Closed For the Season

Blogging just isn't happening in my life right now. Luckily lots of things are....like laughing on a regular basis....and sleep....and feeling positive about the world....and hopeful.

So I'm officially taking the blog off my to-do/want to-do list until further notice.

Please Sponsor Me

I went insane again and signed up to run another marathon. Last year I signed up to race the Twin Cities Marathon with Team in Training. I raised money to help the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and trained for a month. Then I got a high risk stress fracture and walked around in a 'boot' for 3 months.

I'm giving it another try this year. They let me transfer the money I raised last year so I'm hoping to raise a bunch again this time around.

I signed up for....drum roll please...the Dublin Marathon. Yes. It's in Dublin, Ireland.

I'm a littler nervous about the whole thing. The training. The risk of another injury. The fund raising. The long trip away from the kids.

I'd really appreciate your support in my fund raising. Even if I don't go as far as Dublin (I also have the option of running the Twin Cities Marathon or the San Francisco Marathon) The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society will benefit from your generosity.

They've been helpful to our family and I'd really like to give back.

$.75 of every dollar you give goes toward research and education and 100% of every dollar you give is tax deductible.

You can donate here.

More Adulthood Dreams

Tonight while out on a lovely walk (finally winter is over and we can all be outside without 20 pounds of clothing on) I remembered another adulthood dream I have.

For a brief time about 10 years ago I made a ton of money and thought I'd make even more (and then the stock market crashed and by by money --- but I digress...)

During those rich days I had plans to start a scholarship fund for graduates from my hometown.

I realized tonight I'd still like to realize that dream.

I'd like to start a scholarship fund to pay for travel expenses for students who choose to continue their education outside of Wisconsin.

Why Did You Call Me Buddah Mama?

Rob's radio story on Weekend America (called 'Shaking Motherhood To the Core) aired on Saturday around 1:30 in the afternoon. You can hear it and read it here.

I posted the following post in my private blog and decided today (after some friendly prodding from a few folks) to share it here on my public blog.

Since posting this blog 2 people have said really interesting things to me and I put them at the very bottom of this post.

+++

We didn't know exactly when it would air and we haven't had Internet at the house for the past few days and I didn't want to miss the show so I chose to let the kids stay awake at nap time so I could listen to the show. We were driving home from a fun morning at Nan and Rob's house and I just kept driving around.

Naomi was sleeping. Eliot was sitting in the back seat of the car singing the alphabet and other random songs. When the story started he got quiet.

Then he said, "why do you call me a Buddah Mama?"

"What's a Buddah."

I was desperate to listen to the show.

And really wanted to respond to him.

And then got nervous that there might be something in the show I didn't want his young ears to hear.

So I said, "The Buddah is very calm Eliot and you used to be really calm like the Buddah."

"Why was I calm Mama? Why were you calling me the Buddah Mama?"

From there I can't remember exactly what I said or what he said.

I know I told him that I wanted to tell him all about the Buddah after the radio show was done.

We both listened in silence.

At the point when we talk about him being 'put to sleep' at the hospital I looked back at him. He smiled, sheepishly. Proudly. He seemed to be enjoying hearing the story.

When it was over I said (and I'm really proud of this question) "Eliot you wanted to know about why I called you the Buddah, are there other things you want to ask me too?"

He said there weren't.

I told him that we talk about Jesus and God at our church and some people in other churches talk about Buddah.

We have a book that asks the question 'where is God' and at the end of the book when it says, "God is everywhere." I always say, "I see God in you Naomi and Eliot." And they always say they don't want me to.

So today I said to Eliot that just like I see God in him I also saw the Buddah in him.

Eliot told me that he didn't want me to see God in him. I asked him what he wanted me to see in him.

He said trains.

"I want you to see trains in me Mama."

And so on the day when he heard his mother and his uncle talk about him on the radio he took it all in. He smiled. I don't know what he thought or felt.

Except that I know he wants me to see trains in him.

+++

Since posting this blog Eliot's Auntie pointed out that Buddah would want us to see trains in him too.

See trains in me mama. See the things I love the most.

Monica posted a comment wondering why I think the kids don't want me to see God in them.

Often when I ask them about that they say they want me to see them in them.

See Eliot it me Mama.

See Naomi in me Mama.

They want to be seen. They want to be seen as them. No fancy God stuff.

Fizzy Soap

I feel so famous.

Today my very own voice was on the radio. It was surreal and spooky and made me tear up a little.

Right now I'm sitting here with the yummiest smelling, sweetest soap ever sitting next to me. It was sent to me by the wife of a man who reads my blogs.

Isn't that crazy.

There is a man who reads my blogs. He came to a conference last year and was excited to meet ME!

When he read my blog a few weeks ago and found out Eliot was in the hospital he asked his wonderful wife (who I now now) to send me some soap she hand made.

It arrived in the mail with a wonderful note the other day.

Aron and the kids took a bath with it the other night. It fizzes like alka-seltzer when you put it in the water and it smells amazing. The kids loved the fizziness and the slippery tub and the yummy adult, lavendar smell of the whole experience.

I loved the super long bath they all took while I got a ton of stuff done.

I'm going to scrape the grime off our basement bath tub tomorrow and dunk myself in its amazingness.

Check our her soap and candle store. She uses earth friendly stuff. She does it by hand. She is the real deal.

The Radio Show is there!

Check it out at this link.

Childhood Dreams

I listened to this awesome YouTube video over the past two days. It is over an hour long and it is worth it. This man is smart and funny. He is giving one of those 'last lectures' at Carnegie Mellon and the crazy thing is this time its for real. He has 2-4 months of good health left (or rather, had at the time this was taped).

He talks about a ton of stuff and one over arching thing he talks about is accomplishing your childhood dreams.

I started remembering mine and although I imagine there were more dreams than this - this is what I've remembered about what I used to dream about:

• be a checker in a grocery story
• be interviewed on television either on one of those evening news shows or The Today Show (I used to practice being interviewed as a kid - it was sooooo fun)
• I asked Jesus for 1 of the following 3 things - wings, a baby or blindness - I have a whole psychological theory about that wacky dream
• take photographs for National Geographic
• train dolphins
• receive a total surprise all-expense-paid shopping spree
  

It's kind of funny that I was sent the link to this video because recently I realized that I'd lost track of my adulthood dreams a bit and I've been starting to make a list of things I'd like to accomplish in my life.

Here is what I have so far:

• be invited to speak (and speak) at a TED conference
• create a show for or be interviewed on This American Life (I'm sort of accomplishing this one this weekend - my brother in law Rob interviewed me for a story that is going to air on Sunday on Weekend America)
• live in a house I love, in a neighborhood I love next door to people I love all at the same time
• have a regular house cleaner
  
• see a fortune cookie I once received come true 'you will create a unique and respected lifestyle'

When I was 19 or 20 years old a speaker at a training I attended suggested that we should all make 10 big goals and work on them. She said we should put them in the front of our planners with the full intention of accomplishing them.

She suggested 10 goals.

I'm going to work on this. First making my goals. Then accomplishing them.

Bed Time Noise

Bed time has been hard around our house when I'm the only parent home now for several months.

I hit rock bottom with that last week and since then I have a new strength and clarity with the kids about the importance of them going to sleep. Things have been going better.

Tonight Eliot insisted on sleeping in the big bed. I let him and told him very clearly that I wouldn't be returning to the room and he needed to lay down and sleep.

I went downstairs and started paying weeks of bills.

I've had anxiety issues about money for years. They're much better than the used to be. Much better. I used to get a stomach ache when I paid bills. I don't anymore.

Like many families right now we're feeling the stretch with higher gas and food prices.

I also paid bills tonight for a recent emergency room visit.

As I finished paying the bills and adding up how much I spent I realized that we also have incoming bills for a recent broken car and now another emergency room visit and a hospital stay.

Ug.

Just as I was realizing all of that I realized Naomi was still awake upstairs.

I went to check on her.

Then I heard Eliot rustling around and against my own promise went to check on him.

I realized that I'd probably been keeping him awake.

I think all of my envelope opening and filing was too loud.

I think my anxiety was too loud too.

Help me remember God that I'm not perfect and wasn't made to be perfect.
Help me remember that our financial situation could be worse.
Help me be mindful of all the people who have less than us.
Help me to be calm in the face of this challenge and know that I will be okay.

2 tablespoons

I consented to a study today that it is a step in the direction toward figuring out how leukemia happens.

I've wanted to offer up whatever I could to help understand leukemia and hopefully find a way to prevent it.

I've said I'd be willing to be interviewed and give my medical records. I'd be willing to be inconvenienced to help.

Today I consented to what I hope isn't the last way I might help.

All I need to do is give 4 vials of blood. 2 tablespoons.

1 poke. 2 tablespoons.

Just a beginning toward understanding this disease.

I'm really excited about the whole thing.

Hmmmmmm

A week ago today I went to church at our National Cathedral.

I loved it.

What has happened to me? I'm a mere shadow of my former church hating self.

The acolytes were incredible (who am I to even know what an acolyte is much less have an educated opinion about them), the service music was beautiful, the service booklet was impeccable, the crowd was huge.

They celebrated Earth Day and the state of Maryland (once a month they celebrate a state).

I sat in church feeling really proud of The Episcopal Church. I felt excited to raise my kids in this church. I felt excited to be part of the governing body. It was surprising and wonderful.

And all week two things have really been nagging at me.

The sermon at the 11:15 service was given by the Dean of the Cathedral. He gave a strong sermon about caring for our earth. He actually talked about how SUVs are a BAD idea (something I rarely hear people willing to say and one of my current pet peeves).

He addressed Earth Day with some honesty about how responsible we are for our current dire environmental situation and he was hopeful. You can hear it here.

He also called all of us to action using the term 'as Christians'.

Hmmmm......

Hmmmmm.....

As Christians?

One of the reason's I love that Cathedral is that its there for ALL Americans and ALL American's aren't Christians.

The mission of the Cathedral is obvious in their gift shop. There are religious items from the Roman Catholic Tradition and Episcopalian and Buddhist and beyond.

That 'as Christians' thing bothered me. It's still bothering me.

They also said they're starting a congregation at the cathedral.

I'm not terribly opinionated about whether that is a good or bad idea. I do wonder tho if there is a congregation there if all of the preachers will (or maybe they already do) start preaching to Christians.

I don't like that.

I'm proud that there is one place that can be unapologetically Episcopalian and inter-faith at the same time. I love that concept. That possibility. I'm too jaded and cynical to think they'd do it perfectly and I think saying 'as Christians' from the pulpit is pretty far from close to the ideal.

Hmmmm....

Another day as an Episcopalian. Both proud and bothered. Both hopeful and wondering if that is crazy. Both wanting to shout how cool we are from the roof tops and wanting to hide and not admit that I'm part of the whole big mess.

Prioritizer

Check out this awesome on-line prioritizing tool. And then check out the rest of the web page. It is full of awesome good things.

A blog to read

Go the archives from March and read this blog. It's about a dad and his daughter and was supposed to be about the dad, the mom and the baby.

The baby was born prematurely. 27 hours later the mom died prematurely. She stood up, felt light headed and died.

He is parenting a premature baby who at the weight of a butterfly is now 'big' and mourning his wife who he appears to have loved very much.

Its Official

I started my job 2 months ago tomorrow. Many, many things around here have changed since then.

And now after all of those things changed I am a decidedly better mom.

I'm patient. I'm silly. I'm calm. I'm independent. I'm present. I'm clear. I'm funny. I'm loving. I'm consistent-er.

I'm a better mom.

I enjoy being a mom.

I still don't enjoy some parts. Like the house cleaning, the laundry, the cooking. Frankly I don't know if I ever will. Those jobs stink.

The mom part is better. Its better. Its good. And getting even better each day.

Finally.

Can You Get the Flu if you Have a Cold?

Inquiring minds want to know....

Like me.

What If

I've been reading and hearing all of this anxiety provoking economic news and also reading and hearing about how its causing people to make a lot of basically great decisions. Some people are selling their cars and choosing bikes or public transportation instead. Some people are spending less and avoiding credit more. Some people are selling houses out in the suburbs and moving close to the center.

I've been wondering what would happen if the middle class as a whole started being responsible with money. What if everyone spent within their means. What if everyone conserved gasoline (or didn't use it at all). What if everyone paid all of their bills, always, on time? What would happen?

What would happen? Entire sectors of our economy would die out. The lending sector. Well. No it wouldn't die. It would just be smaller. People would still take out loans for businesses and college and homes.

The retail sector would die. Well. No. People would still buy things.

I would really like to learn what it would mean if all of the middle class started to live responsibly with money and with the earth's resources.

Is there anyone out there hypothesizing about this? Have economists looked at this question. Or business leaders.

Can anyone point me anywhere on this one?

My Unfounded Fears

I was really nervous about a few things before I started my new job. I didn't know how I'd look, thought I might swear too much and feared the dreaded 'so what does your husband do' question.

It turns out that thanks to a life-altering (in a good way) visit to an Ann Taylor store my new co-workers think of me as a person who is well dressed. None of my co-workers have EVER thought of me as well dressed at any other job I've had. Goodness. I'm not sure anyone has ever thought that of me in any arena of my life. Ever. In my whole life.

So this is awesome and weird. Its like living your life as a short person and suddenly being tall.

As it turns out I've heard plenty of swearing. Not a lot. And certainly not everyday. Some tho. Just regular adult swears from time to time. A friendly and well put shit or crap or damn. So as long as I can keep my f-bombs in line (which I've done so far) my truck driver ways aren't totally terrible.

And joy of joys I've told several people what Aron's job is and not one person has seemed freaked out. Not at all. One person has even asked me lots of questions. One person has made jokes with me about how so many church words (organ, rectory, rector) sound naughty. One person was even raised by a former minister.

Hello!

I feel like I fit in, I feel like I have things to offer, I'm not totally bizarre to people.

Wiggle your but, pump your arms, wag your head - this is a bloggy happy-dance.

I'm a Cryer

Having kids turned me into a cryer. Wahhh Wahhh Wahhh. When I was pregnant the slightest unexpected thing made me cry. Now my crying usually makes sense contextually. Except for the fact that I've always considered myself more of a bad ass and less of a cryer. I'm not a bad ass anymore. I'm a cryer. And that is fine with me.

I just cried some genuine tears listening to Weekend American on the radio. My brother in law had a story on there today and I sat here and listened to 45 minutes of the 2nd hour of the show to hear it. You can hear it too here. Its a story about a love letter he wrote to my sister a long time ago and I think its really sweet. You can also see pictures of their hot young selves there too. My sister is a BABE!

U B Resrispektin' Me?

I've been thinking about the kids running around in the church the other day.

Were they being disrespectful considering the fact that they didn't know they're 'supposed' to be quiet as a feather and stiff as a board through the whole service (as if any of us are really capable of that).

Naomi was actually yelling, "Jesus time" and "Jesus bread".

They were excited.

They know what happens right before communion, they could feel it coming and they were excited.

They were also running full tilt all over the place which was loud and very distracting.

I've gotten supportive emails and supportive comments on my blog. I'm guessing anyone who was really angry doesn't know me well enough to tell me what they think, or doesn't feel they can say anything or just hasn't gotten around to it.

I really love that at Christmas I said to Eliot that I don't go up by the alter with him because that is a special place for the clergy, the choir and the kids. Not only does it sound cool when you say it - its true. I love that that special place is for them too.

I'm rambling. Yes. I'm rambling.

I've, strangely enough, been wondering a lot what Dumbledore from Harry Potter would do about this. After reading the Harry Potter books I really had a new sense of the mystery of church. My guess is Dumbledore would love it. He'd smile, with a twinkle in his eyes and give the kids some candy.

I've also been thinking about the most profoundly churchy experience I ever had - when I took Naomi to the installation of the new Presiding Bishop. What if the kids ran as fast as they could around The National Cathedral yelling "Jesus Bread".

What would I think then.

When I think of all of the pomp and circumstance of that day, the ribbons, the loud music, the million bishops in a row I think that kind of craziness would have worked. On that scale a few kids running wild would have blended in. Or not. Maybe it would have been a sin along the lines of using the wrong fork at dinner.

We Episcopalians do have our standards.

I do know these things.

1) Getting 2 toddlers to church by 10am by myself is no small task and I'd love any excuse not to do it.

2) I have zero interest in the kids hating church - they're going to spend way too much time in their lives being there.

3) I have no interest in the kids hating church - its about God and I doubt God is really all that impressed by perfectly silent children.

4) I'm deeply committed to our church being open to ALL people and I know some people can't stand kids running around and some others simply can't hear when the kids are running around.

5) If I could act however I want during church I'd probably lie in a pew and relax.

6) I know its none of my business what other people think of me and boy do I like to pretend that it is.

7) On the day I live up to all of the expectations (said and unsaid) of a priest's wife I'll know something has gone terribly weird.

8) I have zero interest in putting that weight of expectation on the kids.

9) I have zero interest in going the opposite direction and encouraging obviously excessive behavior.

10) This is all confusing and I doubt I'll ever feel I've found the answer.

What I'm Nervous About

I got a job. I finally. FINALLY got a job. And its a great job. And I get to start a week from tomorrow.

And I'm nervous and anxious and excited.

And I'm most nervous about the following 3 things.

a) The dreaded, "So, what does your husband do?" question. I haven't had to answer that question many times in the past few years. My guard is down on this one. I'm not sure I'm prepared for the inevitable awkward silence.

b) That I'll swear. I haven't had a job at which I need to watch my mouth since 1998 (and even then it wasn't THAT big of a deal). I've gotten better since the kids came along and I've always been mostly good at censoring myself. How long tho until I drop an f-bomb? And then, oh the awkward silence.

c) Fashion. I'm so dreadfully clueless in this area. I have never had a job at which my lack of fashion knowledge, fashion sense and general willingness to invest in fashion has really mattered. It feels like it does at this job. Oh goodness - will I be a fool?

I guess its a good thing that I'm not nervous about my ability to do the job, or my ability to come home and still be a mom or that the kids will be okay. I feel pretty confident all of those things will be just fine.

Instead, embarrassingly, I'm hung-up on these shallow things. What people will think, what the hell I'll wear and what I'll say while wearing those things. Goodness. Perhaps I should start reading Teen magazine again.

A New High A New Low

For the first time since Naomi was born I went to church with the kids and actually participated in some of the service. Both kids have become really comfortable in church and I was even without them for a while before church started because they wanted to be with Aron. It was heaven. I felt a little bit of space for me in that sacred place and my heart and soul felt a little lighter.

I felt( for something like 3 minutes this morning) like I was worshiping. It was a little bit of a 'Hello God, Its Me Sara' moment. Wow. I was back.

Then I picked my head up and came back to reality and the kids were running at full tilt and laughing and having an amazingly good time during the communion prayer or the Eucharist (I still don't know what that part is called right before we all have communion).

They were running and laughing and obviously feeling totally comfortable in the church and making a huge amount of noise and being wayyy to disrespectful of the whole thing even for my low standards.

I was so embarrassed.

I struggle all of the time with feeling that I'm the priest's wife and we're the priests' family and we're supposed to live up to some sort of perfect standards. For the most part I try to be my own person and let our family be our own family. And I'm aware that our standards aren't up to par with sainthood.

And this morning when we were all sleep deprived because poor Eliot can't sleep on steroids it just went way too far. I wanted to grab each kid under an arm and run out of there, no coats, no hats, no mittens, just two laughing kids straight to the car and home.

Sigh.

The Lorax is an Ass - with apologies to my Uncle Terry and so many Others

The kids checked The Lorax by Dr. Seuss out of the library the week before last and I was so excited to read it to them. I'm a fan of Dr. Seuss and I remember The Lorax being a great book and I know (or at least think I know) that my Uncle Terry (who I look up to - and not just because his is 6 foot four) really likes it.

After reading it and reading it and reading it until I thought the pages would turn to dust I realized that (in my now very pubic opinion) the Lorax is an ass.

All he does is stand around shaming the hell out of an admittedly short-sighted and selfish person. He points his finger and talks in a bossy manner. Then when everything goes to shit he picks himself up by the butt (literally) and flies away leaving the jerky, polluting businessman to years of isolation.

The isolation only ends when someone finds a great, great grand daddy snail and 15 cents (and I think a rusty nail) and begs the man to give him his tale.

By that time there is but 1 seed left that if cultivated might, after a long time grow to a Truffula tree and hopefully another and maybe after a great deal of time bring back the swamy-swans and the other fun creatures.

What good is that Lorax. Snobby. Finger-pointy Lorax that he is. Why is he not planting Truffula seeds? Why is he not rallying others to his cause. Why is he not telling others the price of their silly turtle neck, bike seat cover things?

Mostly. When his shaming ways bear no fruit why does he keep employing them and then act as if he has no part in the destruction.

I'd like to re-name the story - The Lorax - how to be on the right side of an issue without getting dirt under your nails and other great tools of the limousine liberal. Sadly that title is wayyy too long for the children's book section, has no iambic pentameter and would probably piss off a fair amount of Dr. Seuss' fans.

Just for the record - I'm a liberal and although I've spent only about 10 months of my life being occasionally chauffeured around in a limousine I'm pretty much a jerk when it comes to issues too. I guess its the things you see in other people that bug you about yourself that really drive you nuts.

Amazing Photos

So I admit this new blog is done by my sister. I'd like it even if it wasn't.

Check it out here. Lots of cool pictures. And more to come.

I'm so proud of her.

Me. Prom. 1991.

Yes that is a cross I'm wearing around my neck. Why. I have no idea.

No I don't remember ever wearing that dress.

Yes I miss those arms terribly.

Hibernation

Well my bloggy self appears to be fattened up and hidden away in a cave deep below the snow. Perhaps some time this winter she'll give birth to a cub - in her sleep of all wonderful inventions.

Perhaps before spring she'll pop her head out and appear. Perhaps it will take until the earth warms up and her stomach growls for more.

Until then. She's busy sleeping and dreaming.

I Think This is Hilarious

Anthony

Look at the face on this guy.

I got to talk to him tonight. I got to stand in his presence. I got his autograph on my book.

Here is how our conversation went.

I opened my book to a page that talked about a very embarrassing experience he had to have that page signed.

He sort of laughed.

I smiled and twittered and acted like a nervous freak (which I was) and said, "can you forgive me for this?"

He pointed to the page and said something like 'do you want it here' (meaning his signature).

I said, "right there."

That is the conversation I had with the unattainable man of my dreams.

He looks just the same in person as he does in the books and on tv. Tall. Skinny. Weirdly handsome.

He is also incredibly gracious and friendly and smiley. I don't know if its an act of PR or if he kind of likes people. Maybe some of both. I'm sure the Summit beer he had on the table helped. I didn't expect it tho. I thought he'd be sort of gnarly and negative about sitting in a chair signing books for Minnesotans in the Mall of America for 2 hours. He wasn't. At least not visibly.

As I stood in line for over an hour I thought of all of these things I could say, then talked myself out of saying all of them. I thought about and rethought about what I might like him to write in my book. And in the end just got his signature. Every other idea seemed trite or cliche or just plain dumb.

I realized, as I stood in line with my heart racing, that if I had the chance to meet God I'd just get nervous and over think the whole thing and end up not saying a darn thing.

Cool

We're blessed to have an actual, real, live sex educator in the family now thanks to my sister Laurie's impeccable taste in women.

She just sent me this cool web page that has info about your body - developed for kids.

Who Would Have Thunk It

Yesterday was the inaugural Out on the Town with Sara and Aron Sunday at Gethsemane. We went to the Mill City Museum which is one of the coolest museums I've ever been to.

While there I learned that Minneapolis is home to some of the most destructive, annoying stuff on the planet.

In the world of annoying - Minneapolis is home to the very first commercial used on radio. WCCO radio which was purchased by Washburn Crosby Company (a very large flour company that became General Mills) aired a commercial for Wheaties - the first ever commercial on the radio. So drive time assaults of mattress commercials were born in our fair city.

Minneapolis was the white flour capital of the world for 50 years. White flour. One of the causes of diabetes and obesity. Yeah. We can lay claim to that heritage.

Because of our mills (which had many, many machines all connected by belts that had to be changed while they were running - because if they weren't changed that way the entire mill would have to be shut down) we were the prosthetic limb capital of the world for a while too. Imagine changing a belt that is 3 feet wide while its on a moving machine. Hello new, wooden arm. Goodbye fine motor skills.

Because of the cement grain silos that were developed to hold wheat and flour sky scrapers were able to be built.

Yes. Yes folks. Minneapolis. Home of commercials on the radio, white flour induced belly flab and sky scraper technology.

Thankfulness

Every once in a while I post something and it bothers me for the rest of the day. Should I have posted that? I wonder. Oh goodness, that was stupid. I tell myself. I should go remove that post. I decide.

My previous post today is one of them.

Its all true. Its just empty and seems preachy and off.

The fact is I can't quite grasp how lucky we are to be healthy. A year ago I was surprising myself by praying (with some sort of outlandish vengeance) prayers of thanks for our health each night before I went to bed. Its like the prayers would just erupt out of me. I wonder if on some level I knew we weren't all healthy and I was just trying to soak up my last few weeks of thinking we were.

Today its hard to remember, in some ways, that we ARE all healthy. Eliot has no leukemia in him. Neither do the rest of us. I have to remind myself not to say things like, "my son has leukemia" and instead say things like, "my son is in treatment for leukemia."

He doesn't have leukemia. He did a year ago and we didn't know it.

Mostly its not hard to realize he doesn't have leukemia. And tonight was a night when it was easy to remember. He played and played and played with his brand new Aunt Amanda and his super fun Uncle Luke and Aron. He threw a ball and jumped on people and spun around in circles so much that he got all sweaty and took his shirt off.

Maybe, someday, I'll realize how lucky and healthy we are and how truly good that is. Maybe someday it will hit me what an honor it is to be able to smile and laugh today. Maybe someday I'll really get the power of this holiday and the fact that we're all here, breathing and living and growing now.

Maybe someday I'll really let that sink in. Maybe. Someday.

Thankful

Today I'm thankful for health. My parents and living grandparents are healthy. Aron's parents and living grandparent are healthy. Our siblings and their partners are healthy. Our niece and nephew are healthy. Our kids are healthy. We're healthy.

Healthy in the larger sense of the word. Everyone here is sick. Aron and I were both up late and up early with sick kids. I coughed and hacked all night long and kept Aron and I up. We're exhausted and sick and feel like butt.

We're healthy tho. No one has any sort of actually bad illness. We're healthy.

Thank God.

Crows

Tonight while Aron, the kids and I walked as quickly as possible in the bitter wind we saw a huge murder (that is really what they're called when in a group) of crows flying overhead.

They made me remember that late last fall (and the fall before it) massive groups of crows infest the trees along the north side of our house and call out with so much gusto that they've woken the children (insanely and annoying early in the morning). They also leave their droppings (such a nice word for such a gigantic mess) all over our patio and yard.

Last fall they surprised me. For some reason I thought the first time they did it was a fluke.

I like crows and ravens - those large, unappreciated, mystical birds. I've learned some about them and how they relate to one another, how they care for one another and how their social systems work. Its impressive and interesting to me.

When they're outside my house making a huge racket and pooping all over my yard I've been less enthusiastic about them and preferred instead to go outside and clap my hands and yell obscenities at them until they fly off - a moving, changing, gigantic organism of their own to some other unsuspecting part of our neighborhood.

Until tonight I'd forgotten how the night Eliot was diagnosed with leukemia I came home after spending 10 hours at the hospital and having my heart broken into a million pieces to find them in the trees above me calling out and pooping above me.

I felt, that night, like they were cheering me on. Like they were telling me I made it through that day and I could go back and do it again. I felt like their noise and mass and utter every-day bodily function reality was some sort of sign that I'd be okay.

That feeling of being at home and of being okay was a surprise to me. And I haven't thought about it in the year since.

Tonight I felt so happy to see them flying.

I noticed them because Eliot noticed them first (I had my head down, trying to protect my face from the wind). He was sitting, his face exposed, looking toward the sky. Ready to see our unexpected cheer team. Unafraid of what will come.

Cough Cough Cough Hack Hack Hack

I haven't slept for more than a handful of hours in a week now. I have this horrible cough that just keeps on hanging around. Wonderfully I don't have a runny nose or chills or any other horribleness. Just this cough. Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough.

Because of the lack of sleeping I'm having a lack of energy and a lack of blogging and a lack of well a lack of everything.

I've also realized something.

A year ago, when Naomi hadn't slept through the night for 11 months I was insane with exhaustion. Even 6 months ago after the 11 months of Naomi not sleeping and then the months of Eliot not sleeping just one particularly bad night of sleep would send me into a 3 day cycle of feeling like total hell.

Now, with an entire week of not sleeping I still feel better and have more energy than after just one bad night a few months ago.

So that's good. Right. A step in a good direction.

I still feel like butt. Just not complete butt.

A Little Poke and 'Some' Burning

Several weeks ago (like 8 weeks ago) I picked what seemed an innocent little something on my chin and my face bled for well over an hour and a half. It bled so long that it bled for an hour and a half after I started keeping track.

Since our awesome non-universal health care system is so efficient and we don't have any lines you have to wait in or any such horror that I'm told would certainly happen if we did have universal health care it has taken forever for me to sit down with a doctor who knew what to do with my desperately bleeding chin.

Dr. Weird Woman took about a 1/2 a second peek at my chin and said I had a Hee-Man something and that her nurse would be right in to set things up (which I thought would certainly mean setting an appointment for some time in 2010 - because our awesome efficient health care system works so well).

Instead her nurse came in and set up everything it took to poke the hell out of my face, scrape some off, put it in a vile and then burn the crap out of my chin (with what I think is the same tool they use for vasectomies which I suddenly don't think Aron should get near at all).

So one minute I was explaining mystery bleed - the next minute the doctor was right in my face saying, 'you'll feel a little poke'. That didn't bother me. Heck. A little poke. Then she said, 'and some burning'. Holy burning from hell Bat Man.

I can' believe how uncomfortable that was. And it was the stuff that numbed my face so the rest of it didn't hurt.

I sat there thinking about all of he pokes Eliot has gotten in the past year. And how for most of them he was so little and so much younger than he is now and seemingly so incapable of understanding what we were saying to him.

I thought about how when he got his pokes in the hospital especially he was so brave and we sat there and let people poke the shit out of him.

After I left that office I cried.

I almost cried in the hallway. Which is saying something. I don't cry in front of other people - especially not people who don't know me.

I had this stupid little face scrape today and it hurt and it sucked and it was nothing compared to the two IVs Eliot got in the hospital and the blood draws he got and the insane drug shots he got and the 60 million times they took his blood pressure (which hurts) and the fact that for every poke he has also taken medicine that makes food taste bad and tries to kill him.

Being an actual patient just made me think about him in a way I haven't yet and my heart broke a little more. Another piece of my heart broke off. My poor baby has had so many 'little pokes' and 'some burnings'.

And numb as it may be when it happens his little body has had so many spinal taps and other traumas.

How does he walk around. How does he smile. How do any of us do it?

Is a miracle.

The Blessing and Curse of Being Away

I had the day out of the house yesterday. It was a great day. Not just because I was out of the house. It was great because I felt great and looked great and it was a great day.

Today I'm not out of the house.

I'm in the house. All day. Here. In the house. Being mom. Doing mom. Mostly doing mom.

And I feel like I'd like to pull an Incredible Hulk. Not the violent, glowing eyes, insane part. Not the kick the crap out of people part. The get big enough to burst out of my clothes (and of course have just enough left to cover the private parts - ever notice how weird that was) and just charge off into the wilderness.

I didn't feel this way before yesterday.

Its like getting away makes the being back in harder.

In some ways its kind of like Lent gets toward the end.

I'm a big fan of the 'you can take Sunday's off' during Lent. Sometimes when I give up whatever my discipline is for one day - that Monday makes it harder.

Sometimes not.

Today my discipline is harder. Being here. Getting nothing I'd like to be getting done, done.

Being slow. Putting off my chance to focus and think and create feels like enough to make me grow out of my clothes and race out into the woods, a wild creature, living inside a basically normalish geek.

Gosh, the more that I think about this the more I wonder if the Incredible Hulk was invented by a mother.

Did you ever notice how life often feels the most rich when it is the most confusing?

Speaking of Anthony Bordain

Since I'm home alone for all of these days I might as well think about and talk about Anthony Bordain as much as possible.

Friday night I met Naomi's God Father at Barnes and Nobel and when he got there I was checking out this book. It has famous chefs and the meal they'd choose if they were facing execution and were offered that last meal of their life on this earth.

I had just turned away from the amazing page that has Anthony Bordain with just a hunk of cow and a cigarette. Yes no clothes. Just his tall, skinny, strangely tan with no tan lines self. Can we say caught in the act - checking out a hot naked guy right there in a busy book store.

Be still my beating over-weight mother of 2 heart.

It reminded me of this book. Which I am still yet to acquire. And totally intend to acquire. Its a book of porn for women that has fully dressed men doing sexy things like vacuuming.

Well the Anthony Bordain picture is closer to the traditional sense of porn.

Goodness. Can you tell I've been home alone a few too many days.

Fantasies of A Mom During Deer Hunting Season

My children woke up at 4:30 this morning. 4:30am. I'm super annoyed.

I just want some time to myself. Some time to myself when I feel rested and calm.

Not time to myself at the end of the day when I'm strung out and exhausted.

The other day I had the urge to go out dancing and just dance and dance and dance and dance until the place closed (whatever place it was - I have no idea where to go dancing) and then go find a hotel somewhere and sleep in until the next evening and have dinner for breakfast because I slept so long.

In my fantasy I had a skinny little body again (not Twiggy skinny - just not 25 pounds of extra me) and I had a cute wardrobe (which I've NEVER had) and I knew how to dance (which would be even more miraculous than actually sleeping all day).

It was so awesome.

Today I'm going to work on that fantasy and make it even better.

Maybe Anthony Bordain will be there with me.

Except for the sleeping at the hotel part.

The key to this fantasy is a lot of SLEEP in the MIDDLE of a bed. By myself. No one bugging me.
Just sleeping and sleeping.

And sleeping.

And sleeping.

Speaking of Looking Like A Goof Ass in Public

I was just re-reading that swinging post and remembered a time in college when I walked through a parking lot singing the A B C's (yes A, B, C, D, E....Z Next time won't you sing with me) at the top of my lungs.

I sang what I can only believe was the entire alphabet and most of next time won't you sing with me when I made good mid-western eye contact with one of my fellow parking lot walkers who gave me sort of an odd smile.

Their smile made me realize that the singing I thought I was doing inside of my head was actually coming right out of my mouth.

That's something about me.

I think my thoughts out loud a lot.

Often when I have an idea I'll talk about it out loud. Most often when I'm out for a walk.

So I don't look like a total fool I'll often pull out my cell phone and pretend I'm telling someone on the other end about my new idea. I'm not tho.

I'm just a crazy lady walking down the street talking to herself with her cold cell phone pressed to her ear.

Swinging

I took the kids to Duluth for a few days and we had a genuinely excellent time.

We went to a park yesterday and I pushed the kids on the swing so long that my hands started to hurt. Like the actual joints in my hands started to hurt. I had to stretch the muscles in my hands.

I took a break at one point and sat on a swing and started swinging.

I don't remember the last time I swung, swang, swinged? Goodness. What in the world is the past tense of swing?

You get the picture.

I don't remember the last time I sat in a swing, grabbed the chains and actually hoisted myself through the air.

It was amazing.

It felt so incredibly good.

I felt like I was flying.

It was so wonderful that I closed my eyes and just sat there swinging. I got overwhelmed and yelled out.

Yee. Hee.

I was sitting there, nearly 33 years old, swinging so high the chains were going slack, with my eyes closed and probably the goofiest looking smile of bliss ever on my face and yelled 'YEE. HEE' right there at the park.

I was in my own little world.

Well. Until the 'YEE. HEE' came out which scared the dickens out of Eliot and he told me to, "Mama, get off that swing."

When I kept swinging he told me again and again until I did get off the swing.

Oh that feeling of flying, of being out of control, of being in control of that out of control feeling. The air in my hair, the funny feeling in my stomach.

YEE. HEE.

I'm So Glad I Believe in God

Today Eliot was playing with his plastic mouse and plastic rat and he said, "This is a rat, it has a long tail, this is a mouse, it has a short tail."

I didn't know he knew that, now that the kids have much more child care than they've ever had before they keep whipping out little facts and figures I didn't teach them. Its amazing.

He asked me why rat tails are long and mouse tails are short and I said, "because God made them that way."

And then I thought to myself, "Wow, whoever made up God must have been the mother of a 3 year old."

And then I had this great idea to blog about how God was invented by the mother of a three year old.

And then I started to get nervous that I'd be read wrong and sound as if I'm a heretic, or even worse think I (or someone like me) invented God.

And so I changed the entire theme of this blog post in my head in the few hours since the whole lovely exchange happened.

Oh the many wonders of self-doubt.

Its Rodent Season Again

The mice are back. I picked a zip lock bag of Cheerios off the living room floor this evening and found a big hole in the end of it.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Kill

Kill

Kill

The rodents

I think we're going to have to dig a trench under the over hang thingy in our house to see if they're getting in over there.

That is going to be ever so much fun.

And oh gosh - once we dig the trench and if we find a hole what do we do with the hole.

I guess I'll have to go find some mesh or something and some steel wool and some caulk and plug up the hole and hope for the best.

Fun.

Super fun.

And then if they keep getting in I think we get to dig under our front porch. Now THAT will be a joy.

Read Aron's Take on The Diocese of MN

Aron (AKA Sexiest Priest Alive, AKA My husband) wrote his take on the diocese here. Check it out.

Here is What Was Hard for Me About Conventioin

Our Diocesan Convention ended yesterday. It was a extra-super interesting convention for me. Perhaps because I wasn't carting babies around, perhaps because I finally understand parliamentary procedure, perhaps because this was a particularly interesting year.

I had a hard time during a few debates. I sat there watching leaders in the church talking about how we don't have enough. How we don't have enough. We don't have enough collaboration. We don't have enough time. We don't have enough process. We don't have enough money.

A few months ago I felt soooooooo proud of myself because I realized that what is at the seat of my faith is that where God is the concept of 'not enough' doesn't belong. That realization came when I was thinking about some statements I heard on a conservative religious radio show (oh how Aron listens to these shows to see what 'the other side' is saying and oh how they drive me nuts).

There was all of this talk about how gay people are bad and don't belong and should change their evil ways and how families with 2 working parents are sinning and on and on and on and on and on.

I remember it hitting me. Just clear as day.

Jesus came here to tell us what God keeps showing us. There is always enough. Usually more than enough. Enough room for everyone. Enough food for everyone. Enough time. Enough space. We are enough.

Yet the conversation yesterday was about not enough, not enough, not enough.

Today I'm trying to be a believer in enough.

Yet, I'm finding myself wondering this. Who in the world is going to be willing to be our bishop after what we did and said yesterday. Who in their right mind would want to come here.

That is probably a bunch of bologna.

Or maybe it isn't. Or maybe it is.

Either way I have to admit its a lot more fulfilling to think the term 'a bunch of bologna' than to write it. When you write the word 'bologna' that 'a' just takes the whole fun out of it.

5 Years

5 Years ago I was working for The University of Minnesota Duluth in their Residence Life office. I went to a conference for that work in St. Paul 5 years ago this week. The conference ended on a Friday afternoon and Aron came to the final banquet and then we drove to Minneapolis for the start of the Diocesan Convention for the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota.

I remember sitting in the banquet during that convention and thinking to myself that if I wanted to work my way up the ladder I could be the president of the Residence Life organization within 10-15 years. I remember thinking that if I wanted to work my way up the ladder in the church it could take 40 or 50 years or maybe never happen.

I remember realizing that I had a lot more interest in the church. I remember being shocked by that realization.

Shocked.

Shocked.

Shocked.

A few months later I was offered a job in the church and I took it and left the Residence Life job and now here I am. I was voted, yesterday, to attend my second General Convention - this time as an alternate - last time as a deputy.

I sat in on a majority of the business sessions yesterday at convention as a visitor and actually understood what people said, had an opinion about it and felt engaged enough not to pay attention to how much my butt was hurting.

Life is one odd ball maze with unexpected turns and surprises.

What I'd Steal If I Had the Chance

Praise God and all things mighty that I don't have to plan a wedding now or ever again.

If I had to plan another wedding right now (did I mention how glad I am that I don't have to) I'd steal some cool stuff I saw this past year.

Since July I have attended 6 weddings.

Six.

I've seen some amazing stuff.

At Zach and Amanda's wedding they made us adorable little scrolls of cool vellum paper with tree leave shaped cut outs wrapped in beautiful ribbon that said they gave a donation to a cause they both care about instead of giving us some silly give-away thingy we'd never use again. Cool. Very. Very. Cool!

At Caroline and Aaron's wedding they had cupcakes instead of a cake. The cutest, yummiest, most festive cupcakes you've ever seen. It was so great to have your very own cupcake instead of a piece of sheet cake that you know darn well cost the poor couple or their poor parents about $4.50. People walked up to a central place and picked out a whole plate full of cupcakes for the people at their table. They were all sitting out all cute and fun. They were GREAT! And there were extras. I had 2.

Erin and Chris had their reception at the conservatory at Como Park. It was so stinking beautiful.

Tara and Carlo had their wedding in a park near a fountain that was so loud we couldn't hear the whole "to have and to hold until you're ugly and fat" part and it was so beautiful and wonderful. We all knew what was being said and watching them do it was kind of like a meditation in weddings. And it gave them some privacy. It was lovely.

We were all sitting in wonderful, white fold-up chairs and the programs they made we all hanging from the chairs in front of us. It was so brilliant I was blown away. It made it so they didn't have to have program hander-outers and they didn't blow away. Brilliant I say! Brilliant!

The list of cool things goes on and on.

Our neighbors Laura and Jesse had these incredible vows that weren't the same for both person. Beautiful! Beautiful! Beautiful!

Nate of Nate and Melissa's wedding wore a white tuxedo which was very cool. They also sent us pictures of the kids that are amazing from the wedding. And they had great candy on the table the kept the kids VERY happy while we waited.

Hello! Sara!

We went to Vermont this weekend for my brother-in-law and new sister-in-law's wedding.

It was peak fall leaves time, the weather was beautiful, we stayed at an amazing place with amazing people (who are genuinely happy people who have 3 grown kids and still appear to adore one another) and had a genuinely great time.

I've never been to Vermont before and we were in Burlington which is very cool.

It surpassed so many of my expectations.

I expected beauty and rural-ness and church steeples and farm-land and big sky and the feeling of walking around in a postcard.

I didn't realise it would be as beautiful as it actually was just about everywhere we went.

I didn't expect the people to be so down to earth and real and friendly. I expected them to be like the people I've experienced every other time in was on the east coast.

Not quite so down to earth and friendly.

I also came face to face with all of my ignorance.

I thought Vermont would be a utopia of locally grown food, family owned farms, restaurants and stores and pure 100% maple syrup covered liberal politics. I expected a strip mall free zone.

Duh!

They have grocery stores with just as much high fructose corn syrup as you can find anywhere in the world including El Salvador and south east Asia. They have Exxon Mobile gas stations, McDonald's (whose employees couldn't give directions to save their 16 year old lives), SUVs, acres of homes that all look exactly the same all that good American crap you can find anywhere else.

Of course they do have their fare share of amazing farms, locally produced, artisan wonderment and liberal politics.

Its just (of course Sara) not cut off from the rest of the world and its an actual, real place.

I see loud and clear why my brother-in-law went there 10 years ago and hasn't returned.

Not the fabulous strip malls with dollar stores and crap food distribution grocery stores. The amazing people, the stunning geography, the soul of the place.

Wow.

Talk About a 180

I went to my interview today. My interview that I was ambiguous about. I'm not ambiguous about the job anymore. No siree. Fun. Cool job. Right company. Really right company. Target is amazing. They treat their employees really well. I could have a long career with them. As long as I did well today and want to stick with them.

I don't, honestly, yet get how you do full-time mom and full-time employee and that is something I need to keep trying to figure out.

In the mean time. Wow.

I could actually have a job with benefits (really amazing benefits), good (great) pay, and the directive to figure out what I need to do and do it.

Its like heaven. Heaven.

Now starts the waiting and the hoping that this isn't like the last interview where I thought they'd give me the job of Queen of The World because I did so well and they ended up not giving me an interview at all.

And here starts the wondering if I'm a total moron for blogging this or anything else during a job hunt.

Two More Down

I applied for 2 jobs last week that were both VERY exciting to me and both a bit of a stretch as far as my job experience is concerned.

I learned today that I didn't get either of them.

Although I'm not surprised since I was stretching - I'm still bummed.

One was an especially fun looking job.

Something good is coming my way. I'm sure of it.

I'm interviewing in the morning at Target. It may be that thing.

Dear God

Dear God please help me remember that at no point in my entire life have I known what was coming next, what my next job would be, when I would start it, how I might like it or not and what difference in my life it might make.

How Saving the Earth Can Lead to More Fun

Today is Blog Action Day - who new - apparently a lot of people and apparently not me until now.

The theme this year is the environment.

Here are two links that are indispensable as far as saving the environment goes.

Dawn at Kaiser Alex suggested the top 10 ways saving the earth can get her more sex. Truly fantastic.

And this awesome blog about packing your own lunch and in my mind saving the earth is so creative and amazing and visually appealing and helpful and informative I'm blown away.

The Winds They Are A Changin'

This weekend something happened to me. Something wonderful.

I've been feeling unsettled, off balance, off center for way too long.

All of a sudden I don't feel that way.

I feel full. I feel full of trust. I feel content. I feel happy.

All of a sudden I clicked.

Its not logical really.

I'm without a job or a savings account. I'm job hunting and full of questions about what all of that means.

It doesn't matter tho.

All of a sudden, because so many odd and coincidental things are happening, I'm full of faith and know all of the oddness has a reason.

I blame it all on this book. The Circle by Laura Day.

This isn't a paid add. She doesn't know me. I don't know her.

That book picked me out several years ago and now I know why.

Someone To Walk Me Through Getting a Cookbook Published

There was a disturbance in the force this weekend (or rather the disturbance ended) and I'm suddenly calm, centered and full of trust that my future career and life-balance is coming my way.

Part of that process (and oooh doesn't this sound mysterious) is needing to talk with someone who can walk me through what it takes to get a cookbook published.

By cookbook I don't mean a church fund raiser cookbook. I mean a professional, coffee-table cookbook.

Hey, even better I'd love to meet someone who has the inside scoop and is on the hunt for a cook book project that is about local food, sustainable practices, creativity, amazing photographs and fabulous essays.

It comes complete with a marketing plan that will work and an April 2009 publishing goal.

And now I take a deep breath and jump.

I Rock

I think we've hit the land of 'easy' parenting.

Its 10:30am and today I've already done the following things:

• showered
• blow dried my hair sort of
• put clean clothes on
• diapered and dressed the kids
• eaten a healthy, warm breakfast
• fed the kids healthy, warm breakfasts
• hosted a Team in Training cycling team - in my CLEAN house - which was even clean enough to not cringe with embarrassment when people went upstairs to use the bathroom
• done a load of dishes
• taken out all of our garbage and recycling (5 large bags worth)
  
• gotten 3 loads of Good Will stuff to the car
• been in a good, happy mood all day
• played silly games with the kids
• laughed
• thought about the future of my work life and been confused

Holy cow. There have been entire weeks in the past two years when I might have written this blog and been excited that I did all of that in an entire week.

Thank you God for bigger kids, easier times and a happier me.

The Listening Process

I received this email tonight just as I was trying to decide what to blog. Funny how those 'coincidences' happen.

Gentle Sara McGinley,

We write this appeal to you as leaders in the Episcopal Church who have profoundly different convictions about matters concerning human sexuality. Yet, both of us are committed to reconciliation as a different paradigm or culture from win/lose advocacy in terms of how we as a faith community deal with the deepest of differences among us.

We write this appeal in light of the House of Bishops' recent decision in New Orleans to respond affirmatively to the primates' request for clarification regarding approval of suitable candidates for bishop and authorizing liturgies for same-sex unions. This offer to refrain from moving forward has created space to launch an Anglican Communion Wide Listening Process. In a sense, the time has come for a global conversation in the Anglican Communion about human sexuality. The purpose of the Listening Process is to hear the concerns of all members of the Anglican Family; not only gays and lesbians but also Global South leaders. The purpose of the Listening Process is not to create a predetermined outcome or to "wear opponents down." It is to hear respectfully one another's stories, hopes and fears about this matter.

The facilitator of the Listening Process explains: "The ACC 13 resolution talked of mutual listening. We are attempting to listen to all voices including Global South voices, indigenous groups, those who describe themselves as having same sex attraction and who support Lambeth 1.10, and an array of other voices. We are not setting up a polarised debate, but an attempt to enable listening. It [our report to the Lambeth Conference] will not make any claim to be a definitive document, but to promote ongoing dialogue."

We appeal to you to consider a financial gift to support this initiative of the Anglican Consultation Council. Approximately $80,000 is needed to fully fund this initiative.

Please direct your gift to the ACC account in New York made payable to the "Anglican Consultative Council" with a memo "For the LGBT Listening Process."

Account Name Anglican Consultative Council Account No 42 914 652
Bank Deutsche Bank Trust Co Americas
280 Park Avenue NYC03-0201
New York NY 10017 USA

The ACC has pledged to use gifts thus designated solely for that purpose. Phil Groves Phil.Groves@anglicancommunion.org, the facilitator of the Listening Process, can make available to any donor full accounts of funds thus restricted.

Please be generous.

Dr. Louie Crew, lcrew@andromeda.rutgers.edu
The Reverend Canon Brian Cox, briancox@cox.net

Why I Think It Worked For Me

This post is in response to this post.

A friend of mine has this amazing community happening at her blog and she is reaching out to new moms even tho she is actually a new mom too. She is amazing and asked for advice for a friend about how to get through breastfeeding. And so I'm writing this.

Who knows why exactly breastfeeding worked out for me and doesn't for other people. It was convenient and worth it for me. Few things drive me more insane than people assuming that a mother who chooses not to breastfeed or a mother who tries and it doesn't work out is somehow a mom who failed or doesn't get it or didn't try hard enough. Ahhhh. Stupid. Not true.

So this is a list of the things I did that I think played a roll in getting me through those hard first few weeks.

I followed the recommendations of Baby Wise. I know. I know. Horrible. Baby Wise is bad blah blah blah. BS. Its not bad. It rocks.

I didn't follow all of the advice.

I did follow the advice to put your marriage first and get some sleep and go out on weekly dates (we went out on our first post-baby date within a week of their birth with both of our kids).

The feeding advice is really helpful too. And this is good advice for bottle or breastfed kids.

Feeding your kid when they wake up rather than right before they go to sleep was key for me. Making sure I fed my kid until they were full was also key. Not letting them fall asleep at the breast was key for me.

Here are the basics.

Feed your kid. Wake them up, burp them, undress them - whatever you need to do to be sure they get enough to eat.

Play with your kid.

Put your kid to bed.

Do it in that order (for newborns approximately every 2.5 to 3 hours - the time starts when they start eating not when they finish eating).

That really helped.

I also breastfed in private as much as possible the first few weeks while I was trying to figure it out. I found it insanely embarrassing to be goofing up with any sort of crowd around.

And truth be told nothing was worse that doing it around mothers who breastfed over 10 years ago. They don't remember how hard it was and I tended to get a sense that they were rolling their eyes at me which was frustrating and caused anxiety for me.

I hope this is helpful.

I have to say the first 3 weeks were the hardest. Then it got a little bit easier (and by a little I mean a little) every day after that. After 8 weeks it finally started settling in and feeling a lot better.

Do not believe anyone who tells you any of the following things:

1) If you don't breastfeed you're doing your child a disservice.
2) Its so good for your kid that even if it drives you nuts you should still do it.
3) Its not so bad.
4) Get over it and chill out.
5) You shouldn't do it in public.
6) Blisters after 3 weeks are normal.

Anyone who says any of those things is a moron and should be told with flowering language where to kiss you and what kind of a head they are - if you catch my drift.

How I Thought Today Would Go

I thought I'd get up super early this morning weighing less than I did 3 months ago, shower, lube up with Vaseline, put on my Team in Training gear, eat a light breakfast and ride the Light Rail to the start of the Twin Cities Marathon.

I thought the kids would spend the day with my parents and that I'd see them here and there along the route.

Instead I weight more than I did 3 months ago and I got up super early and I'm wearing jeans and a very long sock. I'll eat a big breakfast and maybe ride the Light Rail to watch the Twin Cities Marathon.

I'll clump around in my walking cast today. My stress fracture has healed but only sort of.

I'll still have it on until at least October 24.

Ahhhhhh.

The fact that I'm injured has bothered me sometimes more and sometimes less over the past 10 or so weeks.

There isn't anything I can do about it really.

And its not a mortal illness.

It stinks tho.

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

On the bright side. I raised well over $4000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society because of my efforts and my intention to run the marathon.

And I'll get to do a different event when I get healed up.

Maybe a marathon. Maybe a triathlon. Maybe a 100 mile bike ride.

Day Care

I've been touring day care centers (or more correctly stated child development centers) for the past few weeks.

I've seen some very impressive things.

Some places teach kids Chinese, some have dance classes and soccer classes you can pay extra for, they all have in-depth curricula, they have highly talented and young and peppy staff.

The toys are new and shiny and the latest in child development wonders.

The kid's days are scheduled from the moment they get there until the moment they leave with highly enriching activities.

None of them have felt right. They have all felt like a walk into some sort of turn into a robot hell to me.

They've been impressive and flashy and structured.

One place even told me with pride that the children spend all of 30 minutes a day outside in the morning and afternoon.

Wow. 30 minutes.

30 minutes?

30 minutes?

What is 30 minutes?

Nothing.

When are they kids I wondered.

Finally late this morning I visited a place where I got to talk to one of the teachers. I asked her how long the kids spend outside.

She said something like, "as much as possible - we shoot for an hour and a half in the morning when the weather is nice. We're all about playing here."

That is when I admitted how turned off I've been by all of the classes I've seen being taught to kids under the age of 2 at other centers.

She said, "oh we have classes. Yesterday we drove our trucks through paint and then all along a big piece of butcher paper. And just 20 minutes ago we were learning about the truck that drove into the driveway. We squirt glue. We paint on bubble wrap. We have lots of classes."

I fell in love.

This center has old toys and is the furthest from our house that I've looked (about 6 miles away) and we have to bring the kids' lunch with them which I'm guessing will be a bit of a hassle.

It will mean driving away from the house only to drive right back by our house to get downtown.
I wanted us to be a public transportation family.

I thought it would be really cool if we could all ride the light rail together in the morning.

If we go here we'll drive together. It won't be long. Its not what I planned.

And the kids will spend their days outside, playing, being kids for these last few years before they go to school and are structured and organized and enriched like a box of white spaghetti noodles.

Myanmar

I'm not going to pretend I understand what is happening right now in Myanmar AKA Burma.

I can say I was there 8 years ago. I was actually there. 19 years ago there was an uprising and now there is one again. I was there at the half-way point between those uprisings.

When I was there I met several monks. I also met some little boys who were refugees who were being raised by them. They were between 6 and 9 years old then. Today they probably look like grown men.

I wonder about them. Are they alive now. Were they part of what happened in the last few days? Are those boys still with the monks. Or have they grown up and done something else with their lives.

I need to sort through my pictures and look at them again.

Those boys with smiling, pre-pubescent faces, bright orange robes, one with glasses. Glasses that at the time seemed to me incongruent, western, too black, too sleek, geeky on the face of a young child in the clothes of a disciplined, spiritual leader, on the face of a refugee-orphan smiling with eyes full of too-much life experience and a bit too much of an impish impulse for the liking of his monk caretakers.

Wow! Thank you Kari!

We had a very generous professional photographer come and take a FREE photo shoot of Eliot when he was bald. We got the CD in the mail today. Look at this picture of sweet Naomi.

If you live in Minnesota and want engagement, wedding, pregnancy, infancy, childhood, family and even senior high pictures call this woman. She goes to your house of wherever you want your pictures taken, she had Eliot relaxed and smiling faster than I've seen ANYONE and she was very generous to us. I think her rates are reasonable and her work is beautiful.

I'd love to help her out by spreading the word about her work since she captured this unexpected milestone in our lives for us.

And if you don't live in the Twin Cities check out this web-site. These people do what she did for us for other people.

Kary Layland Photography

7 Years

7 years ago today Aron and I stood up in front of a large chunk of our family and friends and did the church part of our wedding.

6 weeks before that we did the legal part of our wedding.

7 years ago today was a cold, over cast, rainy day.

Today was warm, even humid and sunny and wonderful.

And in so many ways that is how life is too.

7 years ago I assumed I'd never have kids.

I assumed I'd be annoyed with the church pretty much forever.

7 years ago today was a pretty annoying day for me in genearl. I was a basically cynical annoyed person in a lot of ways.

Today I got to go to church with two wonderful kids who happen to share a fair amount of my genes and Aron's. I had fun at church. And these kids are amazing.

Our marriage has been through about 4,000 of my jobs and two of Aron's and 2 kids and cancer and two moves and 2 home purchases and last night we went out to celebrate and had a great time.

We saw a movie that made both of us laugh out loud. And by out loud I mean out LOUD.

See the movie if you can. Death at a Funeral.

Life is totally weird and unpredictable and awful at times. I'm in this whole guilt/euphoria thing over starting my career again and that is heart wrenching.

Life is good tho and solid and we are blessed.

And today the sun shines and shines.

And for that I am grateful.

Happy Anniversary us.

Support Group

This past week marked 9 months since Eliot was diagnosed. It also marked the 1st time I was able to attend a cancer support group.

For 9 months I've really been looking forward to having a group of people who really understand what I mean when I say that our family is lucky. For 9 months I've been hoping to sit down with other people and really work through what we're going through.

That was not what happened.

Well. Part of it was.

Everyone there saw how lucky we are. And that was wonderful.

And everyone there was still living and alive despite the existence of The Cancer in their lives.

We didn't really get into anything too deep tho - unless of course you consider constipation a deep subject.

I realized after being surprised by the lack of deep conversation that I'm silly.

People - especially me - don't just open up wide the first time they meet other people.

Instead they talk about blood counts and constipation and horrible doctors.

They talk about how angry they are at their crappy doctors.

They talk about how happy they are to now have good doctors.

We talked about the stuff of The Cancer. And that was some comfort.

It wasn't nearly as comforting tho as sitting with my friends over the weekend and having one of them make a bald headed kid joke.

Now THAT was a comfort. To have someone make a cancer joke with me right there.

That was a comfort. A joy. True support.

And I'm not kidding. To get to joke about The Stuff of The Cancer. To be treated like I'm not going to break. That is support.

Confessions of a Cheater

I confess. I have more than one blog. I have 2. One is private. One is this one.

My husband has protested my privatization of my blog by not reading it.

I think its a better blog.

Its about my kids tho. And I swear on it a lot. At least I used to while treatment for The Cancer (thank you Mother of Kaiser Alex for that terminology) was intense.

I'm having vain fantasies about making it public again because more people read it then - and its better - and its so rewarding to have hits on my blog.

I'm a pimp. I think I'm a pimp. Pimping stories of my brilliant children out just for blog hits.

Pimp.

Pimp.

Pimp mommy mom.

What I Most Remember

For some reason the detail that I always think about when I think about 9/11 is something one of my coaching colleagues told me - at least I think that is who told me this.

This person lives somewhere close enough to New York City to be able to see it from his house and on September 11, 2001 he stood in his yard looking at New York City and its new sky line and someone's resume was blown into his yard.

Who knows if it came from the World Trade Center. It probably did.

As he said it, this young person was applying for a job. Perhaps they were trying to leave one at the World Trade Center. Perhaps they were trying to get one at the World Trade Center. Perhaps they'd just started their job that day.

He didn't know. He was too nervous to call the number on it to find out.

While We're Doing Anniversaries

Six years ago at about this time of night Aron and I got in the car with our doggie Fran. She had raced through our back yard to chase a squirrel or cat or something, had jumped over the flowers like she did everyday and mysteriously landed on her head, didn't breath and couldn't move.

Its one of the few times I've heard urgency in Aron's voice.

We took her to the vet who checked her out (luckily she was breathing by then) and sent us the University of Minnesota animal hospital.

We drove our doggie, Fran, to Minneapolis from Duluth (2+ hours) because she was paralyzed and she was our only baby.

They kept her overnight.

The next morning the Twin Towers crashed. Then we drove the animal hospital and talked them out of thousands of dollars of diagnosis and surgery and took her home.

We expected to put her to sleep.

Amazingly, 3 days later she started walking sort of. And then she started really getting up. And she walked every day after that until this spring when she passed on.

My whole 9/11 experience was also wrapped up Franny's crazy injury.

And you know what is really wild. We left the animal hospital around 2am or so on September 11. The doctor filled out a piece of paper and dated it 9/10 and I corrected her and thought in the back of my mind, "someday it will mean something to me that today was the 11th, not the 10th."

And it turns out that is the case.

And its weird.

And here we are years later.

And that is weird too.

Spooky G-mail Anniversary

I have wayyy too many emails in my g-mail in-box. The other night I decided to go back in time and see when I sent my very first email. Get this.

It was on December 18th 2004. December 18. 1 week before Christmas. The same day Eliot was diagnosed with leukemia - well the same day minus 2 years.

I sent my first g-mail e-mail 2 years before my son was diagnosed with leukemia.

Oh if I could send an email to her now that would show up that first day of g-mailing.

I'd tell her I think she should do a better job of archiving her emails.

I'd tell her to quit worrying about money.

I'd tell her to enjoy her ever shrinking body because some day she'll do 8 months of stress eating after having a 2nd kid and she'll be a fah-tass.

I'd tell her to enjoy how easy-ish life is with just one kid who takes 3 naps a day.

I'd tell her to stick up for herself more because it will be worth it.

She probably wouldn't listen.

She feels a little fat and a little like she should be nice and like there are a lot of reasons to worry about money and she doesn't think having 2,000 emails in your g-mail account is really all THAT bad.

I suppose I can't blame her. She is a new mom, she is in love, she is a cheap-o, she has 3 naps of time a day to get through email.

I miss her tiny little butt and thighs.

Another Installment of Clumsy Priest Wife Stories

I'm up on Episcopal Cafe again. Read all about baby poo and wardrobe malfunctions here.

Things That Make You Go No Way!

I learned something tonight. It shocked me. It made me question assumptions I've had for a long time. I keep thinking about this.

I had the honor and joy of attending a Twins baseball game tonight with great, fun friends in a box. In an actual box. The view was great. The food was great. The flat screen tv's showing us the game we were attending were great. The comfortable seats were great.

I saw how the other half lives.

This wasn't the big learning tho.

No the BIG learning.

I learned tonight that when a lot of men use a public toilet at a place such as The Metrodome they line up at the urinals and at the stalls kind of like you line up at the grocery store. They pick a particular urinal or a particular stall and they queue there.

So they run the risk of walking through the door of the bathroom and actually urinating after someone who walked in behind them.

This is a shock to me.

Women line up in large public bathrooms in one line. Whoever is at the front of the line gets the next free stall.

That's how it is.

That's how I assumed it worked in the men's bathroom.

That isn't how it is in the men's bathroom.

Not at all.

Goodness what a bunch of time we women waste.

If we all queued outside of a particular stall we would save all of that time that gets wasted when the first woman doesn't realize a stall is available and then slowly, slowly walks to it.

Oh how the other half lives.

My Labor

I found a reading today on Episcopal Cafe (see the whole thing here). It helped me wrap my brain around my labors with being an at home working mom vs. out of the house working mom.

This line particularly got my attention:

In whatever work that you do, you should say to yourself at every moment: “If God looks at me, what does he see?” Then see how you answer yourself.

It is from the Sayings of the Desert Fathers and Mothers, quoted in Essential Monastic Wisdom: Writings on the Contemplative Life by Hugh Feiss (HarperSanFrancisco, 1999).

What would God say to me if she walked in and saw me being martyr mama right in front of my very own children.

I imagine God in lots of ways and when I think about this I see a bosomy woman in earthy colors say, "girl, you're not doing anyone any favors - get your hind end out of here right now."

I'm carrying this question around with me for a while to see what I find.

Right now if God walked in the room I'd say, "Hold on a minute, I'm doing something I love - while you wait have you been reading this blog? Its the best there is.

And if God said, "of course" which I'm sure his skinny, geeky little self would say, I'd say, "Then check this one out, its the only other one to read every day."

And then I'd get embarrassed for telling God to hold on while I blog and I'd tear myself away and hope for the chance to ask a few questions.

I'm Famous

Well not really famous.

Check out this cool contest. My brother-in-law entered the contest and his entry is his expertly edited (I think I droned on for over an hour) story of our winter with mice and leukemia.

Its number 49. There are some other cool ones in there too.

Vacation Oh How I Love Thee

I've been on vacation for nearly 2 weeks. It was hands down the best vacation I've been on in at least 3 years and perhaps longer. Probably longer.

Its not that I don't go on vacation either. Aron and I are good at taking vacation.

We make a point of going on one at least once a year.

This one was exemplary. We stayed at an amazing place. We had a lot of time together. The kids are big enough to play on their own for at least 45 whole seconds in a row during which Aron and I can make out like high schoolers (for short bursts of time fully clothed and not caring who sees us yet also always getting caught). Or if I'm honest we can run off to watch cable television for 1 whole minute until the kids come and find us and ask us to come back.

This is the first vacation I've been on since the end of 2002 that I wasn't in some crazy sort of hormone imbalance. We went on vacation around Christmas time in 2002. I was just me. Regular me.

We didn't go on vacation again (at least not that I recall) until the winter of 2003 when I was pregnant with Eliot. Since then I've been pregnant or nursing or pregnant and nursing on vacation.

I've been tired and tied to a child and lactating or growing a fetus or in some way hormonally committed and this time I wasn't.

And this time I was dreaming of a new job and something to call my own that is my own and some time away from our house.

And now there is so much to blog. So. So. Much to blog.

For now I'll just blog this.

And this.

Another Way to Help

A fund called Minnesota Helps has been set up to help victims, families and rescuers.

Check it out and give here.

Sara McGinley: Goober Supreme

When I was first exposed to The Episcopal Church it became obvious to me that I had no manners. Well. That I had bad manners.

I never knew what to wear. I often wore the wrong thing. I didn't know what to do with a cloth napkin (can you say wiped my actual nose on more than one). I attended parties without bringing wine or something to eat. I went to visit people in the hospital without a gift.

Oh the list of goofs goes on and on and on and on and on.

And I'm not even listing the 60,000 times I used a swear word when I probably shouldn't have.

Not all Episcopalians care or even know if you've used the wrong fork. And, lets be honest its part of the Episcopalian thing.

Tonight I went to the ecumenical service for the bridge collapse. It was at St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral and of course Bishop Jelinek was an important part of the service.

I thought he was on vacation and went up to chat with him afterward.

I got there just when the woman who is the head of the Council of Churches in the Twin Cities was there.

The camera people from the press started clicking pictures and someone came up to Bishop Jelinek and asked him to stay where he was so they could get another person and get some pictures.

He leaned over to say hi to me and they clicked more pictures

He introduced me to the head of the council of churches person (the woman who is on tv right now as I write this) and they clicked more.

Just for a visual - I've been running around with the kids all day. Its been a humid day. My hair is in a pony tail. I have avocado on my shirt from dinner. As usual I look pretty mediocre.

When the bishop introduced me the woman said something like, "is she one of yours?" and I said something like, "oh my husband is one of his - he doesn't own me."

Then for some inexplicable reason I said, "I wasn't very sure about the church until I got drunk once with Bishop Jelinek and then I thought it was okay."

This of course was a pretty unnecessary thing to say on the front steps of a cathedral after an ecumenical service.

It was a totally stupid thing to someone who didn't need to be convinced that the church is an okay place.

And a totally embarrassing thing to say when 5 photographers are standing around.

Just call me smooth.

The Memorial

I got home from the ecumenical service for the bridge that was held at St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral. It was packed full of people. People. People. People.

It was weird to be there.

I was just there less than 2 weeks ago for a joyous ordination.

I've been there for a lot of ordinations and for the Integrity Eucharist at General Convention. I've never been there for an event that wasn't joyous.

It was weird.

It was really something too to hear a reading from the Koran, from the old testament read by a rabbi, from a Native American woman, words read in Spanish and some rockin' praise music.

Some rockin' praise music during which lots of us white people were rather stiff and uncomfortable and some of us sang and clapped our hands (and during which I tried to clap my hands but I have zero rhythm and I gave up after a minute or so).

There was a lot of talk of building bridges.

When a bridge of steel and concrete falls a bridge of trust and compassion must be built.

That is what one of the speakers said.

It happened just a few hours ago and I don't even yet know what to say.

The Bridge

I drove as close as I could get to the bridge yesterday. I happened to go out to do it at the same time President Bush was in town. People had signs that said, "build bridges, not bombs" and "get out of Iraq."

I drove over a bridge near the U of M and could see the edge of the bridge, then bare space over the river, then the other side, far across the river.

Eerie.

I took Aron over that bridge today.

There were people all over the place when I went yesterday. I thought it was because of President Bush.

It was the same today tho. Families, single people, old people, young people, white, Latino, Asian.

It was like the State Fair.

I just saw on the news that they re-opened the Stone Arch Bridge today and that looked even more crowded than the streets we were on.

I don't know what to say about this. There is something about actually seeing it. There is something about actually being there. I haven't yet really seen the messy part with my own eyes. I want to tho. Is that bizarre or what. I want to see its scary, weirdness.

We're Okay Email

There have been a lot of 'are you okay?' and 'we're okay' emails coming and going over the past day.

This is an impressive 'we're okay' email written by our neighbor Laura. Jesse is also our neighbor and her fiance and the one who took these pictures.

+++

Hey everyone,

Just wanted you to know that Jess and I are ok. The bridge is about
1.5 miles away from our house. I was in the car on my way home from
work when I first heard the news, so I called Jesse, and he sped to
the scene on his scooter and took these pictures. I went home and
grabbed my bike and met him at a pedestrian bridge near the scene.

We joined thousands of people who gathered there to observe the
catastrophe. The bridge is close to the University of Minnesota, and
the Metrodome, as well as some Somali and other immigrant
neighborhoods, so you can imagine the turnout. There were Twins fans
and cyclists and neo-hippies and immigrants and biker dudes and
transients and college students. It was kind of like an apartment fire
alarm, when all your neighbors go out in their pajamas, and you think,
"Wow, I never realized all the different kinds of folks who live in
this building."

It makes me sick to think of what the victims' final moments must have
been like. In one of Jesse's pictures, there's a construction pickup
truck taking an injured person to the hospital. I talked to two guys
were got to the scene right after the bridge collapsed, and they saw
motorists getting out of their cars, dazed and bloodied and sobbing,
shocked by the enormity of what they just escaped. I can't tell you
how many times we've crossed that bridge. In fact, a friend and I
tried taking it this weekend to go to the movies in a northern suburb,
but because of the surface road work that was going on, we were
detoured.

I just wanted to send you all note to let you know we are safe
--though a little spooked and counting our blessings.

Laura and Jess

How To Help

I'll update this post as I find more ways to help.

The Red Cross appears to be doing a great job helping.

From what I hear they need blood this link shows you where you can give blood in the Twin Cities.

You can give blood and/or donate money.

Reporting About the Bridge

This blog and these flikr photos are pretty incredible.

Bishop Jelinek's Statement About the Bridge

Statement from the Right Rev. James L. Jelinek
Can be seen online here.

Regarding the I-35W Bridge Collapse

On behalf of the Diocese of Minnesota, we offer our prayers to all who are affected by the devastating bridge collapse in Minneapolis yesterday. The University Episcopal Center is about a half mile away from the site, and, to our knowledge, all are fine.

The prayers and well wishes have been streaming in overnight from across the country. People are checking in with one another - quick emails that say "you ok?" and "we're fine" are filling the airwaves. We will keep all posted with any news we receive regarding people we know and love who were victims or witnesses in any way. We've had many questions asking, "What can we do?" For now, we'll let the emergency personnel do their work and let them tell us what might be helpful when they are ready. But we can do what we do best - pray.

We pray for those who have died, may their souls and the souls of all the departed rest in peace.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for those who may still be trapped, those who are injured, and for those whose loved ones have not yet been accounted for. We pray for perseverance, and strength, and hope.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for those whose vocation serves the common good; for first responders, search and rescue, fire fighters, police officers, paramedics, for those who work in hospitals and blood banks; the newsrooms and media centers; for places of prayer- our churches and temples and mosques and our homes.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for those in leadership; for our governor and mayors, for state and federal agencies, and for coordination of services in the immediate and distant future.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for ourselves and our children. Calm our fears, comfort our sorrow, and guide our response. Set us at the difficult task of studying and rebuilding for the future. Grant us patience in the days ahead.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

O Lord, mercifully receive the prayers of your people who call upon you, and grant that they may know and understand what things they ought to do, and they also have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God now and for ever. Amen.

Adapted from the Book of Common Prayer

All Is Fine Here

Wow. A bizarre thing happened in Minneapolis tonight not far from our house.

A bridge. Four whole lanes of a bridge. Fell straight down into the Mississippi river tonight during rush hour.

We're all fine. All of our family is fine. We haven't heard news of any friends who were on the bridge.

I just heard the story of the bus that was on the bus. 61 people were on the bus. 8 people were injured. The guy I just heard said the car in front of them on the bridge was crushed. They were lucky.

They're of course shaken.

This is really, really bizarre.

We drove over that bridge at the beginning of rush hour yesterday. We were in the car with both kids. As we drove over yesterday and saw the construction I thought to myself, 'wow, this is a lot of stuff on one bridge.' And then I chastised myself for being Polly Paranoid.

All but one of the construction crew who were working on the bridge are accounted for except one.

Ug!

I've been afraid since Eliot was diagnosed that one thing after another would happen. I've been afraid that since he was diagnosed when I was literally starting to taste freedom from nursing Naomi and the big work of having a child under 1 year old that when I was about to get some freedom from Eliot's intense treatment somthing bad would happen.

I thought we made it through that point.

It turns out we didn't.

Literally the week he started maintenance I started having a little pain in my leg.

I ignored it. Then iced it. Then wore better shoes for it. Then went to the doctor for it. Then went to the chiropractor for it. Then the sports doctor for it.

It turns out I have a rare and somewhat high risk stress fracture in my right ankle area.

I'm using a walking cast.

I will be for at least 2 weeks and up to 12 weeks.

I won't be running the Twin Cities Marathon.

Sigh.

I'm feeling pretty mad about this and pretty resigned to it.

It feels like a lesson. It feels like a metaphor. Now its my job to make the most of some more enforced by nature lock down.

A service through the American Child Photographers Charity Guild provided us a free photo shoot with a professional child photographer. We scheduled her to come and get photos of Eliot while he was totally bald. It turned out some of his hair started to come back right before the photo shoot.

Isn't this amazing! The woman who took the picture is named Kari. You can see her work here. She did this for us for free because of Eliot's leukemia. She does photo shoots for a fee and I think she is worth it. I'd love it if you'd hire her or spread the word since she did this wonderful thing for us.

Eliot is the honoree for a Team in Training cycling team this fall. I received their newsletter tonight with this picture in it. Holy cow. Its incredible to think there will be a team of people racing with him in mind.

Why Talking in Church is a Good Thing

Today was our 3rd Sunday back in church after our medically sanctioned nearly 7 month sabbatical.

The kids once again wandered around the altar and back to me and back to the altar.

Naomi spent a fair amount of the sermon wandering up and down the isle of the church while Aron stood in the center isle preaching.

While he was preaching Eliot and I had a conversation that once again reminded me how much I feel like I need some serious theological education. I feel like what I say to him about God and money and sex are some of the most important things I might ever say to him. And I feel the least educated in this God area.

He heard Aron talk about Jesus' visit to Martha and Mary's house today and wanted to know if Jesus was going to come to Eliot's house.

I wasn't sure how to talk about Jesus coming to our house. He seemed to want to know if Jesus was coming and I just couldn't figure out how to say anything about that.

So to stall I asked him what he would say to Jesus if Jesus came to our house.

He said he'd tell Jesus about Mama.

Which of course made me smile, and made my heart melt into a puddle of throbbing love and then I asked him what he would tell Jesus about Mama.

He said he'd tell Jesus about Mama playing with Eliot's toys.

I assume there will be people, there probably already are, who are annoyed by kids making noise in church and walking around in church and being distracting in church.

I struggle with a reflex to worry about that.

I tend to want to reel the kids in, to tell them to be quiet, to tell them their needs will be important again when church is over.

And I get the honor of having a conversation like that in a church where I know people are generally enthusiastic about kids and words can't adequately (at least not today) express how glad i am that talking in church is something we do.

More Learning

My marathon training is teaching me another lesson in self restraint.....or something.

3 weeks ago - or so - my right leg started hurting while I ran. By the time I got home and stretched and was back with the kids I'd forget about it until the next morning when I ran again.

This went on for a few days.

I was just starting to feel good running at the time and 3 miles was starting to feel easy again and I was having images of a lighter, fresher, more fit me actually running the entirety of The Twin Cities Marathon.

So I ran through the pain.

Then my leg started hurting during the day.

I iced it when I could.

Then Naomi stopped nursing so I started taking ibuprofen thinking that would help.

I took a whole week of short runs off after my leg hurt so much during a run that I decided to cut it short.

I ran 12 whole miles in a great deal of pain - but man - I was training for a race.

Then my leg started hurting so much that ibuprofen didn't really help.

I started wearing my running shoes all day long and that did help a bit.

Not totally tho.

My leg still hurts even with tennis shoes on and many, many days of rest.

I finally gave in and went to the doctor the other day and whatever is going on it acts an awful lot like a stress fracture.

I'm not to run for at least 2 weeks.

So.

I'm behind. Very. Very. Very behind in my training.

I'm considering dropping out of the Twin Cities Marathon and doing a different marathon or a cycling race instead.

Sigh.

Just when I get momentum going, this happens.

It seems like that has been happening a lot for the past 2 years of my life.

I get momentum. I get moving. I get through that hard part and then I get forced to go a different direction.

I'm feeling tired and placid today and like it is all connected to some larger truth I'll someday understand.

I also feel like a wilted flower. Or a sail with no wind. Or a wrinkled balloon that was full and poofy yesterday.

Sigh.

Harry Potter

I re-read the first 6 Harry Potter books this summer and finished number 6 last night.

My plan all summer has been to bum my sister's copy of the book off her because she loves Harry Potter too and reads quickly and I thought I'd wait until it came out in paper back to buy it.

After finishing book 6 last night I'm not sure if I can wait.

The whole level of drama in the books has gone a bit too far for me - still I love them. I think the characters are great fun. The books drew me in and I'm preoccupied wondering what will happen in book 7.

My sisters and I are even playing a little prediction game about book 7.

I started the game by posing the following questions:

1) Is Dumbledore actually dead?
2) Does Voldemort die?
2a If yes, who does it
2b If no, what prevents it
3) Where are all of the horcrux's and what are they
4) Does it end with a cliff hanger or is everything resolved in the end
5) do Ginny and Harry get back together

My sister upped the ante by adding the following questions and saying she'll post something truly embarrassing on her blog if she doesn't get at least one of these right

Is Sirius really dead? or does he come back?

How many pages will be filled with useless reminders of past events?
(I can't stand that - we've all read these books 10 times. you don't
need to remind us that Ron has red hair!!!)

Will Hermione and Ron get together?

We're all going to write down our predictions, date and time them and have a witness confirm that it was written down before we started reading the book.

I'm going to write mine down in a draft blog post and post it after I finish the book.

And if I don't get at least 2 of all of those questions correct I'll try to find something really embarrassing in my life that I haven't already admitted on this blog and post it for all to see.

Anyone else care to play?

Discernment and Abundance

I've been learning about living from a place of abundance for the past several years.

I didn't exactly start out as an enthusiastic student. I tended to say things like, "but there isn't enough time, or money." Or I'd say, "well that is easy for you to say, someone else will just end up getting shorted, so you go ahead and be all abundant, someone else will take the hit."

Lately I've been asked to be part of a lot of organizations in one way or another and I'm really having to wrestle with whether or not to say yes. I'm attempting to discern what to say yes to and what to say no to.

I'm trying to do this from a place of abundance.

And also trying to balance, carefully how and where I spend my time and what I say yes to and what I say no to.

Its hard to talk about what it means to believe there is enough time and energy to do all the things I need to do while also deciding not to do some things.

In some ways it seems totally paradoxical. And it is. And that's why I like it.

Somehow saying no because I've chosen to say no, not because I've just decided to put some road block in the way feels at least like a step in the direction of abundance.

Back At Church

We went to church for the 2nd time since we're allowed back in the real world yesterday.

All four of us were in church.

I've looked forward to this day now for months.

Now that its here it feels incredibly normal.

Normal hit us faster than I ever expected.

I've had a hard time writing here lately and I realized its because life feels so darn good. I've always been a horribly journal-er when life is good.

If you pick up old journals of mine you'd think my life was one big long stream of annoying, heart breaking events after another.

So we're back in church and the kids enjoy it. They've both wandered up front a few times to see Aron. Naomi spent some time sitting on Aron's lap yesterday during part of the service.

The kids and I went to the nursery for a while yesterday and I participated along with the speaker that is in there. Eliot repeated words from the service.

'Mama did they say, father?'

'Yes they said 'father.''

'Promise.'

'Covenant.'

He played with a train while Naomi crawled up and then slid down the plastic slide getting her hair ever more static-y and repeated random words from the service.

I wonder how long until he picks out the word 'virgin' and I get to explain that one.

Leukemia Update

Eliot has reached maintenance.

Maintenance will last until March of 2010. During maintenance he'll have monthly clinic appointments where he'll get chemo in his port and once every three months he'll get a spinal tap.

We'll give him chemo at home every day. Some days he'll get two kinds of chemo at home. For 5 days a month he'll have steroids twice a day.

His hair is growing back.

They expect it to keep growing and continue to grow now for the rest of his life.

The risk of being hospitalized is much lower now.

And we get to return to church!

Church is still a risky place to be and Aron and I have decided to take the risk and take him. Sunday will probably be our first one back.

Yeah!

We made it to the light at the end of the tunnel!!!!

Fundraising Update

Wow!

My goal to raise $1700 for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society was clearly not a high enough goal.

I've raised nearly $2000 MORE than that goal.

I'm just blown away by the generosity of so many people.

I also learned the other day that if I can get to the point of raising $2000 over my goal I get special recognition. And so the competitive part of me has kicked into gear.

I'm really close.

If you're at all inspired to help me get special recognition and of course help a great cause check out my fund raising page. Every dollar helps cure leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin's and mylenoma and helps me be in the 'cool' club.

I Made The Big Time

Kendall Harmon over at Titus One Nine linked to my blog the other day. This is a big deal to me.

Kendall keeps up with what is happening in the Episcopal Church and in the Anglican Communion. He is articulate. He is often on the news when the Episcopal Church does something news worthy.

He is a celebrity in some ways in our church and to be linked to from his blog feels like I'm on the map.

I'm not just Sara, wife or Aron Kramer AKA Aron's wife. I'm Sara McGinley, deputy from Minnesota, person worth linking to from another blog.

This is new territory. This feels like a new world. I feel a new responsibility to learn more about the Episcopal Church, to read more, to know more. Ahhhh....I'm becoming a church person.

I used to be one of those church people who was mostly not very churchy and that was what I thought I could bring to the table. I could be that voice of seekers. Not anymore. Now I'm churchy. Now what I have to bring is evolving. I wonder what comes now.

My Piece is on Episcopal Cafe

Check out my piece on Episcopal Cafe. I've been writing short little stories like the one that is up there today entitled A Priest's Wife Wears Underwear. I even already got a comment and an email. Which is a super thrill.

Its a mostly true story. All of the little stories I've written are short exaggerations of things that really happened, like the day a woman warned me at church that she thought Aron might be having an affair because a woman named Sara McGinley was calling him at church a lot. Yup. Thats my name. His last name isn't McGinley.

I love this church ands its people.

Wow!

I'm so excited. I have already raised $715 toward my marathon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

I now have less than $1000 to raise to meet my $1700 goal.

I'd appreciate your help to reach my goal.

You can learn about the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society here.

You can learn about the team I'm training with here.

You can donate here.

You can watch the progress of my training here at this blog any time.

Church Geek Strikes Again

The Journal from General Convention arrived in the mail today. When it got here I was outside playing with the kids in our kiddie pool and Eliot said he wanted to read the book. My mom offered to take it from me so it didn't get wet and I joked that I'd never read this gigantic, boring book. Ha ha ha I said, it could fall in the pool and I wouldn't mind.

Then I came inside and took a peek at it and literally spent over 5 minutes reading the darn thing.

I read through most of the ninth day and found the moment the "Naomi resolution" was passed and was really amazed to see how much of what happened in that big room isn't captured by the journal.

It doesn't talk about the mood in the room on the ninth day. It doesn't talk about the tears. It doesn't talk about the looks on people's faces as I walked around with my daughter.

It doesn't talk about how the spirit moves its way through the room and surprises everyone and challenges everyone.

It doesn't talk about what it felt like to vote by orders on B033.

It doesn't talk about what it was like to sit next to someone for 8 of the 9 days and then suddenly sit next to someone else.

It doesn't talk about how our Minnesota deputation sat right in front of Kendall Harmon and his fellow deputies. And we talked and talked.

Well I didn't get to talk with them much, I was sitting a row ahead of them and wrapped up with Naomi most of the time.

Others got to talk with them and I learned a lot from hearing about those conversations.

It doesn't talk about how exciting it was to be there, or how bizarre the last day was, or how wonderful it was to finally go home or how much I didn't want to leave.

None of the tears or confusion or nervousness or faith or hope. That's not in there.

Time

I was sent two emails about time today from list serves. Interesting that they both showed up on the same day. And on today. A day when I finally relaxed into running.

Yeah. I don't believe in coincidences anymore.

THE DAILY GROOVE ~ by Scott Noelle
www.enjoyparenting.com/dailygroove

:: Relieving Time Pressure ::

You enjoy parenting most when you feel expansive and
flowing -- the way you feel when you're not under any
kind of pressure.

One of the most common pressures of modern life is
*time pressure*: having to be somewhere or do
something by a certain time. Young children naturally
live in the moment, not by the clock, so subjecting
them to time pressure usually leads to discord.

To reduce time pressure in your daily groove...

* Decide that geniality (feeling good) is more
important than punctuality (being 'right').

* Don't agree to be on time -- build
flexibility into your agreements.
("I'll be there around 7:00-ish.")

* When you really want to be on time to an
appointment, give yourself LOTS of extra
cushion time -- just accept that life with
kids is less "efficient."

* Don't rush when you're late -- call and
renegotiate! For all you know, the person
you're meeting may be late, too.

* When you can get away with it, don't make
plans at all! Enjoy living spontaneously!

http://dailygroove.net/time-pressure


From storypeople.com

Here's the Story of the Day: Enough Time (Masculine) Everything changed the day he figured out there was exactly enough time for the important things in his life.

And There It Is

I've been training now for nearly 3 weeks. I'm finally getting to that part in a new habit where it starts to become a habit instead of a major, gruelling exercise in self-discipline.

Saturday I ran 7 miles.

Wow. 7 miles.

And I felt pretty good.

This morning I ran 3 miles.

And out of nowhere all of a sudden I looked up, straightened my running form and felt strong.

I got back into an old groove I'd forgotten I ever had.

I looked ahead. I looked well beyond what was right in front of my feet.

I breathed.

I ran. I felt great.

Over the past few weeks I've been reminded over and over of the lessons I've learned in my life from running. They've been hard things to re-member and I haven't had the nerve to write about them.

Sometimes I have to rest. Sometimes I have to take days off. When things hurt sometimes its a sign of working hard, sometimes its a sign I need to let myself heal.

This has been emotional work. Getting back into running. I'm finding anew a confidence I used to have, a centered-ness, a calm.

This time when I start my running career its less to run away from something and more about running to something.

Its about living, not avoiding living.

And today I looked up and saw what was ahead and kept going that way.

Oh Boy

I write on this blog nearly everyday. Well most of the time nearly every day.

I have another blog that I made private that I also write on nearly everyday.

I often say stupid things. I've been known to use 'creative' grammar. Sometimes I don't agree with myself a few weeks after I write things.

Still. I put it out there without much fear.

Well. Except the fear I was feeling about the other blog because it talks about my kids and I started to worry about people who want to do mean things to kids or mean things to me through my kids.

Either way.

I just go for it.

And now I'm sitting down to write for Episcopal Cafe and have all of these supposedly wise things to say about how often to check or not check your email, what in the world prayer is really about, why we're all enough and should give ourselves a break and how darn important it is to love ourselves enough to sleep and all I can think is:

who are you to say any of this Sara, you don't know squat.

I think this is called the gremlin, the saboteur, that tape in your head.

Yup I'm hearing it loud and clear baby.

Loud and clear.

e-Greetings

I've never been a huge fan of e-greetings until today.

I haven't disliked them.

I just haven't loved them until now.

I was emailed this excellent web site today. If you know the story people you probably already know you love this stuff. If you don't. I'd be willing to bet you will.

The other is this fun one where you can create a message using the shapes of buildings all over the world. Trust me. Its cooooool. The letter S is insanely close to our house. Trippy.

Beta Or Bust

A few weeks ago I was told by a therapist and also by my husband that an okay goal for each day was to keep the children alive and diapered. That all I have to do is feed them and diaper them. That absolutely nothing else is necessary beyond that.

My therapist doesn't have kids.

My husband is wonderful. And a man.

I thought it was completely insane.

Then I decided to embrace it. Since them I've had all of these moments when I thought to myself 'now would be a great time to pick up Eliot's room' and then said to myself 'nope that isn't on the list.'

The list being full of two items. Keep the kids diapered. Keep the kids alive.

I just found this article about Alpha and Beta moms. It talks about hour our generation has been told we can do anything we put our minds too and how that has put an insane amount of pressure on us.

Yup.

It talks about how we've been successful in our lives by working hard.

Yup.

It talks about how the road man for raising kids is less clear.

I totally disagree with that.

We've been told that if we start talking to our zygotes the second we realize they're in there they'll grow up to go to Harvard and save the world. We've been told its preferable that we do that non-stop talking in many languages. That we should only stop to play the children classical music.

We've been told to only consume organic food and only let them consume organic food. We've been told to send them to 65,000 classes. We've been told that just about anything we do or don't do will cause their brain and/or their self confidence to shrivel up and die.

We've been told under no uncertain terms that sleeping with or without them will ruin them forever, that holding them in a sling or not holding them in a sling will ruin them forever, that a schedule or a lack of schedule will ruin them forever.

The list goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on.

Did I mention its a long list?

Either way. I've had to shed layers and layers and layers of expectations since my son was born about 3 years ago. I can't and don't want to do it all.

I guess I'm a recovering alpha mom.

Strangely enough too back in my alpha days I was still more laid back than a lot of moms I knew.

And I'm still (or so I assume) much more alpha than a lot of moms, particularly moms who were moms 20 and 30 years ago think I ever should be.

So I'm going to try to stick to this.

2 goals for the day.

Keep the children alive.

Keep the children diapered.

Maybe I'm Not Crazy. Well At Least About This.

Since some time in the 90's I've been anti-aspartame.

I'm not sure when it started. I know part of it had to do with my sisters pronouncing it "as part a me". Its funny to call it that. As part a me. Conjures up images of it just hanging out in some corner like an elbow or earlobe or something.

I know part of it had to do with that email hoax that went flying around that included as a side effect 'brain bleeding'. That was in the days of oleen (remember oleen) which for a while actually had the term 'anal leakage' listed as a side effect on foods in which it was included (whoa - clumsy grammar situation bat man).

In those days I worked with a woman who weighed about 113 pounds and was so worried about how 'fat' she was and how 'big' her thighs were that she consumed aspartame and oleen filled food items as a major staple of her diet.

Perhaps that was my first reason to really be against the whole thing.

Whatever started it I was thrilled last night to meet someone who used to have joint pain and depression and read about aspartame poisoning (just google it you'll get lots of info pro and con info) and stopped drinking her diet Cokes and her joint pain and depression went away.

That is a study of one person.

I've had a whole list of 'cancer-y' things that I try to avoid particularly since getting pregnant with Eliot. They include aspartame and non-stick pans. I read this article today and had to go 'hmmmm'. Aspartame is linked to leukemia (in a study that is refuted by many). Gosh we fed Eliot copious amounts of yogurt that it took me months to realize contained aspartame in it (why the word 'low' in its name didn't tip me off I'll never know).

Don't worry. I'm not blaming myself for his leukemia. I'm not.

Today I'm feeling happy. My gut feeling about aspartame has now been supported by 1 person. 1 whole person can get behind my campaign to stop referring to my 'aspartame paranoia syndrome' as such.

Just kidding. No one actually says I'm paranoid about aspartame.

At least not to my face.

When Did This Happen?

There is a meeting happening at the church this weekend and I'm surprised to say that I'm completely bummed I don't have a babysitter so I can be there.

There are people I really like over there.

There is a person I have chatted with on email who I just met face to face for the first time yesterday who actually reads my blog on a regular basis. If I had a babysitter I'd be over at the church hanging out with him.

Since when do I wish I could could be at a meeting I don't have to be at. Since when do I know so many people at a meeting that if I did have a babysitter on a day when the weather is absolutely perfect I'd spend that day inside?

Dear gawd. What the hell is wrong with me?

If the Sara of today could sit down and have lunch with Sara on May 30th 10 years ago that Sara would laugh and laugh and laugh. She wouldn't believe a word that came out of my mouth.

You want to be at a church meeting.

You know people at a church meeting.

You're blogging. Um. Whats a blog.

You have 2 kids.

What? Huh.

Goodness. Now that I think about it Sara from 1997 would probably pass out if she could meet me today.

I was supposed to travel the world, put off marriage until I turned 35 (yes, according to her I shouldn't be married for another 3 years), swear off having my own children, have some major career doing something totally fantastic, avoid the church at all costs, be in shape, say exactly what I think all the time.

Holy cow. The Sara of 1997 thought it was unnecessary to own her own computer. She checked her email 4 or 5 times a week.

Oh the the many ways I've failed her. Oh the many ways I've done things way beyond her dreams.

And Now It Comes

I think I'm finally experiencing all of the exhaustion I've been having for the past many months.

All of a sudden this afternoon I felt myself relax and I just started to feel tired.

Tired. Tired. Tired.

Insanely tired.

I remember when I went home from college after my first semester I slept for a really long time that first night.

I'd been feeling great at school. I'd been doing well in classes. I'd been on the cross country running team. I'd been sleeping and eating well.

And when I got home and relaxed I slept for a long, long time.

I think that's what happened this afternoon. I relaxed.

And now I'm tired.

Its not like I haven't been tired really.

This is different tho.

Finally relaxed. Able to sleep. Not preoccupied. Tired. Weary. Ready to rest. Able to rest.

Tired and at the same time stronger than I've felt in what feels like a life time.

One week from today my son will take the last bit of medicine in what they told us would be the hardest time.

We'll start what they call the easier time two weeks from tomorrow.

We're here. We're here. We're basically here.

The light at the end of the tunnel is here.

I'd like to string up a hammock in that light and rock back and forth until the pattern of the hammock makes diamond shaped marks on my rear end.

3 Cheers For My Sister

My sister Laurie who has is an amazing photographer and tells amazing stories about El Salvador and other things (this one is particularly stunning) came over to babysit this morning while I went to my first group training run for my great adventure called 'run the Twin Cities Marathon and raise $1700 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society'.

She took about a million amazing pictures of the kids and then turned them into this fantastic piece I'm printing out, cutting up, magnetizing and sending off to 100 lucky winners of my 'please help me do this' letter. If you want one too just let me know saramcginley at g mail dot com.

Its cute. Its really. Really. Cute as Eliot would say. There are many reasons in a day to say really, really.

Thank you Laurie for capturing my kids in the height of their personalities, for being with them while I'm out taking care of myself and for helping me do this wild and crazy raise money thing.

Training: Day 1

I went for a 30 minute run this morning. I haven't been on a run since well before Eliot was born nearly 3 years ago.

I honestly can't remember the last time I was running.

I got pregnant in November of 2003 and I think at that point I was trying to get back into running after a fairly long break.

Today felt like any other running day. The first mile was terribly difficult. Then I warmed up and felt good. Then I really warmed up and felt really good.

My mind wandered. My mind got empty. I got all emotional. I felt peaceful.

It was also like no other running day I've ever had.

I've never been over 30 and running and women supposedly hit our distance running peak some time after 30. I've never been nursing a kid and running (hello gigantic front section), I've never had a belly I can feel jigging around while running, I've never been 15 lbs over weight and running, I've never been this wearing and running, I've never taken this long of a break (unless you could that period from when I was born until I started running regularly for lent when I was twelve years old).

It felt good to be back.

It felt like riding a bike. I knew what to do. I know I can do it.

It felt different. I'm running in someone else's body in so many ways. Its a body that has transformed, it has made life, it has carried life around, it has gotten tired, it has gotten strong. My arms are stronger than they've ever been and I can feel that.

My body is wiser and free-er and more efficient somehow and there is more of it.

This is all new and all so familiar.

Could I Be More Proud? Could I Be More Annoyed?

The Archbishop of Canterbury announced today that he doesn't plan to invite Bishop V. Gene Robinson to Lambeth. He also doesn't plan to invite Martyn Minns. Both of them represent two extremes when it comes to this whole church power/homosexuality in the ordained world in the church.

I'm blown away that the 'head dude' of our church would fail to embrace the two extremes.

6 years ago (this month) when I became sold on the Episcopal Church I was sold on it for 2 big reasons.

1) We embrace the grey area I was told. We don't live in the "either/or".

2) As part of the Episcopal Church you're connected to people all over the world, rich, poor, black, white, from the US, from Africa.

I grew up Roman Catholic and although by the time I turned about, well, 2 minutes old, I was sick of being excluded I didn't leave sooner because no other church seemed to be doing a better job when it came to social justice and certainly no one else was doing a better job of convincing me that God was good (the Roman Catholic Church was NOT convincing me of that one).

Lately I wonder if I was sold a bunch of hog wash.

So today I'm proud to be an Episcopalian because Bishop Robinson said this today:

May 22, 2007

It is with great disappointment that I receive word from the Archbishop of Canterbury that I will not be included in the invitation list for the Lambeth Conference, 2008. At a time when the Anglican Communion is calling for a “listening process” on the issue of homosexuality, how does it make sense to exclude gay and lesbian people from the discussion? Isn’t it time that the Bishops of the Church stop talking about us and start talking with us?! While I appreciate the acknowledgement that I am a duly elected and consecrated Bishop of the Church, the refusal to include me among all the other duly elected and consecrated Bishops of the Church is an affront to the entire Episcopal Church. This is not about Gene Robinson, nor the Diocese of New Hampshire. It is about the American Church. It is for The Episcopal Church to respond to this divide-and-conquer challenge to our polity, and in due time, I assume we will do so. In the meantime, I will pray for Archbishop Rowan and our beloved Anglican Communion.


And I'm annoyed because this is the news people hear about our church today.

They're not hearing that our church is a place where someone like me who was full of anxiety about the whole church thing could come and eventually feel safe. They won't hear that even people who think like to come and be involved in what we're doing.

They won't hear that the Episcopal Church is a place where its possible to be religious and spiritual.

Nope.

They'll hear that we're fighting, that we're throwing power plays, that we're not sure all people are equal, that who does and doesn't come to our big party is ultra-super-duper important.

I Hope I'm Not Speaking Too Soon

I anticipated my daughter's 1st birthday from just about a month before she was born.

I had a really hard time being pregnant and the mother of a young kid. My son was 18 months old when my daughter was born.

While I was pregnant with my daughter we moved twice.

I remembered feeling like life got a lot easier when my son turned 1 so just about the time that my pregnancy got unbearable with my daughter I started looking forward to her first birthday.

I planed to wean her after that and re-claim my body which by that time had been pregnant, nursing or pregnant and nursing for over 3 years.

On December 18th, 2006 I woke up with one sick kid who I thought had strep throat or some other nasty cold and also thought to myself how thrilled I was that I had just one more month until life got easier.

Later that day my son was diagnosed with cancer.

My easier life got pushed back 5 months.

Today marks 1 month until my son's difficult treatment ends and easier treatment begins. Its the day I've been looking forward to when things get rough since that day back in December.

I've had a little superstitious fear for the past several months that today would come and bring with it some new thing to make life more difficult, an injury, an illness, something.

I hope I'm not tempting fate when I say that it appears we've made it through.

Life will get easier in a month.

I'll get that break.

Hopefully my daughter will stop nursing. I just haven't had the heart to cut her off when I've felt absent and nervous.

Sometime soon I will get my body back. Some time soon parenting will get a little less intense.

Sometime soon that light at the end of the tunnel will be behind me.

In the mean time I'll just keep going day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, moment by moment.

Bizarre Memory from the Darkest Recesses of My Brain

I was just reading someone's blog which I accidentally closed before copying the address and now I can't find it. While reading her blog about how her office now smells like lilacy cat poo I remembered one of my most embarrassing/most powerful moments in my life.

In graduate school I had my food and housing paid for and made $800 a month and had to pay half of my private school graduate school tuition.

I didn't have a lot of spending cash.

I also suffered from the super cheapo Sara syndrome that Aron has been slowing sucking out of me since we got married.

I had this pair of shoes that looked kind of nice and I'd wear them when I needed to dress up. They were cheap Payless shoes and I took good care of them. Unfortunately one time I wore them my feet went completely south and after that they always stunk.

They didn't stink really like nasty feet. They just plain stunk.

Some bizarre stench.

As long as I kept my feet stuck firmly in them the smell couldn't escape.

One day I had to look nice for a meeting and then go to class so I decided to put some baby powder in them just to minimize some of the nastiness.

I walked to the meeting, stood at the meeting, walked back from the meeting and went to class.

These were high healed, Payless Shoes, cheapo, cheep shoes that I was wearing on San Francisco hills and by the time I got to class my feet were hurting a lot.

It was a 3 hour class and by the time 2 hours had gone by I had to take them off.

During a small group session I slipped just one shoe off to see if I could get away with it.

I slipped it off for just the shortest little bit of time and then smelled the nastiness of my sour shoes co mingling with baby powder and slipped it back on.

Unfortunately the amazing relief of being without the shoes made it too tempting to take the other shoe off. Which I did.

Just for a little bit.

I could feel the blood rushing back to my foot and decided I just had to take both shoes off and give my feet a break.

While sitting there in the nasty smell of my feet and hoping no one else was smelling it one of my classmates, who happened to be one of the loudest, most boisterous, prissy people I've ever met. A guy who talked about high fashion and his sugar daddy (and he wasn't kidding) and how tacky people who wear last year's fashions are (while I'd sit there wearing clothes that wouldn't have even been cool 5 years ago when I bought them) stopped in the middle of the sentence and said:

'Something smells like baby shit'

Everyone had a look on their face like 'thank God someone said something' and I started doing the same thing. I almost did that whole go along with the crowd even tho I was the perp.

Out of nowhere I just decided to fess up.

I said:

'Yeah, that's me, I put baby powder in my nasty shoes this morning and I just had to take 'em off for a while.'

That was it. I put the shoes back on my feet. About 7 weeks later the smell went away.

Mr. Loudmouth classmate made a disgusted look and went on.

I was totally embarrassed.

And by just admitting to it the whole thing was over. Instead of sitting there and feeling embarrassed because I was wearing crap shoes I just sat there and was me. Me in my stinky ass, crap shoes of the century. Smelling up the classroom. Loud and proud.

American Idol for Radio Talk Show People

Check out this fun contest called the Public Radio Talent Quest.

The winner of this contest wins the chance at a new Public Radio show.

Being the Ira Glass, This American Life fan that I am I'm really into this whole thing.

My brother in law entered the contest and you can hear his piece here.

I personally think its fantastic.

Woo Hoo!

My piece is up on the front page of Episcopal Cafe right now. Which reminds me that until I was a freshman in high school I thought the word front was spelled with a U. Frount.

I digress....

My article is actually there.

Arm pumps baby. Happy Dance.

I can't believe I have the honor of having something up there on the week of the big announcement that the Cafe is open for business.

They gave it the headline 'Don't Just Do Something'.

I don't quite get the headline and then again I'm horrible at writing comments.

I'd be super thrilled if you'd go over there and sign up and leave a comment - and then wander around Episcopal Cafe and leave comments all over the place!

And if you're hear from the Cafe I'd be super honored if you read as much as my blog as you find interesting and come back again soon.

Keep your eyes on the front page. There is amazing art and content each day. And in about a month I intend to submit a piece about the 'Harry Potter Factor' and The Episcopal Church.

Aren't you intrigued.

Calling All Cool People

I serve on the Joint Standing Committee on Nominations.

Please consider nominating yourself for one of these posts.

Please also spread the word to people you think would be interested and passionate.

And please put this on your own blog if you have one.

This sounds all very boring. And it can be from time to time.

Its also really fulfilling ministry for many people and could be for you.

Contact me with questions and I'll send you in the right direction saramcginley at g mail dot com

We're really committed to nominating a diverse group of people for this important work so be wild when you think about who you might invite to be nominated.


The Episcopal Church wants You! ... or someone you probably know.

The Joint Standing Committee on Nominations for the General Convention must recruit and prepare nominees for five different elections at the 2009 General Convention in Anaheim, CA. The positions to be filled will be a significant part of the core leadership of the Episcopal Church.

The elections will be for:

Four members – two priests and two confirmed lay adults of The Court for the Trial of a Bishop

Twelve members - of the Trustees of the Church Pension Fund

Ten members – six lay, two bishops and two other clergy of The Executive Council

Six members – two lay, two bishops and two other clergy of The Board of Trustees of The General Theological Seminary

Eleven members – 3 lay, 3 faculty members of seminaries/educational institutions, 3 presbyters with pastoral cures, 1 bishop of The General Board of Examining Chaplains


Your work for the church, your ministry and contacts could be of invaluable help to the committee as they look for applicants for nomination to these elections. Please go on line to
http://andromeda.rutgers.edu/~lcrew/nomcomGC2009/ to see descriptions of the work and instructions on how to apply for nomination, and take some time to think of members of the Episcopal Church you believe would serve well in one of these positions.

The Joint Standing Committee is committed to carefully considering each applicant, to nominating two persons for each position, and to increasing the diversity of the groups of nominees. Applications are due by February 1, 2008.

Compliment of the Century

I have finally sort of made a friend in our neighborhood.

Every time we see each other we chat for a little bit and we're getting to know each other.

She even invited me to a gathering of neighborhood women. Yeah!

We're going bowling at our neighborhood bowling alley next Wednesday. I imagine I'll make a lasting impression with my pathetic bowling skills.

Hopefully I can make up for it with my even more off-putting pieces of info about myself.

I can hear the conversation now:

"So what does your partner do - we live in a very PC neighborhood."

"oh Aron (which always confuses people - could be a man or woman) is a priest."

long silence

"Oh hey Janey - how are your kids" person walks away quickly

or this one

"So tell me about your kids."

"Well I have a daughter who is a total spitfire and tons of fun and one of those kids you get when your mom says 'I hope you have a kid just like you when you grow up' and I have a son who has leukemia"

long silence

"Oh hey - Marge - what did you say your chiropractors name is"

person walks away quickly

Lets hope that doesn't happen too often.

Either way that was a major digression.

I came here to say that my new neighborhood friend gave me an amazing compliment today.

She said it seems that despite the fact that my kids are so incredibly close in age (1 day short of 18 months) and the fact that I'm dealing with major health issues in my family I seem to have a calm spirit and have things in perspective.

I'm sure my response was very Minnesota (very little facial expression - major lack of jumping up and putting my legs around her and kissing her forehead 9,000 times).

As all good Minnesotans do - I responded quietly inside with a major happy dance and arm pumps and instead quietly thanked her and blamed my calm on exhaustion.

And then came here and wrote about it in a public forum. Which in itself is a bit un-Minnesotan of me.

Either way. The point is this:

It was a lovely compliment to receive from a person who is basically a stranger and it made my day.

Its Official. I'm Crazy.

I hand delivered my paperwork this morning to sign up for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society Team in Training team for the Twin Cities Marathon this October.

Whew.

My goal is to raise $1700 for the event and I have a web site set up to gather donations and keep people updated.

Please consider giving money to the Society. For every dollar you give $1 will be given to help cure Leukemia, Lymphoma and other blood cancers.

The Society is an amazing organization that has also supported us through Eliot's treatment. We have a mentor family through them, financial aid opportunities if we take them, support groups, family fun days, and education seminars.

Team in Training is incredible. I first learned about them when I ran my first marathon in 1998. They had supporters all along the course and really impressed me.

This is the first time I'm training with them and I'm looking forward to raising money for a great cause, hopefully getting to know some people with whom I hope become friends who don't know me as a priest's wife, getting in shape again and I'll be honest, losing some weight. This having a kid with cancer thing has inspired a bit of, shall I say, stress eating.

I'm Going to be 'Published' This Week

I'm part of a very (intimidatingly so) cool group of people who are volunteering our time on this new blog.

Check it out.

Its amazing.

I sent in my very first submission last Friday and it will go up some time this week.

I'm super nervous about what I wrote. I'm thinking I didn't create a sense of authority (who am I to say what I say) or any compelling reason to do what I suggest.

So I'm full of nervousness about the whole thing (I keep having fears that I'll get hate mail or lots of negative comments on my piece) and keep wanting to write something new and sent it in.



The Episcopal Café is open for business on the World Wide Web at
www.episcopalcafe.com <http://www.episcopalcafe.com/>

A collaborative effort of more than two dozen writers and editors,
and an ever-growing list of visual artists, the Café is a ministry of
the Diocese of Washington in partnership with Episcopal Church in the
Visual Arts (ECVA).

”The Episcopal Cafe provides a way for us to be able to present our
faith, both the good and the not so great, in an honest and open way
to a much larger audience than most of us ever have hopes of
reaching,” said The Very Rev. W. Nicholas Knisely, dean of Trinity
Cathedral in Phoenix, Az., a contributor to the site, and a member of
its editorial board.

“The collaborative, grass roots nature of this project is, we think,
a first step in a journey into some new ways of building church
community in non-traditional settings,” he said.

Jim Naughton, canon for communications and advancement in the Diocese
of Washington, said the Café grew from his experience with his
diocesan blog, Daily Episcopalian.

“There is a surprisingly large audience out there for news about the
various controversies in the Episcopal Church and the Anglican
Communion,” Naughton said. “But it isn’t helpful if that is all that
the public knows about our Church. What we need is a site that not
only reports and shapes the news, but reflects the dynamism of our
Church.”

Café contributors include Bishop Steven Charleston, president of the
Episcopal Divinity School, Deirdre Good, professor of New Testament
at the General Theological Seminary and the Rev. Howard Anderson,
dean of the Cathedral College at Washington National Cathedral.
Naughton said he also recruited a number of rectors, General
Convention deputies, chaplains and “bloggers whose work I admire.”

“One of our contributors works in the United Arab Emirates, and
another in Honolulu, so we cover a lot of ground,” he said.

Perhaps the most distinctive feature of the Café is its extensive use
of spiritually-themed art work. "Art has the capacity to awaken us
and even shock us just as surely as it can connect us with our
tradition," says Mel Ahlborn, president of ECVA, who is the Cafe’s
art editor. “On our site, you will find some of the best artists in
our church interpreting the unbroken history of Christian visual
remembrance through their own contemporary works.”

The new site is composed of four blogs: The Lead, which is devoted to
breaking news about the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion;
Daily Episcopalian, a blog of commentary; Speaking to the Soul, which
features reflections, multimedia meditations and excerpts from books
on spirituality, and the Art Blog.

Naughton encouraged the Café’s visitors to comment on the art work
and articles. Unlike most blog sites, the Café requires visitors to
sign comments using their real names. “Our aim is less heat and more
light,” he said.

B is for Brilliant

This post from Oh The Joys who is the best blogger in the whole entire world - no in the whole entire universe is just plain brilliant.

She talks about how women work with one another and how men work with one another and suggests a plan for getting through that whole male establish the pecking order thing.

Brilliance.

I'd love to see someone study the effectiveness of this method.

I Never Expected To Cry

I went to an info session for Team in Training with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society today.

I've been thinking it would be fun to run a marathon with them since I ran my first marathon in 1999 when there were so many amazing people cheering for the folks on that team.

Eliot's diagnosis finally inspired me to stop thinking about it and do something about it.

Tonight was the info session I signed up for. I was late. I'd been playing outside in the 80 degree weather for hours with the kids and was pretty sure I smelled funny and by funny I don't mean a nice funny.

I was afraid of making a bad impression on all of these people I hope will become new friends.

I was worried that work-outs would be scheduled for Sunday mornings and I wouldn't be able to do them.

I was worried that I'd have to raise something like a half a million dollars.

What I didn't expect was to watch their informational video and cry. I did expect to feel surrounded by a bunch of people who know what I'm going through and worse.

It was amazing.

It was in a way like being in the hospital - surrounded by other people who 'get it' and who are going through much worse things. I felt lucky again tonight.

My little boy is living and doing absolutely great.

In the cancer world we're the lucky people.

In that room I wasn't the special one whose life stinks.

I'm going to fill out this paper work and join the team and run a marathon this October.

Before I left I figured I'd get all inspired about that. I really never expected to cry.

Finally!

There are more Somali women in our neighborhood than there are white women. There are by far more moms who are Somali than there are white moms.

We've lived here now for nearly two years and I've been striking out in every way trying to make friends with my neighbors with kids.

I think I've been coming on wayyy too strong. Or I just needed to stick around for a while or something. Clearly there are cultural differences and I haven't been navigating them quite right.

All of a sudden in the past few weeks all sorts of people Somali, white, everyone is talking to me.

I made a friend (as much as someone can be your friend when you see them out on your daily walks) named Terri the other day. She gave us a tricycle for the kids.

I met a woman who lives 5 doors down named Sarish (oh goodness I bet I spelled that wayyy wrong). I don't know if she is a mom. I can't tell. I hope she is.

Something has changed.

Probably me.

I'm suddenly a lot less anxious lately. A lot less worried. Strangely I probably have a lot more worth worrying about. Perhaps my cup just got so full of worry it had to empty itself.

Either way. I like it.

I might soon have other moms to talk with in the neighborhood.

Next Month

When I was pregnant with Eliot I remember the calendar turning to June and thinking to myself 'woah, next month this baby is going to be born.'

I remember being scared and nervous and excited.

Getting to the month of his birth felt like a really big deal and actually being in the month before that month was a very big deal to me.

I thought at the time that I'd be pushing a large part of his body out of a small part of mine and that all surprisingly ended in a c-section. Still. I was pretty nervous and excited and it was a big deal.

This morning it occurred to me (and then I balled my eyes out) that next month Eliot will have the last of these intense treatments.

Next month will be the last of these hard first 6 months of his treatment.

Right now I'm living in the month before the last month.

We've made it. Well we're about to make it through those first 6 months.

They told us about those months back in December. I remember it so well when they said the first 6 months are the hardest, and the first month of those 6 months is the hardest and the first 2 weeks of that month are the hardest.

We made it though the 2 weeks and that first month and now we're about to get to that very last month. Month 6.

On June 18 it will be 6 months since his diagnosis. On June 21st it will be the first day of maintenance. The first day of the easy part.

I'm anticipating by June 30th his hair will be officially growing back, his blood counts will be high enough to go out into public again, we'll be past his first 5 day stint with steroids.

We'll be on our way to normal whateverthehell normal is.

Next month.

Next month.

Its next month.

Saying It Like It Is

I just talked with one of my younger cousins who turned 30 years old today.

Wow. 30 years old.

Every time one of my younger family members (especially my youngest sister who was born the same year as my now 30 year old cousin) turn an age I get this huge reality check. Woah. If she is 30 then I've been 30 now for a few years.

Woah.

Today I got that reality check and another. This brilliant millennial has laid out the whole Episcopal Church issue in a quite articulate and colorful way.

I'm now a has-been generation. This guy is taking the wheel of the new upstart generation and I have to say he's doing quite a fabulous job of it.

Life With Leukemia Fund

We've received a humbling-ly generous amount of financial gifts. $4035 to be exact.

Holy cow. That is insane.

We told people soon after Eliot was diagnosed that we would accept gifts and use them for medical bills first, babysitting to watch Naomi while Eliot is at the clinic second, babysitters for Aron and I to go out and try to be more sane third and money for a family vacation if there was any left.

I've heard from many, many people that they'd like to help with our day-to-day stuff.

So. Big deep breath. Here it is.

We will accept gifts of money for our every day life. We will put it to good, careful use.

Since I'm paranoid about scary people gathering info off this blog please send the money to the church. Write the check to Sara McGinley and Aron Kramer and send it to:

Aron Kramer
Gethsemane Church
905 4th Ave S
Minneapolis MN 55404

Or email me at saramcginley at g mail dot com and I'll send you our street address.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for your help. Our checking account and my sanity thank you.



$12 pays for one prescription co-pay.

$25 pays for one clinic visit co-pay.


$30 pays for one of Aron and Sara's date nights.

$60 pays for a month of prescription co-pays during maintenance.


$70 pays for a massage for Sara or Aron.

$80 pays for one day of child care.

$140 pays for a whole month of date nights.

$250 covers a whole week of child care.

$300 pays for a year of clinic visit co-pays.

$400 covers on spinal tap.

$720 covers a year of prescription co-pays.

$1000 pays for a week of child care.

$1200 covers a year of spinal taps.

$2000 covers a year of Eliot's medical care.

These are 'sponsorship levels'. If you send money for a particular thing we won't necessarily use it on that thing. It just gives you an idea of what our costs are. We might use these funds for anything from getting take-out to paying medical bills. If you'd like it ear-marked for fun or for medicine or anything in particular let us know. We're happy to do that.

My Latest Idea

I get ideas. I get lots of ideas.

My latest is one I'm really feeling called to do something about.

I want to interview people who have never gone to church and find out what their spiritual lives are like and if they've ever thought of going to church and if they'd ever go to church what that church would be.

Any ideas out there about how I can get funded to do this?

I think its important information and would be fascinating and fun.

Why The Grocery Store Pet Peeve?

In my life before kids I was an insensitive jerk. I didn't realize I was one. I didn't realize I should bring food and toys and gifts to my friends when they had babies. I didn't realize (how I missed all of this is a mystery) I should call them up and say things like 'I'm coming over to take the kids, you get a nap' or 'I'm coming over to feed the kids dinner, get dressed, you're going out.'

I said horrible things like (and not actually TO my friends with kids) 'having kids is selfish in this day and age when you can adopt' and 'oh gosh, if I have to hear one more story about their kids I might fall asleep.'

I once (oh horror of horrors what a JERK) said to my friend who had a 4 week old child and an 18 month old child that I was confident she could find time to read a book even if she had to read it while feeding her son in the middle of the night.

What a dip shit!

I've recently been paying that back. In the past few months I've heard a lot of people complain about parents. Right to my face.

The thing that surprises me is that I've heard a complaint twice that I've never heard before.

Parents, apparently (tee, hee bad puns are fun - wait - is that a pun?) have a tendency to stop in the middle of the grocery and/or farmer's market isle with their overly large strollers and stop up grocery store and farmer's market traffic.

This is apparently a major affront to non-parents and so common as to be discussed on a blog and at a dinner party.

I can think of a lot of annoying things I've probably done in my not quite 3 years as a parent. I can think of a lot of things I found annoying about parents when I was a non-parent.

This wasn't one of them.

I don't get it.

Either way. Now I get to add 'do not, ever, stop my stroller no matter how large, in the middle of grocery store or farmer's market isles' to my long list of things I'm supposed to do so as not to stop up society with this annoying parenting thing I'm doing.

Great.

From A Daily Newsletter I Get

THE DAILY GROOVE ~ by Scott Noelle
www.enjoyparenting.com/dailygroove

:: Be Real ::

Presumably, you want to be a respectful, creative,
loving parent -- and you'd rather not *ever* be
coercive with your child. Wonderful!

But what about those times when you're just in a bad
mood and don't feel like being a super-parent? Must
you sacrifice your authenticity, fake a smile, and go
through the motions?

You can try, but it won't work. Even if self-sacrifice
"works" superficially, it leads to resentment or rage
that eventually hurts everyone.

Here's a twofold alternative: First, give yourself
permission to be *real*. Stop trying to hide how you
really feel. (Kids always know intuitively how their
parents feel, anyway.)

Second -- and most important -- make a solemn
commitment to take responsibility for your feelings.
In other words, you won't blame your child for how you
feel. You won't blame yourself, either, because blame
is the opposite of responsibility.

Breakthroughs happen when you honor your "negative"
emotions without making anyone wrong. And when you
truly take responsibility for your feelings, being
coercive doesn't feel "real" at all.

http://dailygroove.net/be-real

See also: http://dailygroove.net/responsibility

Feel free to forward this message to your friends!
(Please include this paragraph and everything above.)
Copyright (c) 2007 by Scott Noelle

Today's revised Daily Groove message was originally
presented on September 29, 2006.

Today - Tomorrow

Tomorrow my little boy starts his next round of intensive chemo therapy.

My little two year old is going to loose the little tiny bit of hair he has. He'll most likely be tired and grouchy for the next several weeks.

The list of other possible side effects he'll experience for the next 8 weeks is terrifying.

I'm sad. I'm scared. I'm nervous. I'm worried. I'm trying to savor this last day of him feeling down right good. I'm full of anticipation.

Knowing tomorrow is coming is making it hard for me to enjoy today. It feels like the last day of high school, the last day of a job, the last day of vacation, the last day before my kids were born.

I know something else is coming and there is so much about today that I want to be today. I want to just enjoy Eliot feeling good. I want to enjoy Eliot's heart working properly and his personality being calm. I want to enjoy the fact that I won't give him any medicine today.

Still. I ended up crying at the breakfast table. I have a babysitter here so I can get a few things done today before its harder to get out of the house again. I need this last break and time for myself.

I also want to spend all day memorizing Eliot just as he is. Memorizing the energy in his voice, the quickness in his steps, the fact that he can walk right now.

Somewhere deep down I know he'll be fine. No matter what comes of this next part of treatment.

The statistics say he is likely to come out of the next 8 weeks a healthy, cancer-free, energetic, busily growing a full head of hair almost 3 year old.

Wow. That was calming just to write.

Statistics say my son will be healthy, cancer-free, energetic and busy growing hair on his head on his 3rd birthday.

He'll be healthy. He'll be cancer-free. He'll feel good. He'll be able to walk. He'll be able to run. He'll be growing hair. He'll be growing.

He'll be growing on his 3rd birthday.

He'll be here and growing.

Oh I Do Love Will Ferrell

I think Will Ferrell can be amazingly funny. I loved him in Stranger than Fiction and I adore him in this short, short.

It has adult language. And its funny. Its make you actually LOL funny.

How To Say Diocese

I gave a presentation about the Millennium Development Goals yesterday and if I do say so myself I did an absolutely piss poor job of it.

About 20% through I was thinking (you ever notice how you can be talking out of your mouth about something and your brain is completely in another world) that I might as well just go find a 9 month old kid to come finish - they'd do a much better job.

Anyway. I struck out with such an incredible blaze of glory that I had 2 people come up to me afterward (I'm spoiled and used to a lot more than 2 people coming up to talk to me after a presentation). One said thank you. That's all. A simple and kind gesture. Thank you.

I didn't sense any pity in his voice. Still. I was feeling pretty pitiful.

The second person came up and gave me a pronunciation lesson. He was gentle and kind about it.

Still. I got a pronunciation lesson after stinking it up in a public forum.

Can we say embarrassing.

Anyway.

This is what I learned. The word diocese is pronounced di - o - sis when you're talking about one of them and di - o - cees when you're talking about two.

So the probably 100 times I said di - o - dees when referring to the Di - o - sis of Minnesota just added to my utterly glorious stink house job.

Gosh.

It was a proud moment.

Proud.

Proud indeed.

I think we can safely strike that church off the list of potential places Aron might work in his long career as a priest.

Maybe they won't remember that I mentioned his name.

And Then There Was Life

I felt something today I don't remember feeling in a long time. A really. Really. Long. Time.

I felt connected to me and to the earth and to my kids and to a larger meaning in life.

I felt connected to today's 'sacrifices' in the name of tomorrows 'gains'.

I spent the day with the kids being their mom.

We played, we went for a walk, we got completely filthy, we had snacks, we had lunch, they napped, we had dinner with our neighbors.

I felt at peace. I was having a good time.

Our neighbor Summer and I went across the street to the CSA fair and bough a share of veggies for the summer and fall.

I got all of these ideas about showing our kids where food comes from. We can go to the farm that makes our food and volunteer. We can go to Gramma and Grampa's house and collect eggs from the chickens we feed. We can grow basil and other things in our yard.

Suddenly today its all coming together in my soul (yes cheesey and accurate too).

We can live in this urban environment. We can live in a walkable neighborhood. We can live in community. We can still expose our kids to the earth.

We can have it all.

I can work part time and be here with them and balance that with time spent away from home doing things for me and for the larger world.

Click.

Its here. Its here today. Its here.

Breathe it in. Breathe it in. Breathe it in.

Oh the Many Wonders of Email Trash Talking

I often keep my mouth shut (or should I say 'fingers still') on email list serves.

My track record with actually saying something is pretty dismal. I'm often ignored. Gosh. The horrible feeling of saying something into a conversation and getting zero response.

Or I'm often accused of being mean or accusatory in some way.

Apparently I'm either a zero or too much a lot of the time.

I did it again today.

Without intending to be a jerk I said I thought we should avoid trash-talking another group on a list serve.

Those are the words I used. Trash talk.

Goodness.

Sara.

Of course that was met with a lack of enthusiasm.

Hello!

Hello!

Sara. Anybody home?

I once pointed out on a church list serve that I thought we should all be seeking greater work-life balance in our lives. I said I thought as church leaders it was one of our jobs.

Yeah.

I got a note off line telling me to stop trying to control the conversation after going back and forth with someone who I thought was basically saying that lawyers and doctors can work too much and by golly if they wanted to they darn well could too because their work was a vocation and God said it was okay.

Okay. I admit I'm re-phrasing their point.

Still. I guess I was a bit too strong.

In my own defense I wonder if perhaps I'm taken as being too strong because I'm a woman. Or because I'm saying an un-popular thing.

I'm certainly not always in the 'right'. Like using the term 'trash-talking' today was not the smoothest move ever. Still. Sometimes I wonder if I were to write in from Theodore Parks' email if I'd get more responses and/or more favorable ones.

Bullseye

A week from today begins the last 50 days of Eliot's first 6 months of chemo-therapy (boy I never thought I'd say my son's name and chemo-therapy in the same sentence - and certainly not before he turned 3 years old). This marks the beginning of the end of the worst part. It also marks the beginning of what looks like a very intense and difficult part.

I went to Target to stock up tonight.

Since he was diagnosed I've pretty much been getting to Target when I can, if I can. I've been walking zombie-like through the isles randomly grabbing things I think I need at home.

Since I've mostly slept for the past 10 days and Eliot has been feeling great I actually planned ahead and made a list of stuff so I can hopefully avoid a trip to Target during these last difficult months.

I got toilet paper and paper towels and laundry soap and dryer sheets and diapers and wipes and that kind of stuff. Actually a gigantic and embarassing cart of paper products.

Almost everything on my list was nearly gone. Like not on the shelf. Like surrounded by tons of other products that were fully stocked.

I got the last diaper wipes. The last laundry soap. The last infants Tylenol. They didn't have the toilet paper I wanted. They didn't have the pop I wanted. My Swiss Cake Rolls were gone.

I've been known to give God unnecessary credit for sending me direct signs before. I'm tempted to see a sign in this. A message. And wether or not it was God - and I do think it is - I'm going to take it.

Sara. Don't fear. You'll be okay. There will be enough things. There will be enough time.

You will be okay.

I'll take the message.

I'll take it.

We'll be okay. It will be hard. It won't be all hard every moment. I am afraid of it. I'm still going to do it.

We will be okay.

Mormons and My Fly

I just received a visit from two young Mormon missionaries. They had their white shirts and back packs on. Just like they always do.

One of the major benefits to being a priest's wife is getting out of loooong pushy conversations with missionaries of all sorts. It seems every time I pull out the 'oh yes, my husband is a priest' bit they conversation gets fairly short. I think they see me as a convert to Jesus and as a tough convert to their 'brand.'

Today was no different. The conversation was short and friendly. We talked about apostolic succession and I learned that they, too claim apostolic succession and have priests which is something I didn't know.

That was about it.

Then I just sat down at my computer to continue my work and realized my fly was down. Way down. All the way down. Like so far down you could see my underwear. Nice. I suppose that helped the conversation come to an abrupt close.

Goodness.

A Humble Request

I just received the below email from a friend of mine about two parishioners at Gethsemane. Jane was instrumental in organizing the many healthy meals we received in the weeks following Eliot's diagnosis. At the time Jeff was experiencing some odd health issues that resulted in him going to the doctor and being diagnosed with horrible brain cancer.

We've been unable to return the favor to Jeff and Jane in meals and time spent helping. Aron and I are discerning how we can help them financially and plan to do so - and give as much as possible. Aron has visited them several times in the hospital.

In sending this to you I'm hoping to expand the financial gift from us - through your generous giving. Like the email says below - even a little helps - and a lot helps too.

Please consider sending some money to help out these wonderful people.

Thanks!

Sara

Dear friends of Jeff Smith and Jane Eschweiler,

I am writing all of you to inform you about the financial situation that Jeff and Jane find themselves. It is not in their style to ask for help and I have their permission to do this on their behalf. Jeff has been a free lance photographer most of his professional career in photography. In Jeff's case the word "free" is operative here. Most of us have known Jeff as a person who is already ready to help others and shoot photos where needed and many times he gave his photos free of charge.

When he was diagnosed with the most aggressive form of brain cancer in Jan '07 a great shock was felt throughout our community. What we did not realize at the time was that Jeff's chemotherapy treatment would have a $1500. Co-pay every month. We also did not realize that Medica was not going to pay for the out patient physical therapy Jeff has needed the last 3 months.

On the good news side, Jeff has actually been doing very well. A minor setback occurred in the last 2 weeks but he is now coming home today and doing much better. His primary limitation is that his short term memory has been taken over by the brain tumor. As a result he needs someone with him all the time to assist him in learning what to do next. Many of you have volunteered numerous hours to provide this care for Jeff and it is with your love and attention that I believe he is doing so well.

The other exciting news is that Jeff has been honored by the Episcopal Communicators Organization to be their guest at their annual meeting this year in Virginia Beach from April 24-April28. By the grace of God Jeff is well enough to make that trip.

So here is the pitch. Jeff and Jane are in immediate need for cash.

Bills are coming in that are way past their ability to pay. Jane has been working as much as possible doing graphic design but even that is not enough to meet the medical bills.

Rev Margaret Otterburn from St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral (612-870-7800) has been providing pastoral care for Jeff and Jane and is willing to assist with fund raising. If you have any extra cash, even a small amount, you can send a check written out to "St. Mark's Church" and in the memo line write Jeff Smith. 519 Oak Grove St., Minneapolis, MN 55403.

Rev Margaret will then be able to assist in payment of Jeff's bills. Every bit of money you sent to St. Mark's in this way will go directly to pay bills for Jeff. If you know of others who love Jeff and would want to help, send this E-mail along to them.

Won't you take the time now to write out that check and send it to St. Mark's? Jeff and Jane will be so grateful.

We also are planning a fund raiser by selling some of Jeff's greatest photos and some of Jane's painting in the month of May. This will take more time and preparation to accomplish and hopeful will help get them back on track financially in a more comprehensive way.

Please take a moment to consider this request knowing that caring for one another is what community is all about.

Fondly,
Marilyn Wall Jelinek
Jeff and Jane's friend and family nurse consultant

Massacre Revisited

Okay I've been re-thinking the whole 'I don't like how they're referring to this student as an alien' thing. What I've read today (which isn't much - I can't do the over dose on pain and agony thing) it seems like a good thing that they're making it clear that he followed all of the 'rules' for being here.

Its maybe not so horrible that they're describing him that way. Still. If he were white or named Steve it wouldn't be an issue. And that bothers me.

Massacre

What happened yesterday in Virginia is horrible. Horrible. Probably more horrible than I know from watching the news. My heart aches for the families of all of the students and staff there.

I can't imagine. Right now I can't imagine sending my kids to school at all. Ever. Why should school be a scary place for people. Like deathly scary.

I'm also annoyed. Why do we have to hear about how the shooter is an 'alien'. Why do we keep calling this the biggest massacre in United States history.

We had some pretty darn big massacres back when the white people were the aliens. Why are we forgetting that?

This is a sad and horrible thing. Horrible.

Still. Just a few weeks ago - or was it days - a suicide bomber killed 100 people in one day in a public place in Iraq. No warning. Just 100 people dead. This happens all the time there.

What happened in Virginia is horrible. Heart breaking. Horrifying.

Lets not call it the biggest massacre in our history. Lets not pretend that is true. Lets not pretend things like this aren't happening all over the world every day. Lets not fuel the fires of bigotry by repeating that the shooter grew up in another country.

Lets say his name. Lets say his major. His age. His motive. That other information is irrelevant.

Lets say this is the biggest shooting by one person in which we counted the dead. Lets be honest about this. Lets talk about it like we live on a planet with other people and in a time with history that isn't so far off.

G is for Google

Google Reader Rocks. It rocks. It rocks. It rocks. It rocks. I love it. I love it so much.

If you could marry a Google app I would marry Google Reader.

I've fallen VERY out of love with gmail.

And yet the beauty and wonder and sheer genius of Google Reader has made Google all bright and shiny in my heart once again.

Check it out. Google.com. Keep clicking until you see Google Labs - then click on Google Reader.

Actually Going to Church

I've had a lot of conversations lately about going to church. They've come from a ton of directions. Sometimes I brought it up. Sometimes I didn't. Sometimes it was in a one on one conversation. Sometimes in a meeting. Its weird. It has come up a lot.

I've admitted to a lot of people lately that I don't really actually enjoy going to church. God isn't so much there in the pews or the kids corner or the collect or the singing (oh how I don't get into the singing) or really much of it at all.

I've made the unfortunate mistake of admitting this fact to a few too many clergy. Most of them get an alarmed look on their face.

This surprises me. It shouldn't surprise me. Theoretically a person becomes a priest because they first got something out of going to church. It also seems to be an Episcopal belief that our liturgy is what binds us and what brings people in.

Seriously tho. If you've ever sat next to a clergy person during church you know they have a hard time. Every time I've sat through a church service next to a clergy person I've experienced one of the following things 1) them fidgeting relentlessly 2) them talking non stop and failing to whisper 3) them making it somehow about them i.e. crying, praying excessively loud or spending wayyyy too much time greeting people at the peace.

I digress.

This is the point I'm working toward (while probably unecessarily and not intentionally insulting most of my friends - its really NOT intentional). Church is mostly a bore to me. I go. Well. I haven't gone now for months because of Eliot not being allowed out in crowds. I could have gotten babysitters and gone. The fact is tho. Its boring to me. Mostly boring.

I believe in God. I'm inspired by Jesus. The whole trinity thing doesn't make sense to me. The Holy Spirit (although I sound like I'm in the movie Saved when I say it) rocks. I'm becoming ever increasingly geeky in my enjoyment of church and church stuff.

I think I have a mostly productive and deep spiritual life. And Sunday morning just doesn't so much do it for me.

Now that I've admitted that I'm so afraid I'm going to google myself someday and find someone trashing me on a blog somewhere for saying it or somehow now I'm an inferior priests wife (oh the many ways in which I'm sure thats true).

I'm going to keep going. I'm going to keep being there. I believe in it. I see that Eliot gets something out of being there. The fact of the matter is I do too. I'm bored out of my mind a lot of the time yet somewhere, deep down, it means something. It does something to me. Something good. I wish it weren't so boring. I wish there wasn't so much singing. Still. There is something magical there.

A Newcomer Again

Its been soooooooo freaking long since I was in church that it appears I'm a newcomer again. There are so many new people at church since December that tonight when I went to the vigil no one knew me. No one.

I was back to square one. New girl. Youngish. By herself. There were none of the happy faces of recognition I've apparently grown accustomed to. No one tried to chat with me. No one commented on Aron's recent sermons. Good. Or bad. I walked effortlessly from the door, through the church, up the steps to the bathroom and back.

I sat in a pew before church and think I even heard someone make a little comment about Aron. Not a mean comment. Still. Not the kind of comment I've heard in a long time. Something about being able to hear him giving last minute directions.

It was sort of nice to be anonymous again.

It was also horrible. Its horrible to walk into a church and have no one know you. We're all (and I am so very very guilty of this) so afraid to introduce ourselves to people. I've done it before. I once walked up to someone and said, 'I'm Sara, I've never seen you here before,' only to find out the person's great grandfather pretty much paid to build the church. Yeah. High point for me as a new priest's wife. Nice.

It stinks to be new at a church. To just walk around and have no one try to talk to you. To suffer through coffee hour by yourself.

It stinks. It majorly. Majorly stinks.

Abundance or Irresponsible

I've always been a saver. A major saver. I mean a major saver. I opened my first CD well before I entered high school. I've always been a fan of having the cash to buy things before you buy them. I've always been a fan of buying things on sale with a coupon in the off season and at an outlet store so I get them for 25% of the retail price.

Nature. Nurture. Probably a bit of both. Its just how I've been. Its more proof I was an Episcopalian before I knew it.

Then I married Aron. We make a budget and we blow it in something like 24 hours. He doesn't seem to have the capacity to get anxious. I used to get anxious all the time about money. All the time. I mean. All. The. Time.

If I wasn't saving it I was being anxious about it. It was sick. It was sick.

So we've had to merge our two money methods. His pretend it grows on trees and my overly responsible ulcer causing anxiousness.

Since Eliot was diagnosed I've had a lot of good reasons to be anxious about money. I've also had a lot of people be really generous with their time and money. I also haven't been anxious. Not even once. I've spent money on some things that would make my life less stressful that I usually wouldn't spend it on (a weekend away in Duluth, take out when I don't feel like cooking - which is always, healthy microwaveable food for the kids, even a new dress - granted the dress cost $25 but still I didn't exactly need it).

I'm just going with this for now. Still I wonder. Am I living in abundance? Or am I being irresponsible and burning up my future savings?

I don't know. I wrote a check to the church last night for a full 10% of the money I've made in the last month. I've had opportunities to give money to the Leukemia Society and I have taken them. I gave a lot of money and time to the church for the Alleluia Booklet.

So I'm not blowing our cash purely on luxuries and convenience.

Abundance? Irresponsible? The jury's still out.

And This Doesn't Help

I've been following this blog since I found it in late December or perhaps early January. Its a blog written by a guy who was diagnosed with ALL as an adult. Its been really helpful for me to read about how the drugs effect him since he is on a lot of the same drugs as Eliot. His most recent post talks about an 18 year old who died from leukemia. Talk about a reality check. Ouch.

Scared

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE

There is no other way to say it. I'm scared. Okay there might be one other way to say it. I'm terrified.

Eliot's treatment during May and June looks very intense on paper. They tell us at the clinic that its very intense.

I'm scared.

The first two months of his treatment were hellish. Hellish. Like I think like hell in some ways. Strangely enough a little like heaven too.

I didn't know those months were coming. They just happened. Bam! Your kid has cancer. You're going to spend two weeks in the hospital over Christmas. He is going to have surgery. Everyone who you know loves you and a bunch of people you didn't know love you are going to help you.

That was one thing.

Now. Four months later we're going to go through four more weeks of steroids. Followed by four weeks on a drug with side effects that freak me out. He'll also have random shots here and there of drugs that also freak me out.

I'm scared. I'm scared.

I just went downstairs to read the treatment plan and read the side effects (they're all possible, rare-ish and not necessarily going to happen) yet I cried. My eyes feel stingy right now from the crying. This sucks. This totally fucking sucks.

He is such a sweet boy. Such an incredibly sweet kid. And he feels so good right now. And starting on May 3rd I'm going to let them start giving him horrible medicine again and I'm going to personally give him some horrible medicine. I hate this. Shit. I hate this.

Am I Allowed to Type the Word Alleluia?

I've been working on a book of 50 meditations about resurrection for the Easter Season. It has been a really super fun thing to do. Its also one of the main things I've been doing instead of writing here. I sent it off in the mail today. I'm really excited about it and proud. I'm going to miss working on it.

I'd be so honored if you'd sign up for it. We call it the Alleluia Booklet and at the end of the Easter Season we'd like you to give a gift to the Millennium Development Goals. All the info - including how to sign up - is here 50alleluias.blogspot.com.

And isn't that art work cool! A wonderful woman named Mary Souza did it - check out her art. She is amazing and I have fantasies of buying some of her work some day.

I made a Cafe Press store that has this art work in it. Its just too cool not to plaster all over a bunch of stuff.

What Year is It??

I was thinking today as I went to a meeting in the exact same clothes I wore all day yesterday that I sure have become a plain Jane, slob who spends no time on her appearance. I was making a list of excuses, mother of 2 children under 3, one kid has cancer, works from home, busy husband. They all seemed like reasonable excuses. Still I was feeling down on myself.

Then a classmate from high school sent me this picture. I'm the one on the left there. My hair do that day is - well - exactly like my hair do right now. The shirt is pretty darn similar. The one I'm wearing today fits me better than that one (I was pretty into wearing clothes that were too big - why I decided to hide my tiny little cute body I'll never understand). My eyebrows are still the same shape.

I probably showered that day, back in high school. Otherwise I look the same.

So hmmmm...maybe motherhood hasn't' done such a bad thing to my image.

Hahahaahah....maybe I'm just the one who has done bad things to my image.

What If...

What if the Episcopal Church responded to the Primates by saying, "the women have it right - let them figure this out."

What if we responded by saying, "If we're not consecrating gay people we're not marrying them or baptising them. Since we don't know for sure about anyone we can't do this for anyone. Lets all fast. What'cha think? no more baptisms, or weddings or ordinations or consecrations in the Anglican Communion."

What if we responded by saying, "lets cure poverty and figure out the rest later."

What if we said, "we're coming to Lambeth - if you want us inside we'll be inside, if you want us out on the street talking to the press - we'll be out there."

What if we all became members of the Church of Nigeria.

I've been called naive for this. I have been. Still. I think our Presiding Bishop is on to something when she says there is a non-violent response. There is an unexpected, even humorous response to this.

What if we found it. What if we found it. What if our legacy is a funny page in a history book. A surprising page. An unexpected twist.

Sara McGinley = Church Geek

I just opened a package I received in the mail from the General Convention Office of The Episcopal Church. It was the Constitutions and Canons of the Episcopal Church (a very boring, lawyer-ly, description of all of our 'rules'). When I opened it I thought to myself, 'wow, its so cute.'

When did this happen to me?

A GREAT Song

Pink wrote this song called Dear Mr. President

Its a great song. I recommend buying it.

Dear Mr. President
Come take a walk with me
Let's pretend we're just two people and
You're not better than me
I'd like to ask you some questions if we can speak honestly

What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street
Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep
What do you feel when you look in the mirror
Are you proud

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye
And tell me why

Dear Mr. President
Were you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
Are you a lonely boy
How can you say
No child is left behind
We're not dumb and we're not blind
They're all sitting in your cells
While you pay the road to hell

What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away
And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay
I can only imagine what the first lady has to say
You've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine

How do you sleep while the rest of us cry
How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye
How do you walk with your head held high
Can you even look me in the eye

Let me tell you bout hard work
Minimum wage with a baby on the way
Let me tell you bout hard work
Rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away
Let me tell you bout hard work
Building a bed out of a cardboard box
Let me tell you bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
You don't know nothing bout hard work
Hard work
Hard work
Oh

How do you sleep at night
How do you walk with your head held high
Dear Mr. President
You'd never take a walk with me
Would you

Things that Make Me Go Hmmmmm

If you type Bacon+ Screaming Man into google you get one of my blog posts. You get absolutely nothing else.

Why oh why would someone type Bacon + Screaming Man into google. Why oh why would I be the only thing in the world that pops up.

Oh the mystery of it all.

Because my 'Free Time' is Spent Blog Surfing

I bring you a wonderful post on a blog I just found that has the hands-down best name for a blog - ever.

drum roll....

I bring you Because Everyone Can Just Bite My Ass

And I ask - what is the deal with married men - why are they so....well...universal in their charm??

Rodents and Family Systems

Our rodent issue has gone from being something that bothers me to something I took some action on to something that I ignored because the actions I took were ineffective to something I studied to something I paid someone to help fix to something I begged Aron to take care of to something that is causing me to get anxious about.

I've been thinking for the past few days that the next time I see a mouse I'm going to chase it down and cut off its tail. Since that promise I made to myself I've seen two mice and I've done nothing of the sort. Instead I've been startled, made loud girly noises and then been afraid to go back to the places I saw them which of course are places I need to go on a regular basis in my day to do basically. Well. Anything.

I've been thinking about how I'm treating this is a lot like I've treated the most pervasive problems I've had in my life. Instead of going toward the problem (chasing the mouse) I get freaked out and afraid. I see that the issue (mouse) is tiny and blind and can't hurt me unless I ignore it and let it multiply which it will in vast numbers, quickly and still is scares the crap out of me and I get anxious.

I'm convinced that the day I actually chase a mouse and get strong about the whole thing something around here is going to change. Now that I've said this of course it takes some of the mysticism out of the whole thing - still the metaphor works for me.

Beware mice! Knife wielding farmers wife on the loose.

WTF

I'm annoyed. Annoyed I say!

Things are getting annoying around here. We still STILL have freaking rodents in our house. One walked around in the living room right in front of me the other day. If of course ran away when I moved. Still. It walked into our living room in the middle of the afternoon.

Aron and his dad plugged up a bunch of holes with steel wool yesterday and set some traps and I guess caused them to change their patterns because this morning when I went into the basement a mouse ran right in front of me. Right in front of me. Our freaking bed is down there. I swear if a mouse gets in bed with us I'm going to get insane.

Our dryer died the other day. Yup. It died. So we got a new dryer and decided to get a washing machine since the one we have is rusty. Its actually rusty. It has rust on it.

One of our cars has a flat-ish tire. The other fills up with a strong smell of gas when you drive it.

Our ice maker is on the fritz. Like so on the fritz I imagine we won't have automatic ice cubes anymore.

Our baby monitor died two weeks ago and I thought Naomi's little bedroom heater did too but after I went and got a new one hers started working again.

The light bulbs in the house keep going out.

Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why I say. Why.

Alleuluia

I'm excited to announce the first Gethsemane Church project I've worked on in a very long time. I'm putting together, with the help of several other people, an Alleluia Booklet for the Easter Season. I describe it over at a site (which is a blog) I made for it yesterday. I'm super excited about this.

You can sign up to get a meditation everyday between Easter and Pentecost (50 days) either by email or in a booklet the church will send to your house.

At the end we ask that you make a gift in thanksgiving to the Millennium Development Goals or to Gethsemane so we can further our work outside our doors. Please check out the site and sign up. I'd be so honored if you did and I think you'll really get something great from it:)

Whats with My Posting?

So my posting is inconsistent these days and feels flat. The fact is life is kind of flat too.

I'm about to go into a mode where I feel like a whiner and I'm going to just go for it. If I'm a whiner I'm a whiner. Go ahead and stop reading.

I'm back into short order cook(I HATE cooking I'm so grateful for all of the meals that keep coming our way thank you wonderful people!), maid, waitress, bellboy, personal hygiene assistant, fashion consultant, individual dresser, diaper changer crap job all day long mode.

Its winter. Its very cold, very middle of the winter. My one saving grace last winter was going to the Mall of America and walking around. Now I'm not allowed to take Eliot out in public.

I'm torn up by feeling bored when I have the honor of having two kids who will live to adulthood. I'm freaking bored. I'm freaking sick of preparing meals. I'm freaking sick of using dirty toilets that I know I have to clean. I'm sick of the tedious never ending crap called running a house and the day to day drudgery of little kid hood.

Okay I said it. Goodness. Dare I hit publish?

What an ass. My kid is going to live. My other kid is sprouting into a human being. I've had so much help over the past months its unbelievable and I have the gall to complain. I suppose its this struggle. My desire to hide the fact that this is how I feel that has kind of yanked the life out of my posts.

We'll see if I can get back to just saying how I feel even when how I feel seems to utterly unacceptable to me I can hardly stand it.

Someday

Someday it won't be incredibly amazing to me that Naomi is walking several steps at a time. Goodness you should see her proud and happy face every time she does it.

Someday it won't be incredibly amazing to me that Eliot is walking around and even running and high stepping and running in circles until he is so dizzy he falls over. You should see his goofy drunken face when he does that one.

Someday my daughter won't be sporting a Demi Moore from GI Jane hair do.

Someday my son won't have The Donald's hair do.

Someday the fact that Eliot talks all day about everything won't seem fresh and new and surprising and miraculous.

Someday I'll find it hard to remember when Naomi went entire days without talking and instead just screaming. I do hope the screaming will be a long, far-off memory too.

Someday I'll miss my kids. They'll be gone and off doing their own things.

Someday I'll remember with ill-informed fondness the days of nursing Naomi.

Someday I'll probably (although I can NOT imagine it today) enjoy cooking again.

Someday I'll live in a clean house that I didn't clean.

Someday I'll have so much free time in one day that I get tired of free time.

When those days come I'll most likely look back on days like today and not remember the mind-numbing boredom or the sense of being basically trapped in the house.

I also won't remember the sweet way Eliot 'cooked' food in his new toy pot and curned his plastic hamburger over with his plastic spatula with incredible focus and gentleness or how stirred our garbanzo beans in circles for lunch on the stove with a sense of importance.

I won't have purple marker on my hand from Naomi. I won't have Eliot's drawings of food on the table and chairs and floor of the dining room.

I won't have listened to whale sounds in the morning with Eliot or been the person Naomi walks to the first time she walks more than two steps. Well I will have been those things. It will just have been a long time ago.

Something I Do More than I Shower

Okay so I don't shower very often so I guess saying I do this more than I shower is kind of cheap. It makes it sound like I do this only once or twice a week.

That's not true. I go to this blog at least five times a week. More like 7 or 8 or 9 times a week.

This woman is hilarious. She makes me laugh out loud more often than not and lately that is a pretty freakin' awesome thing. She is hilarious. Check her out.

Blame it on Cancer

I just emailed a whole bunch of people and told them I missed a meeting this past week because, well, basically I forgot to go. In my defense we had visitors show up at our house just when I should have been leaving. So its not like I was sitting here blogging instead of going to the meeting.

That meeting was on Wednesday. I could have emailed them on Wednesday. Today is Sunday. I've been struggling with whether or not to blame my absence on cancer now for days. Silly. Yes. Silly.

Gosh its tempting to do a Larry David 'The Special Section' and get out of a whole bunch of stuff because of cancer. I could. I really could. Maybe in that case I should have. I mean what kind of a dweeb am I telling people I forgot to come meet with them.

3 Years is a Loooong Time

When we first learned about leukemia I felt so lucky. Leukemia is very treatable. This isn't going to a life long struggle. Eliot is going to live. 3 and a half years of treatment is soooo much better than dieing or struggling for years and years to only feel sick. I felt lucky. So lucky. I have felt lucky. Intellectually I know we're lucky.

The reality of three years is sinking in too. Today three years feels like a long time. By the time that day comes three years in the future Eliot will have been in treatment for more than half his life. That's a long time. That's a lot of treatment. It feels like a long time. A long time. Sigh.

Race in America

If you haven't seen this short news cast about a short documentary made by a high schooler its worth your time.

edit - Thanks to Sarah C. I have the link for the original video which is excellent.

Wow.

Show me which doll is nice.

Show me which doll is bad.

Show me which doll looks like you.

A Nice Bit of Useless Info

Did you know there is a McGinley Center on The Fordham University Campus. It is described as a living room - the center of busting activity.

Profanity Update

I posted the profane game the other day. I'd played it for the first time on a day when I had a full entire 8 hours of sleep the night before. Interestingly in the middle of the next night when Naomi was screaming I had no idea coming up with a lot more than 22 points worth of words.

I just took it again on 6 hours of sleep and pulled off a somewhat respectable 28 points.

If you're not a comment reader and you enjoy trash talk I commend you to the comments on my original profane game post.

Notice that the producer for public radio got a better score than I, then a priest and high-up army dude teamed up and kicked his butt, then a junior high (I think) teacher beat them on her own and then a stay at home mom/high school teacher blew them all out of the water.

Oh I love my friends and family. I truly truly do and those comments just show a small bit of the bright shiny light that they are.

Ruby Slippers

I was shopping for Naomi's first pair of shoes the other day (and then ended up spending $20 on clothes for her too - who can resist those little tiny shirts) and saw some Ruby slipper-like shoes. They were too big. They were probably Eliot's size. Maybe even bigger. They were impractical - why would I buy glittery shoes and store them for the next two or three years.

They were glorious. They were glittery and high-healed and marvelous.

I very nearly bought them. Then I realized they were shoes I wanted. I wanted them. I thought they were cool. Buying them for Naomi now would be like buying her a plane ticket to Ireland now. Its something I wanted when I was a kid (much older than she is now).

Who is to say Naomi will think they are cool. I decided not to get them. I told myself if I ever go shoe shopping with Naomi and she wants Ruby slippers (from Target for something like $8) she can have them.

It was a silly little thing. A little moment.

Then I went shopping for my own shoes. Then I realized. If I want some Ruby slippers I should have some. I found a pair of practical shoes. Then I found these beauties.

I bought this silly pair of shoes. They don't match anything I own. They're silly. I think I caught someone I saw yesterday looking at them and thinking they're ugly. They are sort of ugly.

I'm not sure you can tell that they're green and pinky-purple. They rock. They really. Really rock.

There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home.

Hmmm.... that was said by a girl who lived on the plains in Kansas who lived with her Aunt and had a yippie little dog.

Vacation

We've been on vacation in so many ways since Thursday.

We actually got away for a few days Thursday through Saturday. We were in Duluth and were treated like royalty. We didn't take out garbage or even cook for a few days there.

Eliot started walking faster and starting to run. He has been laughing regularly. He can stand up from sitting on the floor now and even walked up and down the stairs a few times in the last two days.

I only had to give him medicine this week on Monday and Tuesday. So we've had a vacation from medicine and its pain in the ass side effects.

He has progressively become more and more what I think the average two year old is like. He is loud. He talks loud, he asks for things loud, he throws things from time to time and makes loud noises, he talks in funny voices, he runs around in circles (literally) saying 'look Eliot, run in circles, Eliot run in circles, look, Eliot run in circles.' He plays constantly. He sometimes plays with Naomi and sometimes yells at her and sometimes pushes her and sometimes asks her to play and sometimes begs her to play.

I slept through the night the other night. I've had help around here and the kids have been calm enough that I actually got out. During the day. I've done some organizing around the house. I watered my own plants. I've had energy and been able to focus some. I've had time away either inside or outside of the house everyday since Thursday. I feel like a new person. I feel like Eliot is a new person. Naomi is just barely one so she is a new person everyday.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Enjoy it. Enjoy it. Breathe.

How Profane Are You?

Aron sent me this fun game today. Click on the link to play the Profane Game.

If you can score more than 22 points you're more profane than I.

How Long Has He Been Sick

I just posted an anniversary post on my other blog and in preparation went through a whole year of blogging about my kids. I kept reading posts about my 'Buddha boy' as I often called Eliot. Or posts about how calm he is, or how much he doesn't run around like crazy at the park. I looked at countless pictures of him being very serious and sucking his thumb and looking calm and sedate.

I wondered over and over when he was sick. How long he has been sick. Has he ever not been sick. Has my little, quite boy been a sick, struggling boy his entire life? Or most of his life?

It breaks my heart. The idea that what we thought was his personality was actually his exhaustion and general hard time getting going.

I don't feel guilty. How in the world would I have known.

I do feel sad. Cry tears kind of sad. How long has he been sick.

The doctors can't/won't venture a guess. I really have no scientific way of knowing. My gut tells me its been around 18 months that he has been clingy, quiet and reserved in public. I look back on countless behaviors and see them now as him not feeling well.

For the past few months he has been worried about being safe a lot of the time. Maybe thats being 2. Maybe thats being sick. I don't know.

Stupid

Its 2:30 am. Naomi woke up an hour ago. Eliot's cut-off for eating was 2am. I decided to make Naomi wait to eat so I could go wake Eliot up to eat.

Lets just say that didn't go so well. Eliot is currently upstairs crying after not eating an ounce of food. I woke the poor kid up on the eve of another hospital procedure so he could - what? Get less sleep.

Apparently.

Yeah mom.

On the good side. He is in remission. We got the best news possible about his prognosis. Yeah!

I Love You Naomi

I just laid sweet little star flower wonderful baby Naomi down for her nap (which she isn't taking which I of course love since I've been up since 4am - gh) and said 'I love you Naomi' as I have countless times. I thought about the fact that we came home from the hospital a year ago yesterday. I still wasn't feeling that mom-baby love thing yet that day. I was feeling a little bummed about it and a little confused and mostly so super tired that I couldn't spend much energy on it. I remember reminding myself that it wasn't instant with Eliot either (I remember doing my assigned laps at the hospital and walking by the nursery there and feeling that mom connection for the first time - I remember that I could actually physically feel it).

Naomi was older. I don't know how hold. We'd moved her pack and play from our bedroom proper to the closet when one day I bent wayyyyyyyyyyyyy down to put her to sleep and spontaneously said, 'I love you Naomi' and thought to myself, 'wow, I do love her - I wonder when that happened.'

Now I can't imagine a day not loving that kid. Its almost like I always have. Somehow. Like my body doesn't remember not knowing her even tho my brain remembers all those days I stupidly didn't sleep in before I was a mom.


Would anyone reading this who doesn't have a child or pet or bladder or something else waking them up please sleep in some time in the next week or so and dedicate those hours to me. Email me and tell me all about it. How it felt. When you woke up. If the sweet sound of birds woke you gently from your slumber. If you stayed in bed for a while after you woke up. How great you felt. Or how horrible you felt. Email me - I plan to live vicariously through you. I plan to savor every word. I do not mind exaggerations about how great or how horrible it was.

saramcginley at g mail dot com

Thank you!

Animals

The day Naomi was born rabbits hung out at our back door and just stayed longer than they ever have before or since. Naomi also got a lot of things when she was born with rabbits on them. Every time I go to the dentist the hygienist gives me a toothbrush with a rabbit on it for Naomi. They just seem to hang around. They seem to be a totem for her.

When we were driving Eliot to the hospital on the 18th a rabbit came running out of nowhere across the street in front of us and paused on the sidewalk. I said to Aron then, wow look, Naomi is here with us, she sent the rabbits. Or some such crazy ass thing.

That night when I came home from the hospital (or maybe it was the next night) I arrived to black birds cawing and making a huge racket in the trees next to our house. They come through every once in a while in huge numbers and make a huge 'birdy' mess in our yard. They'd been around. Still. That night it was the loudest I've ever heard them. The absolute loudest and longest I've ever heard them make noise. At the time I was terribly annoyed. When I look back its almost like they were cheering me along the sidewalk.

Aron says he saw rabbits repeatedly on his trips to and from the hospital.

The animals have been here with us, around us. Watching. Saying something.

In some ways even these fucking mice are around us too. As much as I'd prefer they go away.

LIghting a Candle

Eliot loves to light candles in our baptistry at church (which I refer to as the Mary Chapel). He knows where the lighting sticks are in the sand, he knows how to light one and then light a candle and then put the stick out in the sand. He really likes it. He is reverent about it. We always say prayers for all of the great grandparents in no particular order - Grandpa Thurlo, Grandma Jane, Grandpa Ray, Grandma Anne, Poppi, Nana, Grandma Peterson and Grandpa Peterson.

Today when Naomi and I were at church I stopped in and lit a candle for Eliot. Shit. My kid is someone to pray for in a serious way. He is on prayer lists all over the world. His life was in major danger there for a while and still is. Wow. I cried a little there about that. Praying for my kid. Praying like this for my kid.

Wow. Writing that last paragraph made me cry out loud. Enough tears to have to take off my glasses. Enough crying to make me want to blow my nose now. Shaking shoulders crying. Reality bites ass sometimes crying.

Time Passing

My sense of time and space has been. Well. Altered. Lately. I don't know what day it is often - except Mondays and Tuesdays when I give Eliot his medicine that he only gets those days and Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays when we have to wear rubber gloves to change his diapers. Even then tho - those days of the week merely mean marks in Eliot's care - not actual markers in time.

Today while in church it hit me that time has passed. A fair chunk of it has. The last time we went to church Naomi basically sat with me. She wasn't much of a crawler. She didn't realize daddy was in front. She was tired and wanted a morning nap.

Today she was all over the place. She saw Daddy up front and several times I thought she was going to crawl right up to him.

I also realized that since we were last at church Christmas and the entire Christmas season passed by. It didn't break my heart to miss Christmas out in the real world. I'll just say it. I don't like Christmas. I don't like the present shopping. I don't like the pine trees. I don't like the fake cinnamon smell. The songs don't really even thrill me. Mostly I don't like the pressure. Its so contrived and it bugs me. Anyway. Enough about Scrooge.

I felt sad today tho realizing I missed Christmas in church. I missed the whole Christmas thing. The songs. The pine trees. The poinsettias. The excessively late nights. The long hours for Aron.
When the hell did I become such a churchy Miss churchy church?

The F'in F Word

I went to church this morning with Naomi. It was such a joy to be there and see people I haven't seen in a very long time. I honestly don't remember the last time I was there. It was at least 5 weeks ago. People were so incredibly welcoming and supportive and fun to see.

Several people have clearly kept up with us via the blog and I'm completely honored and humbled and thrilled that people keep coming back.

Three people mentioned to me that they support my use of the f-bomb on the blog. Two of them were - shall I say - mature women. Women who have enough life experience to know whats what. One said (and you know who you are cool woman that you are) that she thinks the f-word might have been one of the first words her kids learned. Here here!

Thanks for your support women of wisdom and grace!

Its funny too. I realized too that my curse of choice for most of my adult life has been shit. I've always found it to be a versatile word. Funny how I haven't used it much. I guess its just felt good to pull out the big guns for this particular train wreck of an unexpected twist in life.

Eye Lashes

One of Eliot's eye lashes fell out today and got caught in his eye today. I saw one hanging on the end of his others the other day and my heart fell a little. I knew it was coming. The inevitable loss of his model-like, long, dark, curly eye lashes. There it was. The little thing just hanging there. Today there was one just floating around on his eye. I had to coach him to blink over and over and over to get rid of it.

It just occurred to me that an eye lash is a wish. That's what we did in junior high all the time. Those junior high superstition things. Wish on an eye lash. Wish when your necklace clasp comes around to the front. Those were the more mature versions of hold your thumbs up to avoid getting coodies and the less mature (or perhaps just earlier in life) version of wear something old, new, borrowed and blue on your wedding day.

I've held onto the eye lash thing ever since junior high (that and the talking about bodily functions over meals thing too).

I'm going to start wishing. A wish for each eye lash I find. I'm going to be fully superstitious and not tell you my wishes. They'll all come true. I know they will.

Crashing

I'm coming down from the high. I'm crashing down from it.

Its not a bad thing. I was resisting it a bit there. Why. Who knows why. It was easier when I was high. Its harder when I fight it.

I'm not talking Mary Jane high. I'm talking your life gets whacked and you go to another plane and it saves your ass and keeps you from seeing everything and at the same time shows you everything.

This crashing isn't bad. It just means the tired I feel actually feels tired-er (more tired isn't how you talk about this). The real feels real-er. The dark is dark-er. The light is light-er.

The everyday is back in all of its monotony and comfort. The dishes. The laundry. The plants getting watered. The longing for time to myself. The gladness to be with my children. The joy in who they are. The longing to be alone.

Waves

I've had waves of reality hit me lately. Sometimes waves like the ones that left me breathless and floating and completely freaked out in the surf in El Salvador with my sister Laurie a few years ago. Those big ocean waves that when you figure them out you can surf on - or like my sister - figure out how to have a blast on. Swimming under them. Outsmarting them.

Other waves are like those waves in the tub you make on your own to redistribute hot or cold water. Not bad waves. Waves nonetheless and defiantly not the same temperature as the rest of what you're in. Noticeable. Sometimes burning. Sometimes bringing goose bumps to my skin.

As they took Naomi's temperature at the pediatricians office yesterday for her standard 1 year check up I had to stretch to 'be there' with Naomi when she didn't like it. I thought about all of the pokes and prods Eliot has had in the last month. I had to really focus on Naomi's reality and how weird it was for her. Wave. Washing over me. Shit. Naomi gets to have her experience. Holy crap Eliot's has been having a fucking intense one.

Driving over the bridge the other day. Tears. Good God. I drove over that same bridge day after d