A thousand words

It would be boring for me to tell you how I've wanted to blog for days and weeks, but haven't found the time, or how I couldn't think of anything blog about...so let's just assume going forward that anytime it's been more than a week between blogs, I feel that way - deal?

In case you haven't yet discovered the simple pleasure of Patti Digh's 37 Days blog (I've only mentioned it here a gazillion times), I urge you to check out the month of stories she just posted. It's from one of her other projects, in which she and two friends post a photo and a note every day for a year (you can read more on her site). Just a photo and a note.

How amazing would it be to have a photo and a note for an entire year? Imagine if you had one for every day of your life? Involving two other people is genius, of course, because it holds you accountable. Accountable to this thing that you supposedly want to do but will forget about or bump to the bottom of the list when things get crazy...what I'm saying is that I want to do that.

Maybe that's sort of the idea I had when I started my photo blog a couple years ago. My photo blog that I have since deleted because I couldn't stick with it. Maybe I should start again. Maybe there are a couple of you who would also like to photo blog?

If I had had a photo blog over the last week, I would have undoubtedly posted a photo of my sweet Lola mouse, whom you may remember I adopted at Christmas-time. Of our three mice, Miss Lola has been the most outgoing and friendly. And she's gotten the fattest, which I think means she's the happiest. But last Saturday, Lola was not so happy. Actually, I thought she was injured because she kept rolling to her left and it looked like she couldn't use her leg.

It was then that I learned two important things:

1) Veterinarians close early on Saturdays.

2) Most veterinarians don't treat rodents.

Those two facts left me the option of either taking my tiny mouse to the emergency vet, or letting her roll around, and possibly be in pain (it was hard to tell), until Monday. If you're like most of the people I've talked to about this situation, you would have just waited it out until Monday...however, Lola is our pet and we love her. So, although I definitely considered the expense of carting her out to the emergency vet, I decided that the fact that she's tiny doesn't mean it's okay for her to suffer.

So we spent a lot of last Saturday at the emergency vet, waiting for our turn amongst very sick dogs and cats. One ate poison. One had a tumor. One needed emergency surgery. And there were my boys and I, with our little Lola cuddled up in my hoodie.

But it was worth it! It turns out mice sometimes get inner ear infections that disrupt their equilibriums. But after a few days of antibiotics (have you ever tried to give a mouse antibiotics?), Lola has made a full recovery. And this could be my photo for today:

Healthy mouse, happy house.

Waiting for the Words

I've been wanting to write something about the recent teen suicides and the sudden call to action against bullying and the amazing surge of support for GLBT teenagers. It's been on my mind a lot, but I've been putting off posting anything about it because I generally like to be articulate when talking about such serious matters and I just haven't been able to figure out what to say...

I think the It Gets Better Project is brilliant and if it touches even one teenager who is contemplating suicide, then it will have been a success. (If you haven't yet read about/seen it, go now.)

But here's what I'm struggling with: I want to do more. I want more to be done. I want what gets done to be bigger.

Bullying isn't new. Teenage suicide isn't new. (We all loved "Heathers," right?) But did you know that 11 kids commit suicide every day?

I don't know how to reconcile the idea that today, 11 children will come to the conclusion that there is nothing left to live for. That it's not worth seeing tomorrow. Some of them might be gay. Many of them might be victims of bullying. All of them will die.

I am overwhelmed. Why does childhood have to be so traumatic? I joke about never wanting my kids to leave the house so that no one can ever hurt them, but sometimes I'm not really joking. I don't want anyone to hurt them. I don't want them to hurt anyone else.

Now if we could just get the rest of the world onboard with this plan, we'd be all set.

Yeah, so I'm still waiting for the words on this one. Luckily, Patti Digh (of 37 Days) has been much more articulate on the subject, so please allow me to quote her:

Perhaps I can't change the world. But I can damn sure raise two children who will know what it means to consider every person they meet to be as fully, beautifully human as they are.

Pride Should Be Rewarded

Readers, I'm referring you to the 37 Days blog today because I think Patti Digh wrote a really nice entry about this ridiculous issue with the girl in Indiana who wants to wear a tuxedo to her prom. 

My initial reaction was that someone should maybe tell this girl that prom is waaaaay overrated and probably not worth all the trouble, but obviously I admire her conviction and her willingness to draw attention to the inequality. That's not something that's always easy to do - especially as a teenager. 

Plus, as a parent, it hurts me anytime I see a school promoting bigotry. How sad that if a teenager is comfortable enough to announce her sexuality to the world, rather than reward her self-assuredness, the school district condemns it...hiding their hate behind a policy. What kind of example does that set? 

What I'd Do

If you ever look at my Blog List (to the left there), you might have checked out the site 37 Days. (wonderful site - especially if you like to be inspired and cry a lot) The author, Patti Digh, has challenged her readers to send her essays or art pieces that answer the question "What would I be doing today if I only had 37 days to live?" 

True to my anxious, overthinking self, I have seriously been agonizing over this question for weeks now. At first I just thought it would be nice to write a little essay and submit it in the spirit of doing some personal writing. But now it's gotten to that really deep level of actually wondering what I would do and which of those things I could do now, while I think I still have a lot more than 37 days. I can't seem to put anything down on paper. Maybe the hardest part of answering is that none of it feels very original...

I'd cry, of course.

I'd eat a lot of dessert (more than usual).

I'd hold my kids until they couldn't stand it anymore. 

I'd write down everything I could ever want to say to them (this includes the teenager, who would get his very own notebook of thoughts).

I'd kiss my husband more. 

I'd take my family to Ireland because I want to experience it with them.

I'd fly to Hawaii because I want to go before I die.

I'd stop doing things I don't want to do.

I'd buy a fancy, poofy dress and wear it around with crazy, impractical shoes.

I'd spend time with all of my friends - as much as I could - and I'd tell each of them what they mean to me. (even though it would push the limits of my emotionally-closed being)

These things seem obvious to me. But I guess the point of the exercise isn't to come up with that perfectly eloquent, inspirational nugget...the point is to start doing the things on the list before you really do only have 37 days. 

Guess that means it's time to plan that fancy ice cream party...and I better get writing...oh, and if you happen to be one of my close friends and I seem unusually emotional the next time we meet, just bear with me...sometimes all that stuff that goes without saying needs to be said.