family

What I Learned Today

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One: squirrels are suicidal
dashing in front of tires in a race
that didn’t exist before
they saw me coming

Two: canals are the best
places to ride a bike along
(flat and meandering,
tree filled and peaceful)

Three: once again, fresh
homemade ice cream from
Bonnie Brae upholds its
“beautiful hill” standard.

Four: my girls are fish, in
and out of the water no
holds barred, ready for summer,
ready for anything.

Five: two hundred joggers in
Wash Park may look like a race to them,
but it’s just another Saturday in
Denver, just what my girls should see.

Six: the liquor store is also
known as the “licorice store”
because they have wine for us and
lollipops for them: a treat for all.

Seven: playing outside with
the neighbor kids is just as magical
for this generation as it was for mine,
just as free, and just the way to end the day.

In This Moment

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in this moment

I can find the pace I need to get me there stronger
Mythili can “read” a whole page in her elaborate story
Riona can say “I wuv you” seven times
Isabella can brush her top teeth by herself

and someone on the other side of the world
or right across town
is giving birth to a perfectly healthy baby
while another lost soul is pointing a gun to his head

in this moment

I can hear Alanis Morisette motivating my pedals
my students can see twenty pictures on Google
of the cedar trees they’ve never heard of
the teachers can track me down for brownies

and someone right across town
or on the other side of the world
is pounding a woman’s skull into the drywall,
while another is handing a ten-year-old his first pair of shoes.

in this moment

I will live
I will love
I will remember what I have
what we all have
(somewhere within us)

For the Ring Master

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everyone posted pics of Easter today
(some writing religious messages),
children in brightly colored dresses
or sweater vests searching for eggs
(me, too, the girls holding up candy
treasures and invading each other’s baskets)
some were bright-eyed babies, others
older kids who knew the game too well,
diving for eggs under trees or behind bushes,
their rainbow of baskets an afterthought in their palms.

but my favorites had to be my cousin
with his glaringly orange, silk-flowered,
feather-to-the-sky top hat, tinted orange glasses,
and his springy head-to-toe pink explosion of
daffodils, scarves, and feminine-beauty partner,
and their “gay meth lab,” (dyeing eggs that I
see hanging from a tree in the background)
for all the beauty of love, diversity of celebration,
for the “Ring Master of the gayest Easter on Earth!”
for a new rainbow of love on this holiday.

Every Moment

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I remember nights without sleep
and cries without consolation
diaper bags and strollers a must
for even the simplest outings

now their once-wispy hair is
tied back in tight braids and
their cries are aimed at each other
with bitter words to match.

a blur it’s been, baby years gone,
relinquished first to toddlerhood
and now we’re full-on childhood
their lives zipping by me

before I can even sit on the swing
with their daddy and reminisce
the time that is happening now,
they will be all grown up.

(I will remember this when I
hold my hand to a feverish forehead,
when they pitch a fit and act their age,
when I think every moment is too much)
because every. moment. counts.

Adrenaline

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it’s amazing how the smallest thing
can pump a mother’s adrenaline—
a scream, a weak call, a fever
(not my own, but the listless look
of a sick child)

it rushes in, takes control
of my body until it transforms
to hand-jittering fear.
the moment passes
but as long as I’m a mother
the adrenaline will be there
hiding like fog on my soul,
waiting for its next chance
to smother me as I reach
to protect her.

Parenting

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with prime rib (though it’s not a holiday)
the Riesling I love
three kids who eat their dinner
(for once)
a conversation that is multifaceted
and has not a hint of anger,
I am happy (so happy)
for the family that I have
for the family (though at times
I feel plagued by them)
that I love
(the parents who stayed
together through the tough times,
who buy and cook whole foods
who don’t force their beliefs upon me,
who love my kids,
who raised me to be strong,
to be the parent,
the best parent, that I can be).

Ten Haikus for 2010

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Only in Denver
do we enjoy seventy
degrees and then snow.

Running eight hot miles
is easier than having
to say no to you.

Watching Grease again
I wonder if I’m being
their very best mom.

Screaming loud children
are like daffodils: better
when the sun is out.

Two dark chocolate cakes,
one happy hour, zero
days of school: perfect.

Parents who dislike
teachers should home-school their kids
and stop degrading.

Girls wearing dresses
are rainbows shining brightly
after the downpour.

Family is a gift
and also a sacrifice
that makes us complete.

Television steals
moments that we should share to
make the world better.

Spring is a wild breeze
that ushers out winter’s cold
and blows in summer.

March Daughters

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Isabella

I thought by seven you wouldn’t want
to wear those fancy, “spinny” dresses that,
at age two, caused you to flop on the floor
in tireless tantrums, insistent upon wearing
a dress—OR ELSE—so much so that
even if I pulled out a pair of pants
or a onesie for your baby sister,
you expanded into a volcano of screams.

Yet, on a day when you are free from school,
I know I will still see you emerge from your room
clad in the neck-to-toe Victorian style dress
with the gold Christmas paint on the navy blue
background, the embroidered buttons, and
the ballet shoes over your tights, spinning just
as happily as if you were still two
(oh how I love you now but still miss year two).

Mythili

we have no need for gifts in our house.
you create your own.

finding on the floor of my car
a bright yellow foam brain
(product of my school district’s
ridiculous expenditures),
you snatched it up,
reclaimed it as a mouse,
carried it to the park
and named her Lola

Lola hurt herself falling
off the seesaw
and jumped for joy dashing down
the twisty slide,
settling in next to your mouth
(fingers inside)
for your nighttime soother
(of course under blankey)
every night, causing panicked screams
when misplaced,
your beloved, favorite found toy.

we have no need for gifts in our house.
we have you.

Riona

at Mary Poppins, in between
your animated reactions to the
bright colors (“it’s turning green now”
“look, Mama, it’s bright red!”)
and the tap dancing (“see all the
chimney sweepers in black shoes?”)
my friend Hanna counted fifteen times
your turning to me and whispering,
“I wuv you Mama,”
making my heart melt more
than you in your pretty dress,
your first (perfectly obedient) night
at the theatre,
your first musical,
your first time walking everywhere
I once rolled or carried you,
because no matter how many times
you say it to me,
I feel as if it is my first time
hearing your lovely words.

Stuff (or, Ode to Consumption)

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flashing before me is the feed
that calls my name as if I need
the crap that comes across the screen
but I know what they really mean

the story of stuff is a frightening tale
that bends and breaks without fail
our morals, our love, our time on earth
are deteriorating with every thing’s birth

how can we stop this sick disease
that they tell us is all we need to please
ourselves on a planet being destroyed
swallowed by corporations’ void?

stop, stop, stop, at every door
of every store that sells you more
of every item you really don’t need
so that our future will take heed

your families, your faith, are on the line
you can make a difference with this design
hug your kids, buy things used, go to the park
but never say that I left you in the dark

I’ve Been There

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he has carried her in the crook of his arm
to the point of exhaustion for both
yet
even long distance I can hear her cries,
I can feel the stress rising up over phone lines
and all I can reply is, “I’ve been there.”

she handles it as flippantly as a new mother can,
mentioning only her concerns about the schedule,
the lack of sleep,
the looming return to work,
but he is not so sure
and when she tells me she must go
it is not because of the crying (now settled)
(innocent, newborn) baby,
but because he is stressed.

and all I can reply is, “I’ve been there,”
knowing the words will
never be enough to
cover the overwhelming burden
(of love)
that comes with becoming parents