Ignoring the obvious...

I've been trying very hard to remain above the political fray on-line.  The vitriol, the lack of understanding, the unwillingness to see the grey in every argument... I couldn't get into it. 

But today, I'm chiming in.

I'm amazed at all the post-election rumination on the Romney's loss and the Republican party's need to reach out to a more diverse populace in order to actually win a national election. 

I've been saying for a long time that the world reflected in the Republican party is not the world I or my children live in.  And we live in a pretty un-cosmopolitan place!

Yet, my kids' classrooms are filled with kids from different cultural backgrounds.  Their friends come from homes lead by single parents, stay-at-home dads, same-sex couples, grandparents, two working parents, and, yes, more traditional set-ups.  There are kids who live in mansions, and kids who live in apartments.  Thankfully, at least in our supposedly upper middle class town, there don't seem to be many kids who are homeless.  That doesn't mean that the local Food Pantry isn't busy, however. 

Certainly there are kids whose skin-color doesn't define them.  Half white, half African American, one-quarter Chinese, one-eighth Indian, one-tenth native American...  Racial definitions are incomplete, and say nothing about who the kids are.   They are Christians of all stripes, Jews, Hindus, Muslims, atheists, and, yes, Mormons.  Some practicing; some not.  Some of those kids have parents came to the United States for education and greater opportunity-- from all corners of the globe. 

And, just a few miles away, there are kids who live without.  Without decent schools, decent housing, and a decent shot at a better life.

Racially, culturally, socio-economically diverse.  That's what the US is and will continue to be.  We have problems-- certainly big economic ones.  But leaving more than half of the population out of your argument is no way to get your point across.   Everyone values opportunity-- the chance to work hard and succeed at whatever you choose to do-- but when the playing field seems open only to those who look, sound, and act alike, you're left with frustration and disenfranchisement. 

So, in a world that doesn't look like a country club holiday party, it astounds me that it has taken this long for the Republicans to realize that a growing percentage of the population doesn't feel like the party has much to offer.  Embrace the change or flea from it.

It's going to be a long week-end...

My kids are really going to start wondering what is wrong with their mother. My eyes have welled up with tears and I've stifled more sobs in the last 36 hours than I have in a long time.
I've got to stop reading, listening, watching... 9/11, 9/11, 9/11.
But the tears come not just from sadness over the terrible loss of human life on that day. They also come from a frustration that the power of decency and respect and caring that in the end took the day away from those terrorists has disappeared. It has receded to such an extent that those who run our country call each other names and refuse to compromise and cooperate. They spout off vitriol for the benefit of the 24-hour news cycle and leave the rest of us wondering whether we'll ever be able to pay our mortgage or send our kids to college or hold down a job.
I hope that this week-end will remind those elected to serve that their job is not about them... it's about us. It's about the people of this country-- not about getting re-elected or making the CEO of X Corporation richer. It's about the people who helped each other get through that awful day and the many thereafter and who refused to let the terrorists keep them down...
I always cry when I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated.

A parent of 4....

 Accepts that a certain level of chaos is inevitable, that dirt builds character (or characters, as the case may be), and having a child with high self-esteem is overrated.
 Is an over-committed volunteer—there are just not enough hours in the day to be PTA president, room mom, scout leader, religious education teacher or coach for each child—and tends to get bitter when the parents of 1 or 2 don’t pitch in.
 Understands that each child will get the attention he or she needs, not necessarily the attention he or she wants.
 Does NOT make meals to please individual palates; rather the parent makes meals to feed the children. And, yes, sometimes spaghetti sauce is a vegetable.
 Enjoys having other people’s children over to play, but is not interested in having them stay… particularly when those children have just one additional sibling and somehow their parent(s) is(are) too busy to pick them up on time.
 Would welcome parents of one or two asking, just once, if all his/her kids can come to their house to play; rather than asking if both siblings can come to our house since the second sibling should have something to do, too.
 Insists that the family’s schedule is what counts, more than the schedule of any individual member of the family.
 Knows that when he or she is gone, the children will thank them for their siblings.

Sometimes you just don't want to remember....

Sunday marks the 10th Anniversary of the September 11 attacks.
There are memorials, tributes, forecasts, analyses-- so many things people are doing to remember the day. I can't watch or listen to them.
I don't really want to remember it at all.
I don't think I had experienced real fear in my life before that day. By the time I and my colleagues had a grip on what was happening, that fear had become anxiety over what would happen next... an anxiety which lingered for a long time.
A college classmate died that day. Many acquaintances walked and ran as they escaped the dust cloud rushing through the cavernous downtown streets after the towers collapsed. The smell in the City was awful. The pictures of victims lined the exterior walls of the hospital around the corner from the office, victims whose families searched for them in vain.
But thankfully no one I knew intimately was physically harmed.
However I was harmed... in a less physical way. I felt-- and continue to feel-- fear. When the pictures of the smoking towers appear on TV or the audio from radio or TV broadcasts from that day are replayed, the anxiety comes back. It's the heart-racing, body-shaking, sick-from-the-bottom-of-my-stomach kind of anxiety which I would rather not have to experience again.
I never went down to ground zero in the weeks following the attacks. I don't have much interest in visiting the memorial-- or the new Freedom Tower.
I don't know if I ever will.

You win some; you lose some...

Today was a good day-- for the most part, a very good day. I got a new gig! In a week or so, I'll start working as a trainer for a company that provides systems and technology training for pharmaceutical companies. It's a flexible, project-oriented job in a work environment that values what you can DO, not just what you've done or how recently you've done it-- ideal for a mom re-entering the workforce.
And yesterday we got coupons for 4 free tickets to see GEVA's "Music Man." I entered a drawing through Genesee Valley Parent magazine and actually won. We're going to see the show on Sunday night-- we wouldn't have been able to go otherwise. It's supposed to be a great production, and it's certainly in the pantheon of shows I want my kids to see.
When you have a good day, you want the not-so-good stuff to stay away. But, of course, it's not like all the problems in your life are solved because of one good day... The weather is still gloomy and will remain damp and grey for another 3 days, at least. The bills keep coming. The weeds in the yard we can barely afford to maintain keep growing. The kids still talk back.
I choose to focus, at least for today, on the good stuff. So there.

I watched "Freedom Riders" on PBS last night. The documentary chronicled the summer of 1961 and the incredible determination of a small group of people to push the boundaries of segregation by riding Greyhound and Trailways buses from Atlanta to New Orleans, through Alabama and Mississippi, along the way sitting in white-only waiting rooms and eating in white only restaurants.
The violent welcome they received-- one bus burned with the passengers trapped inside, beatings by crowds in Birmingham, menaced by KKK members while quietly waiting for a bus in a bus station-- was disheartening, if not a terrifying display of mob behavior.
The perseverance of the riders was inspiring. They knowingly pushed the envelope, aware that they faced a possibility of violence and even death in pursuit of their goal. It begged the question: what would I be willing to die for?
Certainly, I would risk my life if my family, particularly my children, was at risk. I'm not sure what that risk would be... On September 11, I feared something i didn't understand. I spent time packing a tub with tuna and water and a can opener and blankets... It was a threat, but not one I could take actual action against.
But would I be-- am I-- willing to stand up for something I believe in or someone who is persecuted, even if it meant I could die? I wish I could say an unequivical yes...
I want my kids to watch the documentary and challenge them to think about what means that much to them... and hope that they will be braver than I am.

Rain, rain, go away!

It's cold. It's dark. It's wet. It's gloomy. And it's May 16!
Enough already!
On days like today-- and the way too many days previous-- anxiety creeps in at the edges... If it's nice out, I'm able to take a deep breath and know that the feeling will pass. If it's gloomy, then the anxiety begins to take over. It's a bit of seasonal affective disorder, I guess...
Will the rain ever end? Will the sun ever come out again?
I scan the Weather Channel's forecast for the week... OK, it rained Saturday and Sunday. It's raining today through Wednesday. Will we be able to get out from under the clouds on Thursday? And will I be able to get out from under the psychological cloud that's making me anxious, sleepless and nervous by then?
I wish I could afford to go to yoga class every rainy day. That always makes me feel better.
Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, please shine down on me!