{my topography}

In the spaces between

The roads have turned to mud now: layers of ice-hard earth thawing to slush, sticky and trampled. The yellow evening light is speckled with the flutterng wings of bugs, newly hatched, air eddying around their tiny exoskeletons.

We go for a run, just the two of us, conversation filling in the spaces between hard breathing uphill. A chainsaw whines and the scent of fresh cut wood makes my nostrils flare. Our feet sink a little with each step; muscles suddenly thrumming with heat and momentum. The air is soft, and while the snow still lingers at the edges of the fields, the brown grass lies exposed to the sun most places.

“Every step I take my feet sink,” DH says. The setting sun is at our backs. The sky is like the water I dip my brushes into: a bowl of pale ultramarine and pale saffron spilled at the horizon.

We’re holding hands. It’s the end of our run, and we’re walking back along the muddiest part of the road. In our heads both of us sing, every step you take…

Neither of us sings it aloud, but I know we’re both tuned in to this same static. “Did you just sing that song?” I ask, to be sure.

He nods, laughs. Even more than me, he’s the one doing this: filling in the spaces between thoughts with the flack of a thousand sitcoms, commercials, songs, clichés.

We do this all the time. Pop culture interference broadcasting stuff into the spaces between our thoughts. A word triggering the memory of another. Phrases tumbling unbidden into the twilight in spite of us. Turbulence in the spaces between. It’s a lovely day.

In my palm I feel the heat of him there next to me; so much between us unsaid.

What were like, before it was like this? Before thoughts were so commonly shared: before mass media and marketing, email, texting, technology instantaneously and exponentially making each thought at once more available and more clichés. In the spaces between, there was once an arc of silence. A breath beat without stimulus.

Now our minds hum constantly with unbidden music. Random access memory. Filler.

Without it, what would we be like?

What do you believe?

I’m sitting outdoors with a bevy of chickens clucking at my elbow. Across from me the cat is licking himself, fur soaking up warmth. Next to me Bean digs a big hole in an empty flower bed. The grass is wet from rain, and the sun is warm on the black rubber of my boots.

I just spent the weekend with a good friend I’ve known since I was fourteen. He’s an creative, free-spirited atheist. Invariably we always have at least one argument about faith. He sees no need for it–the opiate of the people and all that. I’m on the other side, but less articulate. I don’t keep a drawer of knife sharp words to define the shape of what I know. Tautology. Ignorance. Deism. How do you use the scientific method to argue the depth or scope of spiritual faith? How do you use logic as the basis for accepting or denying that which you cannot know about the movement of another person’s heart?

So now I really want to know:

What do you believe? Do you have faith, or do you live outside it? How do you rationalize your fundamental view of the world? Can logic define it, or is something lost in translation?

A welcome

The beautiful, talented, Sam just had her baby boy—on (I believe) Bean’s half birthday. He’s still in the hospital (check her blog for the details) but doing well. If I could, I’d be there in a heartbeat. Instead, they’re in my thoughts. A lot.

Welcome to mamahood, Sam! Welcome to the world, little one, you’ve got an amazing mama!

Mama, get out

Bean spent the weekend with his Daddy in NJ, leaving me to a blissful empty house to finally get some serious writing done. Six hours at a stretch, uniterrupted. Going to bed in the wee hours of morning and sleeping in. Time to actually revise what I write. Oh lordy, it was good.

But man, I missed those two! On the way home tonight, DH called and then put me on speaker phone so I could talk to the little guy. I told him how excited I was to see him and how much I loved him, and DH said he started grinning, and then looked at the phone and in a plaintive voice said, “Mama, get out.”

Needless to say, I kissed every square inch of his face when I got to finally pick him up and snuggle with him tonight.

Joy

I talked tonight with a writer who was also my advisor throughout college. We haven’t talked in five years, and when I emailed her, I didn’t know what to expect. But there, suddenly on the phone was her soft southern drawl, her kindness, her wisdom traveling over the wires to me, and afterwards I just lay back on my bed and grinned. It feels so good to talk with someone you admire.

She said, “As I’ve lived I’ve learned that it’s all about asking good questions. Ask what you can learn from this situation. Ask what is good about this situation. Ask how you can learn.”

And she said, “You will learn something from this that you can’t learn any other way.”

And she is right.

**
I open the door and joy rushes in,
an unexpected guest, a urchin with a clever grin.
Nothing to do but to bow down now,
and place alms in the bowl of gratitude.

How to make your kid’s teacher love (or hate) you

The Top 10 Thing’s You Should Not Do If You Want Your Kid’s Teacher To Like You:
(Based on things real parents have said/done)

1) If you send a note, don’t also call and leave a message about the content of the note. We’ll get the note. Promise.

2) Don’t “stop by” first thing in the morning as the kids are just arriving to talk. Usually your child’s teacher wants to greet her students, and those precious 10 minutes of arrival time mean getting a last sip of coffee, reviewing lesson plans, and hearing little antecdotes from individual students. If you just want to “talk” about how things are going, write a note, email, or leave a message asking when is a good time to do so. Also, don’t say YOU DONT DO EMAIL. It’s the twenty-first century. DO EMAIL. End of story.

3) Do not ask your child’s teacher to remind your 1st grader (or older) to use the bathroom. By first grade your kid should get the hang of this. Write him or her a note and stick it in his lunchbox if he really needs reminding.

4) If your child is doing well in school, don’t harp on your teacher for the things she is not doing (i.e. if your kid is doing well in math, don’t criticise the math program.)

5) If you are concerned about your child, EMAIL your teacher. Teachers love email. We have like, ZERO time in a day as it is. Our lunch “break” is NOT a time to “catch us for a chat,” we’re doing the nine million other things we can’t fit into our teen-weeny prep time.

6) Don’t imply that your child’s teacher doesn’t pay enough attention to your child. Chances are, your kid is getting more than their fair share. Teachers love kids. THAT IS WHY WE TEACH. Remember? We have your kid’s best interest in mind. If you are concerned about your child, acknowledge that your child’s teacher has other kids to teach also. Really. This goes a long way. Also, don’t imply that your child deserves more attention than any other kid. Chances are this will make your child’s teacher want to give your kid less attention. Not that she will. But it will certainly make her want to.

7) Do not say things like, “what are you doing to prepare my child for the SAT’s?” when your kid is in FIRST GRADE. Also, don’t mention how America scores on stadardized tests compared with other countries. Let me repeat. IT’S FIRST GRADE PEOPLE.

Don’t belittle or berate your child’s teacher in front of her students. It’s obnoxious. And entirely inappropriate.

9) Don’t imply that it is your child’s teacher’s responsibility to remediate current flaws in the district curriculum. It isn’t. We’re contractually bound to teach the curriculum provided. But chances are, if there really is a problem with the curriculum, a comittee is working on it. So be patient.

10) Don’t try to discuss your child’s social, emotional, or academic needs or concerns in front of your child, or with other student’s present. YOUR CHILD WILL HEAR YOU AND FEEL AWFUL. Also, it’s just totally obnoxious. So don’t do it.

Now, here’s the fun list.

Ten Things You Can Do To Make Your Child’s Teacher Love You Forever

1) Just once all year long, stop by in the morning with a large coffee for your child’s teacher. It will make her think you are the nicest person in the entire world. Having your kid give his teacher a hand-decorated bag of homemade cookies will also make her think your family is the nicest family ever.

2) Acknowledge that you understand that your child’s teacher is probably the busiest human on the face of the earth. Ask her what is the most convenient way for her to stay in touch, and then use that form of communication.

3) If you want to volunteer, be specific. Tell the teacher what your areas of interest are. Come with suggestions or ideas for how you could be useful in the classroom. Teachers get overwhelmed trying to utilize parent volunteers. If we know you’re really good at baking cookies and that you’d like to share that skill with the class, we’re more likely to ask you to help.

4) Use Email.

5) If you’re concerned about your child’s academic success, acknowledge that at least half of the responsibility rests ON YOU, and demonstrate that you are committed to supporting your child.

6) If your child is academically advanced, first let your child’s teacher know that you understand that your child is one of two dozen other kids, then express your interest in understanding how they are individually being challenged. Also ask what you can do to support your child at home.

7) At the Holidays, write your child’s teacher a thoughtful card noting a few reasons you really appreciate her. This goes farther than any gift you’ll ever give.

Offer to coordinate a classroom activity such as a brunch, presentation, pizza party, etc. She’ll swoon.

9) Bring in consumable supplies like tissues and wipes, without being begged to do so. Other things you could randomly bring include balls for the recess yard, fun indoor recess games, or a dustpan and a kid sized broom. These things are pretty much considered GOLD by teachers.

10) Show up for your child’s presentations, conferences and performances and show genuine interest in your kid.

Ok. Now I feel better. I had the worst possible morning with the most awful of awful parent interactions (see the first list 1-10.)

I know all of you who stop here regularly are already the most awesome parents and your kid’s teacher’s love you as it is. Because they should. But if you’re stumped and don’t quite know what to say or how to interact to advocate for your child, start with being nice. Kindness goes such a long, long way. Again, you already know that. How can anyone not know that, honestly? And why, why would someone choose today, my second day back after being sick for three days, to stage a thoughtless confrontation. It’s just mean.

Ok. I really feel better now.

Also–I’m so psyched about the recent elections! And.. my sister is coming to visit tonight which is absolutely delightful…And…the house is cleaner than it has been in weeks. I love a clean house and fresh sheets, don’t you? Whew. HappyFriday everyone!

Because I always root for the underdog

I’m so happy Jeffery won on Project Runway! (My one tv watching obsession is hereby revealed.) I loved his couture dress, and that green striped dress with the exquisite detail. I could ever get up the guts to really let my hair down and dress my inner wild self, I’d wear his clothes. (Stop gasping. I know I never where anything but jeans, and an exciting day for me in fashion is a pair of heeled boots. But just imagine. I’m good at imagining.)

Another good thing? I have off the next two days, and am thrilled to have time to hang out with my little guy, and make food, and play with friends, and in genral, catch up on life. Bean seems to have been missing me big time tonight. Every time I’d stop rocking and prepare to put him to bed, thinking he was sound asleep, he’d roust himself and say “grock! grock!” I didn’t quite get what he was saying at first, but then I realized it was “rock!” as in, ‘keep rocking me mommy.” And so I did, humming songs in the dark, and feeling emotions rise and then ebb away as my mind gradually stilled.

Here’s to quiet moments, good wins, and long weekends.

From a family of writers

You know how it is when you get an email from someone and it’s so good you can’t bear to just click ‘save’? I got one like that from my older sister last night, and I have to share. She’s a sales rep for the uber-cool new woman-specific clothing company Lole (“Live Outloud Every Day), and she’s traveling through a whole bunch of Western states showing their new fall line. 9 days on the road.

Dear Family,

I miss my husband I miss my animals and most of all I miss the green, color so achingly hummingly green it hurts my teeth to look at. Out here, it’s all brown: beautiful but brown indeed, interspersed with irrigated farms….

Good, huh? So are their clothes. I’m in love with several hoodies, and some of their pants make you look like you have the perfect ass, regardless of your actual ass. Check ‘em out.

Protected: Tonight, in my living room

“What were people thinking? I mean, wallpaper is like a tatoo for your house”