Boys to Men Poem Submission

I was asked to submit a piece of writing to the Boys to Men, Mother's Advisory Committee for their January Newsletter. Boys to Men is a nonprofit and its mission is to reduce interpersonal violence by offering programs that (i)support the healthy development of adolescent boys; (ii) provide assistance and educational resources to boys and those who help raise them; and (iii) increase community awareness about the specific needs of boys.


Mother and Son

my dear sweet boy
my little one
you swept me away
stole my heart
showed me what true love finally is

my dear sweet boy
the love of my life
the life of my love
the light of my universe

such a little man
such a big burden
be a boy - be a man
it’s just you and me

never leave me
always love me
take care of me
become the man I wish I had met years ago.

stop the presses - i'm using a vacation day!

every once in a while, sometimes every so often, sometimes rarely...you just need a break. a break from the grind, a break from the tasks, to-do lists, phones ringing, emails blinking, schedules dictating.

i'm taking a vacation day. my son will go to school and i will do whatever the ___ i feel like. for me this means cleaning my apartment without distraction of "play with me", "mom, mommy, mooooooooom". the only meals to make are my own. ahhhhhhh time off.

i will feel accomplished, relaxed, refreshed and happy. i will get my hair cut and let them wait on me like i'm a queen. maybe i'll spring for a pedicure?

for this day i will be taken care of.

do yourself a favor - if you are tired, over worked, under appreciated, pulled in 1000 directions, over achieving, under achieving, burnt or bored...take that damn vacation day that you've earned :)

A poem that actually makes sense

The Thing Is

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
Ellen Bass,
from Mules of Love.
© BOA Editions, Ltd.,
The Writers Almanac for Oct 16, 2010

you cannot raise your hand to get off of this ride...

ahhh Fall. i love Fall. fairs, crisp air, colorful leaves, apples, pumpkins, scarves, and TONS AND TONS of stuff to do.

it really never ends. well it does "end" but let's not be so morbid.
the wheel just keeps going round and round, picking up speed and you cannot raise your hand to exit the ride. sometimes i feel like i'm a hampster in a wheel, running and running as fast as i can and other times i feel like i'm in a dryer full of sneakers, being tumbled around and around.

school, work, money, friends, bills, play dates, training, volunteer, organize, gym, laundry, cook, clean, drive, pick up, drop off, pack lunch, discipline, plan for the future, deal with the past, be in the present...maybe have some fun? read a book? pamper yourself? yeah right.

just keeps going. people say it gets easier but do they just mean we adapt? i can already carry about 50 lbs in one arm, talk on the phone, make sure my kid doesn't get runover in the parking lot, and go up the stairs at the same time - what is possibly next?

i just keep trying. that's all i can do. i cannot raise my hand to get off of this ride. i just have to smile through it - know that i am lucky - know that i can do it. i can do it all... at least that's what i'm choosing to tell myself :)

just like the Gravitron and the Zipper - although that ride is frightening, makes you feel like you've seen your last day and that you will definitely soon see your last meal...it is fun after all.

buckle up - we're going on a guilt trip!

i know exactly when my relationship with guilt changed. it was the second i realized i was pregnant.

when you're really young, guilt is something you rarely feel. if you have your head on straight, once you get older, you may feel it from time to time...like when i made my friend do my homework for me...or when i completely plagiarized an entire book report on george washington...or when i took more than my fair share of the "take one please" candy left on door steps at halloween.

i became entwined with guilt so deeply when i knew i was growing a tiny person inside of me. that i would be responsible for him...for life.

mother guilt swept in and attacked wherever it could. i felt guilty for taking a shower. clearly my baby needed me in the 5 minutes it took me to run some shampoo through my hair. i felt guilty when i wished he would just be QUIET. i'm a bad mother for wanting to pull my hair out because i haven't slept for more than 15 minutes in two weeks.

feel guilty for going back to work. feel guilty for dropping him off at daycare. feel guilty for using that exersaucer a little too much - it was such a great containment device after all.

my relationship with guilt got very serious. it took me years to realize that time away from my baby was good for both of us. that letting someone help out doesn't mean i'm a "bad mom". wanting to be left alone doesn't mean i hate my child.

the guilt has changed over time, but it hasn't really gone away. i feel guilty that i didn't make more of myself (seriously...what was i thinking majoring in sociology?)...wish i was older, wish i had my life settled first before a child was thrown into the mix (but the white picket fence fairy tale sounded so achievable!), wish that i could stay at home more, especially when he gets upset when i can't go on the field trip (clearly going to work is more fun than going to a farm and petting bunnies...yeah right.) the list goes on and on. as soon as i can "let go" of the guilt over one thing, another lovely item gets added to the list.

i hope he understands that every thing i do is for him. that although sometimes i'd rather shut my hand in a car door than play legos, i love him and always will put his needs before mine. i hope he understands that i desperately want a day at the spa, a night out with the girls, a weekend away...but that doesn't mean that he isn't number one in my life.

maybe guilt keeps us striving to be better. maybe guilt is supposed to keep our children safe...keep us from shifting our priorities too much. i still struggle at the balancing act. when i see his cute face pop up like a prairie dog in the window of the child care room at the gym (after he's spent all day at kindergarten, and then 2 hours in aftercare) i feel badly that i'm not in there playing with him. that i'm "indulging" myself with a 30 minute, jogger stroller free run.

i've learned over the last 5.5 years that sometimes it's okay to put myself first. i should probably do it more often. a good mother is a happy mother.

i'm hoping that someday he'll say that i was good enough, and if i'm really lucky, he'll say i was great :)

Night on the Town

when i think of what would be fun it's usually a "night on the town" - shopping, walking, drinking, eating, talking, sight seeing.

turns out, kids want that too - kids want to feel young, alive and spontaneous.

everyday i pick up my prince from school he asks me "where are we going? are we going somewhere fun?" the answer is almost always one of four options 1) grocery store, 2) gym, 3) target, 4) home. yes our life is that exciting folks!

it's hard trying to fit everything in and evenings are crunch time - errands, dinner, bath, brush, books, bed - MOM time which then includes dishes, laundry, reading and wine.

today after work i thought it would be fun this once when he says "where are we going?" i reply with "where do you want to go?"

i knew what his answer would be - Chuck E. Cheese - the arch enemy - the gross, boring, junk food laden, money wasting pit of fun.

i said yes.

and we had a blast. it was fun letting loose and going against our "routine". it was fun to whack a mole and get one extra ticket out of the skiball machine by tugging on it every so slightly - a tactic my brother and i have used for years, originally created at Dream Machine circa 1987.

we walked around the mall - ate in the food court - shared a highly watered down caffeine free sierra mist (thank you Sbarro employee for following my neurotic directions). we walked hand in hand up the escalator giggling and having fun. we said no thank you not once but twice to the freaky massage men in the center court and stayed up late getting mommy's free victoria secret panty.

will he be emotionally scarred for helping me pick out such an item on a school night? i think not.

but hopefully he will remember that he had a date with his mom on a random wednesday and had a blast.

we both felt young - we both felt special - that's all we really need sometimes.

coming home

i've missed you, said the blog;
i missed the way you felt good about yourself after you posted;
i missed the way you smiled when your friends left a comment;
i've missed you pouring yourself into me - your thoughts, your ramblings, your observations.

i missed you too, said the girl who stopped expressing herself; said the girl who missed admitting things to the world, who missed feeling like someone listened.

thanks for letting me in, said the girl.

the door was always open, said the blog, you just had to come on in.

Why won't time slow down?

It seems like yesterday that I was scanning the internet for "how to make homemade baby wipes" or "how to lose weight while breastfeeding"...now I'm staying up until 11:30 p.m. searching for kids lunch box ideas, wondering whether my son really needs a backpack with wheels, or is that setting him up to be a super dork.

I don't know if I'm going to cry when I see his little face in the small square of glass on the big school yellow school bus. Letting go is so hard. I'm letting go of the little baby who depended on me for survival. The little body that I used to hold tightly against my chest while dancing to slow songs in the kitchen.

So many thoughts - so nervous and anxious - for both of us. I should be celebrating - I've survived almost 6 years. Through a bad relationship, through buying a home and then having to move out of it - through buying a puppy and then giving it away - through diaper bags and spit up, and tantrums and teething - I've survived. We've survived.

But we've only just begun...

It won't always be like this...

I must learn to enjoy each and every moment. It won't always be like this. I won't always have a little boy who holds my hand without so much as thinking about it. I won't always have to buckle him in and wipe his face, fix his shoes and check his teeth. He won't always want to share what happened in his day. He won't always eat dinner with me. Just the two of us, on my little green table that used to be red until I hit the spray paint to it. Him on the end, me near the fridge so I can easily refill his milk.

There will be a time when he's too busy, or too cool to be with me. He won't hug without a struggle. He won't want to kiss me three times and shout "I Love You" in front of all of his friends. Someday I'll be pushed away. So right now I have to learn to enjoy each and every moment.

My elderly neighbor is visited weekly by his two daughters. One takes him out to eat and the other dotes on him like a mother. It seems to sometimes bother him that they are so worried about him - how they seem to treat him like a frail old man, instead of the strong father he once was. They are making sure he has taken a shower and washed his clothes. He is the one returning with leftovers and clean laundry from them. They ask him to flash the light so they know they can drive away. I'm sure he used to ask them to do the same.

Life changes and people grow, people age and roles reverse. So for now, while I can - I'll be the Mom..I'll be the one making the rules, enforcing bedtimes and reading the books. Someday I'll be an old lady and my son will take care of me. I can't imagine such a thing, but I do know that I'll be in good hands...and that he's definately paying for dinner.

Humor brings me back everytime

I was in a rainy period. Missing my loved ones, wondering what life has in store for me, wondering what I had in store for me...drip drip drip outside my window.

Then I went to the library and got "Bad Mother" by Ayelet Waldman...I can't put this book down. It is hilarious, and sad and sweet and I read until midnight last night - laughing out loud and feeling like someone finally said how I feel. It's a book about motherhood - all of its poop stained glory, all of its wonder, all of its pain, and all of its rewards. How can something we love so much, cause us so much guilt?

Ayelet was villified for saying (out loud and in print) that she loved her husband more than her kids. This is shocking. This is upsetting. I don't know what that would be like because I have never had a husband. Mothers roared and verbally tore her to pieces. While I'm not sure I would love a husband more than my son, I have learned after reading half of this book that she's not a monster - she's a truth speaker. It's her truth. Not mine, but hers.

I was feeling like a failure. My apartment is in constant disarray - my son was heard saying "Jesus Christ" at the top of his lungs at a theme park, my fish tank is green and my son's dentist is worried that he may get a cavity - HORROR. This book brought me back. Things are good, great even. I'm doing a good job. What does that even mean? It means the best that I can. That will have to be enough.

To quote: "There are times as a parent when you realize that your job is not to be the parent you always imagined you'd be, the parent you always wished you had. Your job is to be the parent your child needs, given the particulars of his or her own life and nature. It's hard to separate your remembered childhood and its emotional legacy from the childhoods that are being lived out in your house, by your children. If you're lucky your kids will help you make that distinction. They'll look at you stricken, and beg you not to harangue the coach, not to harass the mother of th eboy who didn't invite them to the birthday party, not to intervene to resciend the lousy trade of Yu-Gi-Oh! cards they made. You want to protect them, but sometimes what you have to protect them from is the ongoing avalanche of your own childhood - crashing down on them like a hail of dodgeballs."

And finally - a humorous take on what a "Good Mother" is - what I have been trying to be, and after reading it, I realize how silly it is:

"The Good Mother remembers to serve fruit at breakfast, is always cheerful and never yells, manages not to project her own neoroses and in adequacies onto her children, is an active and beloved community volunteer; she remembers to make playdates, her children's clothes fit, she does art projects with them and enjoys all their games. And she is never too tired for [you know...adult activities]". (sorry to gross you out Nate).

And the clouds came rolling in...

The honeymoon phase is over. My blog urge has faded...nothing to write about.

Isn't it funny how one week it's "my cup run-eth over" (or however you spell it) and the next it's "oh bother"....nothing new.

I guess I just can't force it - when I want to write about something it will just happen.

Just like in nature, rain storms have to come. Without rain storms there is no growth.

And that's just where I am right now.

Let's hope the thunder and lightening hold off and all we get is this light drizzle :)

With apologies to real poets...

the whir of the fan, beep of my alarm;
ignoring them both;
i hear a tiptoe coming towards me;
i keep my eyes closed, to see what happens next;
will it be a tickle?
will it be a pinch?
will i be jumped upon?
no.
i feel a soft bunny rabbit being tucked into my covers;
i feel a small hand patting its ears onto my face;
and i hear a tiptoe leaving my room.

mornings at my house. sweet. gentle. love.

Weekend travels!

My passport is full. I did so much traveling this weekend...and all of it from the tiny galley-style kitchen of mine. Cooking sets me free and this weekend I was on fire!

First I flew down to Key West, and made a lovely Key Lime Pie;

next I went to a Vegetarian Retreat far in the mountains and made "Healthy Joes" - TVP, homemade BBQ sauce, black beans and collard greens on whole wheat rolls;

next I took Izaac to a Carnival on a pier somewhere and had Baked Corn dogs (whole wheat/corn meal breading);

and from there it was on to Italy where my boy and I whipped up some delicious homemade pesto;

we couldn't stay long there because we had to travel back to New England to make some Orange Cranberry muffins;

then it was on to the Middle East where I made some Beet Hummus (thanks Tracy for the recipe!);

we took a shortcut and landed in a Vegan camp in the woods, where we made and enjoyed, lettuce, peach, date, hemp and OJ smoothies;

after our departure we went back to Italy for some Pesto Pasta with Zucchini and Summer Squash.

We took a brief detour to Saco, ME to enjoy the fun of Splashtown, then hopped in the Superdubaru and made our way home. A couple jogs thrown in for good measure and we had a great weekend.

It's amazing how far we can go in that little kitchen. Imagine what we could do with a normal sized one, an island or even a counter surface larger than a dishrack!

A Registry I Should Have Created...

I remember years ago creating my "Baby Registry"...it was exciting to roam around the store with electronic gun in hand, zapping items here and there - picturing my cute little boy wearing a bib that said "I Love Mommy"...envisioning myself enveloped in the Bobby pillow, happily nursing away - fresh diapers, fresh wipes, new clothes, fun toys.

5 and a half years later I realize what I should have registered for:

Time
Patience
Money
Masters in Child Psychology
Bachelors in Elementary Education
Certificate to teach phys. ed.
Taxi driver certification
Magic powers
18 year supply of Pinot Grigio
18 year contract with Merry Maids
Conflict resolution tactical guide
Endless Energy
Lifetime supply of wet wipes
Full College Tuition


One thing I didn't need to register for...one bright, charming, adorable, loving, smart, funny boy who has tested me physically, mentally and emotionally every day of my life since November of 2004. I got one of those.

My life...and fridge is full!

A big part of my life is food. It's what led me to gain about 75 lbs with my pregnancy; helped me lose 35 through Weight Watchers; helped me fuel my Triathlons, Half-Marathons and day to day activities. I read about food. I think about food. I love food. I love healthy, good food. I love knowing who grows and harvests my food. That is why I'm a CSA member. Community Supported Agriculture for those of you who aren't familiar. It's a way of buying a "share" of interest in a farm's harvest. Basically I pay a larger sum of money up front for weekly boxes of locally grown, organic, happy produce. It's awesome. My son learns where food comes from. We learn what to do with kholrabi and we create friendships with the farmers and fellow shareholders. Overall, it's an old fashioned hippie fun time!

Last week I made a lovely summer lasagna:

Leftover roasted eggplant, homemade tomato sauce with fresh basil, homemade pesto, onions, zucchini and summer squash, oven ready lasagna noodles and light sprinkling of parmesan cheese. Layer all of that and bake, covered in a 375 degree oven until the noodles are cooked. (about 40 minutes) I made this in a loaf pan so I had just enough for a few work lunches. DELISH.

On to this week's harvest:
Lettuce
Arugula
Green Bunching Onion
Collard Greens
Beets with Beet Greens
Salad Radishes
Summer Squash
Cucumbers
Basil
Kohlrabi
Radicchio -- probably just Tuesday as we wait for some more maturity in the rest of the row.
Small bunch of loose flowers


What am I going to do with all of this? I'm not sure yet but a few things that come to mind are beets and beet greens with nutritional yeast sauce, kholrabi hashbrowns and eggs for a "breakfast for dinner night"; oven roasted radicchio with balsamic and olive oil, sauteed collard greens with baked potato, yogurt and fresh herbs, and my personal favorite, an homage to my Grammy Stevens, Grammy Blake and my Mom....

Cucumbers with salt and/or Salad Seasoning.

Like most family traditions we conciously and unconciously pass down, someday I will open my own vehicle's glove box and find a salt shaker..for those times when we just can't wait until we get home to eat a cucumber, fresh from the ground.

Wearing pretty dresses...

A few weeks ago I was picking up my son when one of the teachers pulled me aside to share something cute. She told me that one of the little girls told the teacher she wished I was her mother because I'm so pretty. It was cute, flattering and a little embarassing to be honest. Most days I'm running late and my hair is always wet and my makeup is rarely applied beyond blush...but to a little girl I was beautiful.

I always wondered who the little girl was. Was it the one with cornrows and the huge smile? Was it the sweet girl who always asked me where I was going? Was it the girl who could never sit still? Over the next few weeks I forgot about the mini ego-boost until yesterday.

I went into the school and smiled at one of the teachers. She stopped me and said "I wanted you to know that my daughter hopes to be in reincarnated as your daughter because you are always wearing pretty dresses". I smiled and said that was sweet but that she should know that I wear dresses mostly because I hate ironing, I'm chronically late and they are cheap, and easy.

Behind our laughter, I saw the sadness on the mother's face. Hidden behind her warm smile was the pain of thinking your child wishes that someone else could possibly be better. It bothered me. I felt guilty. I wanted to kneel down and tell the little girl that her mother was beautiful and although she didn't wear dresses, she was perfect. I wear dresses and I am not perfect. I wanted to tell the little girl that dresses don't make you a woman. That beauty doesn't equal value. I wanted to tell her that her mother needed her approval.

My son knows how to hit below the belt. He has told me I look like a "father" when my hair is pulled back and when I have an oxford shirt on. He has told me he wants a different mother. He has told me he wants to live with his father instead of me. He has told me I'm ugly and that I'm not a princess. I let these comments go because at 5, this is how they cause pain. With words and occasionally little fists or feet.

I came to school this morning to find the mother on the playground watching the children and her daughter. Guess what she was wearing?

A beautiful, flowing, brightly colored dress.

Things I have learned...

I have learned that once you begin to share your life with the "world" or at least those few who have subscribed to your blog, you notice and think about so many more things you want to share, and you realize how little time you have to share it. This can get overwhelming - you feel like you owe it to everyone to make the most of your post...but I don't have internet when I'm not at work and when I'm at work I'm well...working...so I'll do my best to bring you up to speed.

I have learned that my favorite part of the day is when I round the corner into the pre-school playground and look for my little "chick", chirping amongst the others. I have learned that in that brief moment, when my eyes meet with my son, I am seen as a hero, a goddess, a friend. We are genuinely happy to see eachother. No matter what has happened during the day (good, bad, ugly) it goes out the window and we are back to square one. Just the two of us. I will be sad when he doesn't run over to me with a big grin and bury his face into my shoulder with a great hug. I hope that I never forget to be just as excited to see him each day, as I was the first day I met him. It matters. I have learned that you have to show up - no matter what, just show up for your child. Let him or her know that you left earlier, but you came back, and that you always will.

I have learned my new favorite post-workout snack is "Recovery Pudding" from Brendan Brazier's book Thrive. Mash a banana, some Vega optimizer (or flax and hemp protein powder if you don't get Vega), blueberries, cocoa powder and a Tb. of peanut butter...it's ugly but delicious.

I have learned that you can almost make delicious smoothies with lettuce! My CSA has given me 5 heads of lettuce in two weeks. What to do with it all? Blend 6 romaine leaves or as much or as little as you want, with 2 c water, melon or apple, and more of the powder mentioned above - healthy and delish.

I have learned that taking a Friday off and going to a Yoga class at Portland Yoga with Melora as the instructor is a WONDERFUL way to start a weekend. This was a Vinyasa flow class that I had a coupon for. It was lovely. Melora glowed and I had trouble imagining her being anything but in love with life and the people in it. My post yoga vanilla soy late from Coffee By Design (my favorite) was the icing on the cake. I walked down to the pre-school and hid behind the trees to watch my boy in action on the playground. He was laughing and drawing on the building with chalk. Oh to be 5 1/2 again. Life is easy.

I have learned that it takes a small fortune to take your child to the Clam Festival but it was worth every penny. So what if my checking account balance resembles the proceeds after a small lemonade stand...I got to see my son giggle with glee as he got to ride rides "alone" since he hit the 42 inch mark. I got to giggle with glee myself as we each took a seat in a bumper car. It is just as much fun at 29 as it was at 5 1/2.

I have also learned that I am forever indebted to my parents...for a lot of things but for taking me and my brother to such fun activities as carnivals and spending their hard earned money on the same...it's cheap plastic crap, fattening food, and scary rides put together with paper clips and run by strangers... but we had so much fun.

I have learned that above all, it's just money. Take my wallet, take my car, take my shoes, take my "things"...I'll still be very rich.

Here we go...

The first thing I should have done before starting a blog was make sure I have a reliable internet connection at home. In any event, I will do my best to craft this blog to be something other than spelling errors and neuroses. Work has been very busy lately so I was looking forward to my Weekly Back Cove 5K on Wednesday nights...with a jogger...with a 40 lb. kid in it...plus his small collection of Matchbox and Hotwheels that he HAD to bring with him.

I love running. I love what it has done to my body and mind. I used to carry the 40 lbs. on my body in the form of...well...fat, but now I get to push it. It has a cute face and asks tons of questions during my runs. It's very difficult to get into a running groove when you are asked "is that a lobster trap? what's that smell? why is everyone passing us? when is this over?" He is, however, very good at handing me the water bottle when I need it. I wanted to quit during the race. A rarity for me but I thought of his face when I would attempt to explain why I stopped running. I gain strength from the Son. I want to show him to push on despite discomfort.

Someday I'll be free to run alone but for now I must enjoy my runs with a partner. We finished respectably at 32:40...a good 2 minutes faster than my first 5K that I ran solo 4 years ago. I've come a long way.

After our run we watched the "big boys" play soccer. I realized how much I love the diversity of Portland. So many different people from so many different places. Who ever thought Maine would be such a melting pot? It's a far cry from my hometown "sameness".

On to dinner - a lot of this blog will be about cooking because it is what I love. We belong to a CSA program and it is great. We get our shares on Fridays so right now we are using up the previous shares to make fridge space for our new veggies...last night I had a Homemade Eggplant Parm Sub (homemade sauce, roasted eggplant, cheese) and boiled beets with creamy nutritional yeast sauce. If you've never tried nutritional yeast, go for it! Mixed with flour, butter, mustard and salt, it makes an awesome "cheese sauce"...even 5 year olds deal with it!
After that I did some Yoga in my living room once my babe was in bed. It was relaxing and for someone who rarely stretches post exercise...just a bad habit I guess, it made me feel great.

Then (because if you know me you know I'm too cheap to buy TV and enjoy the "unplugged" feeling - mostly because I used to spend hours in front of it and place my child in front of it to get some alone time - bad habits!) I read my book "The Lost Girls". I have to return it to the library soon. It's a big one with about 550 pages, but I have about 100 left before some other reader can go on the adventure. I know what I'll be doing tonight!

Add me to the list...

Add me to the list of those who feel like they need an outlet; need an audience; need a friend. Come with me and hear about my life - learn about yours. Laugh with me, cry with me, grow with me.