may you stay forever young

i've been an only child my whole life, but never really longed for siblings.

until i started watching Parenthood.

last night i finally finished watching the season finale and, honestly? it is a great show.

i'm not into vampires, gangsters, crime scene investigators or wanna-be singers. my current TV tastes trend more toward house-hunting/improvement programs and sitcoms and hour-long shows that deal mostly with real life situations. this is my philosophy in a nutshell: make me laugh or make me think, but don't make me have nightmares or want to bang my head against a wall.

anyway. this is all to say that i'm sure many people out there think Parenthood is not cool or edgy or different enough to be good, and that's fine. you're entitled. but i'm telling you—it's so, so, so good.

the Braverman family is large and largely dysfunctional, but not in a dark, tragic way. just in a normal, such-is-life kind of way. they all live in the Berkley area of California (lucky) and see each other often and have boisterous family meals and sometimes boisterous family arguments.

the storylines have ebbed and flowed over the last few seasons, but this season was pretty pitch perfect for all 18 episodes. the various, intertwining plots were both compelling and completely relatable. consider: 

Peter Krause as a dad who lost his high-level job to a twentysomething upstart, just in time for his daughter to be accepted to Cornell. Lauren Graham as an aspiring playwright falling in love with her son's high school English teacher (the charming and adorable Jason Ritter). Julia Stiles as a hopeful adoptive mom, Dax Shepard as an endearing screw-up of a single dad/music producer trying to get his life together.

i mean, come on. i haven't even gotten to Monica Potter or Mae Whitman yet. or Craig T. Nelson! and: Bob Dylan sings the theme song. what more do you want? 

seriously: just for a little while, trade your Jersey Shore and Bachelor for a few episodes of Parenthood (watch the last few episodes of the season on-demand—it's free!) and tell me you're not hooked. tell me you don't secretly wish you were a Braverman.

i totally do.

mbm

whoops

i actually spent a few minutes wondering what 'fera' was (a strange weather phenomenon? some sort of dust or vegetation?) before i realized the Daily News' copy editor just went home early again.

mbm

recipe for decompression

here it is: sleeping baby + pizza + wine + couch + HGTV.

not a bad way to end a week...!

mbm


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

bleak

part of me doesn't even want to address this, because it's so repugnant, ignorant, mean-spirited and seriously makes me question whether "freedom of speech" is worth it. but this is an issue that affects me viscerally—mostly because i cannot believe this is going on in this country in 2012.

i found out this morning, via the Today show, about Rush Limbaugh's hateful, sexist, vile remarks regarding Sandra Fluke. Fluke is a third-year law student at Georgetown University and spoke last week at a hearing arranged by Nancy Pelosi. The topic? The fact that Georgetown, a Jesuit university, does not include birth control coverage in its health plans. Fluke testified that, as a result, she and fellow female students pay upwards of $1,000 a year on contraception.

Limbaugh felt the need to take express his disagreement—on his radio show—in this way:

“What does that make her. It makes her a slut, right? It makes her a prostitute. She wants to be paid to have sex. She's having so much sex she can't afford the contraception. So Miss Fluke, and the rest of you Feminazis, here's the deal. If we are going to pay for your contraceptives, and thus pay for you to have sex, we want something for it. We want you to post the videos online so we can all watch."

my stomach turned over when i heard those words this morning, and it's turning over again to read them. not because i give a damn what Limbaugh thinks. but because he's clearly not alone in this thinking. even Fluke said this morning on the Today show that several other conservatives have said similar things.

Michael and i talk often about how ridiculous it is that so many people are so against gay marriage. (it's true that Maryland just became the eighth state to legalize same-sex marriage—but that's eight out of fifty. and how long has it taken us to get to eight?) wanting to deny basic rights to any group of people based on something as  irrelevant as their sexual orientation takes us back decades. five of them, to be exact. it's disheartening and depressing and so damn backwards.

now with this ridiculous debate about birth control coverage (and the vitriol it's inspiring) we're sliding back even farther. the fact that politicians would attack a woman—all women, really—so viciously for standing up for her right to get medical coverage for a prescription.... i mean, what year is this? what country is this?

the fact that many women need oral contraceptives primarily to regulate their menstrual cycle (something men will never understand and never experience and god help us if they could, because the world would surely stop spinning), and not because they are "sluts," is beside the point.

the point is that there is a serious problem of disrespect in this country. it's an epidemic.

lately i've been books on raising toddlers, as Matthew is rapidly approaching that stage of his life and i'd like to be prepared. all the advice i've read stresses the importance of empathizing with your toddler, no matter how intense the tantrum. after all, he's still pretty new. he's just trying to make sense of the world, he's learning so much so quickly yet he's hampered by an immature brain and a severe lack of words. a parent needs to understand this, and relate to him not on an adult level, but on a toddler level. a parent needs to listen, and show empathy, not just ignore/distract/yell/punish.

research has shown that once a child feels heard, it's much easier to teach that child how to behave properly. it's all a kid wants—to know someone understands.

empathy is what's missing in our country today. everyone wants to spew his opinion, get his way, prove his point. no one wants to listen, or understand another's point of view. the emphasis today is on generating the best sound byte, making the most headlines, raising the most money. who cares about really solving problems or making progress? and when progress is proposed, even signed into law, short-sighted, self-aggrandizing people do their best to knock it down. 

this is an excerpt from a Huffington Post story last August about Obama's health care law and its provisions for women:

The requirement [of health insurance plans to fully cover birth control with no copay] is part of a broad expansion of coverage for women's preventive care under President Barack Obama's health care law. Also to be covered without copays are breast pumps for nursing mothers, an annual "well-woman" physical, screening for the virus that causes cervical cancer and for diabetes during pregnancy, counseling on domestic violence, and other services.

"These historic guidelines are based on science and existing (medical) literature and will help ensure women get the preventive health benefits they need," said Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius.

The new requirements will take effect Jan. 1, 2013, in most cases. Tens of millions of women are expected to gain coverage initially, and that number is likely to grow with time. At first, some plans may be exempt due to a complex provision of the health care law known as the "grandfather" clause. But those even plans could face pressure from their members to include the new benefit.

Sebelius acted after a near-unanimous recommendation last month from a panel of experts convened by the prestigious Institute of Medicine, which advises the government. Panel chairwoman Linda Rosenstock, dean of public health at the University of California, Los Angeles, said that prevention of unintended pregnancies is essential for the psychological, emotional and physical health of women.

the thought that went through my head this morning when i heard what Limbaugh said? if Obama's health care law dictated that all men who want condoms must be provided them free of charge, it wouldn't be on the news. it wouldn't be an issue. no one would dare oppose it. and no one would accuse a man who wanted to avail himself of the free condoms of being promiscuous. especially a woman. 

i feel pretty hopeless today, guys. i really do.

mbm

status update

one of my Pinterest boards.

i don't know how many days i've been off Facebook now. i'm certainly not going for any kind of record or trying to beat a personal best. but i'll be honest: unless a friend mentions they've missed "seeing" me on the site, i really don't think about it. and i really don't miss it.

but i have to confess that i've replaced one time-suck with another. it's true: i am now a full-blown Pinhead. meaning: i'm really into Pinterest.

friends at work were on the site a year ago—design types who just know about such things before the rest of us. i joined several months ago but used it only sparingly. now, when i need a mental break (which i inevitably do, especially when i'm short on sleep), instead of reading on Facebook what everyone is doing, complaining about, laughing at or eating for lunch, i go pin things.

my favorites are quotes, pictures of dream home offices, bookshelf ideas and items of clothing i'm lusting after. because it's 99 percent visual, it feels like less of a brain drain. the images stir my creative juices, inspire me, give me ideas. which is a good thing.

i still feel a little disconnected, being off Facebook. just this morning on the PATH i found myself thinking, i wonder who's pregnant. i wonder who's engaged. i wonder if i'll ever find out on my own.

but i have to assume that if the person is truly important to me, i will find out any pertinent news. it'll just likely be the old-fashioned way: via e-mail or text.

mbm

finally, true insight.

below is an excerpt from this article by Emily Rapp, who also wrote a heart-wrenching essay several months ago for the New York Times. (i found it hard not to hold my breath while reading each.) she captures my thoughts about a current—and mind-boggling—political topic much more eloquently than i've been able to so far. perhaps because she has a unique and tragic perspective.

The tenor of the current debate frightens me, as it heralds a return to another age when women were not the trustees of decisions made about their own bodies. What I hope for other women is that they have the power to make their own decisions with as much information as it is possible to have, with respect to the specificity and complexity of their own circumstances, according to their own minds and hearts and not the dictates of another person’s worldview. Santorum believes that all life is inherently valuable, no matter how compromised or of what limited quality; that is one view. I believe that we need a more nuanced discussion about what quality of life is, and that it should be a woman's right to choose to terminate a pregnancy when the path of her child’s life is as compromised—and as terrible—as my son’s.

mbm

timeless advice

i think you all know my penchant for old music—a side-effect of the hours i spent with my Gram when i was a little girl, listening to Jonathan Schwartz (and his American songbook) on WNEW. because the songs are amazing and because i have such a happy, cozy association with them, it's still my favorite music to listen to.

most mornings as i'm feeding Matty his breakfast, we listen to either the Ella Fitzgerald or Frank Sinatra station on Pandora. and lately i've been struck by what excellent life advice is administered by the old standards, in between brilliant horn riffs and dazzling scatting.

i decided to periodically share the lyrics of standout songs here. maybe you'll appreciate their poignancy, timelessness and relevance as much as i do.

first up: one of my all-time favorites by Jimmy Durante...

It's so important to make someone happy.

Make just one someone happy.

Make just one heart to heart you, you sing to...

One smile that cheers you.

One face that lights when it nears you.

One girl you're - you're everything to

Fame, if you win it,

Comes and goes in a minutes

Where's the real stuff in life, to cling to?

Love is the answer.

Someone to love is the answer.

Once you've found her,

Build your world around her.

Make someone happy.

Make just one someone happy.

And you will be happy too.

mbm

in the wee small hours of the morning

we're trying a little sleep training with our sweet kid and it was going very well for the first few nights. but then last night—after going to sleep on his own without much trouble and staying asleep for five hours straight—Matty was up at midnight, then 12:30, then 1 o'clock, then 1:30... finally at 2:30 i broke a very important rule and brought him back to bed with me.

the plan we're following requires a parent (namely, me—i volunteered for overnight duty since the hubster has been in charge of the twice-daily naps all week) to sit next to the crib each time the baby wakes and wait there until he falls asleep again. the previous three nights i'd only had to do it once. but last night something kept waking him up. (teeth, i later decided.) and, on my fifth trip into his room i couldn't bear to sit on that footstool again. my alarm was set for six-fifteen and i really didn't want to be exhausted for work. at 2:30 in the morning, i wanted sleep more than i wanted my baby to learn how to comfort himself.

and, lo and behold, we both slept peacefully until it was time to get up this morning.

Michael—who slept through most of the interruptions last night—looked over at us this morning and said, "when did he get here?"

"two-thirty," i told him. "he was up a million times. i couldn't take it anymore."

"really?" he said, with a tone that clearly expressed his disappointment in my lack of a backbone.

"well what was i supposed to do?" i squawked. "i need my sleep!"

"why don't you let me get up with him?" he proposed.

"but you do the naps. i feel bad. besides, you're always sound asleep."

"that's not true," he said. "i wake up sometimes when he cries. i could do it."

"okay, then," i said. "you can handle tonight."

"but i have work tomorrow."

exactly my point! these sleep training plans don't take into consideration moms (or dads) who have to go to work in the morning. it's awesome to have a baby who sleeps on his own all night long and can get himself back to sleep whenever he wakes up. but when the price tag is a sleep-deprived parent, is it really worth it? do the positives outweigh the negatives there?

don't get me wrong; i'm not giving up. i will try again tonight. and i have faith that we'll get it right sooner or later. in the meantime, i'm just not willing to sacrifice too many of my precious sleepy-time minutes to make it happen.

if that means matty is still invading our bed at age 12, oh well.

mbm

this is what i mean

 "T. J. Lane's family life had been disrupted by divorce and violence, ABC News affiliate WEWS reported. His parents divorced in 2002, and his father later served time in jail on assault and other charges, according to the station.

In 2002, Lane's father Thomas M. Lane pleaded guilty to a charge of felonious assault for pushing his ex-wife's head into a wall and strangling her until she lost consciousness for several seconds, according to court documents.

"[Thomas M. Lane] held victim's head over washing machine and poured cold water from a utility hose over her nose and mouth preventing free breathing," Deputy Charlene Sulak wrote in a complaint.

Attorney Robert N. Farinacci, who is representing Lane, released a statement on behalf of the family Monday night, according to WEWS, calling the incident 'something that could never have been predicted...T.J.'s family has asked for some privacy while they try to understand how such a tragedy could have occurred and while they mourn this terrible loss for their community.'" —ABCnews.com

this makes me angry. i'm sure it was drafted by some PR flack, but truly—a child grows up in a violent home where his parents show no respect for each other and no one thought it might have an adverse effect on him? now they have no idea why he might have had so much hurt and frustration and fear bottled up, and no clue about how to express it rationally?

this is why i lose my mind when thoughtless politicians get all high and mighty about birth control and a woman's right to have an abortion. perhaps 17 years ago, T.J. Lane's parents were excited to be having a baby. maybe things just went very wrong somewhere along the way after he arrived. but what if they didn't want to be pregnant? what if his mother had wanted birth control and couldn't get it? what if she wished she could have an abortion but her religious beliefs 'prevented' it? all these "right to lifers" think only about the fetus, protecting the unborn. they don't consider into what circumstances a child might be born—if the parents are of sound mind, fiscally stable, emotionally secure. they think nothing about the impact negative circumstances might have on a child, or how that child might someday react.

and then something like this happens. and everyone is stunned and heartbroken and outraged. but...nothing changes. 

you can't put metal detectors into every school. even as i feel panic rise in my chest at the thought of my son someday being in a classroom where, tucked inside a child's schoolbag, is a gun that may go off accidentally (which happened last week in Washington; the nine-year-old victim underwent her fifth surgery yesterday), i don't believe we should have to put metal detectors in elementary schools. or any schools, my god. how has it come to this?

people say to me, "well, you can't always blame the parents."

oh no? well, i disagree. kids don't raise themselves. they're not Chia pets you can remember to water once a month. they have physical and emotional needs that must be met. they need to be properly socialized and loved and paid attention to and given boundaries. when all of that happens, they aren't going to bring guns to school or bully other kids or murder their neighbors. they just aren't.

i'm not sure of the percentage of parents who actually take childbirth classes and breastfeeding classes and baby care classes prior to the arrival of their first (or second or third) child, but i really think any pregnant woman in the care of an OB must either pass a psychological evaluation or take a class not about how to change a diaper or prepare a bottle, but how to nurture a child.

why isn't that required? if taking a defensive driving class can lower the cost of your auto insurance, why can't taking a comprehensive class about how to raise a child lower the cost of, say, your health insurance or the bill you have to pay after you give birth in a hospital? something has to be done! 

MTV continues to spend money producing shows about pregnant teens and teen moms, many of whom are probably doing indelible damage to their babies, which is broadcast for the world to see. i'm sure the producers' thought process is, let's show the reality of having a baby while you're this young. that'll make 'em use condoms! i highly doubt it's working. those same teen moms are ending up on the covers of Us Weekly and In Touch. the impressionable girls watching the shows are taking this all in and thinking, oooh, if i have a baby, i'll be famous!

look: people need to be properly prepared and informed about exactly what it takes to raise a happy, healthy child. it used to be that extended families lived in close proximity and everyone pitched in when it came to childcare. now families are far-flung, parents are overworked and kids get lost in the shuffle. and sometimes things turn really bad, the way they did for T.J. Lane.

i believe he should be tried as an adult and forced to pay the consequences of such a heinous, heartless crime. but i can't help feeling sad for him—only a kid who felt unloved, confused, angry and utterly alone would do such a thing. his parents should have thought of that years ago, not when it came time to release a statement to the press.

mbm

twenty-four hours

WEDNESDAY

3:30p: on my way to a kind of focus group session for a baby-supply website i shop from frequently. had to leave work early to make it there for 4:30, but a $100 gift certificate toward future purchases on the site was at stake and—i'm sorry—diapers ain't cheap. i'm going.

3:54p: convinced i'll be late, and distracted by anxiety from leaving work early, i mistakenly think the PATH train is about to depart so i decide to sprint toward it. however, my moccasins refuse to cooperate and i wipe out right there on the platform. i'm airborne for a few milliseconds and then land in this order: ankles, knees, hands. ankles are scraped real bad, knees will surely be bruised, hands are gross with platform grime. no one seems to notice that i've done anything out of the ordinary, so i get up and onto the train in a relatively fluid, graceful motion. then i sit down and try hard not to bawl. oh dear. i can't even blame this on PMS.

3:56p: i text the hubster, because i need to tell someone what happened. i'm a ball of anxiety lately, i have no idea why, i write to him. you need a relaxing day, he writes back. and then: be careful. we love you and miss you. sometimes that's all a girl needs.

5:51p: on my way home after a successful—and, i have to say, fun—session during which i was quizzed about my online habits and then observed as i tooled around the company's website-in-progress. easy-peasy way to save $100 on stuff the kiddo will surely need. i ride home on the light rail. when i disembark in Hoboken, i have to walk a while along the water. it's a mild night and the breeze smells like spring. to my right, lower Manhattan is just starting to glitter in the dusk. i feel safe here, i think, meaning in the vicinity of the city just across the river. why does that skyline reassure me? my brain starts to do work the issue yet again—should we stay where we are? should we go to the suburbs? would we love it? hate it? but i stop myself. i'm too tired to think that hard. i really just want to get home to my guys.

6:15p: i walk in the door and find the hubster feeding our kiddo his dinner at the table. Matty's arms flap when he sees me, which makes my heart twirl. i take over the feeding duties and we catch up on our respective days. as Matty eats his lentils, we realize we're both starving. i mention i have the ingredients for linguine with white clam sauce—sold.

6:28p: Matty plays on the floor with plastic bowls and measuring cups as we boil a pot of water, peel garlic, set the table, heat the bread. marriage is not easy; we've learned that many times over this year. but i'm so thankful for the rhythm we're in lately. we've been completely in sync and having endured a few rough patches makes me all the more grateful for nights like these, when there is nowhere else i'd rather be than sitting at our old IKEA kitchen table slurping linguine while our sweet son sucks down his bottle of milk.

8:10p: after a bath, PJs and four or five songs' worth of rocking in the glider under a 'sky' of green stars, Matty is asleep in my arms. when i gently place him in his crib, he wakes up—like clockwork. this has been an issue for a few weeks now and i'm (more or less) determined to find a solution. tonight i pull up the glider's footstool and sit next to his crib. "it's OK, Matty," i tell him, over and over. "you're not alone. mama's right here." his cry is not desperate; he seems to be feeling inconvenienced more than anything. i'm sure it's much cozier to sleep in my arms, but mamas need some downtime, too. after i sing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" a few times, he finally conks out. and i successfully tiptoe out of his room.

 8:30p: the table is cleared and the dishes are done and i sink onto the couch with a Diet 7-Up and two Pepperidge Farms dark chocolate chip cookies. relief. for a moment i'm in control of the remote, so i flip to HGTV and find an episode of "Property Brothers." hubster sits down a few minutes later and mumbles, "is there anything else on?" i hand him his iPhone and say, "entertain yourself. i want to see this." see? so in sync.

9:00p: happiness is... a new episode of "Modern Family." i even manage to not fall asleep during it (mostly). hubster tries to fast-forward through every commercial break—we're used to watching our shows on DVR. 

9:35p: bedtime for me. yes.

9:45p: Matty starts to cry in his crib. Michael goes in to calm him down, and seems to succeed at various points, but the crying persists. i'm in bed, watching and listening via the baby monitor. i get up about five times, only to force myself back into bed. once i make it as far as Matty's door, where i hover for a minute or two, before retreating. finally, i go in and get him. it's getting late and even if he falls back asleep now, it won't last long. that's the thing about being a working mama—getting as decent a night of sleep as possible trumps everything else, even potentially disastrous bedtime habits. i scoop Matty into my arms and we hunker down in my bed and are both asleep almost instantly.

THURSDAY

6:45a: i'm awakened by the sweet sounds of my son babbling. he thinks i'm still asleep, so he's talking to his binky. the sun is shining and the trains are rumbling by outside. after kissing his cheeks a few dozen times, i carry him into the bathroom, where he plays on the area rug while i coax my eyes to life with Visene.

6:47a: i glance down and see toilet paper across the bathroom floor. Matty discovers a new trick pretty much every day, and this is the trick du jour—pulling on the roll of toilet paper. i race for my camera to capture this developmental milestone. i can't get enough of this kid.

8:45a: Matty, his daddy and i leave for his appointment at the pediatrician. originally the appointment was to find out what to do about a rash on his back. but now it's about...poop. in fact, as we head down to the car, i have a fresh sample sealed inside a Ziploc bag, inside a brown paper lunch bag, inside my gorgeous leather bag from Anthropologie (a lavish Christmas present from the hubster—this is actually the second time it's held a sample of my son's stool; it's literally a carryall). Michael thinks i'm ridiculous. he doesn't say it, but i know he's relieved when we manage to make it downstairs in the elevator without anyone else getting on. the scent emanating from my bag is pungent. but, hey—our kiddo is having some issues. i want the pediatrician to be armed with as much information as possible.

9:10a: "i brought you some poop," i find myself telling the nurse practitioner who is seeing us instead of Matty's regular doctor. it's amazing the sentences you never realized you'd utter, say, when you were 28 and able to stay out drinking until two in the morning. we've already determined the rash is nothing to worry about and she's asked if there are any other issues, which is when i pull out the goodie bag. instantly the small exam room is filled with the kind of scent not ideal for this hour of the day—it's l'eau d'rookie mom.

9:25a: i have to be at a recording studio by 11 o'clock for a work-related voice-over session. that leaves time to grab a quick breakfast with my family. after a short drive, we decide on a cute little cafe in Jersey City. "this is a mommy place," Michael says to Matty when we walk in and see a shelf of books and a case filled with pastries. indeed.

10:15a: after a ham-and-swiss croissant (for me), an egg-and-pepper croissant (for Michael); and a plate of scrambled eggs (for Matty), we leave the cafe and stroll down the sidewalk toward our car. the day is beautiful—more suited to late April than late February. i know Michael will be taking Matty to the park later to go on the swings and my chest aches a little knowing i will miss it. if i weren't completely maxed out on time off for the current fiscal year, i would seriously consider taking a personal day. instead, i kiss my boys goodbye and board the PATH (this time without falling).

11:30a: sitting in a studio on 23rd Street, offering direction to the person in the sound booth who's recording the VO for a script i wrote. in the suite with me is the recording engineer, a guy named Brian who has a two-year old daughter and a laugh like Seth Rogen. the script is part of a project we've been working on for two years. it's been a helluva process, but it seems like it's finally coming together and i feel really good about how the script has turned out. being involved in the recording session is—at the risk of sounding like the geek that i am—exciting. i love my job, i text the hubster. i generally feel lucky with my work situation. at times it's been brutal, for one reason or another, but overall i have a great set-up and i love that i get to do what i love for a living.

12:51: Michael sends me a video of Matty on a swing at the park. puts a huge smile on my face.

2:45p: back in the office. it's time for a cupcake break to celebrate a co-worker's birthday. mid-afternoon sweets are my idea of a good time. and chatting with my work friends (about airplane anxiety, awkward puberty moments and why the hell "Fear Factor" is still on TV) constitutes 80 percent of my social life these days. i'll take it!

3:30: two more hours and i'll be on my way home. work keeps me busy, but even on the most hectic days i occasionally find myself staring at a picture of Matty, and i feel a sort of tickle in my arms—the quirky physiological reaction i experience when i'm happy, giddy or anticipating something good. today i'm looking at a picture of his face taken earlier in the morning, during the toilet paper incident. it's perfect. he's perfect. i do think it's beneficial to both Matty and me (and, of course, the mortgage) that i have my job. but there is absolutely nothing better than walking in the door at the end of the day. i'm happy with my job; i'm happiest when i get home.

mbm 

i can't take much more

why do these POMPOUS MEN insist on putting their noses where they have NO BUSINESS being? 

have you looked around, Rick Santorum, at the droves of people struggling to pay their mortgages, desperate for jobs, unable to DRIVE THEIR AUTOMOBILES BECAUSE OF THE RIDICULOUS GAS PRICES? have you seen them? because i'm willing to bet they don't give a rat's ass whether a pregnant woman has the right to free prenatal screenings.

who the HELL asked you to chime in on a woman's right to control her own body? who the hell are you to tell a woman she cannot prepare ahead of time—emotionally, physically, financially—to have a baby with special needs? who are you to dictate that she cannot terminate a dangerous pregnancy? what if she can't afford the care a child with severe disabilities requires? would you rather have that woman, her family and that child suffer for years and years as a result?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

i seriously—i want to scream. i really do. it should not surprise me, i should be completely numb to this now, but i'm not. i am in despair. THIS is the kind of individual who seeks office in our country now. not kind, compassionate, forward-thinking, brilliant, big-hearted people. but close-minded, clueless, short-sighted arrogant weasels like Santorum.

this is why i don't pay attention anymore. i ignore the news most days. i can't take it, i truly can't. the only reason i know about this story is because the headline showed up on my e-mail home page.

i sincerely, sincerely hope that something changes, and soon. please, pendulum, please swing the other way before i'm forced to explain to my child why this country is in such disarray....

mbm

in six words or less...

the theme of the February issue of O, The Oprah Magazine is "express yourself." (which, you know, is something i struggle with. clearly.)

anyway, the issue includes a feature in which people—everyone from Oprah and her editors to random readers who wrote in—created autobiographies only six words long. the idea was inspired by the famous tale about Ernest Hemingway and his bet to fellow writers that he could write a six-word short story. (you can find the details here.)

i read O's collection of super-short autobios on the train Friday night and wondered if i could do it and what i would write. i had no pen and paper handy (truly unusual for me) so i typed some options into my phone.  this is what i came up with:

always looking on the bright side.

freckles are a girl's best friend.

finally kicked my drama queen habit.

in search of what inspires me.

probably not meant for novel writing.

writing is what makes me me.

will i ever see the world?

hard head. soft heart. that's me.

what would yours be? give it a whirl—it's pretty fun.

mb