It's Not All Bad Part 2

I had the day planned out perfectly:  swim class, then grocery shopping, unpack the groceries, mix up a batch of banana muffins, pack while they baked, water the garden, tend to the animals and be on our way down to Mom's by 1:00 p.m.

I got as far as swim class.

On our walk home from the Y, in typical Dia fashion, we pretended to be something.  This time she was a butterfly and I was Heimlich from Bug's Life (figures that she cast me as the chubby, daft one).  She fluttered and soared all the way home, taking breaks as her wings got tired or to encourage me (as Heimlich) to keep going... just a bit farther ... and then?  Boom.  She tripped over something and hit the cement hard.  Very hard.

In the scheme of major injuries, this was minor, but it sent Dia 'round the bend.  I'll give her that her knee bruised instantly and the scrape was a bleeder and it probably hurt to holy heck and back.  Still, her hysterics and the clean-up put us behind schedule in a major way.  Grrr-arrrr.

I switched gears a little and put off the grocery shopping to Monday and continued on with the plan. Banana muffins?  Check.  Pack while they baked?  Check.  Water the garden?  Check.  Tend to the animals?  Aaaaannndddd... halt.

Albert, the invisa-kitten, had disappeared under the bed.  While this isn't new, he's lived under my bed since he arrived Tuesday night, I didn't need him there right at that particular moment.  I had a plan, you see (yes, another plan!), that I would coax him into being social by plying him with Gourmet cat food.  The plan I'd been employing, was one where Dia and I would sit on the floor next to the dish of wet, delicious kitten food, and read a book.  Albert would come out and eat the food and we would leave him to eat it.  We wouldn't pet him or move much, but just let him see that being around people was safe.  The problem on Saturday afternoon, however, was that I still needed to give him his ear drops before we left.  It would defeat my fabulous plan if I enticed him with Royal Canin babycat food and then capture him to dose him with funky ear drops.  Sigh.  Yet I had no time at this point to dilly-dally.  Sigh again.  Another plan failed.  Grrrr-arrrrrrh!

So with another delay under our belt we were finally on our way.  We got as far as getting in the car. 

Mom's house is only a 90 minute drive, but you never know about traffic and so I brought along the portable DVD player for Dia.  For whatever reason, despite going in effortlessly each and every time on our vacation, the dang.thing.wouldn't.install.properly.and.I.was.getting.more.and.more.pissed.off.with.every.failed.attempt. and.I.was.beginning.to.break.into.a.sweat.from.the.stifling.heat.in.the.garage
and finally I tossed the DVD player on the seat, saying GRRRRR-ARRRR out loud in a fit of utter frustration.

"Mom," Dia said "Om mani padme hum."  (Brief pause) "It always works, Mama.  Om mani padme hum."

I took a breath.  "Om mani padme hum."  She was right.  As always.  And the silly thing installed right that time and, after a "Good job, Mom!" from Dia (that I returned with giving the credit to her for calming me down) we were finally, finally on our way.

I just needed gas.

The Shell station was packed and, after waiting for a pump, I pulled in and swiped my card ... and swiped my card... and.  OH FOR THE LOVE OF PETE.  The card reader acted like it was working, but it was not working.  Or, if it was, it wasn't going to allow me to actually pump the gas for another  hour or so.  Like an idiot, I tried a few more feeble attempts at getting it to read before giving up, locking Dia in the car (she was happy watching Land Before Time) and sprinting to the cashier. 

"Pump 5 won't read the card." I announced.
"Yes we know," said the incredibly helpful cashier.  "We don't know what's wrong with it because we aren't getting any messages.  Most of the pumps are doing that right now."
(Well, that explains why the gas station was so backed up.)
"OK, well can you take my card here then?"
"Yes," said the wonderfully attentive employee "but we're in the middle of a shift change right now so it'll be like 10 minutes or so."
(What the...?)
"I have my little girl in the car and can't just leave her there for 10 minutes!  Can't you just take a $20 and activate the pump?"
"No."
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
I went back to the pump, grumbling.

I noticed some guy pestering the other patrons with a box of something or other he was selling and I prayed he didn't approach me.  I swiped my card one more time and stood back waiting when a woman walked up to me and said "Are you having problems with your card?"  I thought "Oh great, she's with this guy selling whatever."  Sourly, I looked at her and said "No, it's the pump."
"Oh," she said "I thought you were having problems with your card."
"No, my card is fine."
"It's the pump then?"
"Yes"
"Well, just in case" she said "here's a $20.  I'm a mom too and I've been there.  We gotta' help each other out."
Her outstretched hand discretely held the bill and my heart just fell.  I felt like such a jerk.
"No, no, no!" I said, refusing the money "it really is the pump, but thank you SO so much.  I'm OK as far as the cash goes, but that was the sweetest thing to do.  Thank you so much."

And with that the pump clicked on, I filled my gas tank and was on my way.  I should have talked to her more - should have told her how she just totally turned my day around, should have said more than my weak 'thank you.'  I ran into some major traffic jams that, in my previous mindset, would have put me over the edge.  Instead I kept recalling back to the extreme generosity and kindness of a perfect stranger - a moment of angelic grace.

I am so blessed.

(Oh, and Albert is no longer the invisi-cat.  He's coming around quite well and, in fact, is laying at my feet right now.)

Water Doesn't Upset You

Our last stop on our summer vacation was in Cambria.  The hotel was supposed to have a very nice breakfast buffet, served to 10:30 a.m.  Dia had been sick on this vacation, so I was letting her sleep as long as she needed.  At 10:00 she awoke.  I hurriedly got us both ready and we rushed over to get the final scraps of breakfast only to find that the buffet was over.  I'd misread the pamphlet.  I thought it was breakfast from 7:00-10:30 but, in fact, it was 7:30-10:00. 

We returned to the hotel room, me feeling extremely defeated, and I decided to ready myself properly for the day.  As we stood in the bathroom together while I did my makeup, I cried rather dejectedly to Dia "I don't know why every little thing is upsetting me so much these days." 

She turned on the water faucet.  I thought she was just playing with the water because she likes to do that.

"Look" she said.
 
I looked, but didn't see what she wanted me to see.  I shook my head a little, shrugging.  "Hm?"

"Water doesn't upset you Mama."  She said.  "Does it?"

My first response was one of annoyance: sigh... of course water doesn't upset me, that's not what I mean... complain, mutter, complain... But fortunately this all stayed in my thoughts and lasted only the milliseconds it took to think them.  Instead out loud I said "No, baby, water doesn't upset me."

The list went from there.  Out of my sweet 5 year olds' mouth was the reality.  "This cup doesn't upset you, the toothbrush doesn't upset you, your shoes don't upset you, I don't upset you.  See?  Not every little thing upsets you!"

See why I love her so much? 

And we had the best breakfast ever, by the way.  We sat at the little table in the hotel room, in front of a window looking out onto a garden and had a feast of tuna salad, cheese sticks, crackers, grapes and smiles.  No breakfast buffet in the world was finer.

The Matrix is Broken

For those who have not seen "The Matrix," forgive me (and who ARE you by the way???).  

You know that scene where Neo sees the cat doing the exact same thing twice and he knows there's a glitch in the Matrix?  Well, I think we may have a glitch.

It's more than just a deja vu moment.  It's that stuff that you can't believe you really just saw correctly.  You kind of blink and go - "was that what I thought it was?" 

Yesterday - just on my drive home alone - was proof that the Matrix is buggy right now 'cause stuff like this?  doesn't happen.

So I'm driving home, passing the bus stop in front of John Muir High School.  The light turns red.  I stop.  I look aimlessly about and see ... wait ... is that a naked butt?  Oh - no - that's a whole naked dude!  There stands - with his back to me at least - a full grown gentleman, apparently taking this very public moment to change his pants.  I can't explain this, but I did get the privilege of seeing him in full glory, bending over and stepping into his drawers.  Then the light changed before he turned around and, God forbid, I'd have to make eye contact or act nonchalant.  Thank goodness it was a quick light.

OK.  So that was done.  I'm halfway home with no more incidents.  Good.

Oh wait, what's this on the right side of the road?  It looks like a traffic stop.  A sheriff's car, a white pick-up truck and a hatchback of some variety.  Nope - that's not all - there's something else there.  Oh, I see.  It is a gurney.  With a body bag on it.  And the body bag is full.  Of what looks like a body.  I could be assuming this part of course, but it had the proper bumps where feet might go.  So - this is one of those things where my first instinct is to think "oh what tragedy" but then my brain kicks in.  There are 3 cars - none are damaged, so they were not involved in an accident.  But more especially, there are 3 cars.  So who brought the gurney?  Where did that come from?  I mean, was it in the back of the hatchback?  The back of the pick-up?  Did an ambulance forget something?

I'm pretty sure that some jokester has launched a virus in the Matrix, because Mom was just telling me that Saturday night, just outside of her friend's house, she was met with a fully naked Rubenesque young woman who apparently was searching for the Garden of Eden.  

It's just a good thing I don't know how to code.  What a world we'd live in if I did!

For My Sunshine

Your picture fell from the wall and shattered today.  It was the one that you brought back from Las Vegas.  The sketch drawing of you that I always thought looked more like Amber than you except that the artist somehow captured your light.  No one has a light like that.  He saw it and drew it and because of that and the fact that you seemed rather fond of it, I framed it and consider it one of my Precious Things.

Maria broke it.  She was cleaning the bathroom door, trying to be extra vigilent and thorough and when she pushed the door it hit the picture.  She tried to catch it but couldn't and she was so sad and scared that Juana had to be the one to tell me.  I assessed the damage and assured them both not to worry.  I would fix it.  I can fix it.

See that's the risk.  I am trusting someone with my most prized possessions.  I am trusting someone who can't possibly know that that rock with the googly eyes, or that weird purple frog or that clock that doesn't run are what are really meaningful in my world.  Even with them taking tremendous care something could go wrong, something could get broken.  I can't wrap up everything I love in tons of bubble wrap to keep it safe because then I wouldn't get to enjoy it.  So I go ahead and take the risk and sometimes stuff gets broken.  It happens.  It's life.

But the joy I get from taking that risk is so immense and irreplaceable it's worth it.  While they clean my house so perfectly top to bottom, I am playing with Dia.  I don't have to sacrifice that precious time on the weekend to tend to what ultimately has to be done.  Today I took her to swim class, enjoyed a yoga class afterwards, packed a picnic and had lunch under a tree in the park.  We flew a homemade kite, she tackled me over and over and finally, exhausted, we laid back laughing and looking at the blue sky through the trees.  It was perfect.  It was joy.  It's life.

Only through my beautiful gift of Juana and Maria do I get this luxury.  Because of them and Mom for providing them to me, I get to love, to smile, to laugh, to be happy a little bit more.  That is worth risking things getting broken.

Today as I looked on your beautiful, smiling face through shattered glass I mentally went through the steps of how to fix it.  The frame is in tact so I'll just find a similar one and borrow the glass out of it.  I'm sure it won't cost too much, though it may take me a while to find the right size.  Soon enough, though, I'll have it all whole and perfect again and back up on the wall where it belongs.

Years ago, I took a risk that I knew pretty early on was an ill chosen one.  This was a case of trusting someone with my heart, my vulnerabilities and my care.  I thought it was love, but there was little joy and what happiness I did feel was more of a contrast to the awful than anything good on its own basis.  Pictures were broken then too, but that time they were ones I couldn't fix.  My most precious things were burned or ripped to shreds and no amount of effort was going to get those back.  They were gone forever and I was left devastated. My heart was left abandoned and denied as well.  I'd trusted him with that precious thing too.  After that I was angry and hurt, but mostly scared and I wished for a ton of bubble wrap to hide my broken heart in until it healed.  I didn't have any though, so I just pushed on.

And life?  Life kept going.  So I kept going.  And eventually all was well.  Lessons were learned and I am better for them.

So, as it goes with lessons mothers learn, I want you to listen to this one:  Follow your joy.  If the joy just isn't there or if your moments of happiness are truly just the absence of pain, something irreparable will get broken.  Do not risk it.  But I think you know that one.

The lesson you might not yet know is this:  If there is joy - if you are genuinely happy - then even if something gets broken it was worth it.  You might feel shattered for a time, but your frame is strong and that incredibly blinding light you have can only dim for a minute or two.  You will get a new glass even though it may take a while to find the right one.  Soon enough you'll be all whole and perfect again and back up where you belong.

And if all else fails?  Well, I know where to get a ton of bubble wrap.

Well Played, Matt Damon

I've always loved Matt Damon.  He's a dream boat and he's wicked smart and he seems so damn nice and down to earth.  I want him to be my friend and come over for Sunday dinner every week he's in Los Angeles. 

When I saw his speech from the Save the Teachers Rally, my admiration grew even more so.  He spoke my very thoughts and concerns for Dia now going into school this fall.  If I could have said it better I would, but since Mr. Damon was so eloquent I will simply let him do what he does (with thanks).


“I flew overnight from Vancouver to be with you today. I landed in New York a few hours ago and caught a flight down here because I needed to tell you all in person that I think you’re awesome.

I was raised by a teacher. My mother is a professor of early childhood education. And from the time I went to kindergarten through my senior year in high school, I went to public schools. I wouldn’t trade that education and experience for anything.

I had incredible teachers. As I look at my life today, the things I value most about myself — my imagination, my love of acting, my passion for writing, my love of learning, my curiosity — all come from how I was parented and taught.

And none of these qualities that I’ve just mentioned — none of these qualities that I prize so deeply, that have brought me so much joy, that have brought me so much professional success — none of these qualities that make me who I am … can be tested.

I said before that I had incredible teachers. And that’s true. But it’s more than that. My teachers were EMPOWERED to teach me. Their time wasn’t taken up with a bunch of test prep — this silly drill and kill nonsense that any serious person knows doesn’t promote real learning. No, my teachers were free to approach me and every other kid in that classroom like an individual puzzle. They took so much care in figuring out who we were and how to best make the lessons resonate with each of us. They were empowered to unlock our potential. They were allowed to be teachers.

Now don’t get me wrong. I did have a brush with standardized tests at one point. I remember because my mom went to the principal’s office and said, ‘My kid ain’t taking that. It’s stupid, it won’t tell you anything and it’ll just make him nervous.’ That was in the ’70s when you could talk like that.

I shudder to think that these tests are being used today to control where funding goes.

I don’t know where I would be today if my teachers’ job security was based on how I performed on some standardized test. If their very survival as teachers was based on whether I actually fell in love with the process of learning but rather if I could fill in the right bubble on a test. If they had to spend most of their time desperately drilling us and less time encouraging creativity and original ideas; less time knowing who we were, seeing our strengths and helping us realize our talents.

I honestly don’t know where I’d be today if that was the type of education I had. I sure as hell wouldn’t be here. I do know that.

This has been a horrible decade for teachers. I can’t imagine how demoralized you must feel. But I came here today to deliver an important message to you: As I get older, I appreciate more and more the teachers that I had growing up. And I’m not alone. There are millions of people just like me.

So the next time you’re feeling down, or exhausted, or unappreciated, or at the end of your rope; the next time you turn on the TV and see yourself called “overpaid;” the next time you encounter some simple-minded, punitive policy that’s been driven into your life by some corporate reformer who has literally never taught anyone anything. … Please know that there are millions of us behind you. You have an army of regular people standing right behind you, and our appreciation for what you do is so deeply felt. We love you, we thank you and we will always have your back.”