whatcha gonna do when they come for you

hello. it's possible that i may not have control of my digestive system within the next 24 hours. bad boy viruses are making the rounds among us, so i leave you with this to ponder in my (possible) absence:

things that happened today that are pretty significant:

> Simon's first tooth fell out. little bottom one. while we were in the car. we'd been waiting all week. he hasn't been eating because of it for 2 days (or is that because of the entertainment his stomach's going to bring us tonight . . . we shall see). luckily, he has a few engagements for it tomorrow (mainly to show a kooky substitute teacher and of course select classmates) so the tooth fairy has a chance to get her self in order and get a few paper bills in her possession. or one paper bill. he was muttering something in the car about "now i get TWO DOLLARS for every tooth!" and i'm sure i never committed to that. sure is a cute little tooth in a dish on my counter, though.

>while i was doing my late-night quite-by-myself dishes (being the only one in good health who doesn't wear diapers), A plastic baby SPOON JUMPED OUT OF THE DISPOSAL. it went seriously a foot and a half in the air above the sink. be still my heart. i found joy in this.

>i found out that while i seek the comfort of a fellow human when i've got to . . . ahem . . . throw-up . . . mark is quite the opposite. he meekly growls "go away" and i don't have to feel guilty going back to bed and to sleep. he still recalls with shock how when we'd only been married a few months i called him to our tiny moldy bathroom to witness me being attacked from all sides by my digestive system. he was very sweet though and didn't even tell me he was shocked until a few years later. washing out the tub multiple times for me--now that's love. i'm going to go make him some green jello.

things i need to do before i'm nauseated:

>start washing a massive pail of poopy cloth diapers. i don't want to have to think about explaining how to do it while sick. ain't nobody happy if healthy momma doesn't take care of this now.

>finish the book for bookclub that started 3 hours ago

>plan a basket worth $100-150 for simon's school auction. i have utterly no interest in doing this. surely soliciting donations and decorating a basket with a cutesy theme would be some other parent's dream. fellow room mom, where are you? i thought room parenting was cupcakes and cheap construction paper creations.

>eat a carribean smoothie bar that i bought for the sickies but they all went to bed without partaking.

>overcome my fear of toads and stray houstonians and take out the trash

>confession: i don't recycle when there's illness like this going on. "hypocrite. Earth's fair weather friend." go ahead and say it.

>sleep. i don't know if i'm invited to a 3am toilet party or not. alli had one on monday (3am). mark's was on thursday (4am). and simon's feverish little body seemed to have it's heart set on something tonight.

i feel fine.

Backyard loveliness

Every time Allianna goes out back, she comes back bearing a bouquet for me:

And, in other backyard news (besides that it's 81 degrees there right now), our neighbor behind us has begun constructing this lovely fence:

which is a significant improvement over the view of all their backyard items. Lovely.

And finally, an installment of "things that make me go *&^%$#@!#$%^!!!!"

I shut my finger in the door today. Really hard. It's indigo. Made me sob and confess to Mark that "Pain that is not productive is so stupid!" Even though we don't use the word "stupid" around here. We also don't use the words I used about ten minutes before that.

Bipedalism!

TP diva

She's really got to stop being cute about this!

deja vu

I'd been forgetting to enjoy the comfort of having toilet paper installed on the holders in our bathrooms. Until another TP monster came along this morning:



I only take pictures of the first offense.

feeling like a fifth-grader, wanting to memorize!

Praise Song for the Day

by Elizabeth Alexander

A Poem for Barack Obama's Presidential Inauguration

Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other's
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what's on the other side.

I know there's something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

Love beyond marital, filial, national,
love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.



and, if I could say it with her voice inflections, . . . nice.