Monday, August 30, 2010
I pictured the words a thousand times, and imagined the deep exhale that would come with finally giving you all of me, creatively speaking.
But for some reason, I chose this place.
Because it felt safe.
Because it felt right.
Because at the end of the day, it doesn't matter much where I did it; it just matters that I did.
So take it or leave it.
This is ALL of me.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Who gives a flying @#%$.
Our sweet boy Andrew, who proves to us time and time again that what matters in this LIFE is Love, Patience, Hope and Strength, has tested positive for this disease.
Courage to change the things we can
and the Wisdom, to know the difference.
*and if you must know, halitosis, pneumoconiosis, neurosis, cirrhosis, thrombosis, and of course, psychosis, which at this rate, is looking very promising.
Monday, August 23, 2010
I do okay
(for the most part).
I trust that the world will see us through
though I know, from experience, that if we expect perfection
we will be sorely disappointed, time and time again.
I wake in the mornings
mindful not to dread what’s ahead
focusing instead (for the most part)
on growing the tiny seed of hope and gratitude, which flounders
under the shadow of the more persistent and powerful fear and
anxiety (which comes so easily, so naturally).
So I do okay
(for the most part).
I have yet to drag you off the bus
as you face LIFE, looming with unpredictability
with a toothy grin
changing my mind at the last second
that the only place you belong, is right here, in my arms.
Then I read a story like this
and the only sound I hear
is my quickened heartbeat
the only sight I see
is your tiny frame against the harsh backdrop of instability
the only thing I think
is that I will never let you out of my sight again
only thing I know
if anyone ever messes with you like that
Other than that
I do okay
(for the most part).
*be sure to offer your support to this family as they endure this heartache. visit the link above and leave a message for Kim Stagliano.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
I know what you’re thinking.
“I wonder how Jo is doing with her vertigo? Also, what’s the deal with beauty pageants for little girls? They’re just creepy.”
The answer to your first question is that I’ve started physical therapy to try and help alleviate some of the more bothersome (read frickin annoying) symptoms. Once a week I drive to a state-of-the-art facility where I willingly allow a certified neurological clinician with a smart blonde bob make me dizzy by having me engage in various vestibular strengthening exercises while she stands by with a barf bucket. My guess is she gets paid by the bucket because the bitch is ruthless and just for that I’m going to keep my vomit to myself. HA!
What. The. Frack.
Is it even legal to airbrush someone under 18?
I suggest you write to your local congressman or woman (or local Walmart, really) and ask them to ban
1. Aqua Net
2. 5 inch heels made in size 3
3. Toddler Halter Tops
4. This Guy
5. Makeup that is labeled anything like the following:
“Gerber Blemish Stick”
and “Recess Red.”
I also have some key points for the judges of these pageants:
1. When you ask a four year old what her favorite color is and she responds with “doo doo,” that does not qualify as an “interview.”
2. Judging a six year old on poise is like judging a man on his ability to multi-task.
3. How do you sleep at night? (Probably with your Miss Bloomingfield’s Backyard Butternut Squash Bonanza 1987 crown atop your pretty little hair sprayed helmet head).
So, the bottom line is physical therapy can suck it, and mothers who put eyeliner and push up bras on their kindergartners are a special kind of crazy.
The kind you back away from, very very slowly.
Until next time, “elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist.”
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
“Do you think Andrew will ever talk?”
“Well, babe, he already does, in his own little way.”
“No. I mean talk, like you and I.”
“I don’t know baby. We’re working really hard to help him with that, but it’s not as easy for him as it is for us.”
“I know. I just wish it were easier.”
“Well honey, Let me see if I can explain it to you in a way that you can understand and relate to. Okay. It’s like, imagine if you had a backpack and it was filled with ginormous rocks and you had to carry it on your back while you walked uphill on a dusty road in the middle of the hot summer sun and you were really thirsty and didn’t have anything to drink and also mosquitoes the size of baseballs were attacking you and you had sand in your eyes and you were barefoot. There would be a pack of hungry dogs chasing you and rattlesnakes would hide behind big boulders and hiss at you. And when you finally got to the top of the hill, you’d look around and realize that there were hundreds of hills just like it that you would have to climb too. And it would take you months to get up all of those hills and you would really miss your friends and family and no one could hear your cries in the lonely and all-consuming darkness. You’d curse the day you were born and shake your fist at God, wailing ‘why me, Lord, why have you forsaken me?’ Doesn’t sound like much fun right? Well, that’s how it is with Andrew when he tries to talk. It’s super hard for him, and not much fun.”
“I’m so scared.”
Sunday, August 8, 2010
After careful observation, I've found that the following activities should be avoided at all costs if I'm to improve the quality of my life:
Turn my head too fast
Take long car rides
Drink too much coffee
Go to the movies
Take a boat ride
Ride an escalator
Ride an elevator
Pick something up off the floor
Play Wii Fit
Shake my head "yes" or "no"
Scratch my left elbow
Get a haircut
Take a shower
Flush the toilet
Feed the cats
Get a pedicure
Listen to music
Wear a bra that's too tight
Not wear a bra
Chew sugarless gum
Sing "Livin La Vida Loca" in B flat
Brush my teeth
So, it's pretty simple really.
As long as I avoid these vertigo-inducing activities, I'll be just fine!
And the good news is that blogging isn't on the list!
Okay. Let me rephrase that. As long as I don't use the following keys, I'm fine:
Of course, those keys are merely a fraction of what I use when indulging in my writing craft, and avoiding them, for the sake of my health and well being, shouldn't affect the quality of my posts at all:
i c u.
u r poop.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Superman has been keeping himself busy watching his dvr recording of Star Wars Episode I since last Thursday. I suggested, weakly and hoarsely from my bed, that he change the channel every once in a while and try to watch some academic-based programming such as Saved By the Bell, whose episodes almost always take place in a school, and well, I am a teacher after all.
Anyway, so Superman has adamantly refused to watch anything other than the same Star Wars movie and don't get me wrong, I like Yoda and the gang myself but this was starting to worry me, so I harnessed all of my energy and the next time I really had to pee I went the long way and walked by his room to check on him (being a hands on mom means sometimes having to make these sacrifices) and there it was: a ten minute commercial for Girls Gone Wild. In the middle of his Star Wars movie. A movie he's been glued to for the last five days while I've been in the middle of Snot Watch 2010. Ten minutes of drunk blondes and brunettes flashing the cameras and sucking face with each other. Over and over again. In the middle of his Star Wars movie. That we recorded two years ago. At like 5 pm. On a channel that we didn't have to pay 9.95 for.
First of all, whose the douchebag in charge of programming?
Secondly, the fact that Superman has been glued to the television and refusing to change the channel is merely a coincidence and has nothing to do with these half-naked girls prancing on the screen and stirring up feelings that his father and I are nowhere near prepared to discuss with him so we'll probably just ignore the whole thing until he's a little older and learns about sex the old fashioned way: through a misinformed buddy in the locker room.
Thirdly, I can't believe that in the two years he's had the movie on dvr, we've never noticed that particular commercial before. I don't want to sound presumptious, but, I blame his father.
On another note, I don't know what the hell Monchichi's been up to the last several days, but I bet his pull up needs to be changed.