A Tall Girl's Adventures in a Tiny World

There's a great Bill Cosby stand-up sketch about Noah building the ark. When I was a kid we listened to the bit on road trips, over and over, until we all could recite it. There's a line that stands out in my mind -- maybe it's even the last line of the sketch? -- that Cosby delivers right around the time that Noah loses his cool and tells God to take a hike, that he's not building the ark anymore. God says, "Noah. How long can you tread water?" For some reason that line is repeating in my head over and over today. But it's not as funny. I have worked at the same nonprofit organization for over 10 years now. Those of you who are good at math will realize that means that I've been at the same place for all but 1.5 years of my professional life. One of the first things that struck me about IRA was that so many people had worked there for 20+ years; in fact, the first week I was there, they threw a retirement party for a man who had worked in the mailroom...

We know our children are little sponges who soak up all our words, actions, mannerisms. They are often parrots, but even more often they are fun house mirrors, amplifying and exaggerating our own idiosyncratic behaviors until we cringe, laugh, or hang our heads in shame. Yesterday while cleaning up his toys, Sweet Boy got frustrated trying to put one of his train pieces together. Instead of crying or raging like he would have a few weeks ago, he threw the toy down and yelled, "Oh, fuck it!" Oh. My. Lord. The air was sucked out of the room. We were suspended in time and space, frozen as our eyes met. I took a split second to consider my options: (1) Freak out and yell at him---scare him into never saying it again; (2) Ask him to repeat what he said, because maybe I heard it wrong and I don't want to overreact; (3) Ask where he heard that word, stuff his mouth full of soap, then call the offending child's parent immediately (a la The Christmas Story ); (4) Ignore it so ...

I have been struggling the last few weeks to generate interesting writing on this blog. Sorry. I hope you're not completely bored. As I sit here tonight drafting and deleting, rewriting and rethinking, I have the ABC Nightly News on the TV in the background. Of course they're focusing coverage on Obama's first few days in office, and of course I'm smiling. Today Obama signed executive orders to close Guantanamo Bay and to ban torture. (Hooray!) Politics aside, what was most remarkable was that as he signed, he read a portion aloud -- and then he explained its meaning in laymen's terms. You know why? Because he wants We the People to be aware of and understand the laws under which we live. What a novel idea! Could there be any more striking contrast between the current president and the former (He Who Shall Not Be Named)? Maybe it's because I'm the child of teachers, the grandchild of a principal, and the editor of teacher books, but I am just shy of giddy t...

This weekend started the festival of goosebumps called the inauguration of Barack Obama. First on Saturday morning, we rode the Claymont Amtrak station in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the Obama Train. We knew we wouldn't see Barack or Michelle or Joe or Jill, but we wanted to be among the Delawarians to welcome them to the east coast. We just wanted to be part of the excitement. Unfortunately we didn't make it before they had closed off the road to the station, but we did drive up and down Philadelphia Pike, with police chopper circling overhead, trying to time it so we could see the train go across the overpass bridge. The lone state trooper sitting under the overpass eventually waved us along with stern warning, so we didn't get to even see the train. But we tried; we waved to the Obamas and Bidens in our hearts. Instead of being there live, we went home and cuddled on the couch with some hot chocolate and watched Obama's address in Baltimore. Commence goosebump...

Sorry I've been away for a while -- just trying to get in the groove of our new diabetes-and-hyperlipidemia lifestyle, focusing on training Chris in the ways of the healthy eater, spending as much time as a family as we can. Everything's going well, one week in. I'm proud of Chris, truly. He's taking this seriously, writing down every morsel he eats, going for walks outside (we went out at 7pm one night this week, all three of us bundled up, and played a game of Eye Spy with our maglight -- really fun) or inside on the treadmill when it's mega-cold out. He seems like a new man, and I can't believe we didn't recognize all the signs and indications that he was sick. I mean, it's possible he's been full-blown diabetic since about last spring -- which would explain many of the things about his attitude and lifestyle that have been really frustrating to me this past year. Hindsight is 20-20, I know, but I'm hoping that now, as he finally discovers wha...

He's home! He's home! He's home! I picked up Big Daddy and hauled him from the hospital yesterday afternoon, took him home so he could scrub the hospital funk off, and then we went over to pick up Sweet Boy. I can't adequately describe the scene, but I bet you can imagine the reunion of father and child: We walked onto the playground, where Sweet Boy was swinging Superman-style. I let Chris walk in first, and when Boy saw Daddy, he ran harder than I've ever seen, arms outstreatched and joy all over his face, yelling "Daddeee!!!" across the playground. A big family hug, smiles and giggles and kisses, and teachers dabbing tears from their eyes. Fabulously good homecoming. We had a happy experience at Target, where Big Daddy picked up his new meds and learned that they're available in cheap generic form -- $4/bottle. Thank you, God! So, instead of spending $40/month on pills as we've been doing, we'll be spending $48/month on pills...not the $100 ...

My dad took me out to lunch today, and I realized about halfway through the meal that I was really not good company. I apologized to my dad for being so grouchy, explaining that I've just been feeling all sorts of junk this week, yada yada yada. And then I said, "It just wasn't supposed to be like this, you know? We're too young." I looked up and noticed his teary eyes and thought, dammit, girl, you're an idiot! You see, those were the exact words my dad said to me on the morning we realized that my mom was dying. She had been admitted to the hospital on the previous night with seizures and by morning they had determined her cancer had spread to her brain; it was, therefore, only a matter of time before she was paralyzed, and death wouldn't be far behind. We'd been in the ER most of the night, and once they admitted her, Chris and I came home to take care of my sister. My dad walked into the room where we were sleeping on the pull-out sofa, and he just...