Uppercase Woman

Phriday Phillies Phanatic Parade

You may have been wondering, why hasn't Cecily posted yet today? Well, it's because Cecily is CRAZY. So is her husband. Because Charlie, Tori and I all decided to go into Center City Philadelphia to attend the Phillies Victory Parade. We did not realize that so did two million other people.

At first we tried to be sensible and take the train into town, but when we arrived at the train station we saw that it was crowded as fuck and then we were informed that most of the people there had been waiting for over three hours and NONE of the trains were stopping because they were all too full.

So, after a brief consultation, we threw caution to the wind and drove into the city, which turned out to be a total breeze. The streets were actually nearly empty, like an early Sunday morning. Go figure.

We had a great time. I can't claim that we actually saw much of the parade, but it was fun. And look! Pictures!

In the first shot, you'll see Tori indulging in a refreshing box of milk. Please note ugly street crud and proof that others were not being so wholesome in their beverage choices.

Here Tori is showing her Phillies pride.

Here you'll see Tori enjoying a shoulder ride.

And because it wouldn't be complete without video...

Undecided?

Before I get into today's post, I wanted to call y'alls attention to a very cool charity auction going on right now for the family of Colleen of Spiffy Knits. Colleen was suddenly diagnosed with cancer, and sadly she passed away while the auction planning was going on, but there are still medical bills and things to cope with, so this group of amazing folks is raising money for her family. You'll find lots of knitting stuff and handmade crafts (including stuff for kids!). Please check it out!

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I know there are still some folks out there that are undecided about who they'll be casting a vote for next week (only FIVE MORE DAYS THANK FUCKING GOD). I've been thinking about you undecideds, and wondering how you are managing. Surely right now you are feeling hammered by all sides on the issue, especially after Obama's half hour infomercial last night. It's constant, isn't it?

But here's the thing: It's time to choose. I'm sorry, but it's true.

Now, you know how I want you to vote, and I know I really shouldn't add to the cacophony that is currently in your head about this election.

But last night, the Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series. It's the first time in the 22+ years I've lived in the area that one of the major teams won a championship. Now, I actually don't care about sports. In fact, I kind of hate sports. But at 10:30 last night on TV I saw a crowd of people--White, Black, Asian, Indian, Middle Eastern, and Latino--all dancing and whooping with joy in the middle of Broad Street in huge numbers. Sure, they may have knocked some stuff down and set it on fire to celebrate too, but that's Philly. We celebrate by burning our own shit. That's how we roll.

But what I was thinking as I watched all those people celebrating was that is how Obama makes me feel. He makes me feel like dancing in the streets with all of my fellow Americans, no matter what they believe and yes, even those super right wing religious conservatives that call me a murderer. Even them.

Sarah L. just reminded me of this great blog written by two best friends of 60 years and I think their most recent entry sums it up brilliantly:

Which party has been screaming terrorist, socialist, Marxist, murder him and kill him… and which party has been talking about hope and unity.

Which party has been throwing everything but the kitchen sink at you everyday for the past two weeks hoping to scare you into thinking that there is an Un-American part of the country… and which party has been saying that there is no red America and no blue America but only the United States of America.

Which party thinks war is the answer to everything… and which party has suggested that maybe we need to sit down and talk this out to see if peace is possible.

For me, Obama represents a sense of healing. I really feel like he will unite us, and he will heal the damage done in the last eight years of fear and divisiveness. I do.

Just for the record, I also believe (as someone in Newsweek stated this week) that Obama isn't perfect. He's not my dream liberal; in fact, I know he's far more centrist that I am, and in many ways I'll be disappointed in him like I was in Clinton (I was disappointed by policies, NOT that blow job). The idea of Obama being a socialist is so ridiculous that it's laughable. I wish he were, but he's not.

I know in many parts of the nation there is a still a great deal of fear about another terrorist attack. But you know what? The parts of the country where there actually WAS a terrorist attack? THEY WANT OBAMA. I realize that New York, Washington DC and part of Pennsylvania aren't "real America" according to some, but hey--that's where the planes crashed. Those are the Americans that lost their lives. If those folks who stood and watched their city crumble are willing to take a chance on Obama's ability to protect us, who are we to argue? IT'S NOT JUST CAUSE THEY ARE ALL GAY AND WANT TO GET MARRIED. Obama makes them feel SAFE.

So. You know how I want you to vote. But I'll still love you no matter WHO you vote for, I promise. Just choose. It's time. Get off the fence. CHOOSE.

Work • Writing • Blogging

I've been trying to compose a blog post but my head is swirling with issues related to work and blogging and trying to make blogging work and trying to figure out how in the hell I'm going to have a decent Christmas when I'm not earning enough money to even live on right now and how Charlie is carrying too much of the household income earning load and what can I do and...

So I figured I would write about it.

When I left my nice, safe, not-terribly-challenging-but-still-fun full time job in May of 2007, I knew there was a good chance that my life would look like it does now. I was lucky enough to get a subcontracting gig that lasted 15 months--nearly nine months longer than initially projected--but now that is gone, and I'm left trying to cobble together a living with my blog ad revenue, one new freelance writing gig that is still in the process of testing me, and writing for Savvy Source Parenting as the Philadelphia editor which pays peanuts, but it does pay, only it pays quarterly so I have no idea when I'll actually get a check.

I was recently invited to join a new network of local mom bloggers, but it doesn't pay at all so I'm probably going to pass even though it could mean more exposure as well as plugging in to a great local community. I really enjoyed writing for Type-A Mom but I've stopped that since that didn't pay either.

Freelancing is a scary way to make a living. Being a freelancer in a bad economy can go two ways--it can be great because companies don't want to hire in-house people that need benefits and stuff, or it can be bad because companies cinch their belts so tightly that they force the already overwhelmed in-house folks to do even more because the companies KNOW their abused employees won't be able to find new work elsewhere.

Obviously, I'm hoping for the former rather than the latter. But honestly, I don't know how the current economic crisis is going to play out. I was recently hired for two separate projects and one is substantially time consuming compared to the pay rate (it does appear that this will improve as I become more familiar with the company's policies), and the other project is still in limbo (although I'm assured work will come "soon."). Additionally, the company I was subcontracting with might still have piece work for me that could turn into substantial work--but again, I'm waiting to hear from them (they at least have an estimate in hand).

Then there is this hear blog.

I currently spend about six hours a day working on this blog, Monday to Friday (although I do spend an hour or two each weekend day as well). It takes me about two hours to actually write and research a post, plus I respond by email to every comment, plus I keep up on current events enough that I can speak intelligently about them here. That doesn't even include reading your blogs, plus feminist blogs, plus fat activism blogs, plus political blogs (both sides), plus mommy blogs (over 200 in all--this is why I rarely comment any more, sadly). My income from this blog works out to about $2.17 an hour.

But I am committed to taking this blog wherever it can go--this is, after all, where I live. I am more true to myself because of this blog than at any other point of my life. I'm lucky too--I have readers. LOTS AND LOTS of readers (I'm no Dooce, but this blog gets around 200,000 page views a month--nothing to sneeze at). I used to say I have a high readership because of the attention I got when I lost my sons (both from those expressing sympathy and those expressing, shall we say, something else). And it's true that brought me a fair amount of attention; but I have to admit, humbly as I can, that the reason people stay to read is that they like what I write. And that is not a bad thing. And I have every right to be paid to do it.

I've been reading some social media marketing blogs, and talking to social media gurus, and they tell me I am a BRAND. Which I thought was odd, until someone pointed out that swearing is part of my brand, and then I thought it was cool. So what I've been working on since I got back from BlogHer 08 has been fine-tuning and marketing my brand. It's been interesting, but it takes a lot of work, and I have to walk a fine line where I keep this blog true to me AND somehow earn more money. It's tough.

For instance, I suspect that my focusing on politics here--not to mention the swearing--costs me both product reviews and ad revenue. But I am absolutely NOT going to be quiet about politics here, and I sure as fuck am going to swear when I write about politics--even WITH Obama in the White House. It's also quite possible that what I write here costs me freelance writing gigs as well. But changing this blog? Not going to happen.

So, basically to round this all up, I know who I am. I know what I want to do, and what I want to write. Now I just need to hit that tipping point that makes it all possible. I can feel that I'm close; it's just going to take continued hard to work to get there.

Oh, and I am still hoping to put together a book proposal. I'm thinking I'll do it between Christmas and New Year's when I might take a little hiatus from blogging here. Maybe.

But the main thing that matters to me is continuing to be CECILY. I never want to go back to working at an office where I have to cover my tattoos and watch what I say all the time. Because--not even talking about no longer spending my days with Tori--that would kill me. And I like me these days. A whole lot.

All I want is enough to pay my bills. Really. Not much. I don't want to get rich (I won't REFUSE riches, but it's not my goal). I just want to live a normal, run-of-the-mill, American life. It's not too much to ask... is it?

Local Politics, or, I'm too tired to be clever

For the third night in a row, I did not get enough sleep. Like, four hours or less of sleep. As a result, I am feeling bushed and, well, stupid.

But I hate to have a day without a post, so I thought I would do something I've wanted to do for a while; talk about other elections and issues that will be important on Election Day. I mean, y'all know I'm voting for Obama and why. I don't need to tell you again. But you might not know that I also plan to vote again for Joe Sestak, our local congressman that Tori met on her second fourth of July, and that he gazed at Tori like only a man who lost a five-year-old daughter would. You might not know I'm excited about voting for Kevin Lee, a gay man and former nurse that is now running as a Democrat for State Senate against a highly entrenched Republican and lives around the corner from me.

You also don't know that I am woefully uneducated about any other local issues that might come up on my ballot. I will educate myself between now and then--I always do--but sadly, I tackle local stuff last. I know, it's a shaky reverse pyramid, but it's me.

So. I thought maybe today you could use the comment section to mention any local issue or person you are planning to vote for, and argue your case for that issue/person. I've already spoken about Prop 8 in California; if you live in California maybe you should read this post by Lesbian Dad about why it matters to her family. Sadly, legal gay marriage is a long way off in my state so it won't be on the ballot here.

I'm very interested in what you all have to say. Perhaps you'll educate me too. :) Now, off to sneak in a nap...

10 Things I Do Not Want To Focus On Today

1. First of all, I am NOT focusing on how immensely angry my daughter is at me and her Daddy for "making" her spend the night at Sarah's on Saturday night for her very first overnight away while her parents enjoyed some quiet time together to both celebrate their 12th wedding anniversary (a week late) and mourn the loss of their sons. I am certainly not going to dwell on how singularly awful Tori was all day yesterday after we picked her up including fun things like refusing to eat even though she was clearly starving, nearly running into the street, running down a hill into a group of playing dogs, running away at the playground into danger, and furiously knocking over a large soda at dinner. I'm also going to let go of the screaming, crying fit she went off to daycare in today because she wanted to zip up her coat and couldn't do it and wouldn't let her daddy help her.

2. I am also going to avoid the fact that I am still feeling immensely tired and didn't sleep much last night, and the fact that I didn't sleep much the night before that when the baby was away. I will also not confess to going into my daughter's empty room at three in the morning the night she was away and hugging her Winnie the Pooh bear for ten minutes. I am NOT TIRED. Nope.

3. Today I am blithely ignoring the whole fucking "Obama is going to redistribute the wealth" bullshit.  I am also going to ignore both the commercials and the people that say stupid shit like, "I work really hard and Obama is going to take my money and give it away?" Because then I might want to insist that people GROW SOME FUCKING COMPASSION ALREADY. And then I'd have to remind them that before Kennedy? Their tax rate was about 90%, so by that standard Obama's plan looks pretty fucking good. And I certainly do not want to get into a discussion about how Obama's tax plan is merely going to help pay back the horrendous half a trillion dollars we borrowed (from folks like the Chinese) to pay for the war in Iraq (a war that has cost us about $3 Trillion so far), since we are currently fighting a two-front war and for the first time in history DID NOT RAISE TAXES TO PAY FOR IT. Because then I'd have to get angry at the whole OH MY GOD DON'T TAX MEEEEEEEEE attitude that plagues this nation's rich people.

4. Um, I'm also going to ignore the fact that I quite possibly have a bit of PMS combined with grief that is making me a bit, shall we say, prickly.

5. I am not focusing on baseball, because I hate sports. No, I really do. But I might, perhaps, be a wee bit excited if tonight a certain local team called the Phillies wins a little something called The World Series.

6. I am also going to continue to ignore Sarah Palin. I don't really care much, honestly, about the $150,000 spent on her clothes (I mean, COME ON, John McCain wears $500 shoes after all even if I don't believe that her seven year old daughter needed a $700 purse. After all, that entire wardrobe for a whole family has got nothing on Cindy McCain's $313,100 OUTFIT at the convention. However, I may spend another few minutes giggling about the whole "Obama is ELITIST" irony, especially when you look at Obama's shoes.

7. I am also absolutely not going to chuckle about stories of Ms. Palin going rogue, which is just what the paternalistic McCain campaign deserves because OH MY GOD! She can think for herself! Whatever shall they do?

8. I am not going to think about the fact that I am working on cutting back on my eating of sweets, and so is Charlie, and that Friday is Halloween and there will candy about. Nope, not going to drool think about it.

9. I am certainly not going to focus on the work I have to do today, nor shall I spend much time dwelling on how thoroughly unexcited I am. I might, however, spend a moment thinking about the vast amount of work I've already done so far on this project and how little I am getting paid.

10. Lastly, I am NOT going to succumb to the absolute lust I have for the new Google Phone (the lust formerly devoted to the iPhone) nor will I quietly sob in a corner about the fact that I don't have the money to buy one. I will instead focus on the perfectly functional phone I currently have, even if it is a bit bent thanks to a certain two year old repeatedly flinging it across the room. However, if Google or t-Mobile decides that they would, say, like me to review said phone, I'd be happy to oblige. Ahem.

...

What are YOU not focusing on today?

Riptide

I woke up feeling good today. The pending anniversary of the loss of the boys was there, though, like a small sad stray dog that I am trying to ignore. Wait, that's not a good metaphor. I would never ignore a small stray dog. More like a giant unpaid bill I'm hoping will go away if I just don't pay any attention. Yes, that's a better metaphor.

I drove off to my recovery meeting, feeling fine, until the bastards at my local radio station played Johnny Cash's version of Hurt and I completely fell apart. I have been crying on and off since then, which made driving really fun, especially when you toss in the toddler in the back yelling, "Mommy, no crying!"

When I get like this, I become hard. I don't want hugs. I don't want comforting words. I would prefer, in all honestly, to check into a hotel room alone for the next several days and wallow alone in my pain with no internet, no family, no friends, no recovery, and for fuck's sake no God.

I've written so much already on this blog about grief, I feel there is nothing more for me to say. Grief and I have not had a much of relationship; until about seven years ago I worked hard at suppressing my grief and instead feeling anger and rage. Grief was simply too consuming and useless: anger, after all, I could turn to wit and use it as fuel. Grief just flattens me and makes me pathetic. Why would I want to allow myself to indulge in grief? Yes, I said indulge. For me, grief was a luxury I couldn't afford.

But now I know that simply sitting still and feeling the grief is much healthier, and it passes, and there is beauty on the other side. But that doesn't make the time I'm sitting in the grief any better. It sucks. It sucks ass. I don't like it, and I don't want to be here.

The recovery meeting I go to on Tuesdays as had six speakers in a row, all women, who have lost children (mostly stillbirths). There are three babies at that meeting, including one just a week old. This has forced my grief to the surface in a powerful way. Toss in the fact that this is a presidential election year--as it was the year the twins died--and I am frequently overwhelmed with sadness. I feel very much like I did that time I got caught in a rip tide; I can't find the surface and I can't break through. I just get knocked over with it again and again.

It's hard to believe that four years ago I was a happy woman. I was in the third trimester of my pregnancy, the boys were beginning to move a lot, I had dealt with my ambivalence about having sons. I had one crib and was scheduled to pick up the other. The nursery had been cleaned out and was awaiting decoration. I'd thrown caution to the wind and completed my baby registry. I was looking forward to the new crazy life I'd have as a mom of twins.

But instead, four years ago on Sunday I lay in a hospital near death with an empty uterus, my sons gone before they'd arrived, just another note in a medical chart.

I have nothing new to say about this old grief. I'm struggling, not just with having the grief but with feeling entitled to it; after all, it's been four years already, and I have a healthy daughter. There are many that cannot say the same. There are people who have lost living children; I lost only a whisper, a hope, a dream of children. I never held my sons in my arms. I never saw their faces, kissed their lips, or hugged them tight to my breast. Do I deserve to feel as much pain as I do?

I don't know. I don't know much of anything except that right now it feels like it would be easier to just cut my heart out with a kitchen knife rather than go on feeling this agony--whether or not I have a "right" to this pain.

I hold on to that Buddhist ideal like my daughter holds on to her pacifier; that my sons, like all stillborn and miscarried children, were old souls that had already passed through this world many times. They merely needed to touch down long enough to be wanted and loved one last time and then they got to go straight to Nirvana without having to struggle through another lifetime. This is my only hope, that this is true, that my sons are peacefully residing in a place where God has a face and they know God's name, that same God I abandoned with their loss (and that God I miss almost as much as I miss my sons, but have yet to forgive). Nicholas and Zachary, you were loved. You are missed. I wish you peace. I wish peace for us all.

Healthcare or lack thereof

OK. So it is NOT in my plans to write about politics every single day, but when life hands you annoying fucking situations that are factoring heavily in the current Presidential race, what can I do?

So, as I mentioned a few weeks back, I have this lump on my hand. It's between my thumb and forefinger on my left hand, right at the joint in the center, neither palm side or top side--literally the center. My doctor looked at it (she's actually a nurse practitioner; I adore NPs) and while she didn't think it's anything to worry about, she suggested I see a bone/hand doctor.

So, I call the bone/hand doctor and schedule an appointment. But wait! I completely forget that I've changed insurance plans from my "fail safe" see-any-doctor-you-want plan ("fail safe" meaning the one plan my state requires by law to take all comers that can afford the premiums; they can, however, still refuse to cover pre-existing conditions). Why did I change plans? Because my policy was going to be increased $180 a month merely because I had the audacity to become forty years old. So I joined my local chamber of commerce (as a sole proprietor of my business) so that my whole family could get their group coverage, saving us about $400 a month in premiums.

We still pay over $1,000 a month. That's more than $12,000 a year, just for the record. A quarter of our income, and slightly more than we pay for our home. That $5,000 a year tax credit John McCain talks about? Would cover less than half our health care costs.

So, I schedule an appointment with the bone/hand doc my NP recommends. But wait! Because of my new policy I needed a referral. So I cancel and reschedule my first appointment, call my doctor's office--who has someone on staff JUST to process referrals, which I'm sure they are THRILLED about having to pay for and pass the costs on accordingly--and wait a week. At last I arrive at the hand doctor's office with my referral in hand and... I can't both see the doctor AND get an x-ray of my hand because the referral only covers the doctor appointment. I need a separate referral to be allowed to have an x-ray.

But I go ahead and see the doctor who gets to diagnose me just from good old fashioned prodding (ow). The doctor suspects either a ganglion cyst (although the placement is odd) or possibly a giant cell tumor (which only happens in one out of a million people, so you KNOW I have it, right? I mean, preeclampsia only happens in <5% of pregnancies, and placental abruption only happens in <1% of pregnancies, and I've had BOTH. Lucky me). They can't aspirate it to check like they would a normal ganglion cyst because it's too close to a nerve bundle.

AWESOME.

So, next step is an MRI. Which requires pre-certification, which as far as I can tell is just more meaningless paperwork someone is paid to do. When the bone/hand doctor's office attempts to get said pre-certification, they are informed that my insurance company does not know who my primary care physician is (even though I told them when I signed up), so they cannot tell the bone/hand doctor's office which MRI scanning center I am "capped" to. Capped (short for capitated) means, basically, restricted to--if I want them to cover said MRI, that is.

I happen, sadly, to have huge claustrophobia issues, meaning it took three tries and valium (which, I assure you, this addict does NOT take without extreme need) to get an MRI of my brain for my migraines. However, if I am "capped" to the health care system  associated with my primary care physician and the bone/hand doc, then I will NOT have access to an open MRI machine, only a "large" one that "helps" claustrophobes like me (and if you think I'm exaggerating, just the thought of the regular MRI machine makes me want to throw up and makes me shake).

Additionally, I had to pay a $20 co-pay to have my NP initially examine my hand, a $40 co-pay for the bone/hand doc, and will have to pay an $80 co-pay for the MRI itself. Plus another $40 co-pay to see the bone/hand doc again to get MRI results. Plus whatever co-pay or deductable I'll need to meet to cover surgery, should I need it. And it will take months, of course, for this all to resolved AND my insurance company could decide NONE of it is covered because I foolishly saw my NP when I first found the lump in my hand--a full  week BEFORE the new coverage started.

All this, and I'm not even really SICK.

...

 

So. Tell me, exactly, how this is BETTER than univeral health care? Because I can't see it.

Political Parenting

A couple of nights ago I was watching the evening news with my daughter cuddling next to me (pretending she's interested in the news, when she's really just waiting for it to end so she can watch Dora), Tori pointed to the screen and said, "Who's that?" It was John McCain. And without even thinking about it, I said, "Oh honey, that's John McCain, a bad man that's running for President."

Sigh.

Luckily, my daughter is only 2 years old; the chance of her remembering that I called a possible President of our country a "bad man" is pretty fucking slim. But I do NOT want to be the kind of parent that teaches her child to vilify those that don't agree with her. I've worked looooong and hard on my ability to shut up and listen, to set aside my strong personal beliefs and values to listen to what others are saying to me from their own hearts, and I want to impart THAT to my daughter.

Of course, my ability to listen (my limited ability; there are many times I fail) to opposing view points without anger and rancor has only come via force. When I first started talking about the political implications of the way I lost my sons the very first day I was home from the hospital, I was immediately confronted with people that disagreed with me, and many of them disagreed in a way that was hardly respectful or tolerant. But because they weren't standing in front of me I couldn't punch them in the face; instead, I emailed them back something equally nasty, and they emailed me back, and we went back and forth a bunch of times until--suddenly--a tiny bit of common ground was found and we finally found a way to listen to each other. Many of us have actually grown to be friends. Really!

That is not something I can teach to my daughter. That is something Tori will have to learn for herself. But I can give her a firm ground to start on by teaching her that everyone's opinion is valid, even when those opinions seem crazy to her incredibly liberal mommy.

This weekend I spoke with two women--one at a 3 year old neighbor's birthday party, and another at the playground--who confessed that they are politically ignorant, and they just vote the way their husbands do. Yes, in 2008. I was not put into a wayback machine (one mom that I actually like a lot confessed it with chagrin).

*deep breath*

One of the reasons I want to teach Tori compassion for different view points is because, after all, there may come a day where she disagrees with ME. Above all, I want to teach my daughter independence of thought. I never want my daughter to claim that she just votes the way I do, or her husband does, or her wife does, or her father does. I want my daughter to be fully politically educated--in fact, I want to teach her that becoming politically educated is her RESPONSIBILITY. I want her to form her own opinions.

So from now on, when I discuss politics with my darling girl, I'm going to keep my tongue in check and just state the facts. If she wants to know what I think, well, I'll wait for her to ask.

How are you handling this highly charged political season with your kids? Obviously if your child is older than Tori it probably requires a defter hand. I'd love to hear your stories. Because I see the potential for doing harm here (as in so many different areas of parenting I didn't expect. sigh).

____________________________________________

These last few days have thrown me for a bit of a loop here on my blog. One the one hand--oh, let's go with the right one, since that's my writing hand--the writer in me is honored, a bit amazed, and frankly pretty jazzed by the amount of new readers that have come by because of my last two posts.

Then of course there is my brain and its ten-years-of-working-in-marketing that immediately begins rubbing its hands together and cackling like a mad scientist, thinking about how I can use this as a launch pad to that loftiest of dreams, Making A Living Blogging About My Completely Average Life.

But the loudest voice, the one connected to my left hand for continuity's sake (is that the creative side? or the rational side? whatevah), is a tiny bit overwhelmed. Because, my dear new readers, I am just not all that interesting on a daily basis. Ask my old readers. I often blog about my daughter (who, while I think she is pretty spectacular, is just another kid to the rest of the world). Or my marriage. Or movies and television. So I have to say, please don't expect brilliant political posts from me on a daily basis. Or brilliant anything posts. Sometimes I just write about the shit in my head. After all, isn't that what blogging is all about?

So, welcome (hi!), but beware. I'm just your average East Coast liberal elitist that is completely smitten with her two-year-old; in other words, a mommy blogger. Don't be shocked, m'kay?

As Apple Fucking Pie

I've been thinking lately about my panic last month--you know, the one where I felt that there would soon be no place left for me in this country and that I'd have to move to Canada, especially if Obama lost the election. I no longer feel this way; in fact, even if McCain/Palin win this election (and, oh, how it pains me to even type that), I am going NOWHERE. Because you know what? THIS IS MY COUNTRY.

When I read about Sarah Palin telling folks in North Carolina that only they are "pro-American" or when I watch the truly horrifying clip of Minnesota Congresswoman Michelle Bachman on Hardball calling for the investigation of the "anti-American" members of congress (meaning, of course, the Democrats) including OBAMA, I realized something.

These are the more blatant examples of the shit we liberals have been fed for years--since McCarthy, really. This idea that we liberals are somehow not patriotic, not right, not really part of this nation is a Cold War leftover, a fabrication. Before McCarthy, no one who dissented was called "Un-American." Before McCarthy, being a Socialist--hell, being a Communist--was considered a perfectly acceptable point of view. Not now. Now, I'm called un-American simply because I think I should retain control of my own body.

I've internalized this message to some extent--this war on dissent--and it manifested in my "threat" to move to Canada. But you know what? Moving to Canada would please those like Michelle Bachman no end--get rid of us annoying liberals! Export us! Send us to other nations like the way we send our trash to China!

I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE.

I live in Philadelphia, an East Coast city with a metro area population exceeding five million--hardly small town America--and I am a true American.

I read the New York Times. I read Newsweek. I watch Katie Couric. Hell, I even listen to National Public Radio. Sometimes I even read press from overseas.

I believe firmly that gays should get married, or have civil unions (if they prefer), and have exactly the same rights that I do as a heterosexual. In fact, I think if you live in California, you should vote NO on Prop 8.

I think we should have socialized medicine--and I'd happily pay more taxes to get it.

I believe the Patriot Act is anything BUT patriotic, and feel strongly that the government has no right whatsoever to listen to my phone calls--or yours.

I believe abortion should remain safe, legal, and rare. I believe birth control should be distributed everywhere, to anyone who wants it. I believe children and teenagers should be educated about how their bodies work and how they can prevent STDs and unwanted pregnancies.

I believe our President should be smart, well-educated, a thinker, someone who might be called ELITE. Because I believe firmly that only the best and brightest of us should be sitting in the White House. Not someone I want as a friend, or a drinking buddy, or a person I can imagine fishing with.

Sure, sometimes I get dismayed and depressed about where I see our country going. But it's MY country too, and there is nothing fucking wrong with me or how I think or what I believe and I AM SICK AND TIRED OF BEING TOLD THAT THERE IS.

I am the daughter of a hippy feminist that taught me how to march in the streets, and I am the daughter of a Vietnam war veteran. I am the wife of an atheist, but I go to church regularly. I curse on my blog like a motherfucking sailor, but I am raising my daughter with kindness and dignity. I am an alcoholic that doesn't drink anymore, I am fat, I am a woman that had to terminate a pregnancy, I didn't quite manage to finish college, I am a mother, I am a wife, I AM AN AMERICAN.

Do you hear me? I am a pro-choice East Coast liberal elitist and I am PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN. Stop saying I'm not.

Dear John McCain:

I've thought long and hard about what to say to you after watching your discussion about abortion on last night's debate. I'll be honest; I have never considered voting for you. I am beyond a doubt a tax-and-spend and let-the-gays-get-married liberal. But you know what? I've always liked you. I've found your appearances on The Daily Show to be amusing, and even though we don't agree on much, I always thought of you as a smart, compassionate, and friendly person. I've managed through this election to even hold on to a shred of respect for you, even while I am personally inundated with negative ads from your campaign because I live in a swing state. This is partially because you are I were much more politically in line back when you ran for President in 2000, and throughout this campaign I've always imagined that in some way you were playing a role as a far right-wing conservative, and that in fact, you were personally much more moderate.

But when you discussed your feelings about partial birth abortion during the debate last night, your true opinions became clear to me. You really are a social conservative; it was in 2000 that you were playing a role. When you discussed partial birth abortion and used quotes around the "health" of a mother, claiming that the idea of preserving a woman's health has been "stretched" so that woman can just go ahead and abort babies willy-nilly whenever they want showed your true colors. You really ARE a small-minded anti-choice hater of women.

You've bought the propaganda. Even if I tell you that late term abortions make up only one fifth of 1% of ALL abortions that happen in this country, and that they are performed universally only in cases of extreme risk to the mother or lack of viability for the child, you won't believe me. In your mind, women like me are sluts that got what we deserve, and changed our minds at the last minute when the reality of a baby became clear. If I tell you that the day my doctor performed my life-saving medical termination of my pregnancy was the worst day of his professional career, in your mind he's a callous murderer willing to kill children.

Watching you speak last night felt like getting punched in the face. I've become used to the rare individual being so callous and ill-informed; but to think a man so close to becoming the leader of this nation thinks so little of women like me--was just...God.

Awful. Heartbreaking. Horrifying.

You clearly believe women like me--women who were horribly, horribly sick from their pregnancies but not yet dying--don't deserve the medical care we need to help us heal. You may think this issue is about saving the lives of babies, but it's not. It's about preventing women from receiving necessary medical care.

In my case, Senator, where would you have drawn the line? At what point were my doctors and I not stretching the definition of my "health"? When we terminated the pregnancy, or should we have waited until I was sicker? Say, when I lost my kidney function permanently? Or perhaps when I had a seizure so severe that it caused a stroke and brain damage? Or maybe when my heart was damaged by my out-of-control blood pressure?

By your standards, when could my doctors have intervened?

But most of all, Senator, you do not even care about how much I loved my sons, or that the day you chose to be so cruel to women like me was National Pregnancy And Infant Loss Awareness Day. That only an hour before you spoke I was writing, once again, about the loss of my sons and how much it has changed my life. Because I'm not important. I don't matter. And in your mind, I quite possibly don't even exist.

I'll have you know that I have worked very, very hard to not swear in this letter to you. Maybe if I leave out the nasty language, you'll actually be able to hear what I'm saying. But I doubt it. I don't matter to you. Women don't matter to you.

So you know what? Forget about not swearing. I'll end this with how I really feel.

Fuck you, Senator McCain. Fuck you.

National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

October 15 is the day to remember all the lost babies. Because we obviously don't think about them any other day, right? And what's the appropriate card or gift to honor the day?

I know, I'm trying to make light of a shitty situation. I can't help it. Sometimes I just don't know what to do with the thoughts and feelings I have surrounding the loss of my sons. But Mel asked for someone to write about this subject for Bridges, and how can I resist a woman who says that hugging me is like drawing from a well?

So here I sit, the eve of the big day, dreading the final presidential debate and once again trying to find a way to dip into the deep lake of agony that is the loss of my sons--without falling apart.

I've already written about how hard it's been this year; the anniversary of their loss is only a few days away. The combination of time of the year along with another intense presidential campaign--just like four years ago--has made the pain much more acute. Additionally, I've been going to a couple new playgrounds and for some reason the two Tori has picked as her favorites are simply awash in twins (at least four sets at one, and three at the other--that I've seen so far). When I see these sets of twins, I'm filled with conflicting feelings. Now living in the full throes of toddlerdom, I don't envy the parents of those twins--I can't imagine my life with two 3 year old boys. Gah. I can barely handle the single child I've got.

But I still miss them. I still feel like I can almost see their faces when I close my eyes. I still remember the horrible sinking feeling I had when the doctors said we had to terminate. I still remember trying to walk off the operating table. I remember being alone, in my hospital room, feeling an emptiness that cannot be described.

Healing has happened, of course. I no longer cry when I see little boys, or even twin little boys. I feel a sense of overall peace about the loss; it has certainly been mitigated by the overwhelming love I feel for my daughter. I generally, on any given day, am not a walking wound. I'm happy. Content. At peace.

But, of course, I miss them. I will always miss them, as will every other mother that has tread this path before me. Lately I've had the chance to see four women--much older than I am--all share about their loss of children and how it changed their lives. Losing a child, whether at eight weeks, eight months, eight years or even eighty years hurts like nothing else. We do not "get over" it. It merely becomes yet another piece of our busted-and-mended hearts.

Thanks to my blog, I've heard nothing but words of comfort from you folks about the loss of Nicholas and Zachary. Today, instead of saying it again, share your stories. I want to hear about what today means to you, either as someone who has felt a loss or someone who has helped a friend cope. I have found that grief shared is grief lightened--let's all lighten our loads today.

Let's all remember.

Drug Courts

I've talked here a fair amount about my friend Fred, a nice guy I met through my church who was down on his luck that Charlie and I tried to help by hiring him to do some work around our house. Unfortunately, Fred has a serious crack cocaine addiction, and it wasn't long before he did things like sell the cell phone we bought him for drugs. We'd given him a membership to our local YMCA so that he could at least bathe regularly and have a safe place to relax during the day, but he instead cased the joint and robbed it. He was videotaped while robbing it, and like an idiot, returned to the scene of the crime only to be arrested when the staff recognized him. He was arrested in July.

I've written about my belief that there really ought to be drug rehab prisons, but of course as a society we are focused more on punishment then we are on rehabilitation. We suffer from a strong "lock 'em up and throw away the key" philosophy, even though that means we have feed, clothe, and care for 'em at our own expense without much hope of actual changes in behavior once they get out.

Luckily, that might be changing. Today a wonderful story about drug courts appeared in the New York Times. These offenders--people just like Fred, people who commit crimes strictly so that they can get money for drugs--are instead given strict supervision and required to attend meetings and therapy and take regular drug tests in order to avoid prison. If they "graduate," they often get their record cleaned up so that they can continue to turn their lives around.

As the article states that drug courts reduce recidivism, cost less money than prison, and that participants have 29% fewer convictions down the road. That might not seem like much--but consider the alternative; according to this article by the Bureau of Justice, about 70% of criminals are convicted of additional crimes later on, so reducing that number by nearly a third is quite an achievement.

Yet, as usual, because of high start up costs (because who cares if money is saved down the line? We are America, the land of CASH NOW), these courts are struggling and in some places being cut altogether. This is crazy; after all, we currently have about 1% of our population in prison, and according to the White House drug policy office, 75% of criminals headed to prison tested positive for drugs when they were arrested.

Let me say that again: 75% of criminals were on drugs when arrested. Yet instead of focusing on treating the disease of addiction (and it is a disease, a chronic mental illness), we routinely lock up people like Fred instead of treating him.

I do believe Fred deserves to be punished for his crimes. But he would benefit far more from a prison that is heavily focused on drug and alcohol treatment in conjunction with punishment. Because it is clear that we are NOT winning the war on drugs. We MUST try something different.

_______________________________

We attempted to visit Fred when he was first arrested, but we weren't on his "list" so we couldn't get in to see him. We wrote to him, and he added us, but we haven't gotten back out there (it's a drive and a three hour or more commitment, and we just haven't had a chance).

But he's written. In his letters, which are simmering with resentment and misplaced self-righteousness, he has actually had the balls to ask us to pay his bail. He even went so far as to ask his lawyer to call us to see if we would pony up his bail (it's not much--bail is down to $5000, so only $500). We have refused. We know if we pay his bail he will merely vanish, leaving us screwed.

His last letter was full of anger and spite, tossing out cockeyed recovery slogans in an attempt to insinuate that we are failures as recovering drunks and addicts if we don't help him. I guess prison is a great place to spend a lot of time in his head, fanning the flames of resentments and anger. His letter ended with, "Fuck you! IT WORKS IF YOU WORK IT!*" 

He also said, "They want to give me ten years, and I just wanted a little bit of freedom before starting my sentence--is that too much to ask?" Truth is, Fred hasn't been "free" long before he went to prison. Drug addiction had him locked up in a prison of his own making more tightly then the State could ever confine him (after all, it's pretty easy to get drugs in prison). I told Fred as much when I wrote him back.

I'd love to see Fred end up in a drug court. It's not likely though; I can't find out if my county even has a drug court. But for now, he's right where he needs to be--out of harm's way, and out of the way of doing harm. But I still wish there were a better option.

I will say this: our experience with Fred has had its merits. Neither Charlie nor I have relapsed; helping other addicts and alcoholics is the best way to stay sober, even if those you try to help don't. Fred provides a handy reminder of what our lives would be like if we started drinking and drugging again. I've also had some pretty intense spiritual experiences thanks to my encounters with Fred. This is WHY we kept trying to help even when it didn't work again and again. And choosing to leave Fred in prison is actually our latest attempt to help him; perhaps suffering consequences for his actions will help him in way that kindness, love, and support did not. After all, we addicts and alcoholics are stubborn motherfuckers that don't change unless we are FORCED. God willing, Fred will get some help in prison (there are options available, hopefully he'll take them) and perhaps, this time, when he gets out he'll want sobriety. I hope and pray that is true, anyway.

*"It works when you work it" is a common statement at recovery meetings.

Voter Intimidation

Dudes. I am TIRED. BlogHer DC done wore me out. OK, maybe it was the whole not sleeping the night before, or the long drive home after a full day, or the whole missing-Tori-so-much-I-ached, and not the eight hours of the conference itself. But whatever. TIRED, TIRED, TIRED.

But it's Tuesday! And I should post!

First, a short wrap-up of BlogHer DC. It was, as per usual (heh--cause I've been to TWO WHOLE EVENTS), beautifully organized, smartly set up, and educational. Plus the food ROCKED (seriously, best fish I've ever eaten was served at lunch). There were two tracks for sessions: beginning blogging, and using blogging to build community and change the world. Sadly, neither track really hit me where I lived; I feel like we already have a pretty awesome community here and I don't want to get MORE political (kind of feel like I've got that covered). But I still got a lot out of it, and I loved meeting other bloggers. Also, interestingly, there were far more women of color at this event than at the national one. Which rocked. Plus, LESLEY STAHL in the closing keynote. She was awesome (she blew me away when she said she would never have believed, back in 1972 when she got hired to do TV news, that in 2008 we'd STILL be discussing the glass ceiling and awaiting the first female President). I had a great time. Also, they will be announcing the city for 2009 by the end of the month. Go PHILLY!

Man, I just proofread that paragraph and realized I missed lots of words. Sigh. TIRED.

Anyway, moving on to what I mentioned in the title of the post. Voter intimidation. Yep, it's happening. Here in Philadelphia, an anonymous flier was distributed at colleges and poor neighborhoods saying that if you show up to vote, officials will be laying in wait for anyone with a foreclosure, parking tickets, or a warrant. I wonder who could be behind such an insidious flier? Let's see... they targeted college students and poor people who tend to vote... right. For the Democrats.

No, I'm not saying it was designed and handed out by the local Republican party. But with Obama's campaign having to file suit to prevent the Republican party in Michigan from using records of foreclosure to prevent people from voting, or the fact that the Supreme Court said that in fact states CAN require photo ID to vote, I do find myself beginning to wonder.

How about you? Has there been any efforts like these to intimidate voters in your state? I'd love to hear from Republicans that have also been harassed in this way. Do tell. I'll go nap, and read all about it when I get up. Heh.

BlogHer DC: Blogging Basics

Seriously, y'all are like, "why is she at that panel?" Well, because I kind of blogged accidentally, I'm interested in what I've done right, and what wrong. We shall see.

Speakers are Laurie, Karen, and Debbie. Interesting; one is like me, got into writing professionally thanks to blogging. One is a reformed lawyer and lobbyist (great stories about why she blogs). Last one was a journalist and now does blog stuff and social media stuff (she's also very happy to be on an all-women panel with two women over 50). Debbie talking about leaving a "deep digital trail." Also doesn't believe in SEO, says you just have to write well.

Discussing "blog legacy." Talking about unifying names and sign ins. Also talking about how blogging personally can impact you professionally; interesting point. Guess I won't be getting any Republican clients. Heh. Now discussing look of blog, and how it should "feel like home."

Now discussing setting boundaries; what won't you talk about on your blog? She said sex & money, and I have to agree. I discuss money broadly, and maybe touch on sex a bit but not too much. Debbie is saying not to discuss politics. Whoops. Talking about permanent, digital footprints declaring your positions. I'm proud of my positions, and would not change a word. Another panelist discussing not talking about politics, not naming her niece when she posts her photo, etc. I disagree. Oh, now she's saying that she is discussing the politics of the day and has found it liberating.

Really breaks down to personal vs. professional blogging.

Now talking about Twitter--apparently, each twit has it's own URL. Wow. Talking about twitter overload. LOL.

Have to say, weird having blogging experts on panel that haven't been blogging long.

Now discussing how to remain anonymous. No longer true for me.

Oh, good question about whether or not your stats are reflected when you post a full feed to feed readers. NO. That's why I do a partial feed, even if it annoys you--because when you have to come to my actual page, my ad revenue goes up. Sorry, folks. :)

Oh my god, so need this panel to end so I can pee. Heh.

Trademark your domain--interesting idea. I do need to do that.

Now saying post titles need to be really good. Sigh. I do sucky post titles.

Talking about the best way to generate discussion in comments: ask a question? Duh. :)

Now asking about how to deal with comments--do you respond, or ignore? Well, y'all know what I do. :)

Wrapping up. Off to lunch!

BlogHer DC: Liveblogging

Good morning! I'm going to liveblog today's events, because then I don't have to come up with another topic. Heh. Starting off at opening keynote.

Lots of newbies at this conference: 2/3 never at a BlogHer again. Everyone wants to learn how to "grow their blog."

Now we're talking about the swag--GM has cars here for us to go on test drives with (the Saturn line). Wonder if they have a hybrid? That would be fun. Sarah and I entered every single drawing. Hoping to win super cool square LG phone. Wish us luck.

Rumors floating about that they will be announcing BlogHer '09 location soon. Don't think it will be here today, however.

Now discussing survey BlogHer did in March. Results? Blogs are mainstream and totally addictive. DUH.

53% of women read blogs. 85% Generation Y, 66% Gen X (woot!), and 41% Boomers. Almost the as photo sharing.

Blogging is a daily part of life for those involved. 20% are spending less time using radio, TV, newspapers and magazines (yep). 43% of BlogHer Network readers give up TV to read blogs.

Neilsen reported that 10% of Morning Talk Show viewers dumped TV for Mommy Blogs. Ha!

Blogs are highly trusted, both for new information and advice. Interesting. Do y'all trust me? :)

Blogs are seriously influencing purchase decisions. 64%. Wow.

Blogging represents evolution of power for women. Maybe a stretch, but I hear ya.

Interesting; because we no longer trust institutions--media, government, health care, big business... Blogs present an opportunity to build community and trust. :)

Uh oh. They are going to make us do a "speed dating thing." Sarah is threatening to hide under the table.

Oh lordy. That was exhausting. Off the next panel.

Miracle

I'm probably jinxing myself by even whispering this, much less broadcasting it to the internets, but something wonderous has happened. Remember that demon that inhabited Tori for a while? Well, it's gone, and now I suddenly have this silly, sweet, OBEDIENT child that is cuddly and adorable.

Seriously, she's been amazing. So much so that I wish BlogHer DC was actually happening during her next evil phase. But it's not, so this afternoon Sarah and I are loading up the car and driving on down to Bethesda to stay overnight, far away from this adorable child.

Luckily, about a dozen of you are meeting us for dinner tonight, and that cheers me immensely. Please feel free to just show up even if you feel nervous--we'll make room. Heh. Austin Grill, 6:30pm!

Patriot Act MY ASS

I know the market is crashing. I know that the economic situation is terrifying; we've been hit badly by this news as well (my mother-in-law's investments for her long term care are vanishing rapidly; we're going to have to move her soon out of a private facility). This is horrifying.

But there's other news going on. Stuff that has really got me worried. Stuff I've been worried about ever since 9/11. Stuff like the Patriot Act which has always struck me as the "Americans give up their civil liberties in a full-on panic" Act.

I understand the importance of protecting ourselves as a nation; of course I do. From the aftermath of 9/11 it struck me that the most good might have come from all of our various agencies working together, rather than just further widening what those agencies were allowed to do. To me, it seems as if when it comes to civil liberties, the Republicans have been all about the biggest government of all--very Big Brother, if you will.

But we liberals were told to sit down and shut up. We were asked if we loved our country, or if we just wanted to "hand it over" to the terrorists. They told us to look at the big picture, and not sweat the small stuff. They told us that if we weren't doing anything wrong, well, we had nothing to worry about.

They said we were paranoid. No one wanted to spy on law-abiding Americans.

Turns out, they did. Not only did the NSA happily listen in on our phone calls--INCLUDING MILITARY OFFICERS CALLING HOME FROM WAR--but they also enjoyed a fine laugh at their expense. In fact, they would often save the most salacious calls--the phone sex and pillow talk--and replay it again and again.

AWESOME.

And the best news? Well, a week ago the Justice Department issued new guidelines for the FBI. They can now spy on any of us, for any reason, without a warrant, for up to 30 days. They do not need proof. Here is a section of the decree (thanks to Momocrats for the copy):

Assessments, authorized by Subpart A of this Part, require an authorized purpose but not any particular factual predication. For example, to carry out its central mission of preventing the commission of terrorist acts against the United States and its people, the FBI must proactively draw on available sources of information to identify terrorist threats and activities. It cannot be content to wait for leads to come in through the actions of others, but rather must be vigilant in detecting terrorist activities to the full extent permitted by law, with an eye towards early intervention and prevention of acts of terrorism before they occur. Likewise, in the exercise of its protective functions, the FBI is not constrained to wait until information is received indicating that a particular event, activity, or facility has drawn the attention of those who would threaten the national security. Rather, the FBI must take the initiative to secure and protect activities and entities whose character may make them attractive targets for terrorism or espionage.

Wonderful. Tell me; do you feel safer? Because I sure don't. While we're all worried about our bank accounts, the government is further infiltrating our lives. It seems wrong. Very, very wrong.

Debate, Sickness, Random... yawn.

Ug. I have the weirdest cold-thing from Tori; my tonsils are huge and swollen (like, twice their normal size) and my mouth is constantly dry, plus sneezing/coughing (seriously, am I sick more often than you are? Is it Tori's daycare's fault? Cause I'm going a bit nuts here). Not really bad enough to knock me down, until you add a migraine to the mix--yeah! All of this means that I'm feeling totally cranky and icky AND for the first time in forever I wasn't with Sarah when she got her 13-years-sober coin at a meeting today. Congratulations, Sarah! I'm very proud of you. And how appropriate that it should fall on Yom Kippur. You know, in a way. I wish those of you observing Yom Kippur a good fast.

Anyway.

So, my thoughts on the last presidential candidate debate. Well, first and foremost, I can't believe we have YET ANOTHER ONE of those next week. Secondly, I'm mad it fucked up my shows. The last thing I wanted to do that night was think deeply about politics. I really just wanted to lose myself in fictional TV. Wait--the debate totally made that possible! Both candidates were vague and quippy, as usual, in that way that politicians have to be in this day and age.

Mostly, though, I felt kind of badly for McCain. I know, I know. His camp was just counting on the town hall format to be his forte, and while I bet he connects really well in person at those things, it just did NOT translate well to television. Plus, he doesn't usually DEBATE at those town hall things, and those town hall meetings he loves are filled with folks that overall support him. So instead of coming across as direct and clear, as he hoped, he looked rather doddering wandering about the stage like that (in a normal town hall setting that would be viewed as trying to reach everyone, but on TV it just looked weird). His "my friends" thing drove me NUTS, and yeah, I do think he misstepped in a big way when he said "that one." I also felt his assumption that the young African-American man had never heard of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac was, frankly, racist. Overall, I felt condescended to by McCain through the whole debate--but then, I don't like him, so I would, right?

Now, Obama didn't wow me much either except in two ways: it's clear that he has studied economics and knows more about it than I do. GOOD. Secondly, his story about his mom dying of cancer and having to worry about medical bills reassured me greatly that he GETS IT when it comes to the health care crisis. I mean, even my dear friend Jo who is doing a bunch of early intervention stuff with her son with ADHD is being KILLED by her co-pays--and that is WITH insurance. This is what people aren't talking about with the health care crisis--that even with insurance, a lot of us aren't making it through.

So that is my impression of the debate. As usual, I have to say that I didn't believe that debate would changing anyone's mind, but I do know at least one person it did. How about you guys? Did it change your mind?

One thing I've learned, though--I've been loving using Twitter during the debates because it's like being at a huge debate party without having to worry about hearing the debate over everyone's conversations. But I do need to reel it in a bit, and practice the same consideration for other's views on Twitter that I try to practice here. I've been harsh in my twits and as a result, some folks I really care about have chosen to "unfollow me" for the political season. As fired up as I am, and as angry as I get sometimes, I still need to practice kindness--even on Twitter. Or possibly even MORE so; the instant nature of Twitter makes it easy to say things I later wish I hadn't.

Damn it, I had something else to say. Oh! Dinner on Sunday night in Bethesda. Just a reminder--it's at 6:30pm at the Austin Grill in Bethesda. It looks like about ten people are coming (including a certain famous blogger if she doesn't go and have her baby before then). I've made a reservation for 12 people, just in case you haven't confirmed with me yet. And I will happily add more to the reservation if you can make it. Cause I want to see y'all. I really do. Just know this: I am both MUCH SHORTER and MUCH ROUNDER than you expect. Especially the short thing. You should have seen the shocked faces at BlogHer. I'm 5' 2", people (but I have a tall personality--no, seriously, I do). THAT IS SHORT. So when you are standing in the lobby of the Austin Grill looking for the fat girl with the red hair with a blond streak on the front and tattoos, you are probably looking right over my head. Sarah (who will also be there, of course) towers over me, so look for her instead. Heh. And, NO, I do not take kindly to having tall people rest their arms on my head (DAVE).

Anyway, if you want to come and haven't already said so, just post a comment or email me (if that link isn't working, it's cecilyk@gmail.com). I'm super psyched.

That is all for today. What should I blog about tomorrow?

Oh! One last quick note. Apparently, Sarah Palin is going to be dropping the puck at the Flyer's opening game on Saturday night. The Flyers are hosting an "ultimate hockey mom" contest, hence Palin being there.

I do not think it will go well for her.

Philadelphia is the city where the sports fans have been known to throw things at their own team--when they WIN. So... Yeah. In this highly democratic city (seriously, it's like 85%) I don't think she'll escape booing. Which I feel both gleeful about, and mildly ashamed. I love my city. :)

Please Touch Museum (shiny! new! awesome!)

You might want to skip this post unless you live in, or plan to visit, Philadelphia. The post does, however, have pictures of Tori. Hopefully that will ease the pain of my skipping discussing the debate last night (THAT ONE).

One of the best things that came out of the BlogHer conference is the connections that I've made. I met this lovely lady who was kind enough to introduce me to this cool chick who has now been giving my name to a ton of folks, one of whom is involved with the local tourism group. They, in turn, forwarded my name to the media relations guy at our local children's museum, and after a few conversations I managed to wangle invites to the press preview of the museum's new space for all the local mommy bloggers I know. Heh.

The press preview was today. Short version? Three hours after I arrived, I had to carry an exhausted Tori kicking and screaming out of the place. She gives it a BIG THUMBS UP. You know, if she had the fine motor skills to put her thumbs up. 

The Please Touch Museum has been around as long as I've been in Philadelphia (longer, actually--since 1976), and was one of the first kid's museums dedicated to children under 7. It was located in a relatively small space not far from "museum row" at 21st & Race Streets. The space was small, kind of dark, and frankly a bit used up. It was filled with exhibits that kids could climb on and engage with, and kids LOVED it. We'd only taken Tori to it a few times before the old space closed; she wasn't really old enough to get into it until this summer, and they closed six weeks ago for the big move.

The new space is amazing. They moved into Memorial Hall (formerly known as Centennial Hall), a building originally built in Fairmount Park to celebrate America's 100th birthday. The building was never meant to last, but last it did. It's been wildly underused in recent years, and was in need of major repairs before it could be used by the museum, but the money managed to arrive and the now the museum is three times larger-- and in my not so humble opinion--about 60 times cooler.

There are two floors. The "ground" floor (what, is basement a bad word now?) contains a spectacular Alice in Wonderland exhibit, including a hedge maze and funky mirrors and shrinking hallways.

That would be Sarah, Tori, and the cutie Sarah babysits exploring said shrinking hallway.

The ground floor also houses the (very popular in the old site) grocery store, which Tori LOVED and I had to beg her to leave. It now also houses a kitchen where kids can put the groceries away and a McDonalds where they can "make" burgers nearby. There is also an exhibit that showcases the history of the building, but we didn't see that today because Charlie (the history buff of the family) wasn't with us. Heh.

There is also a huge faux tree that stretches between the two floors, a medical clinic (with a nursery), a construction zone, and probably four or five things I'm forgetting. No, really, the place is HUGE.

Upstairs on the 1st floor is the River--a large fake river that kids can do all kinds of things with (including making it rain with a soon-to-be-functional cloud) like make waves and race ducks and boats and stuff. What I liked about the River feature was that it varies in height, so little kids won't have to fight big kids for space. Nice. Again, Tori LOVED this and had to be dragged away.

There's also a big room where kids can make "planes" and fly them (they are foam, and they have a cool launchpad thingy that kids send planes up in), a room full of blocks, face paints, and that weird beaded foam stuff. Tori liked the blocks.

There's also a transportation area with cars and yes, the Septa Bus (a popular spot in the old space). Oh, and the creepy animatronic dolls that used to be housed in Litz Brothers (then Strawbridges) are here, preserved, and moving in that weird creepy way.

But the best thing? THE CAROUSEL. It's a beautiful 100-year-old carousel that has been completely restored. Tori, the kid that was scared of rides two weeks ago, rode the carousel three times.

By the way, that's Jo of The Modernity Ward (formerly The Leery Polyp) in the background. Hi Jo! I can't believe you already have a post up mentioning this jaunt. Heh.

Anyway, the new space is incredible, and the exhibits are fantastic. Other awesome new things: PARKING. Parking at the old site was a fucking nightmare. Now, it's the easiest thing in the world. Also? A CAFE. Yep, you can now feed your kid and keep on going without leaving the premises. Thank goodness.

So, if you are coming to Philadelphia, be sure to check this place out. It rocks. Besides, where else will you be greeted by a full scale model of the Statue of Liberty's torch made out of toys? NOWHERE, that's where.

28 Months

My darling Tori Anne,

You are 28 months old. I keep saying you are two-and-a-quarter because, well, that's what you are. I often have to tell people how old you are because in groups you have this awesome tendency to kind of outshine the older kids; between your speech capability and your incredible physical agility you appear much older than you are. However, you still can't do things like play with other kids well or do things like, oh, share--and it's then that the other parents ask me how old you are (with that tone in their voice that I really should be working harder with you). Heh. They are always surprised that you are so young.

This has been a great month! A lot of the frustrating things that you were doing last month that were driving your mommy and daddy crazy have seemingly gone away, or at least are on hiatus. You haven't been hitting us, or fighting us when we need to do something, and best of all you've been listening. You haven't been put in time-out in two weeks, which is remarkable, because for a while we were doing it a couple times a day. The advice I got from the folks that read this blog really made a big difference--you've become a much more fun kid to be around. When Moxie had lunch with us last week, she decided I've been lying in my blog posts where I complained about your behavior; she thought you were a really well-behaved kid. And the truth is, you really are. For now, anyway.

The only new thing that's happened this month is that over the last week or two you've suddenly developed a very strong separation anxiety. It was so weird because literally one day you were fine going off to day care and to your other playgroups, and then the next day you were simply inconsolable even at the mention of them. We've tried to work with you, talking to you about it and discussing what's happening, and that seems to have helped a little. But on Sunday you were so upset that you were kicked out of Sunday School because you couldn't stop crying. It was so sad, I felt awful for you. But then Monday you went to day care happily. Sigh.

 

You've overall become a bit more fearful this last month. You didn't want to ride the rides at a little fair we went to (unless your Godsister rode them with you), you greet even your favorite folks with a bit of shyness these days, and you still don't like large mascot-type things. You even cried when we tried to photograph you with some pumpkins at a local orchard (that is, until your Godsister started jumping around and making faces at you. Then you smiled).

Frankly, I am grateful that you've developed a bit of caution. Your fearlessness kept us on constant alert; now when I'm in choir practice before church the fact that you contentedly hold my leg the whole time is a relief. You've always been such an independent kid, it's nice to finally be needed as your mom. Although, I must confess, that day you walked over to me, squatted down with your butt out, pointed at said butt (you'd just bumped your butt in a fall) and said, "Kiss it!" That day I wasn't so excited about being needed. Luckily, you were content with a kiss-to-hand-to-butt move. Thank God.

You love games on the laptop. Seriously, it's your favorite thing. Just for the record, we totally regret ever showing you the games on the computer. As much as we love you, and as much as we enjoy making you happy--well, we don't really like watching your hammer away at our laptops. Our laptops are our livelihood--without them, you'd have no mac and cheese. And how much would that suck?

I have to say that I've really enjoyed this month. You are developing a great sense of humor (when you crack yourself up and then say, "Tori is so silly!" I nearly explode at the cuteness), and you've been much more cuddly and adorable. You love when I tell you stories, and we have so much fun now at the end of the day as we pretend to be butterflies and penguins. I love making you laugh. You are my favorite person and I can't believe how awesome it is to be your mom.

I'll close out this month with an adorable short video of you "striking a pose" while playing with the laptop and taking photos of yourself. It's crazy how funny you can be. I love you, bunnyboo (did you know I call you Bunny?). You are my beautiful baby girl.

Love,

Mommy

The Work-At-Home Juggle

Before I embark on this entry, please remember that for many states today is the VERY LAST DAY you can register to vote. Republican, Democrat, or undecided--doesn't matter. I don't care if you write in your cat's name, just get out there and VOTE. Especially if you are a woman. These ladies fought for us; don't let them down.

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I woke up with a brain devoid of blogging topics, so I cast a net on twitter asking for topics and three different folks asked me how I balance being Tori's mom and working at home. Truth? I'm not sure I do, even after a year plus of trying.

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings Tori goes to morning care* from 9-12; whoever gets up with her (we alternate days) usually takes her over (only about a half-mile away). She gets home at 12:15, eats lunch, and then goes up for a nap (God willing she'll be like me and nap until she's FOUR) until about 3:00 or so.

Tuesday and Thursday mornings I go to a recovery meeting that offers babysitting, for free, which is awesome. We usually stop at a grocery store following the meeting (Whole Foods and Trader Joe's are both close to one of my meetings, and there are certain things we can only get there) or maybe we'll stop at the library. My only work time on those days is during Tori's nap; Charlie gets the mornings to do his work. Afternoons, post Tori's nap, are time we either spend together as a family, or one of us takes Tori somewhere so the other one can work if needed. Also, if I get up with Tori really early, I might sneak some work in while she watches Sesame Street (although that means more typos. heh).

Weekends I usually also work during nap time, or I'll clean/cook/shop/organize/menu plan. Household things. However, the house frequently gets away from us and ends up being a huge disorganized mess.

As you can see, I don't really work full-time. I work about 30 hours a week, unless I have a big project or deadline and then I need to work in the evenings after Tori has gone to bed. I don't like to do that, however; I find if I do, I get really run down quickly and resent the fuck out of it. Evenings  are down time; time to relax, watch TV, and read books. Time to talk to Charlie (we try to take a moment every evening to discuss the next day and find out if we have any special issues to deal with, and how we are going to divide Tori duty) and reconnect. If one of us has a big project with a looming deadline, we rearrange things to accommodate that need.

The real challenge with this lifestyle isn't really time management; it's money management. We recently went through 30 days without pay. Together we had over $8,000 in outstanding billing, but no one was bothering to actually PAY us. We, like most Americans, operate with little in the way of savings so we have to toss lots of things in the air to keep the bills paid and the fridge stocked--and sometimes the bills go unpaid for a bit in favor of groceries. That's just the way it is.

I consider this blog part of my work. I'm sure you've noticed lots of changes in the last ten months or so, and even more since BlogHer. Truth is, I earn money with this blog--not a lot--and I'd like to make more. I blog Monday through Friday now, and I am constantly trying to find ways to increase my ad revenue and my readership. Why?

Because I LOVE writing here. It means a huge amount to me, and I can't imagine my life without it. While I enjoy all the writing I do, what I love more than anything else is to write this blog. This is where my heart lives. Many people have told me that the best way to find happiness in your work is to do what you love, so that is what I am trying to do. I am trying to find a way to make this part of how I make my living--but WITHOUT compromising the primary role (and, I hope, appeal) of the blog.

So. Is this post boring you? I don't blame you a bit.

The main things that sucks about working from home and working for myself is this; one, I'm never truly off duty--I always feel the computer keys calling to me. Two, I do not see any people except Charlie and Tori. I miss seeing others, and having adult conversations. I swear, I've forgotten how to talk to people. I met someone at a party on Saturday night (my first adult party since last Christmas), and all I could talk about was Tori (and the place we both worked, although at different times, and how much it sucked-- nice, right?). This is why I'm trying to schedule a regular Wednesday afternoon playgroup (at Clark Park, around 4pm, should you want to join us) although last week we got rained out (boy, was I pissed).

But overall? I really, really, REALLY hope I never have to work in an office again. Although if I do, I am never going to return to pretending to be someone I'm not--I don't want to look "professional" (meaning, hide the tattoos), and I don't ever again want to be the "face" of an organization. Being who I really am is the very best thing about working for myself.

* Tori's been struggling with AWFUL separation anxiety--last week was hell, culminating in Tori having to leave Sunday School yesterday because she wouldn't stop crying at church. I had to sing my choir part--as the only soprano!--with Tori resting on my shoulder, sighing those little hiccuping sighs. Charlie and I spent the last 24 hours discussing "playgroup" with Tori, and today went much better. Hoping it's just a phase.

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So, dinner, Sunday night in Bethesda, Maryland! W00t! It's on, people. I'm thinking 6:30pm (if you'd rather do later, or earlier, let me know right away). Melissa is also going to be there (yeeha! that means someone even cooler than me will be there!) and she recommended that we all meet here. It's Mexican, meaning margaritas for you moms escaping the kids, and there will be something for most folks, even vegetarians. Yeah! I can't wait to see you all! Just email me if you can definitely come so that I know for sure how many of us there will be so I can make a reservation. Maybe in a private room. Cause I suspect we are gonna be one noisy group of mofos. Heh.

Clarity, with Rambling

I've finally figured it out. I now know why this year I am so much more in touch with the loss of Nicholas and Zachary than I have been previous years. It's so obvious now, I can't believe I didn't think of it before.

It was an election year that year too.

All these feelings--the political outrage, the fragile hope of change--are wrapped up tight in the loss of my sons. I remember writing this post after I got home from the hospital, and despairing because it seemed so clear to me that there was no hope that Kerry would win, that we would be stuck with George Bush for another four years.

No wonder I'm feeling so raw this year. No wonder I'm jumping at shadows, and overreacting to the comments posted by anonymous people that don't give me an email address so I can actually talk to them.

No wonder. God, what a relief to know. I feel like reason, sanity, and perspective have all returned.

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Tori has suddenly developed separation anxiety. Whenever she goes to day care or the "playgroup" she goes to while I go to a couple of recovery meetings every week, she cries and cries and cries when we leave.

I'd worry that it was something about the morning care place that she hated except she's now doing it at all these other places too (my two meetings are at different locations with different babysitters, both of whom she loved as recently as last week). She stops crying a minute or so after I leave (I've stood outside the door listening), but it breaks my heart to see her so upset.

I asked the guru and she said it was normal and to just continue like normal, but GAH. It sucks.

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I don't often pimp things here on this blog (do I? I don't think so), but consider yourself pimped: you simply MUST buy my friend Nancy Falkow's new collaborative album Under the Stars (OK, the group is actually called Sunflow, but whatever, it's Nancy).