A miscellany of information

I have been tempted to share the visual feast that Philip and I get to enjoy on a regular basis. It's one thing to tell people you clean up blood splashes three times a day some weeks, but I always suspect that there is no way to convey the gut clenching reality of frequently seeing your child's blood on the outside, on your favorite chair, on the floor, on the carpet, on his pillows, and covering his clothes instead of in his body where it belongs. I almost took a picture of a bathroom mess that looked like a massacre scene which actually left me a little shaken even though I knew it was just from a bloody nose. But I decided that it isn't my mission in life to gross people out. I underestimated my inability to keep things to myself. This is what I found when I opened Max's bedroom door to play "peace-time legos". It never ceases to shock the pit of my stomach. I just wanted to share the love.

On a happier prettier note: yesterday was a momentous day because Max made his own toast for the very first time and insisted on wearing the apron I made for him.

Max won't usually perform tricks for anyone. He is pretty clear on the concept that little boys aren't really monkeys, even when their mama says they are. However, the kid likes to pose for the camera. (Remember the giant cabbage post?) This isn't a reenactment though. It's the real deal. A very proud moment in a young boy's life.

Look at the deep satisfaction making one's own toast can inspire. Since this is what he eats the most, besides X-tra cheesy goldfish, it's important that he be able to go out in the world and not need a woman to make his sugar toast for him. That's right, I'm raising a good son.

Here is the finished fence. Philip built two gates. He still has to get the cross bars on them, but the important thing is that THE DOG IS NOW OUR PRISONER. Which is, of course, the way she sees it. I expect we'll live in comfort for two whole days before she figures out a new way to get out. I wouldn't put it past her to teleport herself next time.

This is Penny, Chick's little Corgi friend. They have been romping around (inside the fence) for a couple of hours now. Boy does Chick LOVE Penny. I love to see my dog hanging out with a pal, having their version of beer and chips: water and rawhide scraps.

I have just this afternoon been made aware of a fire raging through blog-land sparked by the Today show featuring the blog writer Melissa Summers of "Suburban Bliss". Apparently there are many people out there who don't believe parenthood and martinis mix. (Idiots!). I have got a brain full of rage to evaluate. As soon as I am finished snuggling the wee one to bed, I will put on my headphones and write until I can say what I want to say about it. Hopefully I will learn to post links to other posts so I can usefully point you all in the direction of this issue if you are not already well versed in the exchanges that have already taken place.

In the mean time I would like to tell you all that my mom has started a very cool blog and when you get a few minutes, check it out! She has recently finished her MFT program to become a therapist and is currently working to fulfill her internship hours. One thing she does is her own version of Tarot. She made her own special deck of cards by collecting poignant stirring pictures and using them to help clarify issues in your life. You can e-mail her specific questions about things going on in your life and she'll pull blind cards and post them up on her blog so you can see what cards she drew and she will tell you what they might mean to you. It isn't fortune telling. It isn't cheesy. It's a fun tool for getting to the meat of the matter at hand. Some of my friends have had her do this and they've found it helpful.

Part of the reason my mom makes a great therapist and a great friend is that she has a vast well of life experience to draw from and a lot of compassion to offer. I have often thought she isn't great at making good life decisions for herself, but all the decisions she's made have provided her with a rich understanding of the human heart and all the ways it can lead itself down dangerous paths. It is often the case that those who see others with amazing clarity have a certain amount of blindness to themselves. Whenever I have been open enough to listen to the advice my mom has offered, I've got to say it's been good. She is great at helping other people guide themselves through rough patches. It's taken me a long time to appreciate my mom in this way.

My mom (whose name to everyone else is Lorena) can't tell you how to get rich. She can't tell you what path will guaruntee love. Because if you think anyone can do that then you are beyond help at this point. What she can do is help you figure out what you need to be looking at to get clear answers from yourself; what questions you should be asking yourself, or maybe others; what issues you may be facing; and she can help you figure out what your strengths are.

If I'm going to be completely honest (and I really try to be), I have to say that my mom and I have had some pretty shaky moments in our relationship, as many mothers and daughters do. We're very different in some ways. We have been known to drive each other crazy. She has accused me of being a near-Victorian prude, I am prickly, stubborn, reluctant to try new things, and I've been known to be annoyingly rigid in my determination not to break the law by refusing to jay-walk. My mom, on the other hand, is a very free spirited person, always ready for adventure, easy going, warm, and not afraid to show bare legs in public. Furthermore, she is amazingly creative, she taught me to laugh so hard my stomach hurts, and she has always had the ability to heal others and to not judge them too harshly for their foibles.

In recent years I have been a little shocked to realize that I am a lot more like my mother than I ever imagined possible. Rather than horrifying me it actually made me proud. I still would wear tights all year long if I wasn't too fat to fit in any of them comfortably. But I am willing to gamble a lot in the persuit of a life worth living, I am compassionate, I am not afraid to explore the world I live in, and I have always had the intense desire to heal those around me in pain.

Can you tell how much I love my mom?

Philip is exactly like a crusty old sceptic when it comes to things like spiritual hoo-doo-voo-doo. But doesn't everyone like a little focussed attention? He asked my mom whether he should work harder at his fine art or put it on the back burner to concentrate on commercial art for our store. My mom drew cards for him and talked about it here.

So go on, is there something you need help clarifying? Are there questions you need help answering? Ask my mom!