You don't have a life...do you?

This was our motto from The Op. Ed. Project. The goal was to send out our pieces to a state or national news organization. So I did. I chose CNN. A week later they contacted me...they want to use my piece. Holy moly! Holy moly! How many times am I allowed to say that? Holy moly! This was over a week ago and it seemed like it was going to happen fast. I got a little excited and, um....told some people. But....well, news is fickle. There are things like Libya...people finding their voices all over the world. And then there are a few earthquakes in places where earthquakes aren't supposed to happen and....and...and....oh well.

So the editor calls me again and has just "a few things for me to do. Ten minutes tops. Can you do it? You don't have a life, do you?" How do I tell a SERIOUS news person I have to take my 10 year old to violin practice 5 minutes ago and that my son is 2 hours over his screen time limit because I wanted to tweak another paragraph while doing laundry, filling out school forms, and paying bills online?

I didn't. I said, "Sure!" and started to sweat and hastily shoved my violin player off on another mom while frantically searching for River Monsters and Dicovery Channel Shark Week re-runs.

The waiting game is on to see if what I have is indeed up to snuff. And I am here to tell you that what you read on CNN is no joke. Every statement I made that wasn't personal to my own experiences had to be checked once and twice and three times. I did this, but they wanted more. So, I respect their reputation and strive to live up to it or my voice will not be heard through them or anyone else. Pat, the editor, is likely cleaning up after the earthquake and not sweating my small stuff. And I am checking the number of hours available on Shark Week.

It's middle school all over again

Thing 1 is headed to middle school. We entered the building and got directed to whichever "house" you were put in. This was not nearly as fun as using the sorting hat at Hogwarts. There were squeals of delight when friends found themselves in the same place. Thing 2 had a face that fell as one by one, her pals found themselves together in a different house from her.

So we start with some initial disappointment, but Thing 1 is nothing if not confident. She has the innate ability to focus on what is in front of her and seems to float with whomever and whatever is around her. People don't often influence her decisions unless she gets totally caught up in a group moment.

I fear this middle school thing will change that. I have always loved how other people's opinions of her choices don't matter to her. I have always watched with interest how she puts her interests out there--France, Harry Potter, voracious reading, art, knitting, travel, swimming- and some kids will look at her with a weird curiosity. But then she will shrug and happily carry on with her pursuits anyway. We were at a pool recently and none of her friends wanted to play or couldn't agree. She headed in to do laps without a glance backwards.

She got none of this from me.

I hope the vat of middle school juice isn't so powerful that she loses that confidence and security in what she loves.

I suppose I'll dig out my old cheerleading skirt and pom poms and do what I do best....offer encouragement all the while hoping she won't need it.

Luxury

My brother has been sober for a year. The small chip in recognition seems minor to the amount of effort expended. A year ago, the country boy was forced into the city with an old pair of tennis shoes, no driver's license, little money, and only one goal--to get sober. From jail to on-site rehab to a halfway house to low income housing, the country boy has learned the city streets and where to find the meetings and which big box store has the cheapest soda. There were many days when all he had to do was attend meetings. Some days, he attended eight meetings.

There were a few visits to my parent's home where he could be found pacing, muttering, pacing some more, and abruptly interrupting other conversations. I was stopped with this one day.

"Whadya think of this?"

He shoved some papers in my hand. After a quick read, I found an aptitude test that blatantly spelled out the many deficiencies of my brother who has struggled since I've known him to make anything work in his life. He wasn't really looking for reassurance. He was matter-of-fact and with a shrug he seemed to say, "See? I knew all along that I had a lot wrong with me. Now I have the proof in writing."

He has no education to speak of, several learning difficulties, depression, and poor communication skills.

I don't know why some of us have to claw and eek our way towards any little morsel of goodness or success. I don't know why life just knocks the hell out of some people over and over again. I don't know why I can't look at him with conviction and say, "Hey, you've made it this far. This is something."

People, including me, forget so easily that normal is just another word for luxurious.