New Bloggie Poo

As if I don't have enough to do, I've decided to start a new blog. It's about my favorite subject, and you know what (who) that is . . . John Lennon! If you're interested, come on by. If not, it's okay! (wanker) Instant Lennon.

I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving, and please, please don't end up in jail for a veggie steamer.

Beep

photo credit: Ear via photopin (license)

The boy failed his hearing screening at school. Remember those? It's where you and your classmates line up outside of the nurse's office and then put on a pair of lice-infested earphones just so you can listen to a bunch of muted beeps while raising your hand, up down, up down, like Jerry Lewis on speed? It was recommended that I take Liam to get a 'real' test done at a 'real' doctor's office for a price of $50. It's not the money I care about, it's the whole idea of having to take him when I know this is all the result of a mere head cold. Okay, it's a little bit about the money.

Anyway, we go and I'm praying hard that his ears are fine, because we've already been through this before. The whole burrito: hearing test after hearing test, ear tubes, recovery, can't get water in his ears and then three layers of scalp builds up because the kid can't wash his wild monkey fringe. When he finally does wash it, a million fleas are jumping off flakes. Okay, no fleas, but you should have seen the dandruff that kid built up! The thought of going through all that again is no bueno.

But as a mother, you know. You have to.

Not sure if you've ever been to a real ear doctor before, but there are some scary a$$ tools in the examination room. Skinny metal thingys and sharp pokey objects, syringes, priers and drills, and then the dreaded poster of the inside of some poor kid's bursting cochlea. It's frightening! I have PTSD now. But of course as the parental unit I have to be the one to say, oh, there's nothing to worry about, the doctor won't use any of those instruments on you (looks frantically for cotton balls to stick in child's ears).

When the doctor comes in spouting light chatter and geniality, and tells Liam to lean back for the exam, I take stock of all the work I've done over the years. The nice clothes that fit and don't have any holes, the brand new pair of sneakers, the fillings and capped teeth because he was too wiggly to brush when little, the voids because the baby teeth didn't come out on their own and the dentist recommended they get pulled, the eyeglasses that make him look like Harry Potter, and the nice hair cut that's already growing out two days later. If I wasn't around, who would do all of this? I'm the silent worker, the unpaid, yet always ready for action myriad. My work is never finished, and yet I must carry on to the end. Kids would walk around looking like a mini-Sasquatch, if not for their mother.

All turns out well: his hearing is fine. It was just the cold. But then I knew that. I'd already done a test in the car, windows open, radio at full blast. From the back seat Liam listened for me to whisper a certain color, or a food item, or the name of his favorite game character. He heard each and repeated all. It's similar to the mommy temperature test: a hug, or a kiss on the forehead. Never fails.

Someone told me recently that their school kept sending their child home because of a fever, but the child wasn't actually sick. Turns out, it was the school thermostat. It needed fixing. A group of parents formed a coup to get it fixed.

That solved the problem.

I'm Done! For now . . .

photo credit: Life - March 13th 1970 via photopin (license)

I hate to admit how long it has taken me to finish these edits but oh my goodness it's been hard. My mind is just . . . blurg. So difficult. Emotions and stress, but darnitt I had to finish this last round or die trying. Thank goodness I have such a wonderful publisher and editor!

So now . . . what do I do? Isn't that always the problem in life? We worry and stress over something for a long time, then when it's over or almost over, we all say . . . now what? Actually the real problem is I have too much lined up and can't decide what to work on next. But that's a good problem to have and I can't complain.

One thing I like to do when I'm not super busy is take in old movies. There's something about watching Clark Gable or Charlie Chaplin or Greta Garbo that melts all troubles away. Maybe because they were so beautiful and full of magic. I practically live on TCM most of the time. It's my one true 'comfort food.' I also love to read old magazines or newspapers, mostly because I like the adverts. Who says you can't travel time?

So, what do you do to stave off the ills of life, my beautiful friends?

Life in Pictures

You have probably seen most of these if you know me on Facebook, but for those who don't here are some of my favorite pictures taken as of late. Mostly they are of my children—my favorite subjects—but some also of Henry, who is also considered family and friend. Oh! There's one of dear Coco as well.

I hope you are having a wonderful Monday.

Paris

photo credit: That tower in that city... via photopin (license)

I struggled whether to write a post about last night's attacks because I didn't want it to come off as obligatory, especially since my third book features in Paris. There's nothing worse than using an event for self-promotion. But I did think about something interesting, and that is the fact that my book is about Love, and Paris is the city of Love. Why is it that LOVE is always the biggest victim of violence? Is it because it is seen as a weakness, a fault? It isn't. Love is the biggest, strongest, most unifying bond between two people, or a group of people, or even the entire world. Love cures all, serves all, embraces all, transforms all. It's available to everyone, at any time and in any place. It is invisible, yet obvious. Children understand it best. Look for a child and you will know what Love is in its purest essence. Animals know it. They follow it instinctively. There's no one and nothing on this earth who can't have or give Love.

So the group who hurt and killed innocent victims last night are the most unfortunate and destitute people on this earth because they can't understand the most simplest yet magnanimous bond the rest of us have the privilege to know.

And for us it will only grow stronger. From this moment forward.

Love for Paris.