Dear G-d,

Um, hi.

Yes, I'm aware it's been awhile. If you see the date of my last post you'll realize it's been awhile for a whole lot of things. I'm working on that. But? You probably know that, right?

Right.

So. Okay.

This week is Yom Kippur where I get to show up in what could be some fabulous shoes (but I haven't decided which ones yet) and talk with you a bit about some things I might have done that may not look great on my record.

A word about those things.

Yes, I did them all. Even that #734, but it may not have been intentional. #589 was, however, and that ass had it coming. But I'm sorry for them all. I did them and I own that and this year I am smarter than last year because of it all.

But here's the thing... sometimes I just don't know if I'm doing the right thing. Sometimes I just have to make a decision and believe that, even if it is royally wrong, that somehow it will be okay. I have to believe that somehow there is still enough grace left for me - even for the really big ones.

So, if it's not too much to ask, for year 5769, could you still keep a little extra stash of grace in the back for me? You know, just in case?

Thanks. And I'll see you Wednesday.

Cheers,
Pammer

From time to time, they are very wrong. Today was one of those times.

Ike did not destroy our home, we do not have to deal with rebuilding or repairing a house, everyone is fine. But for four days we were at my folks house with at least five other people without power. And the kids. Who thought we had left to go to some sort of wonderful grandparent, aunt, uncle and cousin camp where all their wildest playing dreams could come true.

Sleeping arrangements were made - and not much sleep was actually had. No one's fault, just the situation we all found ourselves in. And I found myself sleeping in a room with Benjamin - who bangs his head to go to sleep, when he rouses a bit, and when he starts to wake up.

We are all a bit weary. Worn out from days of trying to solve, anticipate and prioritize problems. From checking to see if the power did, indeed, come on. From wanting life to start again on its regular schedule. From desperately wanting the kids to be back in school so it would just be QUIET for fuck's sake.

I just wanted to write. Or draw. Or search for ski cabins I may never see. Or, I don't know, sit.

Today I was a bad mom. Today I was not bionic and did not handle things well. Today I was impatient and short and just wanted to not be a mom for a while. Today I prayed for a long weekend away - anywhere - to gather my thoughts and recharge and reconnect and eat chocolate mousse. Today I almost cried.

But instead, I took a nap.

Today some sort of divine grace closed my weary eyes for one and a half hours and my husband made sure no one woke me up. I don't think I truly grasped how exhausted my mind was until I woke up.

There are days being a mom is wonderful - full of little giggles and silly faces and wow-look-what-he-dids. But there are days like today that crush you and it's hard to keep from kicking yourself for being less than bionic.

But then there are the people who call or IM just to say hello. Who just want to say they were thinking of me / us. Who provide great distraction and wonderful perspective and little, tiny oases to grab on to on days like today.

And for them today, I am truly grateful.

As you are aware, one of the things that happens during a hurricane is that people lose power. No power means no electricity. No electricity means no hair dryer.

You can see where this is going.

While I can tell you I did not have to have THIS discussion again, I did, indeed, need some help in the hair arena. This is not entirely Ike's fault. I have been so very, very, very lax in the haircut / color / style area it is shameful. Couple that with feeling a bit displaced, worn out and just OVER the whole situation - I wanted my g-ddamned hair cut.

TODAY.

And may I just take a second to send a shout-out, hood style, to my awesome cousin, Lindsay, who stepped up to herd the cats otherwise known as Leah and Benjamin. She is my hero for today. And does, indeed, rock hardcore.

I brought a picture to the hairdresser and said, "but I'm not sure how long my hair actually is ... it has been THAT LONG since I put a blowdryer to it..."

She might have looked a little horrified.

Well, let me just say my hair was as long as it's EVER been. She took three inches off the front and one off the back - threw in the sexy layers and I am here before you today a woman to be reckoned with again.

Halle-fuckin'-lujah.

And, yes, I recognize that people around these parts have lost their homes and pets and lots of other things and MY HAIR is not a tragedy. But you know what? Tough shit. I needed some pretty. And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go "hair flip and giggle" my ass off.

Or dream about a trip to Paris.

Just sayin'.

We are fine and the house is fine. I'll have some pictures up tomorrow. I am, quite frankly, too g-damned exhausted to deal with cords and peripherals right now. There were several hours there that were quite spooky, but the house held, the trees stayed and we had no damage. We were very, very lucky.

Our neighbors have huge trees that were uprooted and knocked over and it is by the grace of G-d that they are not squarely in their living room. The debris and sheer volume of leaves on the streets was astounding. Fences are gone and the ducks look permanently confused. They should have little shirts on that say, "Quack the Fuck?!"

There are amazing stories of neighbors helping neighbors, but more astounding are the stories of the morons. I'll have a few of those tomorrow as well. They are not to be believed. Truly.

So I'm going to go to bed now. 'Cause I'm fairly certain I haven't slept in, oh, say, 22 hours. I'd say that's enough for one day.

This time we're not leaving (unless the power is out for a while. Then it's hello, Austin!)

Overheard at the grocery store this morning:

"Wanda, why you gettin' so much wine?"

"Cause if ima gonna be stuck with those kids in the house for three days I'm gonna need my cocktails."

Easily the line of the day.

Leaning over said small desks? Hurts your back. ALSO bad for creative movement when said movement needs to be chasing after a maniacal two year old when you get home from art school.

I am not the oldest person in the class nor the youngest. But the girl who sits next to me just graduated from high school, has black fingernails, hair that hasn't seen a round brush EVER and ungodly amount of talent. I might have wanted to stab her with my charcoal pencil a little.

The teacher finds me amusing. This is probably because when he asked each of us why we were here and my answer was, "For the exquisite torture. But I heard that costs extra." Now he talks to me all the time. Take that Talented Teen.

I kinda feel like a complete tool walking through the parking lot with my drawing and sketching pads under my arm and little tool kit. I kinda feel like I should also have a metal GEM lunchkit. I think that would totally make the look, no?

Yes, the character of pretentious, just moved back to the states from Europe, overly educated, annoying bitch is present in the class. As is euro-goddess with hair so gorgeous and perfect I might want to lick her a little bit. Also present? Older man who really should just admit he's gay already.

It is frustrating and not yet fun. I don't know if it will ever be fun. But at the end I will be able to say I did it. In the meantime, Leah thinks I am a g-ddamned artistic genius because she saw my try to sketch my iPod in the hopes I could actually attempt to draw a rectangle and circle in good form. She wants to know if she can hang it in her room.

I gave her a dollar.

But, yes, I am back on it. I got guilted into it by a few friends who were touting how fun! and exciting! It was to reconnect with people. And now I get tackled with nostalgia every time I open my inbox.

And it is fun. It is. It's amazing to see who is doing what with whom and where. It's fun to see who has grown up, who has come out, who has led, who has followed, and who has jobs that are truly enviable.

But for all the laughs that come with the remember whens, there are things that break my heart. The girl with devastating breast cancer. The guy who died last year. The friend who is now a widow at the age of 37.

And it doesn't matter that it's been 15 or 20 years. In that instant my head and heart feel like we're back on campus and I hurt for my old friend like not a day has passed, when, clearly, so many have.

I've been thinking that this notion of time is interesting. It is impossible to catch someone up on the past 15 or 20 years of your life. All that remain are the residual feelings - and that's where you pick up. Except in the most extreme instances, who can remember why someone lost touch or why you might have stopped talking?

In catching up with some old friends it has become very clear that my memory has big holes. But my heart remembers almost all of it. I couldn't tell you the address of my sorority house, the details of a party, why we broke up or even whether I made a trip to visit someone. I have photographs in my mind, little tiny treasures of moments that flash when I think of someone, but the whole story isn't there any longer. At least not the narrative.

But I can tell you how I felt about that person. I can almost in some cases physically remember and feel the bond of friendship or respect or love that was there. And more often than not it is both astounding and reassuring.

So maybe that's how we pick up where we left off. Old friends tempered by time and circumstance. A little awkward, but always warm. And sometimes through tears.

Spotlight - Jennifer Hudson
Shot thru the heart - Bonjovi
No Air - Jordan sparks feat. Chris Brown
Round of applause - Rhianna
Before He Cheats - Carrie Underwood
Flobots - Handlebars
Apple Bottom Jeans - Nelly
Funkytown - Alvin and the Chipmunks
Break the Ice - Brittny Spears
Rockstar - Nickleback
Raising Sand - Alison Kraus and Robert Plant
The Ditty Bops - Wishful Thinking
Callin Out - Lyrics Born
Gorrillaz - Dirty Harry
Gorillaz - Feel Good Inc
Rising Up - The Roots
Sister Rosetta Goes Before Us - Robert Plant and Alison Krauss
Back in The Chain Gang - Pretenders
Save A Prayer - Duran Duran
Mas Tequila - Sammy Hagar
Shakira - Hips Don't Lie
Cuka Rocka - Chignon
Little Red Corvette - Prince

Here's a few more for you guys to check out or add - straight off another playlist:

Best Laid Plans - We the Living (it will tear your heart out)
World Spins Madly On - The Weepies
Double Dutch Bus - Frankie Smith (roll it old skool, man)
Stand Up - Ludacris
American Girl - Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

In the midst of all the turmoil around recent events such as we're having surgery, we're not having surgery, we're fine, we're not fine, there's a decision to make, no let's wait for the doctor... it's occurred to me that it's hard to be sad for a woman who is dying at the age of 96.

At 96 there is no more "what might have been". She has seen and done almost everything significant in life there is to do. She has

Been a child, teenager and adult.
Married and then been widowed for 30 years.
Been a mother, grandmother and great-grandmother.
Seen her grandchildren get married and have children of their own.
Gone to camp as a child and at the age of 80.
Written letters to the White House AND gotten a response.
Traveled by plane, train and bus. But never driven a car.
Outlived all her family and friends.
Actually found a grandchild who could be taught to knit.
Been alive for more presidents than I can count on two hands.
Worked and retired.
Volunteered and given of her time and talents.
Kept the business of printing $2 bills alive.
Loved us all. Those she came by naturally, and those we brought into the family. She loved us all the same.

It is sad that Leah and Benjamin won't know her as well as the grandkids do, but when the time comes to finally say goodbye to Grandma, it will only be through a few tears - mostly because she'll get to see her beloved husband again after all these years. And she's needed more there than here now.

Don't worry, Grandma. We'll be fine. You did a great job.

And we'll take it from here.

Update: My grandmother died tonight surrounded by those she loved and who loved her. Think she read that last part? And tomorrow night we will toast with a pina colada (her favorite drink) and a shot of Hennessey (his favorite) to a love rejoined. I can only imagine the smile on their faces...

But then we rallied and were out the door!

She's like an old pro now. Yeah, yeah, backpack. Yeah, yeah, lunchkit. No you don't walk me in. Whatev, Mom - I'm a second grader now.

Yeah? Well you're still a goofball.

Tell me: What song MUST be on it?

No! Wait! Here are some categories to consider:

Driving song - hit the open road music
Feeling reflective song - coupled with others it may make you cry
Shake What Yo Momma Gave Ya - just makes ya want to shake your hips
Open Category - name your own tune

Leave 'em in the comments!

How has (more than) 30 days flown by? Wait, let me retract that statement because now that I think about it, this has been a rich 30 days.

This month you went on your first road trip all the way to Austin, TX - where we would hang out for a few days before dropping off Leah at her camp. You got to play with some very fun cousins, go on your first speedboat ride, decide swimming in the lake was not your cup of tea and make it more than perfectly clear that road trips are INDEED not your thing. I wish you'd figure out how to get over that last part - Texas has some pretty cool places to head to - but not with a screamy, whiny two year old.

You missed Leah very much. Oh, my G-d did you miss her. For days on end all we heard was, "Sissy? Sissy? SSSSIIIISSSSSYYYYYY????!!!!!" Since she has come home your life is yet again complete and the running, jumping and silly word contests have picked up right where the two of you left off.

On top of all of this your language is really beginning to just explode. Every day is a new word - or better yet - a clearer word and your speech teacher(s) could not be more excited for you. You still have some very cute mispronunciations - the most notable this month are "See-you" (store) and "Sussy" (Sunni, the dog). You LOVE going to speech class. Daddy didn't quite understand why, so I took the video camera along one day to show him the carnival that masquerades as learning.

Untitled from Pammer on Vimeo.

You remain unbelievably active - and I have the grey hair to prove it - but you are remarkably easy when it comes to things that are usually not so easy. Namely bath time and bed time. You basically love both. Which? Is kinda unheard of. And? I totally dig. Even our newest little teenager girl babysitter told me, "OMG I will totally babysit for you WHENEVER! He is so EASY! He just, like, DOES THINGS!"

Uh, yeah. What she said.

In another week you will start your regular "pre-pre-pre school" program by going to class for three half-days a week. This will not be a big deal for you because you already know the school and teacher from a short camp session you did early this summer. And, really? You need it. Camp Mommy is wearing thin on both of us and it's time for some new faces and new activities. It's hard to compete with speech class, man. Just, please, don't beat the shit out of the other kids, okay?

Every night before dinner we say the hamotzi (thanks for the food and such). Usually we just say it and move on, but one night after Leah came home from camp, we sang it like they do at summer camp - and, as it turns out, at your little school/camp. Your little face LIT UP when you recognized the tune. It was almost like you were trying to say, "YEAH! That? Right there?! I KNOW THAT!" You clapped your hands and smiled and cheered at the end and even ended the show with an "Ameeen!" (Pronounced just like that, by the way.) You are starting to follow along with our good night prayers adding your own "special blessings" section that almost always includes Leah and Thomas the Train. And that? Kinda melts my heart.

Benjamin, this month you have done some extraordinary things. But each day with you is downright extraordinary. Thank you for all the hugs and kisses, outstretched arms and nosey-nosey games. Thank you for the morning snuggles and afternoon dancing and for helping put the produce in the bags at the grocery store. You do all of this with a great big bright smile and make these multiplying grey hairs tolerable.

I love you,
Mommy

For several months I had been dreading this birthday - and I'm not totally sure why. For awhile it felt like the beginning of a downward slide, which is mostly ridiculous, but I think really it's because it became a real sign-post for the beginning of the end of my 30s.

Again, ridiculous.

If you were to look at my resume, you would notice a very prevalent theme of "re-invention". I believe I can count 4 or 5 distinct "careers" on that piece of paper. (Take that, Madonna.) As this birthday began to rear its head, I began to think about how I am reinventing myself this time. Beyond being a "stay at home mom", and this attempt at getting paid to write, I am, without a doubt, trying to do something that would, without question, fall in the category of "starting from scratch". And I haven't done that in quite some time. Not only that, but I am stepping WAY out of the box.

On Monday I start a drawing class as part of a jewelry design curriculum at the museum.

I think I'll just let that sit there for a minute. Huh. Yep. I am. Dude.

I believe this "end of my thirties" thing is starting to equal "try something totally different and let's see where it goes." And I have no idea. I may suck. I hope I don't, but I might. And that's kind of okay. At 38 I've gathered enough grace to realize I can admit that I might suck and move on.

If you ask me what I'm good at, I can give you a litany of things. Really. Just ask Husband. He's very clear on them. I can also tell you what I'm not good at. (He is also very clear on those as well.) I think that is a critical skill to being successful in life. You're not good at something? No problem. Find someone who is. And get out of their way.

But this thing I'm about to go do? No idea what list it's on. You might find my line in Neiman Marcus one day - or on QVC. Or you may find it at a garage sale. Who knows? I could not be more unprepared for the feedback I'm going to receive from my professor.

But I can't wait to find out.

I'd like for you to meet Leah. And her freckles. She is The 2nd Grader Formerly Known As The Swimmy.

She was named after our paternal grandfathers, Lou and Louis (no I'm not kidding), and while her name in no way rhymes with Benjamin, she is Benjamin's most favorite person in the world.

She's definitely one of mine as well.

Altogether now...Hi, Leah!