Recently, Cricket came home and informed us that she’d like to go to DC to see “the three branches of government.” Specifically, she’d like to visit the White House, Supreme Court, and the Capitol. She also expressed an interest in viewing the Constitution and other documents. I find this to be extremely cool as her interest in American history was seriously lacking throughout the school year. She is currently in summer school, retaking history. She’s found an interest, and that makes me very happy.

On Sunday, we took her and a new friend she’s made to the National Archives as there are no tours available on Sunday to any of the other places she’d like to see. We took the Metro instead of driving. Cricket’s new friend had never ridden before, Tetris had never ridden before, and Cricket loves it. Hell, the Metro in itself is like a field trip to her. Me? I like to stare out the window - until we get into the tunnels, of course, and then I like to stare at my fellow riders.

We got off at Metro Center and walked a few blocks over to the Archives. We stopped and loaded up on street vendor dogs and ice cream - much to Tetris’s amazement, they really did have chili cheese dogs, although he had rather insisted that they didn’t. He’s really sort of cute that way.

As you enter the Rotunda of the Archives, there is a beautiful display of the Magna Carta. I took a few quick pictures of it and found myself momentarily alone, which was a very good thing. My eyes got a little dust in them and watered up… the fact that I was reflecting on the slow, painful death of Habeus Corpus was merely coincidental. Swears!

After leaving the Archives, we headed across the street and wandered the Sculpture Garden for a bit. Took a few goofy pictures, which I hope to get uploaded sooner rather than later. I still have to install software on my computer for the new camera Tetris gave to me.

As we were leaving, we spied a boy who was maybe all of three years old standing by a tree with his pants around his ankles happily whizzing. His parents? Near the reflecting pool, their combined expressions reflecting both amusement and mortification. To be three and have all the confidence in the world that no one cares if you whizz on a tree. So awesome!

Another stop for yet more chili cheese dogs - really honey, I told you that they were available - and back on the Metro we go.

By the time we took Cricket’s friend home and got back home, I was so tired and wiped out that I wanted to fall asleep on the spot. It was an excellent day, perfect weather, great company, and an opportunity to educate my daughter on what this country was -really- built on, what our collective goals and dreams were in the beginning. Hopefully, we’ll return to that one day.

As a side note, I would love to see a copy of the Treaty of Tripoli displayed prominently at the Archives. But, alas and woe is us, I doubt that will ever happen. But that piece of little known history should be parked right up there as a reminder of what our forefathers really meant when they authored the first amendment to the Constitution.

A conversation last spring with my son:

Zach: Mom, there are ants all over my room!
Me: That’d be because of the food in your room.
Zach: I don’t have any food in my room!
Me: Yes you do. Not to mention empty soda cans.
Zach: *indignant* I do not! God! Why do you hate me?

Another conversation about two months ago with my son after walking in the house from work and being assaulted by the smell of dirty socks:

Me: Good god, what is that stench? ZACH!!!
Zach: What?!?
Me: For the love of all that is holy, would you do your laundry? Your dirty socks are stinking up the house!
Zach: I don’t smell anything.
Me: Everyone else does.
Zach: I’ll do it later, I want to go out with my friends.
Me: Do it now! You are stinking up the house!
Zach: *indignant* God! Why do you hate me?

A repeated conversation with Zach and Cricket:

Me: People, where the hell are all the towels?
Zach: In her room.
Cricket (at the same time): In his room.
Both, in unison: Nuh uh! You have all the towels!
Me: Oh for pity’s sake, can we just get the towels?
Both, in unison: I don’t have any!
Me: Fine, dry off with your clothes then after your shower!
Both, in unison: *indignant* GOD! Why do you hate me?

Another repeated conversation:

Me: Uh, guys? Could you please bring all of the cups, bowls, and such out of your rooms and into the kitchen?
Both, in unison: I don’t have any! I cleaned my room yesterday!
Me: Look, there are no glasses in the cabinet and none in the dishwasher, just bring them down and quit arguing with me!
Both, in unison: *door slam* GOD! Why do you hate me?

After work yesterday, I went home, geared up, and headed into my son’s room. I did this sometime back with my daughter’s room, even going so far as to take a shovel with me. Wow, was she pissed. But you know, I figure it this way: If she cared so much about it, it wouldn’t have been on the floor under a pile of garbage. *toss*

The task: Clean up the absolute disaster he left behind, including the closet and his dresser.

The supplies: Clorox Clean-up, Fantastic, Windex, paper towels, rubber gloves, tongs.

The outcome: No less than four loads of laundry, including one full load of socks that could have walked themselves to the washing machine and at least a full load of towels. Two gigantic Hefty bags of trash, including a bag of french fries, several half eaten candy bars, empty (and not so empty) chip bags, a good half dozen empty soda cans, five empty “cup of noodles” thingies (”I didn’t have any! Cricket ate them all!”), and more ripped up paper than you can shake a stick at! After a thorough cleaning of his closet, I was able to consolidate 6 boxes of random junk into four boxes of organized chaos: cds/dvds/games, various electronics, lights (think flashing neon things), and school work. Also found: no less than five jackets (”Wear your jacket, it’s cold today!” “I don’t have one!”) shoved in the bottom of his closet. A glass filled with water and nickels (uh, huh?), several bowls and spoons, a plate, and a few other cups and glasses. Various chip clips (”Hey, where did all the chip clips go?” “I don’t know, ask Cricket!”), rechargeable batteries, and other assorted odds and ends that I’ve been looking for. Oh, yeah, and school books that the school is charging me about 8 million dollars to replace.

And the most important thing of all? The room no longer stinks! Of course, the laundry room does now, and will until I finish all of his laundry tonight. But that’s easy after last night’s disaster!

Teenagers!

Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children.
- William Makepeace Thackeray

All women become like their mothers.  That is their tragedy.  No man does.  That’s his.
- Oscar Wilde

When I stopped seeing my mother with the eyes of a child, I saw the woman who helped me give birth to myself.
- Nancy Friday

In search of my mother’s garden, I found my own.
- Alice Walker

I miss thee, my Mother!  Thy image is still
The deepest impressed on my heart.
- Eliza Cook

My mother is a poem
I’ll never be able to write,
though everything I write
is a poem to my mother.
- Sharon Doubiago

The death of a mother is the first sorrow wept without her.
- Unknown

Time is the only comforter for the loss of a mother.
- Jane Welsh Carlyle

Thank you for indulging me.  I shall return to goofing off shortly.

There are so many things you never saw, never knew, and will probably never know.

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Yesterday morning I put my son on a plane to Florida, after having booked a very last minute flight Monday night. It’s been a rough few weeks, and I know I’m supposed to be here having fun with you guys, but I’ve been incredibly overwhelmed. A great big thank you to Fran and Cathy for being my sounding boards over the last couple of weeks while I tried to work this all out. And, of course, to Jeff who has managed to figure out ways to get me to smile even when I’m in the middle of crying.

I didn’t want things to go this way, but it’s how it had to be. There’s a million things left unsaid and a million reasons why, but it’s just too hard to sit here and write it all down. Weird thing, that. I use this as a means of getting stuff out of my head. But in this particular situation, I can’t really seem to get myself to do it.

I don’t generally have a problem with making the details of my life public knowledge, even knowing that sometimes it’s read by people who have less than charitible feelings towards me. I’ve been extremely open and honest about my life, my own personal brand of crazy, the noise in my head, and everything in between. I write here to keep it all from overwhelming everything else in my life.

But, I think, not this. At least not right now, not while my heart is still bleeding all over the carpet and I just can’t seem to… well that’s a statement better left unsaid.

I need a vacation.

Yeah yeah, I see you all looking and checking for updates. They are coming, promise.

It’s a weird day today, my mother’s birthday. Next month will be 27 years that she’s been gone, and I still haven’t gotten over her death. Today she would have celebrated her 63rd birthday. Instead, she never got past 36. She never saw her daughters grow up, never met her grandchildren, never even came close to retiring and living out her golden years playing golf at the local old folks country club.

I’m fortunate in that I’ve lived longer and so far the hidden beast in the genes (if it’s really there at all) has remained quiet in my life. And my life has been mostly good. I’m thankful for what I’ve had and what is yet to be seen.

Tomorrow I’ll be less gloomy, but for today, I’m just going to go hide in the corner and focus on my work and pretend that all is well in the universe. Tonight I’ll open a bottle of wine, stare out at the stars, and wonder if she sees them too. I’ll toast her memory and hope that she hears me and that wherever she is, she’s not in pain anymore.

My daughter will be 13 tomorrow.  So to celebrate, we are having a slumber party.

*sigh*

Yep, I’m currently holed up with a bunch of teenage girls squealing about who likes what boy, what boy is the cutest, and who has the best hair.

The worst part?

It was my suggestion.

Send coffee quick!  It’s going to be a long night!

Ah, the holidays. A special time for family, for getting together, for shared memories and laughter, good food and good times. But, most importantly, for new toys!

Sabreland was a happy place this holiday season, with new gizmos and gadgets aplenty. Yours truly donned a red hat and passed around pressies for all to enjoy. Everyone enjoyed their new toys, and even each others new toys.

Video games, new gaming systems, musicians toys, you name it. But the most fun for the day (besides my brand spankin’ new Kitchen Aide Artisan - oh the domestic goddess weeps with joy over that) was the ever so spiffy Homosapien V2 that Santa brought Tetris.

Who cannot be completely enamored with a toy that, when presented with its own toy, responds with glee? “Is that my ball?! Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!” Of course, we’ll just glaze over the part where he tells my beloved Sasha (Robopet, in pink, of course) to pee on the carpet, and then responds with “Who taught you that?!” It’s actually very cute and I hope to get it on video to share soon.

As usual, there was too much food, and far too many hours spent in the kitchen for the ten minutes at the table my heathens allowed for before running back to their rooms to commune with technology once again.

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday! Next up, New Year’s Eve! Let there be much joy and laughter, with good friends and loved ones!

Ah, so let’s rip the Band-Aid off and go for the bad news first, yes? Saturday morning my dad called me to let me know his father had passed away. I have mixed emotions regarding this. On the one hand, I was not terribly close with my grandfather and we often argued. He was a misogynist, and well, c’mon, that’s never going to sit well with me. He was also an all around grumpy old man. But there were occasions, glimmers of a relationship that could be, where he and I were able to sit down and have a conversation without one of us deciding the other needed to be taken out back and shot. Rare occasions, but still there all the same.

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Ah, the joys of breakups. The pain, the drama, the madness. To add to the stress of that, I’ve been busy searching for a new place for the kids and I. The good news is that I found a place. The bad news? No pets. None.

I found a foster home for Seamus and Leslie, my beloved feline friends. Now I am seeking a home for Connor, my canine companion for nearly five years.

I know in my heart that I’m doing the right thing by moving to the place I found. It’s perfect in size, and price, and the kids won’t have to move to yet another school district. And I know, eventually, this pain too will fade. But right now, I haven’t been able to stop crying.

I’m breaking up the whole of my family, and somewhere, somehow, someone is going to sit me down and explain to me in really small words why I have had to endure so much heartache this year.

You can see Connor here. If you are in the Metro DC area and are interested, or know anyone who would be, please shoot me an email.