I remember when I first started writing my blog and began my relationship with Facebook, I’d post vignettes about snow days, dancing the kitchen, swim meets, football games, bedtime rituals, and photographs of first days, holidays, days I had the phone close and the lighting was right.

Then life got more complicated. My children, who had been the focus of my world, who were still the focus of my world, didn’t really want me to talk about them anymore with the world.
I did anyway. I mean, cold turkey?

Lately, I’ve been pretty quiet.

Life is hard right now, glorious, exhausting, magnificent, heartbreaking.

And, then there’s the politics piece. No matter what side you’re on, most of us are carrying around a lot of rage, with a healthy side of fear.

No one expected we’d end up here. It’s the coldest war, inside our own country.

So lately, when I update my status,
I tell everyone to-
Look at the moon,
Listen to this song,
Check out what this guy had to say-(third grade drop out story, google it),
Read my friend’s book.

I am not the only one sitting on the front stoop,
looking up,
barefoot and reverent.
Even though the only sound is the breeze, an occasional car sliding by, and Sophie’s sigh.
Others have taken a moment to watch the night sky;
I have company.

When I sing along to a song in an off key soprano,
I am singing along with the writer, the singer, and everyone else,
Whose been swept up, for a moment or three,
Inside the melody and bass guitar.

On the late afternoons,
while I immerse myself in a novel,
or weep when I hear an old man’s tale of his father,
I have company.

I’d like to be here
for those that need more than the
moon or a pop song
To get thru the night
And say
Thank you for keeping me company.

I walked away from church at First Parish Milton today after listening to a sermon by Reverend Hank Peirce holding these prayers close-

Every day, I will try to choose faith. I will choose joy. I will choose trust and love and hope.

This is about the big world we live in- I will apply it to the future and all the people that share the planet with me. I will make these choices even on days the news is grim, the alerts are high, and Facebook is screaming in capitol letters to do the opposite.

This is about my corner of the world, about the face I show my children. I will try to find trust for them when I don’t want to;  I will let them go while my heart screams to keep them close. It is believing that someday they will learn not to leave their peanut butter knives on the counter and their clothes on the stairs.

It is believing in who they are now and who they are becoming, even though I don’t know who that will be. They have choices, too. I will honor them.

It is about them knowing when times are tough that my door is always unlocked.  I am here and our home is open to the world. I want them to have the gift of belief in the future even when the right now sucks.

Right now, right now is Sunday afternoon. My son is bringing me coffee after keeping me up half the night

My daughter is playing her flute.

I’m going to yoga.

I am so grateful for now.



What can I say about Christmas that hasn’t already been said? Silent Night is a lovely song, batteries are a big part of a successful Christmas morning and chocolate kisses are probably not the healthiest way to start the day.

We had dinner at my sister and brother in laws home. Nancy and Jeff don’t see the Colin and Katy that  often. This past year my children entered the phase of their lives  when their calendars require a full time assistant/chauffeur to keep track of their commitments and get them there. There is not much time is left for the simple joy of watching scary movies with relatives. So tonight after dinner, I left them there. Nancy and Jeff let them have snacks on the bed. Nancy and Jeff let them watch movies where Freddy Krueger is the hero. Nancy will paint Katy’s toenails and Jeff will spend a half an hour talking about the Celtics with Colin. Make that an hour.

So here I am, home alone on Christmas night.  I remember when I used to drop them at the sitters when they were little; car seat, diaper, dry cheerios were a delicacy little. I’d pull away from them like I was leaving a particularly horrible job. I’d turn up the radio, call all of my friends to announce I had a window of freedom and meet whoever picked up first for many cocktails and long lubricated conversations about how I loved my babies so much but I really, really needed this time to be me. They would chime in with answers like “you deserve this” and order me another drink another shot, while patting me on that hand and looking at me with pity. Maybe it was the spit up on my blouse, or the dark circles under my eyes. We’d spend a couple hours in the bar, or at someone’s condo or in an intimate little restaurant. Drinking. Bemoaning a life that required me to wipe someone’s bottom at least five times a day. Talking about the need for adult conversation. We talked a lot about how I needed adult conversation, but I don’t recall any of the adult conversation after it’s need was established. Repeatedly. Maybe that’s because of all of the cocktails consumed during these conversations.  I know that one of my favorite obsessions then, and I’m sure I shared it with anyone and everyone who would listen, was- how was I going to wean Katy from the breast. (That was how I put it, I swear, the breast, like it wasn’t attached to my body, which if it wasn’t attached to my body, it wouldn’t have been such a big concern.) I don’t really think this qualifies as adult conversation, I’m sure it bored my friends to tears, but for about a year and a half that was pretty much all that was on my sleep deprived little mind.

That was years ago. Tonight when I drove away from them I didn’t even think of calling a friend to meet for a cocktail. It’s Christmas night, the bars are closed. And not having the kids isn’t thrilling me the way it used to. I didn’t get that glorious rush of “I’m free” when I pulled out of the driveway. I just thought about how much I hate the months when it’s dark at five o’clock.

I’m home now. There is a lot of post Christmas cleanup to do. I will turn on the radio and sweep and break down boxes for recycling. I’ll try to figure out why the dishwasher won’t drain. I’ll peel up the goo from the kitchen floor from one of Katy’s science experiments. I’ll throw out the box of fancy chocolates; the kids sampled all of them and ate two. I will feed Colin’s fish and try to find the receipt to $18 Nike Elite socks I went to the mall on Christmas Eve to get; they don’t fit. $18 dollar socks that require two trips to the mall, I’m going to reminding him of that for the next six months every time I want him to clean his room.

I miss them. Not because they would help, and they would. I miss them because they have grown into the people I most want to hang out with. I want to commiserate with Colin and Katy about the measly snow we got, and talk about what the best part of the Christmas pageant was. I want to dance around the kitchen with Katy while the radio plays one of our songs, (most of the songs on the radio are one of our songs.) I want Colin to show my something on youtube I just have to see, which I invariable find totally disgusting or pee in my pants hysterical*.

And now my thoughts turn to all of the mothers tonight without their kids. I’m picking mine up at nine.

All I can say to them is I promise to try to remember each day and each night, I am the luckiest woman in the world.

*I am aware that if Colin reads this he will never, ever show me a youtube video again, and decided I can live with that.