anyone who tried to harm them would receive a fatal electric shock. And I know that it's crazy, but I know I would do anything to protect them. And I'm sure you would for your kids, too.

The last thing I think when I hear stories like these about rapists or child molesters or other disturbed and heinous people is this: one time, long ago, that person too was somebody's baby. And maybe if that baby was held,cared for, and loved more, maybe that baby wouldn't grow up to be sick, and terrible. That's why I can't watch the news. I just want to adopt everyone as babies before they turn out wrong.

It's so wierd being on this small blue marble of a planet. Even when we think we're different, we all began as somebody's baby. So go hug yours.

Oh, and let me know if you develop an impenetrable fabric.