BETTER THAN A STICK IN THE EYE

1. Hope. For my family, my neighbors, my country.

2. Leftover chocolate birthday cake.

3. Cello and violin music that brings me to tears.

4. My new bright green trench.

5. Inauguration speech on the web because I had to work all day today.


So many wonderful things. Let me not forget them so quickly next time.

ENDING THE YEAR BY PICKING A FIGHT - KINDA

Rachel. Rach. I can call you "Rach," right? You don't mind?

Read your blog posts. And many of them are lovely. Except, some of them are a little - how do I put this? Your posts can be kind of... a bummer.

For starters, the "Bill" to whom I'm certain you are referring in this post is also known as Mr. President. He is a man who has achieved quite a lot in his lifetime. From his education to his professional career, to his job as the leader of the free world and the president of your country, it is safe to say that his life is worth more than one shameful and humiliating experience broadcast for the world to see. Some might say he deserves some respect despite his shortcomings.

You yourself have a colorful past, documented on television, no less (and on a channel that I feel confident you don't allow your children to watch). And yet when you became a wife and mother you became something more. Someone who has had many experiences throughout your life and now is grounded in your beliefs and your desire to help your children to become good and whole people.

This is my point: our world is complicated. Parenthood today is not for the meek. What I hope for most in my own family is not that my kids be served up sanitized versions of the world, but that they are helped to know that that they have a unique place in it. That each one of us is an important addition and deserves to be honored.

My children are not here to make me look good, they are not here to fulfill the lost dreams of my youth. They are here to live this life. To experience every emotion and feeling, to walk through easy days and hard ones, and to learn the lessons that are there for them. It is their birthright.

The fact that their very existence has made my life better than I ever thought to hope is my experience. I hope that it informs their understanding that they are valuable beyond measure, but it does not define them. When it comes down to it their life is their own and the choices that they make for themselves will be theirs to live with. Good, bad or otherwise. Figuring out how to do the hard times and the easier ones with a little bit of grace and dignity would be lovely. But I strive for these things every day and I am nowhere near perfecting that technique.

There is no "if" in the equation; my children will have questions on provocative topics, they will attempt to adopt ugly behaviors, they will fail miserably one day and accomplish amazing feats the next.

My job: be as honest as I can in the moment, and get out of their way and to help them to traverse this wild terrain (all be it in a sleepy little community on the top of a tiny mountain). To sing praises and offer counsel. My job is not to ask the world to stop being so "un-pretty" because my kiddos can't handle it. Or I can't. One or the other.

To be in this world with love and respect and humanness, and sometimes with anger and fears. All of these things I wish for my children.

And to be clear, I wish these things for your children as well.

Regards,
Erica

HUGS AND TEARS

ERASE MY NAME, OR WRITE IT, AS YOU PLEASE

My beloved friend Steve posted this on his site and before I stopped crying I knew I would post it here, too:




So I be written in the Book of Love,
I have no care about that book above;
Erase my name, or write it, as you please--
So I be written in the Book of Love.

From Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

HOW DO I SUCK? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

OK.

So I've been away. Here is what I have been doing:

Looking for a new job. Which means endless phone interviews, shopping for "live" interview clothes, maintaining my current workload, telling my husband that he has to be positive ('cause I can't handle ANY negativity or doubt), live interviewing, considering offer letters, accepting offer, submitting my resignation, receiving numerous totally sweet messages from my soon-to-be-ex co-workers, receiving numerous totally sweet messages from my soon-to-be-ex clients, mourning the end of an era of my life, looking forward to a totally new and exciting era of my life, and stressing out beyond belief.

I've been waking in the middle of the night with busy brain. Staying awake for 2 to 3 hours.

I'm exhausted. I'm at the end of my tether. I'm a "bit" of a fucking wreck.

So...

The other night my husband woke me when he came to bed. He was feeling "friendly." He hugged me. He kissed me.

"Hey," he whispered. "How are you? Looking for a good time?"

"Oh god. Please no." I said. "This is my own personal hell."

Yes. I said that. I don't actually recall saying that. I had to ask Rube in the morning what (completely rude thing) I said to him the night before. I knew I said something. I just couldn't remember what, exactly, it was.

He was happy to share. Which is great.

I was, of course, referring to being awakened from a (somewhat) restful sleep. Not to my loving husband's amorous advances.

I'm a total bitch.

What do you want from me?

THANKING MY LUCKY STARS

For my husband. Who loves me. Every day. Every way. Every weight. Every flavor of crazy. And even if he doesn't, he never says it out loud.

For never, ever, having to scratch or beg or yearn for the approval of my parents. I know people who have spent decades in therapy who will probably never feel like they have it. And here I am, swimming in a big pool of love and approval. More like a lake. An ocean, really.

For my brother. Who could easily make me blow milk out of my nose from laughing. That is if I were a milk drinker. Which I am most certainly not. But you get my point. He's the one I'd like to have with me if I got trapped in an elevator for 6 hours. And that, my friends, is not something I would want from almost anyone else on the planet. Certainly not anyone already mentioned in this post.

For my friends. Who are supporting and encouraging me through such a strange and hard time right now. Who say things so sweet that I don't even know how to believe what they are saying. But I try, because I love them so.

For my neighbors. Who are wonderfully wonderful. And who dork out on the wonderfullness of having great neighbors just as much as I do.

And finally, for my kids. I have no words for all the breathtaking gratitude I feel for them.

On this day, the eve of Valentines Day, I give you my heart. For I have no greater gift to give.