Haiti

I have a tremendous amount of privilege and, generally, my complaints are those of a privileged person. I need to replace my winter boots. My new iPod doesn't work with my car charger. I need to find a new doctor for my son. It's logistically difficult to get my daughter to her martial arts class. I need to put gas in the car but it's so cold outside. My job is not feeding my soul. Most of the time, I recognize that these aren't really problems at all but sometimes, when I'm tired and overwhelmed, they seem like hardships. I'm not proud of this, simply honest. I have no idea what it is like to search for clean water to drink. I have never had to sleep outside because I had nowhere else to go. I've never gone without medical care nor have my children. I've never wondered how I would provide food for my family and my children have certainly never been truly hungry. It's easy to take these things for granted. It's easy to look away when tragedy strikes elsewhere because it's painful to see devastation. The powerlessness feels unbearable. After the earthquakes in Haiti, I chose not to read the news, chose not to see the pictures, chose to speak of the situation in intellectual terms. It was easier that way because I didn't want to think about the fact that Luisa was in Haiti last month and didn't want to think about what might have been had the timing of her trip been different. I didn't want to think about her work there and the fact that it is now unlikely that her projects there will come to fruition. I didn't want to think of the death and destruction. I didn't want to feel anything at all.

This morning, Luisa and I overslept and I woke up with a horrible headache. I was rushing to get ready for work and, as I packed my bag, I caught sight of the two churches made of paper that Luisa brought back from Haiti and gave to the kids at Christmas. They are three dimensional building made from poster board and have intricate rose windows and doors cut out that are covered with brightly colored tissue paper. Their beauty is not fully revealed until you place a lit candle inside and they glow from within. I stopped and simply stared, remembering how Luisa carried them home in her hands because they are so fragile. Now, they sit safely on our shelf while so much of Haiti lay in ruins.

I've read the stories now. I've seen the pictures. I've felt the powerlessness that I kept at bay these past few days. Tonight, I plan to light those churches and, as their colored light dances across my walls, I will give thanks for all that we have and remember that our responsibility extends past those right in front of us.

HELP FOR HAITI

Developmental Milestones

When your first child comes is born, your world revolves around them and every little thing they do is awe-inspiring. You eagerly await the milestones that every other parent talks about...first smile, sitting, crawling, first tooth, first steps and first word. When your baby finally hits those milestones, you race to the phone to call your friends and family to announce the news. You tell the cashier at the grocery store. You stop old ladies on the street and say, "See this baby? He smiled today." Most people forgive you for insisting that they watch while your baby tries to crawl, even though he gets up on all fours and rocks for 20 minutes before moving forward. They understand...or you provide really good liquor so they don't mind. Either way, it's all good. When your second child is born, it's a little bit different - even for you. Sure, you are excited for the first smile and all that and, of course, you find the child just as brilliant/athletically inclined/talented as the first but those old school milestones aren't quite as important to you. Let's be honest here - there is an entirely different set of milestones that you look forward to the second time around. These are the milestones that no one really talks about so, as is my lot in life, I am here to share the wealth of my experience with you. Behold! I give you the list of milestones that mean most to the parents of two children:

1.  
   1. Ability to dress themselves (matching clothes obviously not required)
   2. Ability to put the thumb in the thumb hole of a mitten independently
   3. Ability to puts all fingers in finger slots of gloves quickly without assistance and whining (parental whining, that is)
   4. Ability to put on all winter gear by themselves and then take it all off when they need to go to the bathroom one minute later
   5. Ability to get into the car without help
   6. Ability to buckle and unbuckle a seat belt without parental intervention
   7. Ability to use a kleenex without needing an adult to hold the kleenex and say repeatedly, "Just blow, honey. Like this!" while playing a game of nasal charades
   8. Ability to tie shoes, button buttons, zip zippers
   9. Ability to procure for themselves a healthy snack and glass of water
   10. Ability to get a parent a cup of coffee with cream and sugar and add just the right amounts of each

Both children have finally mastered this list of milestones and life is so much easier. I know that #10 doesn't seem essential but I would totally put that in Zeca's baby book...if she had a baby book. It's so true - second kids really do get the short end of the stick.

New Music

A little over two years ago, Luisa bought me an iPod for my birthday and essentially changed my life forever. Dramatic? Maybe...but, most of the time, it feels like the absolute truth. Music comforts and inspires me. It is quite simply the best therapy out there. I take my iPod with me wherever I go. I listen in the car, at my desk, during the kids' swim lessons. I listen while cooking, while cleaning, while writing. I'm always looking for new music, new voices that speak to me. While I was watching Season 3 of The L Word, I heard a song by Amy Cook called "A Million Holes in Heaven". It was a rough little track that was actually recorded outside but I loved the imagery of the song and downloaded it. When my mother was dying, there was something in that song that soothed me. It reminded me of time spent at my mother's cabin, of cold beer on hot summer nights, of watching storms come in across the lake. I listened to it on repeat for the 10 days that my mother lay dying in Kansas City while I was in Minneapolis. That song helped me get through it, though I'm not sure how or why. The ways in which we cope with the hard parts of life are often shrouded in mystery.

Amy Cook is coming out with a new album sometime this spring but she is offering a free download of one of the songs on her website. The song is called "Hotel Lights" and it is beautiful. Patty Griffin sings back-up vocals which is an added gift.  So, head on over to her site and get yourself a free song!