The Delete Button

A student came to me today and said, "I feel like my whole life is falling apart."

To which I could only reply, "It is."

He said, "my brother is out of control. He isn't here for me right now. He didn't come with me to the viewing or the funeral, and he said he would. He's out drinking, out of his mind, calling me in the middle of the night, not even knowing he's talking to me. This weekend my mother had to go get him. I'm worried about him."

I listened.

His wound has been reopened. He knows how this feels. He doesn't want to feel it again.

Consider this from his perspective.

When everyone's heart is wide open, raw, no matter what message you send it will be heard. With great care choose what message you send.
This is the message I choose:
Matthew 11:25-30
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

S@*%, D$^#, F!#&

After reading What to Expect When You're Expecting as if it were the pregnancy bible, and then What to Expect The First Year as if it were a comedy, I abandoned learning about motherhood from books. Every single thing I did was against the rules. I drank coffee in my third trimester, gained 40 pounds from eating double, deplored the get to know each other games in Lamaze class, and wanted only to know how soon into labor I could get the epidural. Pregnancy was more an illness for me than a journey. I went to the hospital before ever having a real contraction, begged for the drugs, hallucinated on the Nubane, and gave birth to a daughter that made being a mom feel easy. I didn't breast feed, and I didn't make my own organic baby food. I did put my children on my schedule, which included bed time at 8:30 (which we still live by) and taking them to the beach before they were six weeks old.

I have a lot to learn about being a mother. Abbey, experiencing hormonal changes, could be my undoing.

While Jake was in kindergarten he told me that I shouldn't say the s word anymore because his teacher said it was a bad word. I thought long and hard wondering which s word did he use in front of his teacher. Did he say shit? or sex maybe?

"Jake," I said, "tell mommy what is the s word?"

Jake hesitated, "no, you aren't going to trick me; I won't say it."

"Please," I begged. "I'm not sure I know what it is. Do I say it?"

He leaned up to my ear, and only after making me pinky promise that I wouldn't tell his teacher, he whispered, "stupid."

I was relieved and horrified. However was I going to avoid using the word stupid? I immediately decided I would try really hard to use dumb in its place.

Abbey just recently asked me if crap is a bad word.

"Not really bad, but definitely a potty word." I explained.

Her teacher told her it's one of the big ones, the worst.

That's because she's a well bred Southern lady from a world where a nice young belle would never say any word that deals with the bathroom.

Abbey thought quietly for a moment then said, "well I'm a sweet Southern girl, but I said crap twice today."

I reassured her, "yes you are a sweet Southern girl, but you have some Yankee breeding, and we don't give a shit about stuff like that."

She laughed. She likes my humor.

I think she expected me to give my words speech, something from Alice in Wonderland. The one where I explain words are just our lame attempt to give ideas form. They only have meaning when we give them meaning. But instead,

I lectured:

In life we find ourselves in houses with many rooms. Whenever we enter any room, we need very quickly to assess where the walls are and where the doors are. Then we must be careful never to walk through a wall. Use only doors. Occasionally there will be a window. Know where these are too. From time to time you may need to escape through one. When the assessment is slow or uncertain, stay in the hallway.

Abbey laughed again.

I wasn't being funny.

She said, "My teacher won't even say my last name."

I said, "Have you told her your middle name is kissma?"

Thriving Ivory - Angels on the Moon

Abbey belief #1: Ice cream makes everything better.

"You should have ice cream mommy. It really did make me feel better." ~Jake

Twice, on a gray cold Monday, I sat in the same hollow chapel looking for God. Both times though, no luck. Not only did I not find God there, in the midst of people trying to help, loneliness strangled my soul. The haze between my eyes and the air made me feel invisible. The whirling questions, futile grasps at information for comfort, did he have any siblings? whose car was it? fail to deliver any peace. The truths, he's in a better place, it's all part of the plan, so empty. The projections, what must his mother be feeling? Lock me in the round room if this happens to me. The peers coping, the wonder of what's appropriate, image, mirror, shattered. The reality of how close to them this is, the ache as they begin to realize he will never be in that chair again. And we are supposed to wake up tomorrow and participate in this process that nobody understands, has no rules, and seems to feed on our squirming fear.

I want to make a casserole and buy flowers. I want to write a poem and listen to Diana Krall. I want to snuggle under a blanket with my children and tell them stories about magic. I want to say its going to be okay and mean it. I want to cry less.
Instead I'll pray. I'll surrender. I might make a casserole, buy flowers, write a poem, listen to the blues, snuggle with my babies and cast some spells because I know it's not okay, and I cry all the time.

In my forty years, this is the most difficult moment of living I have ever encountered, so many levels of pain, connected, disconnected, One. I have stared into darkness before, and I know that this is just the beginning. My only weapon against this force is Love.

Last night, I ate half a carton of Haagen Dazs Vanilla Swiss Almond ice cream.

The Big Bang

I like this song.

At the End of the Day

This year I will work on love, asking myself these questions at the end of the day.

Adapted from Dr. Leo Buscaglia's book Born for Love 
(1992, SLACK Incorporated)

Is anyone a little happier because I came along today?

Did I leave any concrete evidence of my kindness, any sign of my love?

Did I try to think of someone I know in a more positive light?


Did I help someone to feel joy, to laugh, or at least, to smile?


Have I attempted to remove a little of the rust that is corroding my relationships?


Have I gone through the day without fretting over what I don't have and celebrating the things I do have?


Have I forgiven others for being less than perfect?


Have I forgiven myself?


Have I learned something new about life, living or love?