If You Belonged Here

Freedom

Okay, let's be quick about this. I haven't got much time. Mr. Poppins and Secret Lulu are on a mission to Lowe's and I have the entire house to myself. Except for Flounder Fish and Catrina Cricket (who's really a grasshopper, but we play fast and loose with those things around here).

Anyway. I'm flying as solo as I get and I just want to wish you all a happy holiday and let you know that if you come over to my house tonight to watch the fireworks--you know we can see them from our backyard--then you can have your pick of glowstick bracelets. I bought a lifetime supply at Target. Seriously. I am the proud owner of over 200 glow-bracelets.

I'm not sure that's really enough.

I've been super-duper busy lately. You know, writing my book. And it's coming along. Just ask The Dol, who's been kind enough to post over here so that you won't have to go weeks at a time without a fresh post and remove me from your rss feed and make me cry and all that. Also, many thanks to Lloyd (who promised to be more interesting next time, so I'm wondering when he's going to to do that), Pandora, Alice, and Diosa. And The Model, who had good intentions, and Bookgirl, who can't be rushed into these things.

I have high hopes that Skipper will take some time out of his busy schedule to parody me. He can do that here. I encourage it. Which reminds me: did you know that Skipper didn't even have my cell phone number in his cell phone. He says he'll correct the situation and I sure hopes he does because I am devestated.

D E V A S T A T E D.

Whatever.

I'll console myself with the fact that I am flying JetBlue, non-stop to New England to go to my darling cousin's wedding and dance with the groom and best man and have drinks with Bookgirl and Diosa, and that stuff I told you before about being spoiled by my mom.

But that's later. Right now, Mr. Poppins and Secret Lulu are back. I apologize. This post would have been longer but I dinked around on facebook and twitter for a while first. 

The Dol: Can I Get An Amen?

(Hey y'all. I'm on vacation as I post this, and it's the kind of vacation that doesn't come with wifi. It's a good thing to unplug every now and then. You should try it. Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know that I'll check back and reply to comments as soon as I can. Cheers to all of you! -The Dol)

Baby Doc and I joined a church recently. Actually, we joined the local Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. It's maybe not so much a church, in the strictest sense of the word. They don't do much praying. They don't do much believing in God, either. In fact, I think there might be a few atheist members.

It's my kind of church.

I keep chuckling at myself, because I never thought I'd join a church again. I was raised Catholic, but it didn't take. I just don't have faith in God. That doesn't mean I'm not a seeker. I am. I have always felt a need for a spiritual path and a spiritual community. When I was a practicing Catholic, I loved the music, and I loved the rituals. There's something comforting about memorized prayers, rosaries, and the rituals that attend the Mass.

But what it came down to is, it was superficial for me, because I could never accept on faith the fundamental idea that there is a supernatural being with power over the universe. Maybe God does exist, but my skepticism just doesn't allow me to have faith. I need evidence.

That said, there's something really nice about a church community. I've really felt like I wanted it for Baby Dol's sake as much as my own. While I'm perfectly happy to impart my wisdom to her ad nauseum, I thought it might be nice for her to get the benefit of community, too.

So, when Easter rolled around, I decided to pack my little family in the car and go to church.

I knew about the local UU fellowship because they are active in a lot of the same social justice activities as I am. They hosted an organizing meeting not long ago for people opposed to Proposition 8, which stripped gay couples of their right to marry. It's a cause near and dear to my heart, because, as Polly says, why shouldn't they be as miserable as the rest of us? (Just kidding, Mr. Dol!)

And there was a peace demonstration in my town recently, marking the 5,000th servicemember death in Iraq and Afghanistan. The minister of the UU fellowship was there to give a benediction and speak. Oh, and the minister is a woman. With tattoos! She's cool, people. She's cool.

I feel good about this new thing in my life. It seems like every Sunday that I've gone to my new church, I've been moved in some new way. 

A couple of weeks ago, they had a special music service. For such a small fellowship, the music is truly amazing. It's first-rate. Mr. Dol has busted out the viola and started practicing so that he can join the orchestra. 

Heck, Earth Day is one of their "holy days." 

Last Sunday was the New Member service. They do this service twice a year, to officially and ceremoniously welcome new members to the fellowship. And you know what? I really did feel welcomed. As I stood up at the front of the room with the other new members, and looked out at the crowd, I saw a couple of people with tears in their eyes. 

I didn't think I'd find a place like that again, where there's a sense of being together for something good and non-political--I have plenty of that already. The political stuff is great, and I love my progressive friends, because we share a common cause. But there's something special, something like family, when you make a commitment to a fellowship of people, for the sake of spiritual development, but also, and more importantly perhaps, for fellowship itself. 

I feel like I've received a gift, because I never thought I could find a home like this again without also finding a faith that I don't think I'll ever find. 

Oh, happy day. 

Mommy Drinks Cause You Cry

Mr. Poppins is working the weekend. So I'm all about hanging out with Secret Lulu all day, every day.

Alone.

Unassisted. 

You know, without a relief pitcher. 

I remember this one time, Blackstone went out of town and Diosa was alone with her two boys for a week. When Blackstone got home, Diosa gave him a kiss and headed for the nearest tavern.

Alone.

To stare at her beer.

And drink it.

I remember when Baby Doc went out of town on a meditation retreat, because he's all zen and stuff, and The Dol was home with Baby Dol, and seriously, by the time Wednesday came, midway between gone and back again, The Dol was B E S I D E   H E R S E L F.

You wouldn't know it to look at her now but Baby Dol used to have colic, real terrible-like.

Pediatricians say colic isn't fatal but it's a wonder Baby Dol survived.

Oh my lord.

But Secret Lulu, she's cool and stuff, unless she's not. In which case she is

S O  N O T   C O O L.

Way not cool.

The police didn't come or anything but they could have. I think the neighbors were just out for the day. Something like that.

Alice says being at home all day with a toddler is just like in that book/movie "About a Boy," where the protagonist says you have to fill up the day in 30 minute increments. You can't just try to plan the whole day, it'll overwhelm you--maybe to death--you have to just take it a teensy bit at a time. Well, being home with a preschooler is a little better than that but at some point, you as a parent, might try to accomplish something, like say, organizing the toys, and if that happens the aforementioned preschooler, who happens to be a little OCD (no idea where she gets it) will freak the heck out because, hey, that drum belongs DOWNSTAIRS, not UPSTAIRS, and you as a parent must be batsh*t crazy if you think that the drum could, under any circumstances, live in the perfectly-sized space in the upstairs cupboard because there is just no way that is happening.

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME????????

Yeah. It's like that.

And sooooooo, a day that was just rolling along perfectly--no fuss, no muss, no bother--and even included an intense bout of patio furniture pressure washing with preschool help, which is really no help at all but at least it's better than toddler help which is really more of a hindrance, well, that  day is over. You are smack dab in the middle of an unholy-shriekfest.

Your only comfort is beer and posting about it while the aforementioned preschooler tries to type over you and insists, in syllable-by-syllable enunciation that "mommy, I need to do games."

And then you realize that you're loooooooo

sing and stop typing because "Mommy, I need to push the letters" and what the heck, is nothing sacred around here?

And you thank Hank someone invented bedtime and sedatives and wonder where you can score some of each.

I'd ask you to join me in a moment of silence but I don't see that happening any time soon.