No school.

I'm going to try to make this quick, since i have been informed that sometimes my blogs can get.....long. :)

A week ago i handed in my permission slip for Ruby to go on her class field trip to the Como Planetarium and i also submitted my volunteer slip.

Ruby informed me that if too many parents volunteer that they would have to draw from a hat and i might not get picked.

No bigs.

I did the math and knew my odds couldn't be less than 50%. It was likely i'd get picked.

Fast forward 5 days. I knew it was "drawing day" and before Ruby left for school i informed her of my NEED to get picked. I told her maybe she could tell her teacher that too....wink wink.

She came home and i was all, "Sooo? Soooo? Am i going with you!?"  And she wouldn't tell me so i had to wait.

At dinner i asked her again, smiling, confident i was picked, and she said "why don't ya go change your clothes?" Which is code for she put it on my bed.

I cheerfully ran to my room, hooting and hollering, only to find the slip of paper that informed me that the names were put into a hat and then selected, but alas, mine had NOT been drawn.

Guh.

I instantly went into silent panic mode.  I didn't know HOW the heck i would be able to let my child go on a field trip far, far away to a distant land, without me.

I put it out of my mind. Telling Ruby it was no biggie anyways.

But come Friday, i though i should maybe email the teacher just telling her of my apprehension and ask, beg, plead to get a spot on that trip.

But i didn't.

I don't know why.

I think maybe because i already knew she wasn't going.

I just couldn't do it.

I thought about it all weekend.

Finally on Sunday i just told Jeromy that, " I can't do this. There no way i can send her away with out me."

Like the wonderful guy he is--he agreed.

As i woke up today, i still wasn't sure what i would do. I knew what i should do. I know what is the rational thing to do. The normal thing to do.

But honestly, there was nothing in my body that was saying "let her go."

Even when her and Junior got into an all out brawl and i was totally ticked at her, i still couldn't send her.

I tried to threaten it. I did say "Get your clothes on and get ready for school."

But at this point she assumed she was going anyways....so that didn't make any sense.

Finally i sat her on my bed and just looked her in the eyes and asked her if she wanted to go.  I tried to tell her she would have a good experience and that her friends would love it and it would likely be awesome.

But then i said, ".....or you can just stay home with me?"

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She choose home. And i never looked back.

I even knew my decision was wrong. I knew about 98% of parents wouldn't agree. But i also knew that my heart was 100% made up.

And if i let her stay....well, then Laney had to stay too.

The deal was done.

I could live to breath another day with my kids under my wing.

(i can actually hear you guys shaking your heads right now.....i KNOW. But i don't care. )

Well, we headed to Hans Bakery to meet our friends and all was good.

We stayed for a short time with our friends and headed out to meet Uncle at the book store.

Never once did i waiver from my decision.

It is just school after all.

And its only one day. Plus---it was raining.

And Ruby was supposed to eat lunch at a park after the planetarium thing. And the thought of my baby girl just sitting all out in the open in the world, that is actually what sealed the deal for me. Her in a PARK? Just all out there eating? Ummmm, NO way! Not happening.

On our way back up from the book store, i said "lets see a show!" And then I called my Mom to get the times for a show i wanted the kids to see.

The timing was perfect.

Million Dollar Arm was playing in 15 minutes and i was on my way. And my Mom decided to meet us there as well.

Perfection.

School, schmool--i wasn't even thinking about it and my complete irrational (or very, very rational) fear that i am likely going to have to deal with at some point.

 But not today.

We got in the theatre and i watched a movie about baseball.

It was perfect.

I wanted my kids to breath this movie in. I wanted them to love it as much as i did.

They kind of did.

Barely.

But as i walked out of that show, a true story, about two boys from India who worked so hard and left their life to try to play baseball in America. It was so stinking inspiring and heart wrenching and beautiful. (don't worry, i won't tell you any more than that)

I loved it.

I recommend it.

As I thought about these boys who left India, their families, the safety of what they knew, to pursue this thing., this American Baseball, i couldn't help but think about the fact that i kept my girl from a field trip.

I had a mix of emotions that flowed from the thought of my kids chasing their dreams, loving something so much that they were willing to work hard for it and persevere towards it. And then the reality of the fact that i had them with me because i was scared of a field trip.

I didn't waiver about my decision.....I was only aware of it, people. The irony was not lost on me.

Either way, as we walked out-- i was happy. I had my kids. We were with Grandma. We watched a movie. We got a book. The day was perfect.

I called Jeromy as i drove home and he asked me how the day was. I told him. And then he asked me if i got the calls from the school.

Yes. The one about them being absent? Yea, i got it.

What about the other one? He asked.

Uhhh, nu-uh? What one is that? 

He proceeded to tell me that he got a second call saying that the entire St. Francis school district was in lock down.

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.....................(blink, blink).............................



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"Uhhhhhh, come again?"

Ya, the entire district went on "lock down" (a lesser version of it. no one in or out) because of something that happened in St. Francis city.

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(increase heart beat)...........................


..................................................(difficulty swallowing)....................


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..........................(Sudden urge to throw up)...................................



......................."SEE!!!! I TOLD you i wasn't crazy for keeping them home!!"

You see, you guys, i would have gone completely, 100% John Rambo on the school, had i known Ruby was about to return and Laney was in the school during this time.

Like, i'm talking red sash around my head and everything crazy! I would have had to get them home. Do you guys even KNOW that feeling? That fear that we constantly have to face now because a handful of idiots have gone into schools and hurt kids!!! We have to be afraid now, because of them. And i hate that. In the deepest part of my being. I hate it. And them, for doing this to us.

I fought the fear rising up in me as i drove closer to my house. My brain was on overload. I was like, making plans to own a bomb shelter and never have my kids more than a 5 foot radius apart from me. I was on the verge of going full blown cuckoo thinking that  maybe someone was on the loose.

 But then i pulled my boot straps up, I got home. Brought the dog inside and did a straight up sweep of the house. I'm talking total SVU style. I was calling out, "Clear.....Clear....." as i checked every room. It made me feel powerful. The kids got it too. They know the drill from school. Sadly.

So, long story long, i kept my kids home today. I just felt like i should.  And unfortunately this crazy lock down situation has like totally exacerbated my total neurosis.

But i'll address that another day.

As for today, the kids stay with me.

I am...i said.

Everyone knows the term "Margaritaville".  Although i am not sure if i have ever been.....i would have welcomed the invitation last night.  But instead, i was in MIGRAINEville.  Equally as difficult to wake up from, but much less fun the night before.

Ugh. You see, i got a killer migraine last night as i watched teeball.  I was talking to Sarah when i looked down and it appeared as if my hands were not my own.  A tell tale sigh of what is to come.

No WAY!! i thought as i panicked and started to feel a bit of nausea rising in my throat.  I shook my hands, as if to somehow tell my brain i had misread the signs.

But alas, no more than 4 minutes later, the lights went out.

I lost my vision on my lower left side--not to be confused with the upper east side--which is a much cooler thing.

Thankfully we only had a few minutes left of the game.

I signaled Jeromy of the impeding doom and whispered "i can't see." Which, the poor guy, has learned to understand as "i'm dead to the world for about 30 minutes until i can see again, so will you take over?!"

We got the kids in the van and i sat in the passenger seat. (not my style, i like to control the wheel) and i just shut my eyes, as i still watched the squiggly lines dance across my eyes lids.  Ugh. Its the WORST.

As i sat there, silently writhing in pain, i hear my new mix CD play and felt an indescribable comfort wash over me as i heard Neil Diamond's beautiful voice flow from the speakers.

"LA's fine but it ain't home. New Yorks home but it ain't mine.....no moooooore." I whispered along with him. Finding strength to go on as i felt verbally cradled in Neil Diamonds arms.

Whatever. Its weird. But i kind of obsessively love him. And that's how i felt. Plus, i'm half blind here, people, be a little nicer!!

"I am...I said......to no one there. And no ONE e-VEN heard NOT eventhechair...."

When we got home, I climbed into the tub--hoping to silently drown...err, i mean, to rest.
For some odd reason, after i got out of the tun,  i felt the need to make puppy chow in my blind stuper. (odd reason? As IF.)

The kids were in bed, Jeromy went to bed and i lay on the couch. Starting to lose my darn vision AGAIN! But insisting to myself that maybe the puppy chow would help?! Right.

I turned off the tv. Cause who can enjoy it when you can't even SEE the darn thing. Plus, i was watching The Blacklist, something that takes 100% of my undivided attention.

I lay in the dark. Watching the squiggly lines. Feeling like an alien in my stinkin body.  Like, i can't explain it--but i just felt odd. Like i was there, but not really.  Again, it would have been a better feeling had i discovered it through Margaritaville, yes?

I fell asleep for a moment and awoke the the familiar burning sensation in my left hand mixed with a painful numbness. This headache wasn't getting better and i was just going to have to suffer through it.

I decided to climb into bed.  I opened the window at the bottom of my bed and stared at the moonlit night.  The wind howled as i thought, Is this is? Maybe this is the end. Crap. I'm dying. Figures.

I didn't sleep much last night as i lay in bed, feeling the crushing pain in my head along with the annoying numbness that just comes and goes.

So this morning, when i woke up. I felt like i was in a scene from a movie where the main character partied a little to hard the night before. 

I'm not kidding. My hair follicles actually hurt this morning. My hair is a mess, my eye liner lingered from poor facewashing--you know, since putting my head even close to lower than my heart makes me think it will explode! and i stumbled out of bed in a bit of a Migraine stuper. Junior gave me a kiss and told me he prayed for me last night. His kind words felt like a YELL. And the gentle kiss felt aggressive. Like maybe the act of his lips touching my cheek actually caused my brain to go crashing into my skull.

Ow.

As i walked around like a drunky, and wondered why this headache hadn't even subsided one iota. I thought again, how lame my body is.

Sometimes i actually have this conversation with my self. "We're a teeeeeam, head. Why do you keep fighting me? What is your problem, man? We can be so much better. We could be invincible together you and me! We're stronger when we work as one. Why the H. E. double hockey sticks, do you HATE me so??

Like the complete psycho that is MY HEAD.....it doesn't even bother to EVER respond to my questions.

Typical brain.

Anywhoo.

I got the kids on the bus. Got Junior in the van and put on the biggest and darkest pair of sunglasses i could find. Although i needed to turn my headlights on--due to the fog--it was still a really bright fog.

I walked into preschool, noticing that my face never seemed to match my attempts at smiling.

As i sit here, i am just annoyed at my stupid self. Like, this has been 32 years in the running, Head. What the heck!!

At any moment in life that may cause any excitement or thrill for me--Boom---shut it down. 

Oh, you are excited for your OWN bachelorette party. Going down town with all your friends?  Shut it down.

You're playing your tournament softball game for the 27 year in a row and are having a blast?? Shut it down. Lights out.

Going to Milwaukee with your brother to help with a big pressure wedding and its your first time being away from your kids overnight in like 6 years?? What that? You're happy?  Shut. it. down. Repeatedly.

My body just keeps doing this. And i am so mad about it.

I'm like a fainting goat, for Pete's sake. Don't anybody dare clap near me---or i'll likely just fall to the ground in a heap of fur and goat hooves.

Like a total winner.

Its like i my controlling head doesn't want me to be happy or to anxiously anticipating anything. I'm only allowed to live in east bethel. Drive on hwy 65 and shop at Target. That is all. Any deviation from that pattern?  Shut her down.

Also, don't add any stress to this girls life.  Problems with the ex? Lights out. Stress about anything? Goodnight. Fight with a friend over a blog on facebook?  Cue the numbness....

Speaking of Jake Morrow.(see how i did that?) I want to quickly have a conversation about that last blog (insert wince). All is perfectly well between him and I. Jake is very much a quality human being and i would pretty much trust him with my life. Soooo, just wanted to get that out there :) Lets say i overreacted. And he responded like a true gentleman. My friend. Jake.

But back to my Mary Kate Olsen-like appearance. Fine!! Mary Kate plus about 100 pounds.

I've got my huge black glasses on, disheveled hair, a coffee in hand and my over sized sweatshirt on, walking out of Panera. ( i lied. It was a perfectly fitting sweatshirt. Cause nothing is too oversized for me.OKAY? Why don't ya just kick when i'm down, already. Geez.)

I got into my car. Head pounding.  Frustrating mounting as Panera, of COURSE, didn't have what i wanted,
and i put on my mix CD (that i made. To: Me. Love: Me.) and i gently whispered along with Johnny Cash as his beautiful voice --steady like a train and sharp like a knife--lamented on about that torturous Ring of Fire.

"the taste.....of love is sweet. When hearts......like ours meet......"

So now that i am home with out any kids for three hours, you know what me and my bully of a brain are going to do??

Umm, only what every other respectable human being would do....

I'm gonna draw the curtains, watch Moulin Rouge and fold clothes.

And its gonna be GLORIOUS.....

So if you see me in the street today, please just whisper. 'Cause I went to Migraineville yesterday.....and I'm not yet recovered.

To my critic.

I wrote a blog the other day. And it clearly didn't sit well with someone.

I'm not sure who. Because they only posted anonymously to me.

Which makes it a tiny bit hard to straighten out--you know, since it was anonymous and all.

Donthcha think?

I am just going to do a bit of clarifying here.

I want to clarify to you, all my friends, what my blog is.  My blog is just about my feelings. What i am thinking.  What i want to express at the very moment. Sometimes i use it to process, for myself. Sometimes i write to laugh. To understand. And to lighten up.

My last post--about the Jews--was not intended to offend anyone.

But like everything, someone managed to find offense.

And that somebody choose to leave an anonymous comment on my blog.  Although they later deleted it. The email still came to me with their words.  Their critiques of my writings and their defense of their mother, who was clearly a working mom.

And i have a few things to say about that comment.

I'll use the example of the sandbur. We have lots of these in East Bethel and deal with them all Summer.

And ain't nobody like the sandburs.

You know how when you grab a ball and a sandbur is on that ball, it pricks your finger and it hurts, right?

But then you pull it out and go about your business as usual. 'Cause its not the end of the world to get a sandbur in your finger.

And then later that night, you go to make dinner and you grab a knife and you notice your finger--it still hurts.

But you can't really do anything about it, cause you already pulled out the sandbur.

So you continue on.

And then that next day, you go to write a note to your kids teacher and you find that when you pick up a pencil--it hurts again.  Your finger tip is sore.

But you forget about it, because you can do nothing about it, the damage was done. You can't undo the sandbur prick.

Even after the actual source of your pain is removed.......the hurt can linger.

So, lets just say that my little critic was a sandbur---a prick, if you will.

And their words probably came to them quickly as they made the conscious effort to write on my blog.  It wasn't a big deal to them, i assume.

But the affects of their words, although deleted, lingered.

And i really would love to talk about that, to explain my words to them and to hear what they thought but unfortunately, a conversation will never be held since they posted it anonymously.

Fortunately, though, I do think i know who this person is.

I write my blog today, as always, with only my opinions in it.  Never have i had hard facts about much of what i've said.

You know, I absolutely love a good book, I like to talk through every twist and turn. I like to look deeper, find the true message they are trying to send. I enjoy how a movie can transport you to a different place and time. I think music has meaning and paints beautiful pictures. I appreciate art and every aspect of it all. Their talent is not lost on me. Not one bit. And I  long, with all of my heart, to hold a candle stick to anything good. I would give anything to create something beautiful. Something that touches others. Something that brings them joy. Transports them. Makes them think. Makes them smile. Even laugh. To evoke emotion. But you know what? Even though i can't compete with so many other people, even though i am not a scholar--i am still going to write. Because i am okay with not being the best. It doesn't bother me. I'm okay with just being.... okay. Some posts work, and some don't. I know that. You don't have to tell me. Because i already know and i am just okay with that.

Because it is fun, it fills my soul, it puts words to my feelings.  It makes me happy.

My blog about the little Jewish boy who longed for his mothers touch-- broke my heart.  And i wanted to remind myself--and any one of the 6 people that read this--the value of being a Mom.

I didn't say a "stay-at-home mom" and i didn't say a "working mom".  'Cause we are all one in the same.

That post was never an attack on the working woman.

For heavens sake, I am so totally over this stay-at-home vs. working Mom thing!!!

I have so many beautiful friends who are working moms and who are amazing. And i know so many awesome stay at home moms that do a great job.  Any shortcoming of a Mother is in their own behavior or personality. Not their job title.  You can be a crappy stay at home mom or a crappy working mom. That all on you. So this invisible war--i am no part of.  I've made my mistake by stating my big opinions on the issue long ago and i hurt someone i cared about. And then i learned from my mistake. I don't know why we can't just ban together, as women. This crazy divide about who's insulting whom or who works harder than the other. I'm not in it. I won't be.We shouldn't do it to each other.

I speak passionately about two things. My love for my kids. And the power of Jesus Christ.  I'll always go down fighting for these two things. But please don't misunderstand that when i speak of loving my kids and giving them my heart, i'm not speaking only as a stay-at-home mother.

My blog was about MOTHERS. Every kind. Whether you get 19 hours with your kids a day or 30 minutes. The point was, MAKE THOSE MOMENTS COUNT!!

So to my anonymous critic, who felt the need to assure me of their mothers love and affection then and now (all while she climbed the corporate ladder). Good for you. I'm glad she loved you. No one ever implied she didn't.

I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that blog wasn't about you.

But my guess is that maybe you think lots of things in life are about you? So instead of seeing the heartbreaking point of a child being torn from his mother and longing for her tender touch, you chose to defend an invisible attack.

And not only defend it, but you chose to insult me in the process.  I typed a word wrong. It was spelled incorrectly and you, in all of your splendor, would never do such a dunce-like thing. My spelling offended you. It must have, since you thought it would be better to point out my stupidity than to overlook it. I mean, I understand, i too, was concerned about my lack of word finding skills and the sudden difficulty that i had spelling--so i had an MRI done last year. Its something that i worry about on my own. But thank you for pointing that out to me.

And like that prick i talked about earlier.  That is the part of your comment that still stings just a tiny bit.

Because, you see, i have never claimed to know it all. In fact, if you know me, you know i can't seem to get anything right. And it really sucks. But i am aware of it.

Your poisonous little prick really has had a lasting affect. Whether you intended it to or not.

I find such frustration and weakness in the voice of the Internet. The satisfaction people get in saying hurtful things and then hitting "send" and letting cyberspace do the rest of the dirty work. Never do we take ownership for our words anymore. We don't even sign our names, for petes sake.  These bullish people who feel the need to respond to everything out there and yet never stay long enough, or are brave enough, to say things to each others faces?  They lack empathy. We face a world void of empathy because we never get to truly see how our words can make other people feel.  We don't see the pain, or the momentary wince, that warns us of our words effect and teaches us to be more careful with our tongue. For we are all human. And no one is perfect.

The buggar is, we all have a weak spot in life. A place of vulnerability.  Something we don't want anyone to know about--for fear they may attack.  And you know what, dear critic? Somehow you managed, perfectly, to find mine.

How wonderful for you.

But i won't linger here long. Soon i will forget the whole thing.

It is only fresh in my mind today. And, you know what happens when i think, well darnit if i don't end up typing about it.

I'm sorry that you were unintentionally offended by my words after you misinterpreted them. I thought i had clarified that part in my last blog. Maybe you missed it.

Now if you'll escuce me, i'm gunna go and warch my chikens play in da wadder. Cause us dummies, we like ta look at da chikens.