grateful

"No cameras, Ma'am. This is a secure area, patrolled by heavily armed preschoolers."
This is the last week before A goes to a month-long day camp, for which I am very excited, and a bit nervous. He'll be away from me more consistently than he ever has, and he'll be swimming
almost every day with his camp mates as well. I never really learned to swim, after several attempts over the years. I've got a cobbled-together set of skills that will keep me alive for a short time in deep water, but I often have nightmares of drowning, or A drowning, which is far worse. If I think about that too much it will make me paranoid, and prove once again how neurotic I can be. Not that anyone needs more proof of that.

The thing is, when I was a kid nobody really knew about how incredibly risky everything in life is. Now not a day goes by when there isn't some study out about how something that used to be innocuous has actually claimed hundreds of lives or stunted kids' growth or something. It's enough to make one want to live in a bubble. And then there's the unspoken guilt/pressure of the motherhood culture, where everything must be organic, hand-made farmer's market with wheat germ, or you are feeding your kid nothing but junk. I do feel bad that A doesn't eat vegetables and that I don't enforce the "try-it-now" rule, but he's healthy. He's actually more healthy than any of the other kids I know, which boggles my mind just a little. Must be all those toilet seats he's sucked on.

And that leads to the topic for my post: (toilet seats? shudder. that's another post entirely) I am grateful for so many things today. I am kindof chilly in here, when outside it's 100 degrees with a huge heat index as well. My family is healthy, A has more toys to stimulate his mind than any kid should have, and I don't need to go out and find an unfulfilling job to make ends meet. It feels like magic, how well D manages the finances, when it seems like the rest of the world is in massive debt with no end in sight. I am very very happy about that. It makes buying gas a little less painful.

I'm also happy that Hillary dropped out of the race. I wish she'd dropped out 2 months ago, and graciously talked about how the country has shown it wants to go in a new direction, and how happy she would be to help take them there. Then I would say, hey, VP wouldn't be a bad go for her. Now, I just want her to find a cave and stay there until she learns some humility or changes her name back to Rodham, so I don't have to hear the name "Clinton." Maybe if she finds Osama in the process, we can let her back in the spotlight. Ugh.

Anyway, yeah that's gratitude, in a twisted sort of way.

Things are still really rough for many of my close friends/loved ones. But an unexpected bonus from all the turmoil is getting to see three awesome kids more often; K, D, and L. They are our godchildren, smart and extremely funny, and a true godsend in my only child's world. Yes, I understand, that's why you have other kids, so your kid has a playmate all the time. But you know, this is a heck of a lot better for everyone. Plus, the first 2 years are a wash unless A likes to play "poke-the-baby."When the kids come over, their favorite thing to do is build things with Legos. Since 3 generations' worth of Legos from my childhood are stored in A's room, this is very entertaining indeed. Castle pieces get mixed with space pieces, jungle adventures with monkeys and Robin Hood armies coexist with Egyptian heiroglyphs covered in foliage. And there are the dress-ups. Here's a picture of the youngest, L, in what I like to call the Tina Turner Lion Costume. "ROAR! YOU BETTA BE GOOD TO ME!"I'm also grateful, finally, for my brain-chemistry-altering medication. I have been at various times ambivalent, fearful, nauseated, anxious, and defeated about taking this stuff. And then things started to balance out and I feel better now. It's really hard to describe "better," but that's what it is. I feel melancholy, wistful, pretty regularly, but I'm sure that's an essential part of my makeup and I really would not be myself without it. But the melancholy is not accompanied with fatigue, unexplained emotional outbursts, or what I like to call, "Failure To Deal." I can take care of kids without collapsing into a coma afterward, and though I still have a quick temper, it's not as easy to push to the breaking point. Weather has a lot to do with it too, getting outside to work on the yard, hiking in Harper's Ferry with friends and my boys last weekend, getting some color on my moonstone-hued legs. I just need to remember to count my blessings, so I do not become discontented.On a side note, I haven't done much electronically lately, as I have had much dirt under my fingernails. I've lopped off and pruned about a tree's worth of branches from several of our bushes and the big evergreen, and now they look respectable and light, instead of choked and brooding in a dark mass below the porch. I think there were 11 contractor bags full of debris, including bits and pieces of a string of Christmas lights, which the previous owners neglected to remove from the evergreen. I'd have to climb up into the tree to get the rest, but I like the idea of these guys hanging out and mouldering away. Like a Christmas ghost town.Initially I was merely going to prune the bushes, but then I was possessed and uprooted the brick edging--sometimes literally uprooting inch-thick roots that had cemented the bricks in place. I dug up all the bulbs, separated about fifty daffodil bulbs that have multiplied over the years (only letting 3 or 4 flowers bloom in the process), and replanted them in a nice dispersed way. The roses have been thriving, sticking me full of tiny thorns as I collect bouquets, and even the lamb's ears we transplanted haven't completely died away yet. I haven't managed to kill them somehow, though they are a sad-looking lot. And then I set poor D to work on making an edging to the side of the house, brick like the front, and he's been digging like a hired hand trying to get water to drain away from the house. It's a mess at the moment, but it's really going to look good, and we haven't had to spend much except in pruning tools--and advil for my hands. They hate me. I never thought I'd like gardening, and I still don't love it, but it is rewarding to have the house look nice on the outside for once.