As moms (and dads), there are hours, days, weeks that we ignore ourselves, one day running into the next, the needs of little children taking precedent. These are good times and bad, time we give willingly to laugh, wipe tears, teach, support, struggle, lose patience, and love. It is exciting to watch the changes, the personalities go through metamorphosis. It is good work, raising children to be the best they can be.

It is also exhausting work.

There are days amidst the non-stop action, the energy, the chaos that I can’t remember if I looked at myself in the mirror that day, that I can’t remember when the last time any side of my personality besides “Mom”  made an appearance.  These are the days that I need, that my children need, to be reminded of who I am.

I AM.

I AM a Buddha.

I stay calm in times of crisis and chaos.  I have an eerie way of keeping perspective in the craziest of times, putting one foot in front of the other with resolve and purpose.

I AM a nervous wreck.

I suffer from generalized anxiety.  I worry, racing thoughts consuming my being.  I shut down, unable to deal with the most inane things, like making a necessary phone call.  Strange, that when things are at their worst, I am as calm as can be.  It is the little things that trip me up.

I AM a teacher.

I thrive at it.  I have a way of sharing what I know and putting into terms that you will understand.  I can think on my feet, come up with examples, make you excited about learning.

I AM a student.

I am the perpetual student, I love to learn.  I would go back and earn my PhD. if I could …. except I would have to earn it in about 4 different subjects.

I AM a lover.

I love that we all have differences.  I am accepting of so many different people, different ideas, different philosophies.  The world needs new ideas.   I love my husband, my children, my family and friends.  They keep me going.

I AM a fighter.

Don’t question it.  If I see injustice, I don’t let it slide.  I have conviction.  I have fought major depression. I have fought through illness, through fear, through pain, through uncertainty, through abandonment.  I have been up against the ropes, taking shots to the ribs. But now I stand center ring, raising my gloves at the clang of the bell.

I AM an artist.

I see the world through a lens.  I see the light, the textures, the simplicity.  I capture it, if only to remind myself of the beauty in all things.

I AM a scientist.

I observe.  I study.  I analyze.  I make deductions.  Science is both a passion and a way of life.  I live it daily.

I AM a sage.

I have always been serious, responsible, intuitive, and insightful.  It is a side-effect of being observant and being a  first born.

I AM a jester.

I have no pride.  I get down and get silly.  I have fun.  I don’t care what people think if they see me making crazy faces or skipping down the street with my kids.  Joy lives in the silly.

I AM an oxymoron personified.

I am a literary device, condtridictory in all that I am.  I am broad and sweeping,  understanding yet  intolerant of intolerance,  left brained and right brained,   an intellect and a fool.

I know who I am.  It never leaves my bones.  I just need reminding sometimes.

I AM ME.

She walked down the aisle, eyes searching the crowd, looking for us, her steps in rhythm with Pomp and Circumstance. When her eyes met ours, a smile erupted on her face, beaming pride, excitement brewing. She was a girl on the rise.

She sat on those stairs, and her gaze never broke ours. She was there to perform for us, to show us all that she had learned, all that she had accomplished. Her innocence, her sweetness were readily apparent as she performed the songs. Her pride, her sense of fun were always bubbling beneath the surface. The teacher called her name, and she rose to receive her diploma. She accepted it, nodding her head in thanks. Then she turned to us, smile as big as the sun, and raised her hands, pumping them above her head in victory, and ran right towards us for a hug (she was the only kid to do that).

The tears flowed down my cheeks and off my chin.

My girl, a girl certainly on the rise. She will be attending kindergarten next year. And as I look upon these past years and look forward to the dawn of a new era, I do it knowing a little wistful, but knowing that the milestones never end. Kindergarten, grade school, high school graduation, college graduation, first job, marriage, children, promotions, other major accomplishments. The pride, the hope, the joy along each step is just as important and as special as the last. My hope is that she will always keep a bit of that innocence with her along the way, and that the pride, the excitement and the joy never fade.

Sweetie, you did it! You have learned so much, become a little force all your own. Your intelligence, generosity, and fun loving attitude are always with you. Always remember that we are hear every step of the way, cheering you on, OUR fists pumping over our heads in victory.

We are so proud.

So, money has gotten quite tight in the Down to Earth household.  With unexpected chimney disasters, the necessary purchase of a car, and another batch of medical/dental bills piling up (really, I am so tired of medical bills.  I thought we finally had good insurance.  UGGGGGG.)  there has been very little to do, well, anything.

So, we got creative.

Friday night.  Vitamin Water.  Howcast Free on Demand.

Because this is how we rock Friday nights in our house.

You know you want to be me, because if you were any cooler, you would be riding on the back of a mammoth.

And this is what I came across.  I don’t know if you will thank me or ask me “WTF was that?”  In the case of the former, your welcome.

I give you “How to Use a Banana in Seven Unexpected Ways.”

Funny, slightly informative but also …… creepy. Seriously, WTF is with the Jesus hippie hitting on the idiot who decided to throw a party the day before his parents came to visit? Where the hell did he come from? And creepy Jesus hippie’s advances are ever so slightly veiled as trying to help him WITH ALL THE AMAZING THINGS BANANAS CAN DO. Oh, and is that a LASER DISK?

Let’s just call a banana a banana shall we?

This time last spring, I was getting annoyed.  Very annoyed.  Sweetie wanted NOTHING to do with being outside (unless it was swimming at the community pool).  It was always too hot, too sunny, she would rather sit still and play dolls, blocks, etc.  I was going out of my mind.  After all, I LOVE being outside (well, I hate humidity…. so that isn’t always true).  I love playing in the dirt, hiking, jumping into streams  (and Wise Guy LOVES the outdoors).  And, being that getting her out of the house was  a feat akin to waking the dead, my patience was running thin.

One year later, we finally have a swing set in our backyard. Sweetie and Wise Guy can’t get enough time outside.  They have discovered shovels and have made headway to digging to China through the hard clay of the backyard.  Furthermore, Sweetie has discovered streams.   I am so happy….. girl after my own heart (I taught environmental camp at a watershed organization for years, did water quality studies for the same organization, and really have a special connection to  stream…… as corny as that sounds.)  She has always loved the water, but it was all about the pool.  This past weekend, we went to a park with a spillway.  Ben taught Sweetie to navigate the stream on rocks.  She was hooked.  Since then, we have gone three more times, splashing  in the stream, looking and picking up rocks.   Trying to get her to LEAVE…. that is the new challenge.

But onto the rest of the title, (because, lets face it, that is the provocative part).

Today, we went back to the same park for an end of the year preschool picnic.  All the other preschoolers from her class were there.  She spent some time playing on the playground, but after about30 minutes, she was begging to go down to the stream.  I gathered all of our stuff after putting her off for about 15 minutes, and we went down to the stream.

Wise Guy took off his shoes (he needs new sandals or waterproof shoes), and Sweetie and I waded in our Keens.  We were splashing around together, Wise Guy content on throwing rocks in the stream, Sweetie and I exploring.  After about 20 minutes, the preschoolers and their mothers approached the stream.  The kids, seeing the spillway, raced ahead, the mothers chasing behind, willing them to stop.  Once they approached the water, a few of the mothers flipped out, as if wading in the stream was quite possibly the most horrible thing the child could be doing EVER  (mind you….. it was water day at school.  All the kids were in their suits and water shoes/sandals).  I think when they saw me in there with my kids, they resigned to letting their kids splash and play…. (albeit not happily).

Although, we had been exploring (looking for tadpoles/ salamanders),  I had yet to pick up a rock to show her all the insects that live in the stream to determine water quality (once a teacher, always a teacher).  So I picked up a rock ….. and found….. leeches,…. lots of them……  small ones attached to the rocks.  In all honesty, this does not bother me in the least.  But, as the children left the stream, I called to their mothers, “You might want to check their feet.  There are leeches in here.”

The look of horror that crossed their faces was classic. Their faces contorted in unnatural looks of disgust and panic as they  bellowed at the all kids to, “Hurry up…. sit down.  We need to check your feet lest the bloodsucking leaches suck you dry.”   And, while I honestly did want to them to check their kids feet, I knew what their reaction coming, and, the sadist that I am, enjoyed watching said reaction, manically.

Fast forward a few hours.  We were at my mother’s house visiting her, my sisters, and two nephews.  The kids were playing out back when I heard my nephew, Lemur, screams, “EWWWWW, a dead mole.”  Followed by, “NOOOOOOO, WISE GUY!”

I ran as fast as my feet could carry me to the backyard.  There standing on the porch, I encountered a terrible site.  Wise Guy was holding the dead mole by the tail, and swinging it in a circle by his head.  The look of horror that crossed my face was sure to match the look of horror on the preschool mother’s faces just hours before.

“Drop it,” I yell.

“No,” he said, “it’s mine.”  ( I really think he thought it was one of the cat toys).

He continued to swing it, hitting himself in the head once or twice with the dead mole.  I pleaded with him, trying to avoid the swinging dead animal.  Finally, he let go, dead rodent airborne.

Oh, the HORROR. THE HORROR.

Damn, karma is a bitch.

I am shaking.  Literally shaking.

My love.  My passion.  My memories.  My children.  My work. My life.

Gone.

All of it.

The backup drive that held ALL of my photos, has died.  Ben has wiped the main drive clean.  I should have had a backup of the backup.  I should have added many more photos to my flickr stream (which is barely existent…… I have been meaning to change that forever).  I should have had off site data storage.  I should have printed many more of the photos I LOVED.

All of it.

Gone.

And it is all due to my stupidity and procrastination.

The depth of my saddness is immeasurable.

The tears flow……….

So, my husband was going over analytics of both his and my blog tonight.   If you searched for the following, you would find his blog in the top 10 sites in google:

Butcher and porn star (number 3) :  Why in the hell would you search for this?  That is just creepy.

You didn’t see anything. Madagascar (number 3):  Surprising.

Peter Cullin Beer Commercial:  Geeks and Coors Light.  Do they really go together?

My list:

Sarcastic Much?  (number 1):  So proud.

Mayhem ensues. (number 3):  You can see where this list is going.

Talk circles around me (number 1):  This list is incredibly positive.  A ray of light, here.

“My middle name is Danger” (number 6):  when you live with a ninja, what else would it be?

How about you?  Any interesting searches for which you are top?