Saturday, December 31, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Christmas in Pictures
The stockings were hung...
The amount of gifts under the tree seems to be growing exponential every year. I think it is because we have the 3 girls, plus Wyatt, buying gifts instead of just my parents. Each of us had at least 2 presents for each family member, sometimes more. It is a little ridiculous and I have to admit to being a little embarrassed about the quantity. One of Wyatt's favorite gifts was a kid's digital camera that Terry gave to him. He took a picture of every gift he got and the tree and almost everything else. He was being very patient waiting for the girls to get up and even took a picture of Santa's half eaten cookies.
I have been talking a lot about taking Wyatt skiing this winter (if we get any snow, none yet). I think it is best to start them off early. Most of my skiing stuff I have outgrown or lost through the years. It has been almost 5 years for me. I am proud to say that Wyatt and I are now set for the slopes. I got him a helmet and goggles, that he would try on periodically try on throughout the day. Becca got me goggles and Mom got me a new NorthFace and snow pants.
Wyatt's last present was a box with a note from Santa inside. It said "Dear Wyatt, I can't fit your last present under the tree. Go check on the back deck. Merry Christmas! Love, Santa" Lizzy read the note to Wyatt and he BOOKED it outside, ran right past the HUGE power wheels fire truck and looked up on the roof. Clearly, if Santa was going to leave him a gift it would be on the roof. When he finally saw the truck his entire face lit up. It was the best part of Christmas. We eventually moved it inside so he could really see it instead of sitting out in the cold. Lizzy gave him an entire fireman outfit that he insisted on wearing while riding in his truck. So worth every penny.
The maiden voyage. He took driving very seriously. He would be smiling from ear to ear then put his foot on the gas pedal and go very serious. I kept on telling him to stay by the curb and he kept telling me "I can't, Mom. I don't have my divers' license yet. And my sirens are on so the cars will move out of the way." Did I mention the very loud working sirens? Finally, Lizzy drew him up a fake divers' license. I am envisioning hours of fun this summer. Now, if only we had somewhere to store it for the winter. I told Dad that he might need to build a garage for it.
Traditionally, we have an epic board game the day after Christmas. This year, the board game was over shadowed be the HUGE amount of Lego's Wyatt received. At one point the 3 of us were building while Wyatt stood by and supervised. He has got us all whipped. Dad bought Wyatt and I this sorting system that I just spent an hour organizing. I am about 1/2 way done. As I am typing, Cash fell into the whole thing, knocking everything to the floor. I am listening to this happening right now. I refuse to look. That dog will be the end of me. My bedroom is coined the "Lego Room" that is how many new sets he got. His train table has been dismantled to carry the load. I wouldn't have it any other way.
This Christmas was awesome. As Wyatt gets older, experiencing the magic through his eyes is breath taking. The spirit, the love, the joy, the excitement of Christmas lives in his every move. Its contagious. My Christmas spirit was feed by his. It makes spending all this money so worth it. Out of all my Christmas's, all of the wonder of my childhood, this Christmas was by far the best because I got to make Christmas magical for my boy.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Diary of an Arrested Priest
I am not sure if I am suppose to be posting this. But I will, because I think my cousin Michael is an amazing writer and the story of his run in with the law is moving. I hope you enjoy this story and much as I did. And, Michael, thank you for capturing everything so eloquently. We are all so proud of you.
“Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?”
-Matthew 25:37-40
"The church is the church only when it exists for others." - Dietrich Bonhoeffer
On Saturday, December 17th 2011, in the third week of Advent, I was arrested in a vacant lot owned by Trinity Church, New York.
Earlier that day, I had visited the flagship Apple Store to purchase a Macbook Air as a Christmas gift for my brother. My wife and I strolled down 5th Avenue looking at the Christmas decorations, soaking in the holiday spirit and window shopping. It was a refreshingly crisp winter day and New York was glittering and beautiful. After some lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant in SOHO, I went to join clergy colleagues at an Occupy Wall Street celebration and rally at 6th Avenue and Canal street.
I became involved in the OWS movement when a visit to Zuccotti Park in September motivated by simple curiosity turned out to be a convicting religious experience. The encampment in Zuccotti seemed to me a post-modern incarnation of the community depicted in the book of Acts. Sharing things in common, working for the common good, wrestling with the fundamental inequities in society. Since that visit, I have spent as much time as I could listening to the prophetic voices coming out of the movement. I have helped coordinate housing and food for occupiers. I have been part of ongoing discussions among faith leaders throughout the city, the country and the world regarding the urgent need for a dramatic shift in the economic and social realities which are crippling God’s people. I have preached about the movement, with the movement and to the movement. Over the past three months, I have come to view OWS as both a catalyst and a first fruit of the change I wish to see in the world as a person of faith. Not only do I support what the movement stands for and hopes to accomplish, I also support and love the human beings who make up this movement. They are sacraments of God’s love, God’s justice and God’s peace among us.
On the 17th, occupiers and various community leaders from New York (and beyond) gathered to celebrate the movement’s three month mark. Several civil rights heroes of mine were expected to speak and I wanted to meet them. I planned to visit the celebration and then return home and rest before Sunday. I thought, “Is it really only one week till Christmas? Where has the time gone? Has OWS only been a reality for three months? Wow...it seems a lot has happened in that time. What a gift to the world!”
The mood at the rally was celebratory. There was a general sense of enthusiasm, happiness and passionate commitment. The Church needs more of all three. As I came around the corner where folks were gathering, I spoke with some other clergy who passed on the word that folks were planning to go forward with an act of civil disobedience. They would be entering the vacant lot which had been proposed as a Winter encampment site for OWS. This made me a little uncomfortable. I had considered participating in civil disobedience on other occasions, but had evaluated each situation and decided that it was not right for me personally to participate. I felt the same way today. I did not think that entering the lot would move the good people of Trinity to change their minds regarding use of the space. I was also not sure how helpful the action would be to the movement and, truth be told, I had not planned to stick around for more than an hour. So, I decided not to participate if any act of civil disobedience did take place. I would be there as a non-violent witness, an OWS supporter and a representative of the Church. Good enough.
As the rally unfolded, I was standing near Bishop Packard (retired bishop to the Armed Services), his wife, other clergy and faith leaders. Suddenly, a large staircase emerged from the crowd and was placed against the fence on the north side of the lot. Was it Jacob’s ladder? People began to cheer. Banners were raised. I watched as Bishop Packard went up the stairs and over the fence in a purple cassock and cincture given to him by the Archbishop of Canterbury. His cassock ripped and he fell to the ground on his back. I lunged forward in fear and concern. At that same moment, the police began to push in hard on the crowd. I could feel the physical pressure through dozens of people whose bodies were pressing on mine. More people began to climb the staircase. Up and over they went into an empty gravel lot. And there was jubilation! Could standing in an empty lot really cause so much excitement, so much joy? They felt completely liberated. I could see it on their faces.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a large gathering of police wearing riot gear and carrying weapons. My stomach drops. When I was 16 years old, a police officer hit me hard on the arm with a Maglite on the beach my hometown. It left a painful bruise for weeks. That act of violence was minor compared to what I have seen happen to participants in the OWS movement for simply sitting still.
I look at the people inside the fence and have a feeling which I can only describe as overwhelming love and concern. I must decide, in an instant, where to place my body as a priest. It is no time for sitting on the fence. I climb the stairs and enter the lot. People are cheering and chanting, some are crying, some are silent. I see a sign which read, “Trinity Church- Hero of 9/11. Be a hero again!” I turn and flashed a peace sign to the crowd and to the cops. The same thing I do with parishioners whose hands I can’t reach from the aisle on Sunday. Where are the Trinity clergy? The work of non-violent peacemaking is not best left to the quasi-military NYPD. My iphone vibrates in my hand as I dash toward someone who has fallen over the fence. On the phone is a reporter from the Episcopal News Service. “Michael,”she says. “Are you there? What’s happening?” I tell her that occupiers have entered the lot and I have entered with them. My attention is with the fallen women. “Are you ok?” I ask. She nods and brushes herself off. I say into the phone, “As a priest, I have to be with my people and these are my people. I am here in solidarity with them.” Full stop. I have a deep and overwhelming sense of responsibility that cannot be overcome by reason or logic. It this what it feels like to be a parent? Is this what the incarnation really means? Damn it. What have I climbed into?
This may sound like overstatement, but the option of not going over that fence felt roughly equivalent to abandoning Christ on the cross. I kid you not. I felt the pain and the courage of the occupiers viscerally. I could not let them go alone. Not with the risk of violence which I saw mounting. Not after I had stood with them and they with me in so many other places. My conscience as a priest and as a human being took over and I knew which side of the fence I had to be on. It was obvious. As someone whose spirituality is deeply rooted in the liturgy, I heard the words spoken by my Bishop on the day of my ordination,“You are to love and serve the people among whom you work, caring alike for young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor...My brother, do you believe that you are truly called by God and his Church to this priesthood. Answer: I believe I am so called.”
Some clergy and I begin to sing, “Lo How a Rose E’er Blooming” as the police enter the lot in force. We’re attempting to calm the tension and embody a non-violent, peaceful presence. I realize that I still have the Episcopal News Service on the phone in my hand. “I have to go,” I say, and put the phone in my pocket. The police come in fast and hard. I raise my hands. Was I blessing them? Was I trying to slow them down? Was I showing them that I had nothing in my hands? I can’t say for sure. Maybe all three. An older male officer in a white shirt throws a young woman next to me to the ground and jams his knee into her back with his full weight. I lunge forward and shout, “This is not necessary! She’s not resisting you! Just calm down!” He looks up and I see him glance at my collar. “You calm down!” he shouts at me as he gets up, moves toward me and brings his pointer finger within an inch of my face. Then he turns to another officer and shouts angrily, “Start collaring people!” Are we having an ordination?
A younger male officer, as gently and kindly as a mother touches her child, takes hold of my arms and puts plastic cuffs on me. He does so, dare I say, lovingly.
The officer in the white shirt moves on to another young woman wearing a pink Tutu. He flings her around roughly and onto a makeshift bench face down. Her bag goes flying. He twists her arm dramatically behind her and shoves it upward toward her shoulder as he pushes her off the bench and onto the ground. Her stockings rip and her knees begin to bleed. I can see the pain on her face. Not just physical, but spiritual. “Stop it! You’re hurting her!” I shout. Is my voice audible? The officer man-handling her turns and looks at me again. His face is red with rage.
The gentle officer holding me appears to be upset. “Are you ok?” he asks me.“I’m fine,” I say. “But I am concerned about these other people. Can you stop him from being so rough?” The officer shrugs and raises his eyebrows dispassionately. I see sadness in his face. He sees the concern in my eyes.
I look around as action in the lot comes to a stop. Who is here? A humble bishop in ripped vestments, a group of ecumenical clergy, a Roman Catholic nun, students, hunger strikers, parents, grandparents, and others. What crime have they committed? Stepping onto church property as a statement of solidarity with the poor, the least and the lost. This motley crew has hurt no one and is hardly threatening. No personal property has been destroyed. In Advent, we celebrate the in-breaking of God and they call this trespassing. We better be careful with our theology.
I cannot make sense of this situation. I cannot get past the fact that I am an Episcopal priest standing in a vacant lot owned by an Episcopal parish, performing a priestly duty and I am under arrest. Wow. I think about my wife and how she is expecting me home right about now. I’m sorry. I did not plan to climb any fences, but here I am.
In John’s gospel it says, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ Nicodemus [asked], ‘How can these things be?’ Jesus answered him, ‘Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?” (John 3:8-10) There are so many things that I do not understand, and I am supposed to be a teacher of the faith. Lord, help me to understand.
As we are loaded onto the police bus, people sing, “We shall Occupy” to the tune of, “We shall Overcome.” I sit silently on the bus and stare out the window as people stop their cars in the middle of traffic, get out and cheer. People on the sidewalks down Canal street pump their fists in the air. Some on the bus feel encouraged. I am overcome with sadness as the brokenness of the world floods my soul. Where is the greatness of God in this season of Advent? Be still and know that I am God.
As I am having my mugshot taken, the flash of light reminds me of the Angel Gabriel appearing to Mary in the gospel I am not yet ready to preach tomorrow morning. “For nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37) God grant me courage and wisdom in these troubled times. Grant me strength of heart and mind and soul and body to say alongside Mary, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; Let it be with me according to your word."
One by one we are processed, separated male and female and locked into large holding cells. Inside, we talk about the movement and how desperately we want peace, justice and equality for all God’s people. Clergy speak one on one with occupiers. The bishop convenes a General Assembly. We talk about the experience of being arrested. We get to know one another and share our stories. Several occupiers remark about how much better they have been treated during the arrest. They reckon it is because clergy are present. I find that small bit of good news gratifying. A supervising officer brings us bread, cheese and milk. It reminds me of being in kindergarten and having snack delivered to the classroom. Someone asks, “Can I have two milks?” Response: “Don’t push it.” Fair enough.
A hunger-striker who had not eaten for 15 days as part of “the ask” for Trinity to grant use of this empty lot to the movement rises to his feet. He does so slowly and unsteadily from a bench in the corner of our cell. A tear runs down his face. "It is an honor and a privilege to break bread with you today, my friends." The hair on my arms stands up. I cry. Others do too. This is one of the clearest experiences of “church” in my life. Christ is palpably present in this cell as sure as you’re born. I could have reached out and touched the wounds if I wanted to. My middle name is Thomas, after all. We embrace the breaker of bread and each other.
As I recount this Eucharistic moment to my congregation on Sunday morning after my release, I weep in the pulpit. Sweet sacrament divine. As I end my sermon and walk to my stall, people stand and applaud. They are not applauding me. They are applauding the presence of Christ in the midst of brokenness. I can feel it. I cry all the way through the Nicene Creed. That’s got to be a new one. I look around through my tears and members of my choir are crying. As I distribute the Body of Christ to my parishioners as I do every week in almost exactly the same way, something is different. People grab my hands and hold them. Not one person, but many. One man who always keeps his eyes down looks me straight in the eyes. “The Body of Christ,” I say. “In the name of justice,” he says. I lose it and begin sobbing. I almost drop the patten. Another parishioner approaches with tears in her eyes. “The Body of Christ,” I say. “Thank you,” she manages while holding my shoulder and squeezing. Tears hit the Host. “The Body of Christ,” I say to one of my wardens. He says to me, “I want to shake your hand.”
At the end of the service, I raise my hands which were cuffed behind my back the night before. “Life is short, and there is not much time to gladden the hearts of those around us. So, be swift to love and make haste to be kind. And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit be with you and remain with you always.”
Forgive us, Lord. We know not what we do. I did not mean to trespass on your holy vacant lot. But I did, and now you’ve broken into me. How can I keep from singing?
Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming from tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse's lineage coming, as men of old have sung.
It came, a floweret bright, amid the cold of winter,
When half spent was the night.
Isaiah 'twas foretold it, the Rose I have in mind;
Mary we behold it, the Virgin Mother kind.
To show God's love aright, she bore to us a Savior,
When half spent was the night.
The shepherds heard the story proclaimed by angels bright,
How Christ, the Lord of glory was born on earth this night.
To Bethlehem they sped and in the manger they found Him,
As angel heralds said.
This Flower, whose fragrance tender with sweetness fills the air,
Dispels with glorious splendor the darkness everywhere;
True man, yet very God, from sin and death He saves us,
And lightens every load.
The Kingdom of God is inside us and all around us. The world is a mess and yet the beauty of community is springing up in the most unexpected places. In an empty lot. In a prison cell. God is building staircases into our hearts this Advent. Sacrificial love is rushing up those stairs. It is the most powerful force on earth and it cannot be stopped. “We are unstoppable,” says God. “Another world is possible.”
What happened on the 17th of December will be forgotten pretty soon. The media cycle will move on. People and institutions will move on. I’m out of jail now, but I am still arrested. God’s Holy Spirit has placed me under arrest. It’s troubling and comforting and overwhelming. I feel completely alive and scared and hopeful. I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief. Help me climb your staircase one step at a time and meet me on the other side. For you promised,“I will never leave you or forsake you.” Be with us all in this season of brokenness and mending.
“Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?”
-Matthew 25:37-40
"The church is the church only when it exists for others." - Dietrich Bonhoeffer
On Saturday, December 17th 2011, in the third week of Advent, I was arrested in a vacant lot owned by Trinity Church, New York.
Earlier that day, I had visited the flagship Apple Store to purchase a Macbook Air as a Christmas gift for my brother. My wife and I strolled down 5th Avenue looking at the Christmas decorations, soaking in the holiday spirit and window shopping. It was a refreshingly crisp winter day and New York was glittering and beautiful. After some lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant in SOHO, I went to join clergy colleagues at an Occupy Wall Street celebration and rally at 6th Avenue and Canal street.
I became involved in the OWS movement when a visit to Zuccotti Park in September motivated by simple curiosity turned out to be a convicting religious experience. The encampment in Zuccotti seemed to me a post-modern incarnation of the community depicted in the book of Acts. Sharing things in common, working for the common good, wrestling with the fundamental inequities in society. Since that visit, I have spent as much time as I could listening to the prophetic voices coming out of the movement. I have helped coordinate housing and food for occupiers. I have been part of ongoing discussions among faith leaders throughout the city, the country and the world regarding the urgent need for a dramatic shift in the economic and social realities which are crippling God’s people. I have preached about the movement, with the movement and to the movement. Over the past three months, I have come to view OWS as both a catalyst and a first fruit of the change I wish to see in the world as a person of faith. Not only do I support what the movement stands for and hopes to accomplish, I also support and love the human beings who make up this movement. They are sacraments of God’s love, God’s justice and God’s peace among us.
On the 17th, occupiers and various community leaders from New York (and beyond) gathered to celebrate the movement’s three month mark. Several civil rights heroes of mine were expected to speak and I wanted to meet them. I planned to visit the celebration and then return home and rest before Sunday. I thought, “Is it really only one week till Christmas? Where has the time gone? Has OWS only been a reality for three months? Wow...it seems a lot has happened in that time. What a gift to the world!”
The mood at the rally was celebratory. There was a general sense of enthusiasm, happiness and passionate commitment. The Church needs more of all three. As I came around the corner where folks were gathering, I spoke with some other clergy who passed on the word that folks were planning to go forward with an act of civil disobedience. They would be entering the vacant lot which had been proposed as a Winter encampment site for OWS. This made me a little uncomfortable. I had considered participating in civil disobedience on other occasions, but had evaluated each situation and decided that it was not right for me personally to participate. I felt the same way today. I did not think that entering the lot would move the good people of Trinity to change their minds regarding use of the space. I was also not sure how helpful the action would be to the movement and, truth be told, I had not planned to stick around for more than an hour. So, I decided not to participate if any act of civil disobedience did take place. I would be there as a non-violent witness, an OWS supporter and a representative of the Church. Good enough.
As the rally unfolded, I was standing near Bishop Packard (retired bishop to the Armed Services), his wife, other clergy and faith leaders. Suddenly, a large staircase emerged from the crowd and was placed against the fence on the north side of the lot. Was it Jacob’s ladder? People began to cheer. Banners were raised. I watched as Bishop Packard went up the stairs and over the fence in a purple cassock and cincture given to him by the Archbishop of Canterbury. His cassock ripped and he fell to the ground on his back. I lunged forward in fear and concern. At that same moment, the police began to push in hard on the crowd. I could feel the physical pressure through dozens of people whose bodies were pressing on mine. More people began to climb the staircase. Up and over they went into an empty gravel lot. And there was jubilation! Could standing in an empty lot really cause so much excitement, so much joy? They felt completely liberated. I could see it on their faces.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a large gathering of police wearing riot gear and carrying weapons. My stomach drops. When I was 16 years old, a police officer hit me hard on the arm with a Maglite on the beach my hometown. It left a painful bruise for weeks. That act of violence was minor compared to what I have seen happen to participants in the OWS movement for simply sitting still.
I look at the people inside the fence and have a feeling which I can only describe as overwhelming love and concern. I must decide, in an instant, where to place my body as a priest. It is no time for sitting on the fence. I climb the stairs and enter the lot. People are cheering and chanting, some are crying, some are silent. I see a sign which read, “Trinity Church- Hero of 9/11. Be a hero again!” I turn and flashed a peace sign to the crowd and to the cops. The same thing I do with parishioners whose hands I can’t reach from the aisle on Sunday. Where are the Trinity clergy? The work of non-violent peacemaking is not best left to the quasi-military NYPD. My iphone vibrates in my hand as I dash toward someone who has fallen over the fence. On the phone is a reporter from the Episcopal News Service. “Michael,”she says. “Are you there? What’s happening?” I tell her that occupiers have entered the lot and I have entered with them. My attention is with the fallen women. “Are you ok?” I ask. She nods and brushes herself off. I say into the phone, “As a priest, I have to be with my people and these are my people. I am here in solidarity with them.” Full stop. I have a deep and overwhelming sense of responsibility that cannot be overcome by reason or logic. It this what it feels like to be a parent? Is this what the incarnation really means? Damn it. What have I climbed into?
This may sound like overstatement, but the option of not going over that fence felt roughly equivalent to abandoning Christ on the cross. I kid you not. I felt the pain and the courage of the occupiers viscerally. I could not let them go alone. Not with the risk of violence which I saw mounting. Not after I had stood with them and they with me in so many other places. My conscience as a priest and as a human being took over and I knew which side of the fence I had to be on. It was obvious. As someone whose spirituality is deeply rooted in the liturgy, I heard the words spoken by my Bishop on the day of my ordination,“You are to love and serve the people among whom you work, caring alike for young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor...My brother, do you believe that you are truly called by God and his Church to this priesthood. Answer: I believe I am so called.”
Some clergy and I begin to sing, “Lo How a Rose E’er Blooming” as the police enter the lot in force. We’re attempting to calm the tension and embody a non-violent, peaceful presence. I realize that I still have the Episcopal News Service on the phone in my hand. “I have to go,” I say, and put the phone in my pocket. The police come in fast and hard. I raise my hands. Was I blessing them? Was I trying to slow them down? Was I showing them that I had nothing in my hands? I can’t say for sure. Maybe all three. An older male officer in a white shirt throws a young woman next to me to the ground and jams his knee into her back with his full weight. I lunge forward and shout, “This is not necessary! She’s not resisting you! Just calm down!” He looks up and I see him glance at my collar. “You calm down!” he shouts at me as he gets up, moves toward me and brings his pointer finger within an inch of my face. Then he turns to another officer and shouts angrily, “Start collaring people!” Are we having an ordination?
A younger male officer, as gently and kindly as a mother touches her child, takes hold of my arms and puts plastic cuffs on me. He does so, dare I say, lovingly.
The officer in the white shirt moves on to another young woman wearing a pink Tutu. He flings her around roughly and onto a makeshift bench face down. Her bag goes flying. He twists her arm dramatically behind her and shoves it upward toward her shoulder as he pushes her off the bench and onto the ground. Her stockings rip and her knees begin to bleed. I can see the pain on her face. Not just physical, but spiritual. “Stop it! You’re hurting her!” I shout. Is my voice audible? The officer man-handling her turns and looks at me again. His face is red with rage.
The gentle officer holding me appears to be upset. “Are you ok?” he asks me.“I’m fine,” I say. “But I am concerned about these other people. Can you stop him from being so rough?” The officer shrugs and raises his eyebrows dispassionately. I see sadness in his face. He sees the concern in my eyes.
I look around as action in the lot comes to a stop. Who is here? A humble bishop in ripped vestments, a group of ecumenical clergy, a Roman Catholic nun, students, hunger strikers, parents, grandparents, and others. What crime have they committed? Stepping onto church property as a statement of solidarity with the poor, the least and the lost. This motley crew has hurt no one and is hardly threatening. No personal property has been destroyed. In Advent, we celebrate the in-breaking of God and they call this trespassing. We better be careful with our theology.
I cannot make sense of this situation. I cannot get past the fact that I am an Episcopal priest standing in a vacant lot owned by an Episcopal parish, performing a priestly duty and I am under arrest. Wow. I think about my wife and how she is expecting me home right about now. I’m sorry. I did not plan to climb any fences, but here I am.
In John’s gospel it says, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ Nicodemus [asked], ‘How can these things be?’ Jesus answered him, ‘Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?” (John 3:8-10) There are so many things that I do not understand, and I am supposed to be a teacher of the faith. Lord, help me to understand.
As we are loaded onto the police bus, people sing, “We shall Occupy” to the tune of, “We shall Overcome.” I sit silently on the bus and stare out the window as people stop their cars in the middle of traffic, get out and cheer. People on the sidewalks down Canal street pump their fists in the air. Some on the bus feel encouraged. I am overcome with sadness as the brokenness of the world floods my soul. Where is the greatness of God in this season of Advent? Be still and know that I am God.
As I am having my mugshot taken, the flash of light reminds me of the Angel Gabriel appearing to Mary in the gospel I am not yet ready to preach tomorrow morning. “For nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37) God grant me courage and wisdom in these troubled times. Grant me strength of heart and mind and soul and body to say alongside Mary, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; Let it be with me according to your word."
One by one we are processed, separated male and female and locked into large holding cells. Inside, we talk about the movement and how desperately we want peace, justice and equality for all God’s people. Clergy speak one on one with occupiers. The bishop convenes a General Assembly. We talk about the experience of being arrested. We get to know one another and share our stories. Several occupiers remark about how much better they have been treated during the arrest. They reckon it is because clergy are present. I find that small bit of good news gratifying. A supervising officer brings us bread, cheese and milk. It reminds me of being in kindergarten and having snack delivered to the classroom. Someone asks, “Can I have two milks?” Response: “Don’t push it.” Fair enough.
A hunger-striker who had not eaten for 15 days as part of “the ask” for Trinity to grant use of this empty lot to the movement rises to his feet. He does so slowly and unsteadily from a bench in the corner of our cell. A tear runs down his face. "It is an honor and a privilege to break bread with you today, my friends." The hair on my arms stands up. I cry. Others do too. This is one of the clearest experiences of “church” in my life. Christ is palpably present in this cell as sure as you’re born. I could have reached out and touched the wounds if I wanted to. My middle name is Thomas, after all. We embrace the breaker of bread and each other.
As I recount this Eucharistic moment to my congregation on Sunday morning after my release, I weep in the pulpit. Sweet sacrament divine. As I end my sermon and walk to my stall, people stand and applaud. They are not applauding me. They are applauding the presence of Christ in the midst of brokenness. I can feel it. I cry all the way through the Nicene Creed. That’s got to be a new one. I look around through my tears and members of my choir are crying. As I distribute the Body of Christ to my parishioners as I do every week in almost exactly the same way, something is different. People grab my hands and hold them. Not one person, but many. One man who always keeps his eyes down looks me straight in the eyes. “The Body of Christ,” I say. “In the name of justice,” he says. I lose it and begin sobbing. I almost drop the patten. Another parishioner approaches with tears in her eyes. “The Body of Christ,” I say. “Thank you,” she manages while holding my shoulder and squeezing. Tears hit the Host. “The Body of Christ,” I say to one of my wardens. He says to me, “I want to shake your hand.”
At the end of the service, I raise my hands which were cuffed behind my back the night before. “Life is short, and there is not much time to gladden the hearts of those around us. So, be swift to love and make haste to be kind. And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit be with you and remain with you always.”
Forgive us, Lord. We know not what we do. I did not mean to trespass on your holy vacant lot. But I did, and now you’ve broken into me. How can I keep from singing?
Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming from tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse's lineage coming, as men of old have sung.
It came, a floweret bright, amid the cold of winter,
When half spent was the night.
Isaiah 'twas foretold it, the Rose I have in mind;
Mary we behold it, the Virgin Mother kind.
To show God's love aright, she bore to us a Savior,
When half spent was the night.
The shepherds heard the story proclaimed by angels bright,
How Christ, the Lord of glory was born on earth this night.
To Bethlehem they sped and in the manger they found Him,
As angel heralds said.
This Flower, whose fragrance tender with sweetness fills the air,
Dispels with glorious splendor the darkness everywhere;
True man, yet very God, from sin and death He saves us,
And lightens every load.
The Kingdom of God is inside us and all around us. The world is a mess and yet the beauty of community is springing up in the most unexpected places. In an empty lot. In a prison cell. God is building staircases into our hearts this Advent. Sacrificial love is rushing up those stairs. It is the most powerful force on earth and it cannot be stopped. “We are unstoppable,” says God. “Another world is possible.”
What happened on the 17th of December will be forgotten pretty soon. The media cycle will move on. People and institutions will move on. I’m out of jail now, but I am still arrested. God’s Holy Spirit has placed me under arrest. It’s troubling and comforting and overwhelming. I feel completely alive and scared and hopeful. I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief. Help me climb your staircase one step at a time and meet me on the other side. For you promised,“I will never leave you or forsake you.” Be with us all in this season of brokenness and mending.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
46 Months
My Wyatt,
As always, you are pretty stoked for Christmas. Not quite getting the whole gift giving thing though. I told you that for every present you ask for you have to think of something to give someone else. You want to give a light up amblance to Aunt Lizzy, I am getting some Lego's so we can play together, you want to buy your friend Max a Power Wheels police car, and Emme almost every girl toy in every catlog. Its more about toys that you want and then you arbitrarily gift them to someone else. Aunt Lizzy, Auntie B, and I bought Gammy and Pa a new refridgerator for Christmas but had it delivered early to avoid confusion and craziness. Of course, you came with us and we all had to explain about surprises and secrets about a million times. You were doing so well and then you totally spilled the beans to Pa. Also casually asking Gammy "when is the refrigerator being dropped off?" I would tell you its a secret and you would whine, "But I wanna tell them." You picked out (INSISTED that I buy) a lovely sweater for Auntie B which you promptly told her about on the phone. Clearly, you can't keep a secret.
I have to touch on a few things. First on Thanksgiving, you helped me in the kitchen making these amazing baked mashed potatoes. You mashed them all by yourself then was convinced that everyone was going to hug you because you "are the campion masher." I told you that I was sure you were going to get hugs anyway. Second, you went Christmas tree cutting with the family, unfortunately I had to work and was unable to go. (I was very upset about this but redeemed my day by spending hours at Nana's assembling your Power Wheels. I was smiling the entire time, no joke. Just anticipating seeing you on Christmas morning is making me smile.) There is nothing more heartbreaking then hearing your sweet little voice on the phone telling me you miss me. It never gets old.
I got pulled over the other day. It was my first time since 2006. We talk alot about getting pulled over by the police, and getting tickets, and red light cameras. They are all very interesting to you. So, when I got pulled over, lights and everything, I thought your head was going to explode. At first, you were a little nervous just because you didn't understand what was happening and then it was all questions. By the time the cop got to me, I was hysterical laughing. He said that laughing at a ticket wasn't something he had experienced before. I told him that I didn't even care about the ticket but could he pretty please talk to you for a minute. The ticket would have been so worth your amazment. You chatted for a while and the cop said he was going to let me off but ONLY because you were so cute. Then demanded that I be very good to you for Christmas. Best part is now you are telling everyone "Momma almost got arrested but she didn't because I am so cute." Yes. That is exactly what happened.
You have been doing this thing lately where you come up to me and touch my face. Lightly brushing your finger tips across my cheek and forhead then always landing on my nose. I honestly can say I have no idea why you have been doing this. I thought maybe it is because I rub your head or run my fingers through your hair (its getting long and you don't want a haircut). Its endearing and totally random. You will be in the middle of playing, stop what you are doing, look up and jump on my lap. I give you a hug and a kiss and send you on your way. When I told Gammy about it, she said that you just love me. That you can see how much you adore me. Well, my love, the feeling is mutual. I can't stop myself from covering you in kisses. I hope Gammy is right.
I love you everyday,
Momma
As always, you are pretty stoked for Christmas. Not quite getting the whole gift giving thing though. I told you that for every present you ask for you have to think of something to give someone else. You want to give a light up amblance to Aunt Lizzy, I am getting some Lego's so we can play together, you want to buy your friend Max a Power Wheels police car, and Emme almost every girl toy in every catlog. Its more about toys that you want and then you arbitrarily gift them to someone else. Aunt Lizzy, Auntie B, and I bought Gammy and Pa a new refridgerator for Christmas but had it delivered early to avoid confusion and craziness. Of course, you came with us and we all had to explain about surprises and secrets about a million times. You were doing so well and then you totally spilled the beans to Pa. Also casually asking Gammy "when is the refrigerator being dropped off?" I would tell you its a secret and you would whine, "But I wanna tell them." You picked out (INSISTED that I buy) a lovely sweater for Auntie B which you promptly told her about on the phone. Clearly, you can't keep a secret. 
I have to touch on a few things. First on Thanksgiving, you helped me in the kitchen making these amazing baked mashed potatoes. You mashed them all by yourself then was convinced that everyone was going to hug you because you "are the campion masher." I told you that I was sure you were going to get hugs anyway. Second, you went Christmas tree cutting with the family, unfortunately I had to work and was unable to go. (I was very upset about this but redeemed my day by spending hours at Nana's assembling your Power Wheels. I was smiling the entire time, no joke. Just anticipating seeing you on Christmas morning is making me smile.) There is nothing more heartbreaking then hearing your sweet little voice on the phone telling me you miss me. It never gets old.
I got pulled over the other day. It was my first time since 2006. We talk alot about getting pulled over by the police, and getting tickets, and red light cameras. They are all very interesting to you. So, when I got pulled over, lights and everything, I thought your head was going to explode. At first, you were a little nervous just because you didn't understand what was happening and then it was all questions. By the time the cop got to me, I was hysterical laughing. He said that laughing at a ticket wasn't something he had experienced before. I told him that I didn't even care about the ticket but could he pretty please talk to you for a minute. The ticket would have been so worth your amazment. You chatted for a while and the cop said he was going to let me off but ONLY because you were so cute. Then demanded that I be very good to you for Christmas. Best part is now you are telling everyone "Momma almost got arrested but she didn't because I am so cute." Yes. That is exactly what happened.You have been doing this thing lately where you come up to me and touch my face. Lightly brushing your finger tips across my cheek and forhead then always landing on my nose. I honestly can say I have no idea why you have been doing this. I thought maybe it is because I rub your head or run my fingers through your hair (its getting long and you don't want a haircut). Its endearing and totally random. You will be in the middle of playing, stop what you are doing, look up and jump on my lap. I give you a hug and a kiss and send you on your way. When I told Gammy about it, she said that you just love me. That you can see how much you adore me. Well, my love, the feeling is mutual. I can't stop myself from covering you in kisses. I hope Gammy is right.
I love you everyday,
Momma
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
The List of all Lists
Wyatt has been writing his Christmas list for a long time. Mostly it consists of trucks, Lego's, and more trucks. He just rearranges the order of importance. When we were finalizing the list to send to Santa, he threw me a doozie:
Can you read that? That little bitty request at the bottom. Well, if you can't, it says A BROTHER. As in, another human. Oh shit you guys. Can I pee my pants now?
I can't say that this is ENTIRELY a surprise. He has been asking a decent amount about brothers. Just a lot of questions really. Which of his friends have siblings? How is Aunt Lizzy my sister? That kind of stuff. I think it started when Gammy was opening peanuts with Wy. (Do you see how easy that was to blame Gammy? Ha!) She would open them and ask if it had a brother or not. Wyatt started doing it. Then he started asking if he could have a brother. I told him maybe someday but definitely not any time soon. Then we were shopping in the mall and the "All I want for Christmas is a Brother" song came on. Yeah. I had never heard of it either. It was as if a lightbulb went off above Wyatt's head.
"Santa can bring me a brother?"
"Bud, I'm not really sure that Santa can bring you a human. Santa only deals with toys."
"But maybe I could ask him for one."
Ok, different tactic. "Are you sure you would want a brother? That means you would have to share your toys and your Momma."
"Well, maybe I want a big brother. So, he could have big toys."
That's when I let the conversation drop because I was pretty confident I was not going to win any arguments. I have a hard time out-smarting him sometimes, especially when he gets something in his head.
So, a few days later when we are writing his list, I am wondering if he is going to bring it up. We got so close to the end and then he throws out the brother card. And just to clarify, he goes "A REAL big brother. Not a toy." Then watches to see if I wrote that down.
What to do? What to do? Clearly, it is at the bottom of his list. I am sure once he finds the Power Wheels Fire Truck (that has already been purchased and fought for at ToysRUs! So Excited!) he will forget all about that pesky brother business. Can I adopt a big brother somewhere? Or maybe just borrow one for a day or two? I am sure that will curb his need for a sibling. Robot siblings, anyone?
Can you read that? That little bitty request at the bottom. Well, if you can't, it says A BROTHER. As in, another human. Oh shit you guys. Can I pee my pants now?
I can't say that this is ENTIRELY a surprise. He has been asking a decent amount about brothers. Just a lot of questions really. Which of his friends have siblings? How is Aunt Lizzy my sister? That kind of stuff. I think it started when Gammy was opening peanuts with Wy. (Do you see how easy that was to blame Gammy? Ha!) She would open them and ask if it had a brother or not. Wyatt started doing it. Then he started asking if he could have a brother. I told him maybe someday but definitely not any time soon. Then we were shopping in the mall and the "All I want for Christmas is a Brother" song came on. Yeah. I had never heard of it either. It was as if a lightbulb went off above Wyatt's head.
"Santa can bring me a brother?"
"Bud, I'm not really sure that Santa can bring you a human. Santa only deals with toys.""But maybe I could ask him for one."
Ok, different tactic. "Are you sure you would want a brother? That means you would have to share your toys and your Momma."
"Well, maybe I want a big brother. So, he could have big toys."
That's when I let the conversation drop because I was pretty confident I was not going to win any arguments. I have a hard time out-smarting him sometimes, especially when he gets something in his head.
So, a few days later when we are writing his list, I am wondering if he is going to bring it up. We got so close to the end and then he throws out the brother card. And just to clarify, he goes "A REAL big brother. Not a toy." Then watches to see if I wrote that down.
What to do? What to do? Clearly, it is at the bottom of his list. I am sure once he finds the Power Wheels Fire Truck (that has already been purchased and fought for at ToysRUs! So Excited!) he will forget all about that pesky brother business. Can I adopt a big brother somewhere? Or maybe just borrow one for a day or two? I am sure that will curb his need for a sibling. Robot siblings, anyone?
Friday, November 18, 2011
God Bwess AmeriKa
I have never sang this before to Wyatt. My dad used to sing it to Wyatt when he was a baby. See: Wyatt's Singing Debut. Then, one night at dinner, Wyatt busted out the entire song. He said he learned it at school. We make him sing it all the time now because it is too damn cute. Hey, at least I know they are teaching him something! Love, Love Love.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
45 Months
Fireman Wyatt,
I took you to 3 Firehouse open houses. Yes, 3. Because you are obsessed. The GC one seemed to be your favorite. You got to ride on a truck then watched as they lit an old oven on fire. There was a police helicopter that took off and circled the building. When I put you inside the helicopter, you announced "My dada's helicopter is bigger then this one." and look around unimpressed. The pilot was a little put off and a little amused at the same time. Then a fireman repelled from the roof of the building. But by far your favorite, was when they staged an accident and had to use the jaws of life to rip a car apart. I expected to be there for a hour and we stayed for 3. You couldn't get enough. You have a collection of plastic fire helmets and went dressed in your finest firman coat and boots to each fire station. Whenever I call you a "Silly goose", you correct me saying "Mom, you can just call me Fireman Wyatt." Most of the firemen were so impressed with how much you knew and the one company said you could visit whenever you wanted.
If I ask you what you want to be when you grow up you always say a fireman, however more recently you want to be a fireman and a lego artist. Because you can do both. You could spend hours pouring your lego's out and designing cars or garages or firehouses. You are so patient and meticulous, knowing exactly which piece you are looking for. You have a ton of Duplo's but have expertly moved on the the little ones. Most of the time, I am buying 5-12 year old lego's. I use the "menus" as you call them, and put them together for you the first time. Then you play. But almost always, you can put them back together if they break.
We had a playdate adventure with Faetra in Brooklyn. We found the Prospect Park Zoo, which is an adorably cute zoo (maybe better then Central Park in my humble opinion). You smushed yourself in these fake egg shells and pronounce "Eggs marks the spot!" You out punned all of the adults around. You found this little pond with fixed plastic lilly pads for jumping, bull frog style. You loved it. We left that area and you kept stearing us back to them. You were jumping when it got crowed very quickly. Faetra and I were chatting just to look up and watch a young boy (around 6, I think) crowd you and then push you into the water. You got out rather quickly and looked around mildly confused. I wasn't sure if you were going to cry or push him in. It was a cold day and you got soaked to your knees. We went to the bathroom and put you under the hand dryer. You went shoeless around Brooklyn for the rest of the day. Then proceeded to the bar to dry you off. You have been talking about the boy who pushed you off the lilly pad for days now.
You have been spending a lot of time in my bed lately. Its regression at its finest. Sometimes you ask me in your sweetest voice if we can have a sleep over in your bed. Which I know I should say no but sometimes I give in. If I put my foot down you usually end up padding your way to my door around 1am or so. Or there was the one time when you went into Gammy's room and got her because I told you to stay in your bed. I know its bad. And I am fully aware, it is a problem with me and not with you. I am 100% positive that if I stuck to my guns and stood my ground, you would be in your bed from 8-8. I just can't resist your cuteness. Especially, that sleepy, warm and comfy snuggle fest that happens around 3am. You are so angelic when you are sleeping peacefully. I don't think I could ever kick you out of my bed. And definitely not when you walk in saying "Momma, I missed you."
I love you everyday.
Momma
I took you to 3 Firehouse open houses. Yes, 3. Because you are obsessed. The GC one seemed to be your favorite. You got to ride on a truck then watched as they lit an old oven on fire. There was a police helicopter that took off and circled the building. When I put you inside the helicopter, you announced "My dada's helicopter is bigger then this one." and look around unimpressed. The pilot was a little put off and a little amused at the same time. Then a fireman repelled from the roof of the building. But by far your favorite, was when they staged an accident and had to use the jaws of life to rip a car apart. I expected to be there for a hour and we stayed for 3. You couldn't get enough. You have a collection of plastic fire helmets and went dressed in your finest firman coat and boots to each fire station. Whenever I call you a "Silly goose", you correct me saying "Mom, you can just call me Fireman Wyatt." Most of the firemen were so impressed with how much you knew and the one company said you could visit whenever you wanted. If I ask you what you want to be when you grow up you always say a fireman, however more recently you want to be a fireman and a lego artist. Because you can do both. You could spend hours pouring your lego's out and designing cars or garages or firehouses. You are so patient and meticulous, knowing exactly which piece you are looking for. You have a ton of Duplo's but have expertly moved on the the little ones. Most of the time, I am buying 5-12 year old lego's. I use the "menus" as you call them, and put them together for you the first time. Then you play. But almost always, you can put them back together if they break.
We had a playdate adventure with Faetra in Brooklyn. We found the Prospect Park Zoo, which is an adorably cute zoo (maybe better then Central Park in my humble opinion). You smushed yourself in these fake egg shells and pronounce "Eggs marks the spot!" You out punned all of the adults around. You found this little pond with fixed plastic lilly pads for jumping, bull frog style. You loved it. We left that area and you kept stearing us back to them. You were jumping when it got crowed very quickly. Faetra and I were chatting just to look up and watch a young boy (around 6, I think) crowd you and then push you into the water. You got out rather quickly and looked around mildly confused. I wasn't sure if you were going to cry or push him in. It was a cold day and you got soaked to your knees. We went to the bathroom and put you under the hand dryer. You went shoeless around Brooklyn for the rest of the day. Then proceeded to the bar to dry you off. You have been talking about the boy who pushed you off the lilly pad for days now.
You have been spending a lot of time in my bed lately. Its regression at its finest. Sometimes you ask me in your sweetest voice if we can have a sleep over in your bed. Which I know I should say no but sometimes I give in. If I put my foot down you usually end up padding your way to my door around 1am or so. Or there was the one time when you went into Gammy's room and got her because I told you to stay in your bed. I know its bad. And I am fully aware, it is a problem with me and not with you. I am 100% positive that if I stuck to my guns and stood my ground, you would be in your bed from 8-8. I just can't resist your cuteness. Especially, that sleepy, warm and comfy snuggle fest that happens around 3am. You are so angelic when you are sleeping peacefully. I don't think I could ever kick you out of my bed. And definitely not when you walk in saying "Momma, I missed you."
I love you everyday.
Momma
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
Halloweenie!!
Wyatt asked, some time ago, to be a cherry picker for Halloween. I thought about it and decided that it might be to hard for me to pull off. I figured that I could plant an idea of something easier before it came time to start creating. Thankfully, he changed his mind. About a month ago, he decided he wanted to be a road. With fire trucks on it. And maybe something on fire. And it should probably be Mountain Ave. Easy! Done! I can do that! All I needed was a black sweatsuit, yellow duct tape, velcro, matchbox cars, and a street sign. And Mountain Ave was created:And because I am super ambitious, I made street signs for the entire family so that we could all trick-or-treat as our town. And let me tell you, Wyatt OWNED that costume. He marched for the entire Halloween parade and explained (in detail) to every person who asked about his costume. He was the only "road" in his class of super hero's. I am so proud of him that he chose his costume. That he is already owning his decisions and being uniquely Wyatt. He is loving every minute.
Oh and did I mention that he WON first place original costume!! Oh, yes, he did! Two years in a row!! Jeez, there is going to be a lot of pressure for next year.
Wyatt also made a special request when carving pumpkins. Again, this year, he was less then enthused about the gutting. But he was very demanding about wanting to carve a fire truck into the pumpkin. Because there are haunted fire houses and sometimes fire trucks are spooky. After googling "fire truck pumpkin carving template" drew a big blank, I found a simple outline and we carved a fire truck.
We found this adorable Rice Krispie pumpkin mold at Hicks Nursery. Wyatt loved it and decided he wanted to make pumpkins for his class for show n' tell on friday. Basically, I made them while Wyatt ate marshmallows. He did decorate the box we brought them in with "spooky" stickers. His teachers said he handed one out to each kid and was very excited when the class thanked him. One parent even asked me where I bought them. Yeah, not so much. We're rock stars!
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Wyatt One Liners - Yummy!
We are driving home in the car around 1pm. I bought a pack of M&M's and I am trying to keep him awake until we get home. (He has a huge problem with falling asleep with in the car when we are 2 minutes away from home.) I explained that M&M's taste really good but they don't give him energy or make him bigger.
"But they're yummy."
"Yeah, Bud. But they're not good for you so just a few." He goes quiet and continues to eat them. A few minutes later I turn and he's got chocolate dripping down his face.
"Hey. Can Momma have a red one?"
"I found one." He passes a red one up.
"Can Momma have a yellow one?"
"Mom, there not really good for you. You will get a tummy ache."
I laughed; my own logic begin used against me. After a while I asked again for another one to no response. When I turned to look, he was sound asleep clutching his bag of M&M's and covered in chocolate.
We were at a restaurant and the waitress asked Wyatt's name. She mentioned that her nephew is also named Wyatt. Wyatt prompt yells out "Two Wyatt's? That's crazy!" I don't think he has ever met someone else named Wyatt or had heard of anyone else. It took me a long time to convince him that there was only one him but others with his name. He still thinks its crazy.
While in Colorado, we were having tiramisu for dessert that was artfully crafted into a pyramid. Also, it was absolutely delicious. The chef placed one in front of Wyatt, then asked what I would like. "I'll have the tiramisu too, please.".
"Mom! You're getting the pyramid too?"
"The tiramisu. Yes."
He turns to the boy sitting next to him and says, "She's having the pyramid too!!"
We are playing and Wyatt rips this huge fart. "Mom, get out your gas mask! I did a big toodles!" Another classic Wyatt-ism is when the dog farts and he implored us to "light a candle in here."
I was making dinner, a honey hosin chicken thing, that was smelling pretty good. Wyatt was upstairs playing with his trains. He comes barreling down and smashed into my legs by the stove. "Mom! What is the yummy smell?" I explained and he went back upstairs without a word. He didn't even try it. I had to make him fish sticks.
"But they're yummy."
"Yeah, Bud. But they're not good for you so just a few." He goes quiet and continues to eat them. A few minutes later I turn and he's got chocolate dripping down his face.
"Hey. Can Momma have a red one?"
"I found one." He passes a red one up.
"Can Momma have a yellow one?"
"Mom, there not really good for you. You will get a tummy ache."
I laughed; my own logic begin used against me. After a while I asked again for another one to no response. When I turned to look, he was sound asleep clutching his bag of M&M's and covered in chocolate.
While in Colorado, we were having tiramisu for dessert that was artfully crafted into a pyramid. Also, it was absolutely delicious. The chef placed one in front of Wyatt, then asked what I would like. "I'll have the tiramisu too, please.".
"Mom! You're getting the pyramid too?"
"The tiramisu. Yes."
He turns to the boy sitting next to him and says, "She's having the pyramid too!!"
We are playing and Wyatt rips this huge fart. "Mom, get out your gas mask! I did a big toodles!" Another classic Wyatt-ism is when the dog farts and he implored us to "light a candle in here."
I was making dinner, a honey hosin chicken thing, that was smelling pretty good. Wyatt was upstairs playing with his trains. He comes barreling down and smashed into my legs by the stove. "Mom! What is the yummy smell?" I explained and he went back upstairs without a word. He didn't even try it. I had to make him fish sticks.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
44 Months
Bud,
You have been pretty obsessed with YouTube lately. At first you loved watching fire trucks in action. Tours of fire trucks, trucks rushing to fires, bizarre montages of companies trucks set to music. Then it was garbage trucks. Then it was adorably cute british cartoons like Peppa Pig, Postman Pat, and Fireman Sam. Then it was the crazy expensive, totally awesome toys from Rokenbok, that you want to put on your Christmas list. Unfortunately, I don't think even Santa can afford them. Just when I thought we couldn't find anymore bizarre things on YouTube, you out did yourself. Your latest fascination has been with Lego videos of police stations and fire trucks. These are mostly stop-motion videos of people building Legos. But you also found some silly videos of Lego mini-figures farting. Yes, farting. You are currently obsessed with farting Lego men. Even mentioning "Lego farts" in your presence sets you off in a fit of giggles. Clearly, you have turned into a 7 year old over night.
We took a mini-hiatus on Columbus weekend for a trip to visit Mia in Boston. We got stuck in traffic on the way there. It took us an hour to go 6 miles at one point, for a total of 7 hours in the car. It was my first time taking a trip like this by ourselves. I perfected the art of putting on your dvd player with one hand while driving and looking forward; memorizing the buttons on the blessed machine. We sang, did silly seat dances, ate snacks, and played I Spy. I asked you about 12 times to take a break and pull over and you insisted that we keep going. "We're almost, almost, almost there." Your voice raising octaves on each "almost". I am impressed at your ability to sit in the car happily for that long. Not many adults can do that besides three year olds.
Mia had a extravagant fall festivus with pumpkin soup and apple crisp. We attempted a corn maze at a local farm. It was my first time doing a corn maze and I was not sure what to expect. It was harder then I anticipated. I guess I thought we would always be able to see above the corn. You can't. I think we were in there for about a hour before cheating, cutting between the rows in the direction of the music and the smell of popcorn. At each fork, you and Brody (a fellow 3 year old) would stop to check your map and choose a direction. You wanted to pick up the corn off the ground to bring it home and eat it. Over the last 10 minutes you needed a piggy back. At that point, I think I could have used a piggy back. The funniest part is I guess another family actually called 911 because they got lost that weekend. I didn't think it was that bad.
We also made a trip into the city for a night with Hayley. We drove to Auntie B's and took the subway into the city. You were a classic country child, narrating everything the train was doing. "Look mom! People are getting on. Its stopping. We're going down. That man is reading his book. Hold on you might fall." I ask a MTA guy if I had to pay for you and he looked at me like I had 12 heads. I guess I was a classic suburban mom. At one point another boy sat down next to you and was baffled that you were so excited about doing something as mundane as riding the subway. I left your stroller at home and make you walk. Such a champ. I think we ended up walking a good 3 avenues and 10 blocks. The city is just so interesting. The trucks, the crazy people, the buildings, and OH MY JESUS the Biggest Toys R Us you had ever seen. We rode the ferris wheel and spent way too much money on Legos. I told you you couldn't get anything and walked out with $80 less. However, the Legos provided a needed distraction at dinner to allow me to drink some wine and chat. Bonus. We took a cab back to Auntie B's and you were fascinated with the touch screen TV in the back. Its always the little things that hold your interest the longest.
You got sick this month. Classic change of seasons, back to school nonsense. Because you are not feeling well you have been extra cuddly. You told me I had to sit with you and help you eat your breakfast on the couch because we are "bestest buddies." Really, how can I possibly say no to that? Then when you had a bad fever and I asked you to take a sip of water and you responded with "It's OK mom. I'm a fireman." I am not quite sure what being a fireman has to do with drinking water but its still 100% cute. Then when I had finished reading you books and as you were falling asleep you say "Mom, you're the greatest." Can I have a collective 'awww'? Its a phrase that I usually reserve for you. Because you are the greatest. And we are best buddies. And I think we make a pretty good team.
I love you everyday,
Momma
Mia had a extravagant fall festivus with pumpkin soup and apple crisp. We attempted a corn maze at a local farm. It was my first time doing a corn maze and I was not sure what to expect. It was harder then I anticipated. I guess I thought we would always be able to see above the corn. You can't. I think we were in there for about a hour before cheating, cutting between the rows in the direction of the music and the smell of popcorn. At each fork, you and Brody (a fellow 3 year old) would stop to check your map and choose a direction. You wanted to pick up the corn off the ground to bring it home and eat it. Over the last 10 minutes you needed a piggy back. At that point, I think I could have used a piggy back. The funniest part is I guess another family actually called 911 because they got lost that weekend. I didn't think it was that bad.
We also made a trip into the city for a night with Hayley. We drove to Auntie B's and took the subway into the city. You were a classic country child, narrating everything the train was doing. "Look mom! People are getting on. Its stopping. We're going down. That man is reading his book. Hold on you might fall." I ask a MTA guy if I had to pay for you and he looked at me like I had 12 heads. I guess I was a classic suburban mom. At one point another boy sat down next to you and was baffled that you were so excited about doing something as mundane as riding the subway. I left your stroller at home and make you walk. Such a champ. I think we ended up walking a good 3 avenues and 10 blocks. The city is just so interesting. The trucks, the crazy people, the buildings, and OH MY JESUS the Biggest Toys R Us you had ever seen. We rode the ferris wheel and spent way too much money on Legos. I told you you couldn't get anything and walked out with $80 less. However, the Legos provided a needed distraction at dinner to allow me to drink some wine and chat. Bonus. We took a cab back to Auntie B's and you were fascinated with the touch screen TV in the back. Its always the little things that hold your interest the longest.You got sick this month. Classic change of seasons, back to school nonsense. Because you are not feeling well you have been extra cuddly. You told me I had to sit with you and help you eat your breakfast on the couch because we are "bestest buddies." Really, how can I possibly say no to that? Then when you had a bad fever and I asked you to take a sip of water and you responded with "It's OK mom. I'm a fireman." I am not quite sure what being a fireman has to do with drinking water but its still 100% cute. Then when I had finished reading you books and as you were falling asleep you say "Mom, you're the greatest." Can I have a collective 'awww'? Its a phrase that I usually reserve for you. Because you are the greatest. And we are best buddies. And I think we make a pretty good team.
I love you everyday,
Momma
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Vacation Bliss
So....vacation. It was 4 weeks ago and feels like a lifetime away. It was the most relaxed and carefree I have been in a long time. But of course as soon as I found myself back within 10 miles of home, all holy hell broke loose and it is back to the daily grind. Perhaps more stress then I left with actually. But I guess thats always the way.
OhMyGawd you guys. Our house was f-ing amazing. I want to live in this house for the rest of my life. The balconies. The ocean breeze. The hardwood floors and hot tub. The first night Wyatt and I got to enjoy an ocean view room (Just cause not everyone was there yet. Evidently, ocean view rooms where saved for the "adults", whatever that means.) It was blissful. Sounds of the ocean lulling us to sleep. The cool beach breeze blowing the curtains. The sunrise over the water. Totally an indication on how the rest of the week would pan out.
Wyatt was in his element. He would wander to the beach after his daily pancake breakfast. "Mom, I'm hungry. I want pancakes." was the daily request. When he was done with the beach he would move to the house. Then the hot tub which we lowered to a balmy 80 degrees. Then to one of the upper decks for some puzzles. He was so content to wander around from person to person. Wyatt and cousin William were amazing. They got along so well. They got on the top bunk of the bunk beds with Mike and were playing delivery trucks. Seeing Michael trying to keep up with 2 truck loving boys was hilarious. I have to admit I think Wyatt's most favorite day was at the hotel during the black out. He ran up and down the hallways with a flash light for HOURS. Ohh right. And there was that time in the lobby while we were playing scrabble that he asked "Did you spell Vagina? You spelled vagina, right?" in his loudest voice possible. Yes! That was memorable! I actually spelled Vampire, which I thought would be equally impressive. Evidently not as impressive as a 3 year old yelling vagina in a generator powered lobby filled with hurricane displaced people.
This requires a little back story. About 3 months ago, Wyatt, Mom and I were in OshKosh and I just went up to pay when Wyatt ran up to me with these "sparkle shoes". They looked like Chucks but are silver and sparkly with pink stretchy laces. I didn't really care that he wanted the sparkle shoes. I would have bought them for him. But I'm cheap and they were $32. I don't think I would even spend that much on shoes for myself. He threw a fit. I had to carry him out of the store crying. I thought he would forget about it by the time we got home. He didn't. Because he has an amazing memory. Every time a package arrived at the door he asked if they were his sparkle shoes. While in NC, he tried to get into a locked closet, insisting that his sparkle shoes where in there. I tried to appease him with different sparkle shoes from Sears. He was not impressed and not fooled. "Those are not MY sparkle shoes." In a crazy turn of fate, while shopping, I found Wyatt's Sparkle Shoes on sale for $15 in NC. I was going to wait for Santa to bring them but I couldn't stand it. I gave them to him the moment I walked in the door. With the whole family there to witness the joy on his face and then a little annoyance when I couldn't get them on his feet fast enough. It was LOVE. He loves these shoes. He insisted on wearing them on the first day of school. Wyatt, my love, you ROCK those shoes.
OhMyGawd you guys. Our house was f-ing amazing. I want to live in this house for the rest of my life. The balconies. The ocean breeze. The hardwood floors and hot tub. The first night Wyatt and I got to enjoy an ocean view room (Just cause not everyone was there yet. Evidently, ocean view rooms where saved for the "adults", whatever that means.) It was blissful. Sounds of the ocean lulling us to sleep. The cool beach breeze blowing the curtains. The sunrise over the water. Totally an indication on how the rest of the week would pan out.
Wyatt was in his element. He would wander to the beach after his daily pancake breakfast. "Mom, I'm hungry. I want pancakes." was the daily request. When he was done with the beach he would move to the house. Then the hot tub which we lowered to a balmy 80 degrees. Then to one of the upper decks for some puzzles. He was so content to wander around from person to person. Wyatt and cousin William were amazing. They got along so well. They got on the top bunk of the bunk beds with Mike and were playing delivery trucks. Seeing Michael trying to keep up with 2 truck loving boys was hilarious. I have to admit I think Wyatt's most favorite day was at the hotel during the black out. He ran up and down the hallways with a flash light for HOURS. Ohh right. And there was that time in the lobby while we were playing scrabble that he asked "Did you spell Vagina? You spelled vagina, right?" in his loudest voice possible. Yes! That was memorable! I actually spelled Vampire, which I thought would be equally impressive. Evidently not as impressive as a 3 year old yelling vagina in a generator powered lobby filled with hurricane displaced people.
Lizzy tried to wake board. It was a huge failure. I have a thousand pictures of her laying in the sand. Most of the family watched and heckled. Because, seriously you guys, it looks like it should be so easy. In all fairness, I tried as well and I believe there might be a shot video of me EATING IT and then letting the wake board float out into sea. I think James was the only person that really got it. Trust me guys. It is WAY harding then it looks.
There was an EPIC game of drunken Jenga. Honestly, it was an impressive game regardless of the drinks consumed which I think makes it more impressive that the game lasted so long. I took a ton of pictures and most of them are hysterical for the faces of the people in the background. Take this one of Tim for instant. Brilliant. I think the best block was STFU which had everyone screaming "Shut the Fuck Up" at everyone else. Or maybe the accent block which had Michael imitating an Indian/English accent and mumbling about elephants. But I think them most memorable game moment was on our last night playing Catch Phrase. Tim was trying to get Dad to say Guerilla Warfare. Tim goes "Very sneaky fighting through the jungle. A huge monkey with a banana." Dad just sat there for 5 minutes looking blankly. We were trying to finish all the beer before we left, but still, thats no excuse.
This requires a little back story. About 3 months ago, Wyatt, Mom and I were in OshKosh and I just went up to pay when Wyatt ran up to me with these "sparkle shoes". They looked like Chucks but are silver and sparkly with pink stretchy laces. I didn't really care that he wanted the sparkle shoes. I would have bought them for him. But I'm cheap and they were $32. I don't think I would even spend that much on shoes for myself. He threw a fit. I had to carry him out of the store crying. I thought he would forget about it by the time we got home. He didn't. Because he has an amazing memory. Every time a package arrived at the door he asked if they were his sparkle shoes. While in NC, he tried to get into a locked closet, insisting that his sparkle shoes where in there. I tried to appease him with different sparkle shoes from Sears. He was not impressed and not fooled. "Those are not MY sparkle shoes." In a crazy turn of fate, while shopping, I found Wyatt's Sparkle Shoes on sale for $15 in NC. I was going to wait for Santa to bring them but I couldn't stand it. I gave them to him the moment I walked in the door. With the whole family there to witness the joy on his face and then a little annoyance when I couldn't get them on his feet fast enough. It was LOVE. He loves these shoes. He insisted on wearing them on the first day of school. Wyatt, my love, you ROCK those shoes.
Monday, September 12, 2011
43 Months
Hey You,
You started school again on Monday. You were beyond excited. I hope and pray that this lasts well into your high school years. You have been coming to work with me for a few weeks. First, I have to mention that you are amazing. You sit, you play, you watch YouTube while I make phone calls, you help me move furniture, you are polite and kind to every person that comes into the church. It has gone far better then I ever expected. So, I told you that I was going to miss my special helper at work and maybe you shouldn't go to school. You go "Mom! I have to go to school but I can be your helper after."
We went to the children's museum one rainy day and I would have to consider it one of the best days of my life. No joke, kid. No joke. It was just you and I with a packed lunch and we spent about 5 hours there. They added this new outdoor water exhibit that you loved. I vowed to devote all my attention to you and left my crackberry in the car. And you are amazing. (Geez, I am getting annoyed reading this. I need a stronger adjective then amazing.) At one point this little kid stole the wheel barrow you had been using. You waited patiently to get it and then 5 minutes later it was gone. I braced myself for a throw down. You watched the kid wheel away, slowly turned and said "Its ok. I'll use this." and picked up a shovel. Eh, Hello, the most polite 3 year old in the world. We rode on the carosel and I grabbed brass rings for you to hold. You thought it was the most intrigute invention. We went back to the museum and played some more. You even left the gift shop without getting anything and without complaining. For the week following you asked everyday if we could go back. We finally did and you loved it all over again.
We also took that huge family trip to NC. (Trust me, a whole 2,000 words in itself.) You were kind of confused about the "renting a house" business. "This is our new house!" you'd proclaim. "Well, not really, babe. We are just borrowing it from someone for a week" Then you would run to Pa and tell him he needed to drive more limos to make more money so we could BUY THIS HOUSE. Its the BEST HOUSE EVER! You cried when I told you we had to leave. Then said when you get home you are selling your toys. I wish I could buy that house for you. I don't think it was the house that you loved so much. Although, yes, the house was incredible. I think it was more about having all of us, under one roof, for an entire week. You bounced around between us. Playing with Gammy and Pa on the beach, going in the water with me, trucks and cars with William and Auntie B, hot tub with Lizzy. Non-stop entertainment. Hell, I want to live there full time. I was crying too when we left.
I have been a little distacted lately. I completely forgot about your school orientation until my car got surrounded by teachers asking where you were as I pulled up to the church. I had a bad mother moment and forgot to buckle you in your car set. You reminded me. Because you follow the rules. And probably because once I told you that the car wouldn't start until you were buckled and you remember everything. I zone out while we are playing until you jump in my lap and get me to focus. My patience has been running on bare minimum. You walked into the bathroom while I was crying. It was aweful. I don't think you have ever seen me cry. You asked what was wrong. I told you that someone hurt my feelings. "Do you need a hug?" you responded. And you hugged me on the bathroom floor for 5 minutes. I am sorry Wyatt. I am sorry that you felt like you needed to comfort me. I never want you to feel responsible for my well-being. I am overwhelmed. With everything. I am sorry and I promise I will get better. School is starting. Its a new start. Let's make a fresh start.
I love you, always, forever and everyday.
Mom
You started school again on Monday. You were beyond excited. I hope and pray that this lasts well into your high school years. You have been coming to work with me for a few weeks. First, I have to mention that you are amazing. You sit, you play, you watch YouTube while I make phone calls, you help me move furniture, you are polite and kind to every person that comes into the church. It has gone far better then I ever expected. So, I told you that I was going to miss my special helper at work and maybe you shouldn't go to school. You go "Mom! I have to go to school but I can be your helper after."
We went to the children's museum one rainy day and I would have to consider it one of the best days of my life. No joke, kid. No joke. It was just you and I with a packed lunch and we spent about 5 hours there. They added this new outdoor water exhibit that you loved. I vowed to devote all my attention to you and left my crackberry in the car. And you are amazing. (Geez, I am getting annoyed reading this. I need a stronger adjective then amazing.) At one point this little kid stole the wheel barrow you had been using. You waited patiently to get it and then 5 minutes later it was gone. I braced myself for a throw down. You watched the kid wheel away, slowly turned and said "Its ok. I'll use this." and picked up a shovel. Eh, Hello, the most polite 3 year old in the world. We rode on the carosel and I grabbed brass rings for you to hold. You thought it was the most intrigute invention. We went back to the museum and played some more. You even left the gift shop without getting anything and without complaining. For the week following you asked everyday if we could go back. We finally did and you loved it all over again.
I love you, always, forever and everyday.
Mom
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Splish Splash
The family rented a house in NC for the week. After getting orders to evacuate for Hurricane Irene in NY, we decided to start driving. We drove through the storm. Stopped in Richmond, VA. Lost power in our hotel and arrived in sunny NC the next day as Irene pounded NY. The house is awesome. Our fence got knocked down in NY. It seems like the Northeast got it way worse then North Carolina did. Be back soon. Tons of pictures to follow. Hope everyone is safe and dry.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
42 Months
Hey You,
That's what you say to me all the time. "Hey you. Hey you, can I have a glass of water? Hey you, can we go ride bikes with the kids? Hey you, look at my garbage truck that dumped his garbage all over the road. Smash! And then the police are coming to give him a ticket for 40 dollars. Here comes the dump truck to help clean it up. That's a good idea?" I think it is easier for you to say the generalized Hey You and have it apply to every person in the house rather then fill your brain with trivial name calling details. You have too many other things going on to remember everyone's names and apply them accordingly. There are endless combinations of Legos and trucks to play with. Duh.
I am not quite sure how this happened but for the past few months you have been obsessed with "the olden days". I am pretty sure it had something to do with Gammy. You are constantly asking "Did they have TV's in the olden days? They had to use leaves for toilet paper in the olden days, did you know that? Look, There's an olden day car!" You are a million and one questions. So, finally, Gammy and I decided to bring you to this Restoration Village. We used to take class field trips there when I was a kid. I remember it being really cool. You could watch the blacksmith make chain links, buy penny candy at the general store, take in a lesson at the one room school house. Maybe we went on an off day, maybe they have cut a lot of funding, maybe I only remembered the best parts. Anyway, it was kind of boring. It was pretty much lots of old houses that Gammy and I had to make up stories about to keep you interested. I think your favorite part was the out-house. You can just not possibly fathom people doing pee-pees in a hole in the ground. Needless to say, you only really ask about the olden days now when it pertains to toilets.
Two things happened at a party at Drew's brothers house. I am not sure which is of more importance. Drew has 2 nephews and a niece so I knew you were going to have a blast. You usually play with PJ, the 2 year-old, but this time you gravitated more towards Katie, the 5 year old. You and her were inseparable. Katie went to find a toy in her room and you followed. I stayed outside enjoying the company. About 5 minutes past, 10 tops, and you still hadn't returned. When I went inside, I found Katie's bedroom door closed. Hum. On opening the door, I found Katie on the bed and you standing on the floor, both of you with NO pants on (underwear on, Thank God!). "What are you doing?" I asked. "Playing doctor." You answered, quite matter of factly. "Ok, pants and shoes on. Lets go outside." I am positive that it was innocent but isn't 3 and 5 a little early for Dr. games?!? I watched you a little more closely for the rest of the evening. Drew found it amusing (Thank God!). And I found it even more amusing when Drew found your hat on Katie's bed post. You are learning fast, my son. The second thing, was you took your first solo ride on a dirt bike. Drew's brother has this little one the he messed with so it only goes 4mph plus its actually has training wheels on it. I'm less concerned that you rode one. You loved it; Drew never let go, you wore a helmet, and only on the grass. Its more about it is it the gateway drug of you getting on bigger and faster things. They also had this Power Wheels Motorcycle
thing that you LOVED. You rode that bike for hours (some of the time with Katie on the back.) I just wish we had a garage to put it in!
You also had your first official sleep over at Dad's. I don't really have much to say about this, other then it happened and I had a panic attack. It went well. You stayed there the entire night which I was not sure that was going to happen since you still wake up and call for me about once a night. When you got home you ran into my arms and gave me a "ginormous" hug. You are just growing up so fast. How you got to be this little boy is beyond all comprehension.
I love you everyday,
Mom-Mom
 |
| Your fire truck picture. |
I am not quite sure how this happened but for the past few months you have been obsessed with "the olden days". I am pretty sure it had something to do with Gammy. You are constantly asking "Did they have TV's in the olden days? They had to use leaves for toilet paper in the olden days, did you know that? Look, There's an olden day car!" You are a million and one questions. So, finally, Gammy and I decided to bring you to this Restoration Village. We used to take class field trips there when I was a kid. I remember it being really cool. You could watch the blacksmith make chain links, buy penny candy at the general store, take in a lesson at the one room school house. Maybe we went on an off day, maybe they have cut a lot of funding, maybe I only remembered the best parts. Anyway, it was kind of boring. It was pretty much lots of old houses that Gammy and I had to make up stories about to keep you interested. I think your favorite part was the out-house. You can just not possibly fathom people doing pee-pees in a hole in the ground. Needless to say, you only really ask about the olden days now when it pertains to toilets.
Two things happened at a party at Drew's brothers house. I am not sure which is of more importance. Drew has 2 nephews and a niece so I knew you were going to have a blast. You usually play with PJ, the 2 year-old, but this time you gravitated more towards Katie, the 5 year old. You and her were inseparable. Katie went to find a toy in her room and you followed. I stayed outside enjoying the company. About 5 minutes past, 10 tops, and you still hadn't returned. When I went inside, I found Katie's bedroom door closed. Hum. On opening the door, I found Katie on the bed and you standing on the floor, both of you with NO pants on (underwear on, Thank God!). "What are you doing?" I asked. "Playing doctor." You answered, quite matter of factly. "Ok, pants and shoes on. Lets go outside." I am positive that it was innocent but isn't 3 and 5 a little early for Dr. games?!? I watched you a little more closely for the rest of the evening. Drew found it amusing (Thank God!). And I found it even more amusing when Drew found your hat on Katie's bed post. You are learning fast, my son. The second thing, was you took your first solo ride on a dirt bike. Drew's brother has this little one the he messed with so it only goes 4mph plus its actually has training wheels on it. I'm less concerned that you rode one. You loved it; Drew never let go, you wore a helmet, and only on the grass. Its more about it is it the gateway drug of you getting on bigger and faster things. They also had this Power Wheels Motorcycle thing that you LOVED. You rode that bike for hours (some of the time with Katie on the back.) I just wish we had a garage to put it in!You also had your first official sleep over at Dad's. I don't really have much to say about this, other then it happened and I had a panic attack. It went well. You stayed there the entire night which I was not sure that was going to happen since you still wake up and call for me about once a night. When you got home you ran into my arms and gave me a "ginormous" hug. You are just growing up so fast. How you got to be this little boy is beyond all comprehension.
I love you everyday,
Mom-Mom
Saturday, August 6, 2011
And then This Happened
Welcome to the newest member of 105. Fresh from North Shore Animal League, a charming little beast of a dog named Cash. As in: Johnny Cash. As in: finally a dog with a real name.
Likes are: ripping up anything within a 10 mile radius, taking large dumps, and dragging Pup around by his tail.
Dislikes: taking his food away in fear that his stomach might explode (he is RAVENOUS), being locked in his crate, and being scolding for peeing on the carpet for the 12th time.
I am sure you will make life more eventful!
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Uncharted Territory
So, I think it is about time to introduce a new character to the blog. I have been hesitant to write anything about Drew because it seems as soon as I write about someone I am dating, we end up broken up. Its the blog curse, I guess. But I have a gut feeling that this one might be around for a while. And I think I have put his name out there a few times already....so here goes.
I guess we have, what you'd call, a hot and heavy relationship. We have only been dating for 6 months and it moved into serious material sooner then I would have hoped. But it just kind of happened. We just clicked. And I just kinda let it. He is a good man with kind heart and I find it easy to trust him. So, when Drew proposed to meet Wyatt and I at a diner about a month into our relationship, I said yes. He knew about Wyatt before I met him (it was a set up via mutual friends) which made it SO MUCH EASIER to navigate the "I have a son" scenario. It just felt right. We went. I was nervous. This was the first man that I dated that I introduced Wyatt to. Of course, Wyatt took to Drew right from the beginning. Then without knowing much about Wyatt, Drew asks if he would like to see some fire trucks. Drew is a volunteer fireman. Wyatt's eyes lit up like Drew had just produced Christmas morning in a dirty diner booth. I was so impressed how patient Drew was, how thoughtful, and at ease he seemed with the entire situation. Then a few days later, Drew asked if we would like to visit him at work so Wyatt could see all the trucks (he works for the town). We spent about 3 hours there; visiting every truck on site. Wyatt rode on diggers, worked a dump truck, helped drive a pay-loader. Kid talked about it for DAYS.
Then, I freaked out. Cause that's what I do. And proceeded to Google child molesters and convicted felons. Because Wyatt is my son. And even though I had NO VIABLE reason for assuming anything. Hell, we met through mutual friends that know both of us very well. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to him on my watch. Especially something preventable.
And then I calmed down a bit. Mostly because Wyatt just adores him. But as our relationship progresses, it brings more issues to light. I have brought this man into Wyatt's life. Wyatt doesn't know that there is a possibility that he might leave. That maybe he should be a little guarded. Wyatt is in this with his whole self. He talks about Drew. He makes Drew pictures at school. He brings in Drew's dirt bike magazines for show-n-tell. If you ask Wyatt what he wants to do when he grows up he says "I want to be a dump truck man and a fire truck man like Drew." He loves this man with his whole heart. Is it foolish of me to let them get close? Am I setting him up for disappointment? Do I want this to last because they are close, because they get along so well?
I love Drew. We have a great time together. He keeps me focused when my life feels blurry around the edges. He's not perfect but neither am I. But having Wyatt makes dating more complicated. It is not just about if I love Drew. Its also about if he's a good influence for Wyatt (which I think he is). If Wyatt feels safe with Drew. If Drew understands the parenting lines, which often get blurred when there are a lot of adults around. Its about Drew accepting that I will always put Wyatt first. That my future is based on Wyatt's needs and not my own wants. Its about Wyatt and I as a package deal.
We are both very blessed to have Drew in our lives. And I am everyday grateful to have Wyatt and Drew get along as well as they do. To have someone love me and my son. Most of all, I am excited to have someone change the oil in my car. I hate to be pessimistic and generally I try not to start a relationship predicting how it will end. I hope it won't end but at 6 months in I think it is ok to not be 100% sure. Sometimes I feel like I need to be 100% sure for Wyatt. Because Wyatt is %110 sure. I'm at a lost for how this works. Completely uncharted territory.
Then, I freaked out. Cause that's what I do. And proceeded to Google child molesters and convicted felons. Because Wyatt is my son. And even though I had NO VIABLE reason for assuming anything. Hell, we met through mutual friends that know both of us very well. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to him on my watch. Especially something preventable.
And then I calmed down a bit. Mostly because Wyatt just adores him. But as our relationship progresses, it brings more issues to light. I have brought this man into Wyatt's life. Wyatt doesn't know that there is a possibility that he might leave. That maybe he should be a little guarded. Wyatt is in this with his whole self. He talks about Drew. He makes Drew pictures at school. He brings in Drew's dirt bike magazines for show-n-tell. If you ask Wyatt what he wants to do when he grows up he says "I want to be a dump truck man and a fire truck man like Drew." He loves this man with his whole heart. Is it foolish of me to let them get close? Am I setting him up for disappointment? Do I want this to last because they are close, because they get along so well?
I love Drew. We have a great time together. He keeps me focused when my life feels blurry around the edges. He's not perfect but neither am I. But having Wyatt makes dating more complicated. It is not just about if I love Drew. Its also about if he's a good influence for Wyatt (which I think he is). If Wyatt feels safe with Drew. If Drew understands the parenting lines, which often get blurred when there are a lot of adults around. Its about Drew accepting that I will always put Wyatt first. That my future is based on Wyatt's needs and not my own wants. Its about Wyatt and I as a package deal.We are both very blessed to have Drew in our lives. And I am everyday grateful to have Wyatt and Drew get along as well as they do. To have someone love me and my son. Most of all, I am excited to have someone change the oil in my car. I hate to be pessimistic and generally I try not to start a relationship predicting how it will end. I hope it won't end but at 6 months in I think it is ok to not be 100% sure. Sometimes I feel like I need to be 100% sure for Wyatt. Because Wyatt is %110 sure. I'm at a lost for how this works. Completely uncharted territory.
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