This is Wilbur's drawing of one of his faves.

Wilbur slept with me last night. He isn't feeling well. He lays in bed with me and touches my face like a sweetheart in a movie who is just watching the love of his life sleep peacefully. He tells me, "But you know? I'm afraid of the dark." He strokes my arm. He loves how my arm is flappy. This comment coming from anyone else, even my 10-year-old, would incense me somewhat. But when 6-year-old Wilbur says it, it's still just cute. I don't worry about my flappy, old-lady arms, but think of how soft my skin feels to him and how he needs that touch. Skin to skin is how we did it when he was a baby. He needed to be on me, near me. It's so special that he still does.

I don't like sappy and current country songs, but recently someone made a playlist for a baby shower I was hosting. And it included this country song called, "You'll Always Be My Baby". And for some reason, every time I hear it I cry. I was thinking of it last night while Wilbur snored softly next to me; one arm up over his head, just the way I sleep; his cherubic, angelic face at perfect peace... He looked heaven-sent.

In the sunlight or the rain
Brightest nights or darkest days
I'll always feel the same way
Whatever road you may be on know you're never too far gone
My love is there wherever you may be
Just remember that you'll always be my baby

Letter to Tony Kornheiser

Dear Mr. Kornheiser,
I am a professional woman who works full-time (and then some) outside the home, a mother to two lovely boys, the manager of a well-kept home, and a loving wife to a wonderful husband. My salary is commensurate with my husband’s. Having borne two children, I have worked hard to get back to my size-4 shape. I believe I have a noticeable and personal style evident in my home décor and fashion-sense. All of this takes a lot of work. I don’t just wake up looking like this every day. I get my hair cut every 8 weeks and have it colored every few months. I exercise every day. I work hard at how I look every day, whether I'm taking the kids to a tennis lesson or going out to dinner. And even though my husband is very involved in our boys’ daily activities, the management of their needs is my domain.

I arrange all doctors’ appointments for my children. I shop for their clothes and arrange for their haircuts. I advise my husband on his clothes and often shop for him. I do all the grocery shopping and cooking. I prepare a home-cooked meal every night of the week, save one. I pack lunches each day. I take the boys to school and pick them up. I arrange for teacher conferences and oversee the completion of homework. I schedule their extra-curricular activities. I RSVP to all birthday party invitations and buy gifts for those engagements. I tell you all of this because I manage to do all these things while looking fabulous.

I bet Hannah Storm knows what I’m talking about. I bet your wife does, too.

I don’t need some man who is basically required to wear a uniform each day (slacks, shirt, tie?), who doesn’t have too much that needs doing where his hair is concerned, can wear any manner of undergarment without worry over panty-lines or fit or the need for smoothing, never has to buy hosiery, has no pressure to accessorize, doesn’t have to have the right purse for the right outfit, and can mask a belly for 15 pounds before needing to address the issue telling me OR ANY WOMAN that she isn’t dressed well, or age-appropriately.

My husband does a lot for all of us, don’t misunderstand me. He handles all the bookkeeping and the yard maintenance, house maintenance and helps me each morning to get the children up and dressed and fed and ready to go. But, he doesn’t have to ‘do his hair’ or find his Spanx. He doesn’t need to apply makeup. He isn’t expected to keep looking young and he doesn’t fear hearing someone say that he really let himself go after the children came. He is judged by what he does, not what he looks like while he does it.

I hope I’ve enlightened you to the real work that women have in front of them every day. I want my boys and my husband to be proud of me for my style, as well as many other more important things. I want them to see me as daring and courageous in my work, my sense of fashion, and my flair for entertaining. I want to bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan. So, Mister, watch your words about these hero wives, mothers and professionals; you don’t want to piss us off. We run the world even if we don't rule it. Make no mistake about that.

Psalm 91

This past Sunday the choir sang a piece based on the 91st Psalm:

Psalm 91
1 He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. [a]
2 I will say [b] of the LORD, "He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust."
3 Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
4 He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
5 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
6 nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
7 A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
8 You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
9 If you make the Most High your dwelling—
even the LORD, who is my refuge-
10 then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.
11 For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
12 they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
13 You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
14 "Because he loves me," says the LORD, "I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
15 He will call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation."

I know it's a complicated Psalm because surely we wonder at times if God will rescue us or if we are experience His deliverance.

I chose this Psalm as the text at my Granny's funeral. And while the choir sang, I was overcome with emotion, longing for her. I also took comfort in hearing this promise, which I believe could be fulfilled after death and not necessarily during my life in this realm. Maybe this promise means that I will rest in the shadow of the Almighty when I have shuffled off this mortal coil. That's how I envision it: that as I move from conscious dwelling here in this life to a new realm with my Creator, my Mother, Father God will rescue me. The angels will guard me and I won't fear the terror of the night.

Tithing

Doug and I have been on a journey of giving for the past 6 years. We joined Northshore United Church of Christ when Wilbur was 6 months old. We started to talk together about our financial support of the church and what our intentions were.

My grandparents always tithed 10% of the gross. That seemed almost impossible. Not only did we make more money each year, but our expenses went up as the children got older.

We decided to start slowly at 2% and build up. We didn't even know at the beginning that we were shooting for 10% (net or gross). But slowly, each year, we gave a greater percentage of the gross.

In 2010 we estimate that we will achieve the goal. 10% of the gross. 10 in 10. We are really proud of ourselves.

I don't know if we should be so proud. 10% sounds like very little when you say what you are giving back to God, to your community, or to represent all that you've been blessed with... It sounds like very little when I think about how lucky I am and how neither I nor God did that - just being born in the US, being white, raised in a fairly affluent family, going to good schools, having parents who told me all of my life that I was college-bound: that is all just luck. To think that God had anything to do with that means that people born with the opposite of my fortune are also hand-picked for their fate.

Conversely, 10% sounds like a lot when you start looking at your bottom line.

So, taking that all into consideration, we have a measured sense of pride at our accomplishment.

And, now it seems, we might keep raising the bar. Maybe we'll give 12% or 15% in a few years. It seems that, and I know this can't always be true for everyone, but it seems that the more we have given the more we have received, intangibly but tangibly as well. We really have experienced that often, when we have given money at a time when it was difficult to do so, we have gotten that money back very unexpectedly.

It's been a fruitful enterprise for us. And we continue to experience abundance as we travel this road.

Men Who Loved Women

I've noticed a curious phenomenon:

The Lotharios I've known in the course of my life all have girl children. These men, who have finally given up their wanton pursuit of women and have, in their late 30s or even early 40s (never earlier than that), settled down into a married (or married-like) existence and started having children -- these men, almost without exception, have produced girl children.

I don't mean that all the men I know who have daughters are reformed rapscallions. But the men I know who were the worst of the worst for bed hopping, cheating, collecting bedpost notches and were famous for utterances of, "I'll call you", all, each one, without exception, have girls. And not just girls as well as boys - they don't ever produce boys - only girls. Their seed is all X chromosome sperm. (Isn't that how it works? Women's eggs are always X and men have X and Y sperm? It sounds right).

I think it's so interesting, really. Is there something in their DNA; something that both causes them to behave the way they do as young men while later in life determining that their progeny is exclusively female? If I believed in a god who seeks revenge, I'd think 'that's pretty fitting.' If I believed in reincarnation I'd think that these guys have come back in this go round to work on those issues of love and intimacy (or whatever causes all that skirt chasing). I guess what I really believe is that God has a wonderful sense of humor.

Misty watercolored...

It's not that he cheated...

It's that he lied about it. That's what women in movies always say about infidelity. And the logic seems pretty flawed. But I'm going to employ it and apply it to my feelings for the game last night - the championship game between Alabama and Texas.

I started to believe, somewhere during the second half, that Garrett Gilbert would, if he left his guts and heart on that field forever staining blood-red the grass in Pasadena, be rewarded. The gods would have to show him favor. The universe should work that way.

So, it's not that we lost but the way it happened that broke my heart. Or, it's not JUST that we lost but that we came so close, against incredible odds and crazy circumstances. If we'd played uninspired, with our without our star starting QB or if the defense had been lackluster and out of sync, maybe it would have been merely disappointing. But that kid was hitting it. And Alabama's offense was struggling. So I started to believe.

I know you can't say what might have happened if... If Colt McCoy didn't get hurt... If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Mac

Christmas 2009 is the year that Emery got his first laptop. It was the last gift he opened and he said, "I guess what I hoped for is not going to happen..." I handed him the present and said, "this is a special kind of book that Daddy and I think you'd like." Of course it was - it was a Mac Book.

He has been overjoyed - absolutely. We have always worked to limit screen time (tv/comp/wii) and set guidelines for usage (after homework, once other things are done)... But, I have finally come to terms with the fact that this digital world is the world we live in and while I plan activities and opportunities for them to be active and engaged, they love their virtual worlds. Particularly Emery.

He plays games on his computer but he also does a lot of reading and research. He told me a few weeks ago that he gets his news primarily from the Internet. He said, "50 percent from the web, 30 percent from NPR and 20 percent from the newspaper."

So I'm not going to sweat it - this love of all things electronic, this lust for the new gadget and a SIM sort of world. It is what it is, and he'll probably be better prepared for what's coming by being invested in it now.

Making a List and checking it Twice...

On Christmas Eve Wilbur said, "I don't know if I'm on the list of naughty or nice..."

So sweet.

The Godfather

We went to see Emery's drama performance last night at school. They did a version of The Nutcracker (as a play not a ballet) and Emery played Godfather Dross. He was just wonderful. Doug and I so, so, so enjoy watching him perform. He has a great presence on stage and a lovely, clear voice that projects so naturally. Great, great, great.

Hate the Sinner, Love the SIN

All of my growing up years I heard this concept repeated over and over - that we hate the sin but we love the sinner.

I've been so troubled by the setbacks in this ridiculous debate over gay marriage and the salivary glee conservative, religious heretics of this nation experience in denying some Americans their civil rights. They love to practice this exclusivity, this us-and-them thinking. They do it in their churches. They do it in their private pseudo-christian schools. And I am so sick of the separate-but-equals too, who propose civil unions and everything but marriage type of legislation. Sick, sick, sick.

I think they love the sin. I think they feed upon it. That sin, pretend and fake, keeps them in their exalted position.

I know I am not supposed to hate them. By their logic, I am to despise their sin and love them anyway. I am to love them, even as they spew their sin in public forums, with no shame for being BIG FAT Sinners. I feel shame that I don't love them as I should. I pray for forgiveness that I feel such pity and anger toward them. But their stupidity wears on me like a blanket of lead. And I loathe them.

Keep Abortion Legal

I have been mulling something over, wondering how to do it... What if, in response to the stupid Stupak Amendment, there were a non-profit organization that gave money to a woman seeking an abortion no matter what her circumstances? Then we don't have to care about government money or health insurers' money. Is that something that could be done?

What is the Problem?????

I thought I knew Maine and New York but they've disappointed me.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/12/02/new-york-gay-marriage-fai_n_377385.html

I feel so disheartened.

APPROVE REFERENDUM 71!

About Referendum 71: Voting APPROVE on Ref. 71 is a vote to keep the domestic partnership law that provides legal protections for lesbian and gay couples and seniors who are in committed relationships. To be able to take unpaid leave to care for a critically ill loved one, without being fired. To be able to cover a partner in family health insurance. To make sure hard-earned pension and death benefits protect children when a parent dies. Approving Ref. 71 ensures that important protections are not taken away from committed couples, so that they are able to take care of each other, especially in times of crisis. Keep the domestic partnership law - Vote APPROVE on Ref. 71 by Nov 3.

Zen. Don't Even Think About It.

I saw this on a bumper sticker today.

My friend Ken used to have this on his fridge:

your karma ran over my dogma...

Just love her...

There is a chapter early on the The Road Less Travelled by M. Scott Peck where Peck is counseling a friend who says that he has fallen out of love with his wife... they've been married a long time and the friend just doesn't feel that feeling anymore. Peck advises him that love is action and also feels that the friend is letting himself off too easy. Peck says, "Don't feel it, do it. Just love her. Just do it." Peck says that doing is what produces the feeling - love the one you're with. Love him.

That opened up a lot of doors to me when I read it 20 years ago. The idea that I could act instead of feel or do instead of react -- it was empowering.

I was on my walk the other day and I thought that same thought about myself. What if I didn't wait to outgrow the things I dislike about my appearance, or about aging. What if I didn't hope that they'd go away but instead just loved her - all of her. It felt so silly to delve into new age affirmations while walking about, but I thought the same passage in that book could apply to my relationship with myself, my love for me and my acceptance of myself. Instead of bemoaning that I used to be cuter or younger or thinner, what if I just loved myself?

Halloween Poem by Emery

Emery wrote this for the newsletter at school:

I come back home
When the darkness
Is churning
I think I see
The doorknob
turning.
Out comes a
Nocturne,
Whose face
Unknown.
All that
Is left
Of me,
Is a pile
Of bone.
By Emery Arementrout

Periodontal Dis-ease

A Dentist's Night'mare'
Originally uploaded by :: R(c) Photography ::

So, I am trying very hard to keep all of my teeth. In my family, we all have deep pockets; and I'm not referring to our generous natures... No, in my lineage the word pockets is always referring to that space around the roots of our teeth which shouldn't be there - that space that dentists and periodontists call Gingivitis.

To ward off its effects and to keep my own teeth for as long as I'm able I go to exhausting and terrifying lengths. First, I go to the periodontist every 3 months for a deep cleaning. Those always involve gas, numbing (read: shots in le mouth), and an hour's worth of scraping and torture. My periodontist's hygienist actually sharpens her tools many times over as she works on my plaque.

Then, every so often, as I did yesterday, I get a DEEP cleaning. This involves total numbing (not just partial) and the shots are in the worst part of my mouth - like the roof of my mouth. But yesterday, the lower jaw would not get numb - no matter how many shots she gave me.

I also floss, stimulate, brush, and use all sorts of instruments designated for home dental care to ward off the formation of these hard and calcified spots under my gums which really, really want to grow on the roots of my teeth.

All this is to say: I do a lot of work on my teeth. A lot.

Meanwhile there's Doug.

My husband brushes once a day. He rarely flosses, he has sweet breath (except for how much he loves raw onions) and he may make it to the dentist once a year. Sometimes he skips a year. But when he goes? When he does go to the dentist, guess what they say! "Doug, just perfect, as always!" No pockets, no gingivitis, no periodontal disease.

If that's not unfair, I don't know what is.

Cartoon History of the Universe

Cartoon History of the Universe
Originally uploaded by Michael Vance1

Emery's favorite book

Reinvention

I was just talking with some friends about how I reinvented myself when I left Texas and moved to Ohio for graduate school. Looking back on it I realized that although I had been a fairly unconventional Texan when I lived in the Lone Star State, once I left the constraints of its borders I became a walking example to Ohioans of all that a Texan is. I became someone who always wore make-up, always wore an 'outfit' (so much so that people often asked me where I was going, sure that I couldn't have arrived at my final destination when I was clearly so overdressed for where we were and what we were doing). I was a girl who always had her hair done - and done big (the higher the hair, the closer to God), favoring a high ponytail accessorized with a bow. I relished my Texas accent, used the phrase 'fixin' to' as often as possible and stuck a "y'all" in whenever appropriate.

I extolled the virtues of the Texas landscape, her people, her cultural institutions and culinary gifts - missed the Texas Two-Step and Country music; even though I'd been a fan of none of these things while growing up...

The opportunity to be a stranger in a strange land offered up the chance to be a curiosity and I loved it. I got to shed the things I'd carried around with me that I didn't like and take on new characteristics that were off-limits to me when I might run into someone I'd known since the third grade. On the Ohio University campus I was never going to run into someone who'd known me my entire life -- no one was going to say, "Wow, what happened to you?" It was a freedom that is lost to me now. Now I'm part of a community: at church, school and work. That's why it is so important to do it while you're young - and I hope my boys do that too. They should go away to college, to the East Coast or the Mid-West. Maybe when I retire we could run away again, Doug and me. Maybe we'll find that freedom again. Sometimes you wanna go where nobody knows your name...