Category Archive

The mice, wanted dead or alive. Wanted out of the house.

The overpriced cleaning of the utility closet deluged with mouse poop.

Careful inspection every time a black speck is spotted on the floor. Usually it is lint, or mulch. Only occasionally, poop.

The lice, unwanted but oh so tenacious.

$100 worth of prescription lice killer. The combing and combing and combing of the hair.

Llama llama, anxious in his red pajamas.

Dora, learning to use the potty. Press the button to hear it flush!

Even superheroes have to go to sleep sometime.

The light sabers made of pool noodles, purple and yellow: “Are you ready to fight? Me want to fight!”

The catalogs, filled with toys. The letters to Santa. The objects of desire. The lack of any empty space in our house.

The glue, all over your brand new winter coat: “What’s all over your coat?” “Glue.” “How did it get there?” “I don’t know.”

Things to recycle, freecycle, donate, give away, purge. The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up.

Removal of dust and lint from hidden ducts and pipes. The secret fire hazard. The reminder of all the other secret hazards lurking within your house.

The assignment that hangs heavily over my head, seemingly impossible to complete. The question about why I agreed to do it. The answer: money.

The joyful morning spent helping struggling readers to decipher, understand, and maybe even learn to love words and the sentences. The payment for this: minimal. For four hours, I earned less than my hourly professional rate. But it was fun.

The stacks of enticing books, unread for weeks as I panic about my undone assignment.

The wrapping paper ordered, the wreath ordered, the dinner eaten out for the school fundraisers. The food drives. The PTA. The soccer. The make-up games. The snacks. The pick-ups and the drop-offs.

The patches to be stuck on (we don’t iron here) to the Brownie sash. If only we knew where the Brownie sash was.

The FitBit. The 4,643 steps remaining to make my daily goal.

The leaves, blanketing the ground. The trees, missing their leaves.

The sun, escaping with increasing impatience from my day.

In my mind there is a balance, with which I am constantly trying to weigh unequal things against each other. Two weeks ago on one side was the horrible, senseless, preventable deaths of 10 students at Umpqua Community College–just a fraction of the gun violence in our country this year because we lack the courage or compassion or common sense to put an end to it. On the other side that night was a delicious meal of roasted pork and red potatoes that I had made in the crockpot for the first time.

There is gratitude that I am joining new communities, like the covenant group I met with last night, which I am co-facilitating. The group is designed to help people get to know themselves and each other better, and I was stunned by the candor of the participants, and their willingness to listen with quiet empathy. And then there are the times when I feel excluded, wishing I fell more easily into circles or relationships where you always know you’re going to be genuinely welcomed, that you’re not intruding, where you know what treat they’d most like from the bakery, and you don’t hesitate to ask for help because you know it will be freely given.

Of course there is the moment to moment dichotomy of colossal love for your children and awe at their development–Zeke just started to say “I love you” to us completely unprompted, and there’s pretty much nothing better than that. His language skills and vocabulary are thrilling. Tonight Zoe said we were going to have pancakes for dinner when she meant pizza, and Zeke said, “You were just joking!” He says please and thank you of his own accord and will eat anything you put in front of him. And then there are those moments when he hits us with a stick or a remote control or throws a plastic shovel across the playground at the boy who wouldn’t let him cross a line of acorns he was creating in the sand, or when he keeps running when I yell “Stop!” or melts, boneless, into the mulch, when I say it’s time to go.

There is the leak under the kitchen sink that we have already had fixed several times. Right now there are layers of wet newspaper on top of rotted cardboard until I get around to calling a plumber. The cleaning supplies are clustered in a corner of the kitchen. There is the back panel of the dryer drum that needs to be replaced because a tablecloth accidentally included in the laundry melted onto it. But then again, the dryer still works in the meantime, and we have mountains of dirty clothes to keep testing it. We have endless clean water flowing from our faucet and a sink full of dishes on which we enjoyed good food.

There is the sacred and the profane. The Syrian refugees and those who are welcoming them and providing sanctuary and those who are arresting them or turning away. There are delicate, cool fall days. There is sickness and depression and more than enough emotional and physical anguish to go around. There are weddings and new beginnings and the messiness and embrace of family. There is Zeke approaching Zoe at the end of an evening where everyone was dancing in celebration of a marriage, saying to her, “Zuzzy–dance?” and dancing so joyfully with his big sister. And she was so delighted to dance with him. There are mice in our house–again. Tonight while I was reading in the family chair I saw one emerge from under the sofa, look around, and dart back underneath.

There is sleeplessness. There are naps. I have a lot of work to do and I am painfully behind in doing it, which is not really like me and uncomfortable and embarrassing. But I am thankful to have work and so happy that I’ve been working for myself, doing what I love, for 10 years now. I know I am lucky to have a vocation that I identified 33 years ago and I’ve been pursuing it every since.

I have been struggling with this idea that I am always seeking equilibrium that is impossible to achieve. My head and my heart so often see-sawing up and down, so easily weighed down or lifted up.

Wearing a summer tank top and fluffy fleece pajamas, accompanied by Ralph (dog), Fireheart (cat), Cotton Candy (owl), and Eve (baby doll), Zoe is tucked into bed, listening to the Wailin’ Jennys at low volume. The night before her first day of third grade and all of us (except Zeke, thankfully) are a bit on edge. Zoe is nervous about a new teacher who she’s only just met, and a class that only includes one of her good friends, and also includes a girl who made life difficult for Zoe back in first grade. She said she’s not ready for summer to end–a summer that has been exciting and expansive for her–and although she loves school, she repeated to me all day that she’s just not ready for it to start again. She is alarmed at the idea that she’s already halfway through elementary school. As am I. I reminded her that there’s plenty of time to experience the next three years, although my mind also shudders to imagine middle school, even though this summer I’ve seen glimpses of Zoe’s teenage self, and both admired and been aggravated by her burgeoning independence.

Tonight we played a little Taboo and read the first seven pages of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, having solved the mystery of the Prisoner of Azkaban last night. We watched the third movie last night and this morning and discussed discrepancies between the book and movie and reaffirmed our belief that the books are better, although the flying scenes are always spectacular. We cleaned the house today and painted pottery and went to the back to school picnic. Zoe didn’t argue about going to bed earlier than usual. She was clearly exhausted in body and spirit, the adrenaline that has fueled the past three months spent.

I wish I could go to bed now too, actually, but there is too much to do, in my house and on my computer, but mostly in my head. There is the school year’s first preschool newsletter to put together, and the school year’s first third grade lunch to make, and so many items to add to so many lists. Find out where to get tuberculosis screening, update PTA website, figure out what we’re going to have for dinner all those nights when we have martial arts or soccer practice till 7pm. I am resolved to start Weight Watchers tomorrow. What am I going to eat when I’m stressed out and starving? How am I not going to stop at Burger King on the way home from co-oping at Zeke’s preschool? How am I not going to drink Coke or Dr. Pepper, which I love and crave? How will I even remember to eat breakfast? So many questions. And there’s a book I started last night, a young adult book I picked up at the Green Valley Book Fair this summer, that’s totally fascinating about a girl with synesthesia. I was up till 1am reading it last night and had to force myself to turn out the light. You may notice that I haven’t even mentioned work. I still have a business to run, and people to interview, and articles to write. Oy.

I am trying to carve out more space for myself this fall. I am co-facilitating a covenant group at church, and just had lunch with my co-facilitator, who I had only met in passing when she was one of Zoe’s religious education teachers last spring. It turns out she’s fantastic and we have all kinds of unexpected things in common. I am looking forward to getting to know people at our new church, in a meaningful way. I’m also planning to participate in a leadership retreat with the church in October. I will be away for Halloween. I haven’t told Zoe yet. She’s going to be–wait for it–Harry Potter. Zeke said he would be a doctor, so hopefully we still have Zoe’s doctor costume from kindergarten somewhere in the house. He will gladly check your eyes and ears if you let him and give you plenty of shots. We are definitely pro-vaccination in our family.

I am hopeful that some of this spiritual development will help me better manage my anxiety from moment to moment. Times of transition, like, for example, NOW, are really tough. I understand that they are tough for many (most?) people, but I can only really speak to the cacophony of WHAT IF WHAT IF WHAT IF boomeranging around in my head. Third grade in Zoe’s soccer league is when they transition to bigger fields, bigger balls, playing positions, and calling fouls. What if it’s too hard, too much, too competitive? What if Zoe stops loving to play soccer? Coincidentally this month she’ll be taking the test in martial arts to become a blue solid belt, which would move her from advanced into the SUPER ADVANCED class. How can she be super advanced at something? She’s eight! But she’d be in the class with the blue belts and the red belts and the black belts. She has to accomplish a serious board break to make this move, and we know what happened last time she had to do a serious board break. She is worried that will happen again, that it will take her countless tries to break the board. While she survived last time, and demonstrated courage and composure, I’m pretty sure none of us wants to go through that again.

I keep reading about how we–as a society–need to stop protecting our kids so much, how we need to let them forget, let them fall, let them fail, so they will learn on their own to remember, to get up again, to figure out how to succeed. This advice is so obvious, yet so hard to follow when faced with seeing your child struggle. I have to make a conscious effort to remind myself that all this change is necessary, and all these challenges can be positive. What if I’m doing it wrong? often echoes in my brain, especially when I’ve made one of those million little decisions each day for my children. Can she have a Sprite? Should I let them watch another episode of “Odd Squad?” Does it make everything all right if we snuggle and tickle a lot and I give the dinosaurs who won’t fit on the dinosaur train books to read? I’ve given Zoe new third grade chores. We have enforced them only loosely in the weeks leading up to school starting. I’ve told her that Zeke is her apprentice in setting the table and once she teaches him how, it will no longer be her responsibility. We have a lot of clever ideas that never come to fruition.

There’s still plenty of time, right? We don’t have to do everything tonight. Except have some popcorn. That we definitely have to do tonight.

Zoe is not in this picture, but apparently she did this exact activity!

Yesterday she slept till 11 o’clock. She had fun at the pool yesterday afternoon but seems a little blue and kind of dazed, with occasional bursts of energy, since she came home from camp. I know it’s a lot to process. I know after experiencing such a major moment in your life–an entire week away from your family–it’s hard to come down. I’m so happy she had fun and I’m trying so hard to be patient as she reacclimates to her regular life. 

I asked her to write about her experience but the prospect was totally overwhelming, so I interviewed her and wrote it all down. 

Q: What was the most surprising thing about camp?

A: The most surprising thing about camp was getting to stay up till 10:00! After we got in bed we had flashlight time and we made shadow animals on the walls.

Q: What were your five favorite things about camp?

A: Kids, counselors, activities, horses, how much social time we got.

Q: What kind of chores did you have to do?

A: In the cabin we had to sweep, line up the shoes on the porch, take out the trash, clear the bathroom of people’s stuff, and make our beds. Another chore was being gopher, which meant we had to leave early to go to the dining hall, we had to set the table with silverware and get two pitchers of ice water. We had to go to the kitchen to get all the food. If anyone wanted seconds we had to get it for them. At the end we had to clear the table, put silverware in different buckets and empty liquids into two liquid buckets and sponge down the table. I volunteered to be the gopher for dinner the first night we were there. I liked being the gopher because it was fun to be in charge of everything.

Q: How was the food?

A: Delicious. One night we had a cookout and at the cookout we had taco skillet and vegetables. There were Fritos to dip in them and water and lemonade.

Q: What were some of your favorite events?

A: One of them was cabin cleanup, which was whoever had the cleanest cabins at the end of the week won, and we won (Blue Jays won). Guess what our prize was? Breakfast in our cabin. We got to sleep in 15 minutes late on Saturday and our counselors brought us breakfast. Another event I liked was color wars. Color Wars is when the whole camp volunteers for a bunch of different activities. There are three teams—red/superheroes, purple/supernatural (my team), and green/super-villains. Some of the activities were dodge ball, four-legged race, a kayaking race, sink the canoe (a game where 12 people from each team go in the water and 6 people on either side of the canoe and a counselor was on each end. One counselor was in the water holding the canoe underneath and another was sitting on it. When they said go all the kids would start splashing as much water as possible into the canoe and whoever sank the canoe first won). There was watermelon relay where several people from each team would go into the water in a line and turn around and one person would start by passing the watermelon over their head, the next person would pass it under their legs. They would do it in a pattern until they go to the last person. The first person to get it back to the crate won. There was tube relay where the first person would lie on their belly on the tube and paddle across the lake. When they got to the other side they would give the tube to the person waiting for them and they would swim to shore. The person who got the tube got on the tube and swam across to the dock where everyone was waiting. The first team to complete that won. There was also smallest splash off the waterslide and biggest splash off the high dive.

Q: Tell me about your cabin.

A: There were seven kids who slept there including me and there was one person who came as a day camper. It was the first year at camp for everyone in my cabin. My closest friends were named Oakley and Ellie. The counselors were named Kate and Maria. Kate is from Russia and Maria is from Spain. At bedtime Kate would sing a Russian lullaby to us to help us fall asleep. Maria woke us up in the morning. When my fan stopped working, Maria came over to my bed at night and blow on me and stroke my hair. Another girl in my cabin, Lauren, was pretty crazy. Every day she did yoga and everyone’s favorite pose to watch her do was the crazy dancer. She made up yoga poses. Sometimes during cabin time Lauren would do hilarious shows on her bed, sometimes with other people. In one of the shows she tried to imitate everyone’s voices, that didn’t work out so well. At bedtime she didn’t like to shower so she would have a huge fake temper tantrum. One night when the counselors finally got her into the bathroom she said, “can i sing in the shower?” and we said sure, just not too loud. So she immediately started singing “Why you gotta be so cruel?”

Q: Did you get any mail at camp?

A: Yes, I got 13 pieces of mail, so much that I couldn’t even read it all while I was there. I had to read some of it on the way home in the car. It made me very happy to hear from people and lots of the letters were funny.

Q: Tell me about the horses.

A: I spent three hours every morning riding. My horse was named Chocolate Chip, but I called him Chip. The counselors called him Chipwich. I learned to trot and I learned how to go into two-point, which was holding on to the horse’s reins and mane and lifting your bottom up out of the saddle and holding your shoulders back. That’s to stay stable while the horse is trotting. One day one of the counselors made a big x in the middle of the indoor ring. The first three times my horse went over it, he trotted up like he was supposed to and then he slowed down and stepped over it. But the fourth time he jumped! I had not learned to jumped yet so I fell forward off the saddle and onto the horse’s neck and let go of the reins. I was just holding onto his mane. It was terrifying. There were five girls including me in my riding group. They were all at least two years older than me. One day we took a horse named Bugz Bunny to the river and rode bareback in a circle in the river. While we were waiting for our turn or after we had a turn we got to swim in the river. We could not go past the lifeguards. Even though there was a current we were perfectly safe.

Q: Tell me about the other swimming you did.

A: The first few days for free swim (after lunch) we went to the pool. The pool was very big and there was a diving board and a deep end but the deep end wasn’t roped off. Anyone could be there anytime and you didn’t have to wait for the diving board to be done. I went off the diving board a lot at the pool. At the lake there was rope swing, diving board, zipline, and high dive and water slide. I went off the diving board and I went on the rope swing but I never let go so I just came straight back to the counselors. Woopsie! I was going to go off the waterslide but free swim was over just as it was my turn.

Q: Tell me about your afternoon activities.

A: My first afternoon activity was archery. I hit the target! It was very tricky to though. There’s a lot more stuff to archery than you might think. My second afternoon activity was pottery. I made a little taco, a face that said ZR and CF for Zoe Rosso Camp Friendship, and I made a pot but I lost it. It was very lopsided though. Next year I would like to do gymnastics and fishing.

Q: Tell me about what you did at night.

A: On the first night we had campfire, when the whole camp went to a special area and a few counselors lit a big fire. And then after the fire a lot of people come up to the stage to perform. Counselors and campers performed songs, dances, skits, and plain old funny things. They taught us dances. Another night there was a big soccer game between the Camp Friendship counselors and counselors from another camp. Another night there was a big cookout where we had tacos. Two nights we made s’mores at a campfire in junior girls village. Another night we had a huge dance. Everybody came. They played songs like “Honey I’m Good,” a song from Mulan, “Shut Up and Dance with Me,” and “Uptown Funk.” I danced a lot. It was awesome.

Q: Do you want to go back?

A: Yes, I totally want to go back next year for two weeks. I want to go back because I had a lot of fun and I was really sad when I had to come home.

Q: Was there anything interesting you learned there?

A: I thought that learning how to muck a horse’s stall, groom a horse, and tack up a horse was very cool. I even gave a horse a bath. I also thought it was really cool to learn to shoot a bow and arrow.

He was a line drawing in pale blue, translucent, wearing what I think was a pinstriped suit. I have tried and tried to draw him but I can’t make him come out right. Imagine some combination of Bert from Sesame Street, Jon Hamm, and a triangle. That’s what Ghost George looked like.

Ghost George was my imaginary friend when I was a kid, created sometime during those long seven years before my sister was born, to keep me company. He was an adult male, and a cartoon. He was friendly and lived in the attic. He was married. His wife’s name was Rosemary. I rarely saw her.

Our Honda Odyssey is now named Ghost George in his honor.

Zoe’s imaginary friend, born during those six long years before she had a brother, is named DD (pronounced Dee Dee). DD is quite small–she can fit in your hand or your pocket or your shoe as necessary. She has her own family–a mom, a dad, and siblings named JJ and ZZ. They all live in our house.

Apparently children do not have to be taught how to imagine. A few months ago, Zoe introduced DD to Zeke. He often wanted to hold her. Zoe used DD as an enticement to help us get Zeke to do things. For example, she might say, “Zeke, do you want to take a bath with Zoe?” “NO!” “Zeke, do you want to take a bath with DD?” “YES!” (runs to bathroom and starts undressing). And then they would allow DD to float in small cups and bath toys while they took their bath. Sometimes DD eats dinner with us, out of a very small bowl or cup next to Zoe’s placemat.

Once they even got into an argument about who DD belonged to. Zoe was playing with DD and Zeke tried to grab her, saying, “MINE!” Zoe countered with “No! DD is mine!” We said, “DD is imaginary. You can share her. Maybe she could even sit with both of you at the same time,” or something like that. Zoe said, “No offense, DD” in case bluntly stating DD’s imaginary status might have hurt her feelings.

Zoe said DD was coming with her to camp, riding along in her sneaker. “No matter where I go, DD will always be with me. She will never leave me.”

Thank goodness DD is loyal like that. I hope she’s providing good company to Zoe, maybe riding her horse along with her, perched just inside the horse’s ear.

Supposedly my child will be riding a horse through a river this week. What?!?

I can’t quite comprehend how I just left my daughter 119 miles away from me for a week. It was her idea, but I went along with it (and paid for it). Last year after getting a taste of riding a real horse on her own (not just being led in a circle on a pony as she had experienced many times before) in a lesson facilitated by our friends who live out near Shenandoah, she asked to attend horse camp. There are camps in the DC area where you can ride, but none that would be an easy daily commute for me, and after four or five years of shuttling Zoe to a variety of camps all summer, I’ve come to realize that even driving to downtown Falls Church every morning during rush hour can be challenging. I told her if she wanted to ride horses at camp she’d probably have to go to sleepaway camp. “OK,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Really?” I asked, “You’re up for going to sleepaway camp?” She swore she was, so I began to research.

I sent away for brochures and we attended camp fairs. There are a LOT of camps out there, many of which seem really cool. Some of which seem awful, but just in my opinion–I’m confident there are lots of great people who want want to spend two weeks at dairy farm camp. Zoe was not one of them. I found two camps in Virginia that feature significant opportunities for horseback riding for beginners. One of which was way more expensive than the other. So we tentatively chose Camp Friendship, and watched the promotional dvd they sent us in the mail. Zoe’s eyes grew wider by the scene. At the end she said, “I’m not going to want to go home after a week!”

Not to say that she wasn’t extremely nervous for the past few days. She was. She spoke repeatedly of her stomach doing backflips. She wasn’t hungry, which is never true of her. Ever. I was also nervous, although not quite so much. I tried not to project my anxiety, although she is intuitive and we tend to feed off each other. I do my best to me a calm presence for her but I’m not a good liar. She confided that she was not at all worried about the days at camp because she was looking forward to so many cool activities. In addition to the equestrian program, which she will participate in every morning, she is planning to try archery, fishing, and maybe even swinging off a rope into the lake.

She was mostly worried about the nights, when she would not have us to tuck her in or sing or read to her, and where she would be surrounded by the sounds of nature instead of the hum of traffic construction noise that she’s used to. (Tonight they are milling and paving outside on our street and our whole house is vibrating). We did spend a while last night discussing strategies to help her relax and fall asleep at camp. I reminded her of the lovingkindness meditation that I taught her in kindergarten. She had no memory of what I was talking about, but that’s ok. She thought it was a good idea. She said she could talk to her faithful canine companion Ralph, who she was bringing with her, or her cat Fireheart. She could read with her tiny book light that she brought. Yesterday my brother-in-law unexpectedly gave her a little tasseled Asian monkey figurine, which may have been hanging from his rearview mirror, as a good luck charm, which was quite sweet and thoughtful, and she said she could hold onto that if she needed extra comfort. I’m sure the first night is the hardest, and it’s almost midnight now, so surely she found a way to fall asleep tonight and hopefully it did not involve tears.

When we arrived at camp today, smack in the middle of the check-in window, she was a little pale. Our first stop was at the nurses table to hand over her medication and vitamins. She had asked me earlier in the day if I thought any other campers there had ever taken medication. I assured her that there were plenty. When we talked with the nurses, Zoe observed two huge crates full of medications, including one that she takes, and she smiled. The nurse told her that after breakfast an announcement is made that anyone who needs medication should go downstairs to the clinic at that time. I said to Zoe, “I bet a lot of kids go,” and one of the nurses said, “yeah, there’s a whole wave of kids.” And the other nurse said, “it’s more like a tsunami of kids.” Zoe was visibly relieved. It occurred to me that one of the benefits of this camp experience for her might be the opportunity to observe the challenges and circumstances that all kinds of kids from everywhere have to deal with, and a realization that she’s not the only kid aggravated by bodily systems that don’t work perfectly. Our second stop was the head check, where it was confirmed that she doesn’t have lice, which is always good. What a weird job that counselor had to run her hands through everyone’s hair all afternoon.

Zoe’s counselor is Russian and the junior counselor is Mexican. Among the people who gave us directions, which were many since we managed to get lost a few times while we were there, we detected German and Australian accents. All the counselors seemed energetic and friendly but also so young. I felt like there weren’t many adults around. Perhaps these people are adults, even though they look like children themselves. Perhaps I am just old.

Through the camp’s website you can send emails to your camper, which are printed out and distributed at breakfast, and have them hand write a response, which is scanned and emailed back to you. Of course this costs money, but how can you put a price on such correspondence? You may argue that camp is supposed to be about being away from your family and independent and then you have stories to tell at the end of the week, but this is 2015 and if there’s a way to keep in touch, people will do it, and you don’t want your kid to be the only one not getting messages from her parents, do you? Thankfully, no electronics are allowed there, so that’s something. There is a lot of nature and no air conditioning in the cabins. I brushed away the spider webs in the corner when I made her bed on the top bunk.

It’s going to be strange around here all week without her here. I hope she misses us less than I know we will miss her.

  Reasons our children or our friends’ children have been crying this week:

• Don’t want to change clothes
• Not enough Popsicles 
• No s’mores till tomorrow 
• Waves
• Tired
• Mouth hurting
• Skin hurting
• Spirit hurting
• Want more ice cubes
• Want to go outside
• Wanted to go inside a Thai restaurant to pickup carry-put but was asleep and didn’t get to
• Not allowed to spray paint parents
• Want to wear more sunscreen 
• Want to sleep
• Don’t want to sleep
• Want to swim
• Don’t want to swim
• Feeling left out 
• Feeling crowded
• Not enough soccer
• Too much soccer
• Want applesauce
• Don’t want applesauce

Life is hard.

I just ordered this book, along with its companion Feet Are Not for Kicking and another board book called Calm Down Time and Todd Parr’s The Feelings Book. I stopped short of ordering the matching Feelings flashcards. In our family, we often turn to books to solve problems. At least I do, I turn to books for almost everything.

Years ago when Zoe was facing her first ptosis surgery, we read about Curious George going to the hospital (he swallowed a puzzle piece and unsurprisingly wreaked havoc at the hospital but in the process he made a sick little girl named Betsy smile), Franklin the turtle going to the hospital (he broke part of his shell playing soccer I think), and an Usborne book about a little boy who needed tubes put in his ears. We read them all many times. Between her eyelids and her bladder, Zoe has become a medical expert and a pro at handling hospitals and doctors’ offices.

So Zeke has, on more than one occasion, head butted and hit us when he’s really mad, and on many more occasions, kicked us (especially when he doesn’t want to interrupt his preferred activities to get his diaper changed). From what I understand, this is typical but that doesn’t mean it is acceptable. Unfortunately there doesn’t seem to be a book called Heads are Not for Headbutting. Perhaps that’s one for us to write.

Most recently on Friday night I was chasing Zeke around the martial arts studio while Zoe had her classes, and everything was great until suddenly it wasn’t. Zeke and I had been contentedly sharing some pretzels, but then Zeke accidentally tore the bag open and was not inclined to share the pretzels with Zoe so I removed the pretzels from the situation. He didn’t appreciate this. Then he returned to the bathroom to wash his hands for a third or fourth time. I didn’t think this was necessary, and we needed to leave, so I removed him from the bathroom. He really didn’t appreciate that. So as I was dragging him out of the studio to the car, he was head butting and kicking and slapping and screaming and I was embarrassed and on my way to being enraged. Even though he’s two and even though I am much bigger than him, it is not pleasant to be hit or kicked or head butted. It hurts. He is a strong, solid little boy.

Later that night, during dinner, after he had eaten what he wanted off of his plate, he climbed down from his chair, walked over to me and climbed up onto my lap, as he often does. Instead of eating off my plate, which he always enjoys, he turned toward me and started smoothing my hair, covering my face with kisses (his version of kissing is putting his face close to yours and making a noise that is approximately “shh” but more slobbery. He never kisses unsolicited. And he was cradling my cheeks in his hands, like one’s little old granny might do. He has also never done this before. I could only surmise he was trying to apologize for his earlier outburst with this show of affection. I forgave him.

He is a sweet boy. People often say, “is he ever unhappy?” Well, yes, sometimes he gets very upset. And I’ve come to find out I have precious little leverage when he is freaking out. Our general approach to discipline is consequences rather than punishment, and what consequences can you give to a two-year-old? There’s nowhere he would sit still or be contained. There’s not much you can take away from him. He loves to watch tv, so you can refuse to let him watch tv if he requests it immediately after a tantrum, when you know he will understand why he isn’t getting what he wants.

I understand from people who have older children that they usually don’t have tantrums anymore once they’re in high school or college. Hopefully the outbursts fade even earlier. I’m confident that Zeke will grow out of it. But in the meantime, we will read our way through this behavior, and discuss other more positive uses for hands and feet (and heads).

HM3 Drew Provost, USN, Fallujah, July 2005

When my dad first bought a video camera I was in fourth grade and I jumped at the opportunity to interview people on film. Using an upside down tennis racket with a foam clown nose stuffed on the handle, I asked my classmates what I thought were pressing questions as he got it all on tape. While a tennis racket is no longer involved in my interviews, I still love asking people questions and helping tell their stories. It is far and away my favorite part of my work.

Over the past couple decades I have interviewed all kinds of people–executives, volunteers, foster parents, recovering addicts, teenagers, immigrants, attorneys, educators, artists, entrepreneurs, and so on–all of whom have fascinating stories to tell. I am always grateful that they trust me with their stories and I have the opportunity to share them.

For the past few years I have had the great privilege of working with the Navy-Marine Corps Relief Society. I write articles for the Society’s newsletter and blog. Before this assignment, I had little experience with the US military. I’ve only known a handful of people who’ve served, and admittedly didn’t have much of a clue about what service members and their families experienced.

One of the extraordinary services that NMCRS provides is a visiting nurse program. Nurses travel all over the country–at no cost to their clients–to help combat-injured Sailors and Marines and their families, as well as new moms who serve or are married to service members, retired service members, military widows, and others who have been a part of the US Navy or Marine Corps and need medical help. But medical help is really just a small part of what these people do. They find resources and make connections for their clients and the clients’ families. They help clients navigate the maddening world of mental and physical health care. They provide encouragement, tough love, confidence boosting, and most importantly someone who will listen.

NMCRS nurse Bobbi Crann put it well: “As a nurse we tend to be a jack of all trades. You are an educator, nurturer, coach, and counselor. A lot of what we do as a nurse is listen. When you’ve been a nurse for a while, there’s a sixth sense. You watch the body language. If they’re agitated or have anxiety, it may not come out in words. You learn to read patients as you become experienced. You help them identify what they’re feeling and what’s going on. When they have traumatic brain injuries, it’s difficult for them to hold on to much. It’s difficult for them to remember what you’ve discussed or their appointments.”

I have interviewed many of these nurses and many of their clients and every single time I am astounded by what they tell me.

“For a long time my wife would wake up in the middle of the night to find me under the bed looking for my rifle, speaking Arabic in my sleep,” recalled Sgt. Michael Van Deren. “I was constantly staying busy because anytime I had down time my head would start wandering. I never left the house. I would get groceries at 3am because I couldn’t deal with people. I had to be armed to leave the house, even to take the dog out.”

I talked to Robin Carpenter, the mother of Medal of Honor Recipient Kyle Carpenter, about her family’s fears and anguish when Kyle suffered serious injury after throwing himself onto a grenade to save a fellow Marine, and how NMCRS nurse Kim Bradley was–and continues to be–the family’s rock and lifeline.

Former Marine infantryman James McQuoid decided while on security detail in Afghanistan to take the SATs. “When you’re in a foreign country that you’re trying to stabilize, 90% of the time it’s unbelievably boring, interrupted by short moments of intense horror,” he said. After doing demolition in Iraq during a previous deployment left him with undiagnosed traumatic brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder, and then he found out his wife was pregnant with their first child, he realized he needed to pursue a new path. He decided to become a physics teacher and when he returned home found an online degree program because going to campus would be too challenging for him because of his PTSD.

Most people I interview don’t hold anything back. Staff Sergeant Jay Vermillion said to me, “I came home and I was about ready to blow my head off because no one was helping me,” until he met NMCRS nurse Kim Bradley. “She called me one day when I was at my worst.”

I spent hours talking with Drew Provost and his wife Crystal about Drew’s struggle to make a new life for himself after leaving the Navy. Here’s what I wrote: Even after the encounter in Fallujah when the IED blew out his eardrum, knocked him unconscious, and caused him to vomit, Drew Provost assumed he was fine. As a Navy Corpsman assigned to a Marine unit in Fallujah, he was used to seeing serious casualties. Since he could still walk and talk, Provost quickly went about his work checking on the condition of other Marines and civilians affected by the blast. He was 19 and a rising star. It took four more years, another tour of duty, a divorce, struggles with alcohol abuse, and a new relationship for Provost to be diagnosed with, and correctly treated for, a traumatic brain injury – thanks to the intervention of NMCRS visiting nurse Ruthi Moore.

Tomorrow is Memorial Day, and while clearly the people I’ve interviewed are survivors, it is unmistakable that they mourn pieces of their hearts and part of their humanity left behind in war. Today in church Rev. Aaron preached a powerful sermon about the moral weight we bear by asking our young people to fight and then not taking responsibility for the consequences when they do, and when they come home. Or when they don’t come home. The sermon (watch it in the archives on the home page), and the music, just wrecked me. But in a necessary way.

Rev. Aaron acknowledged that he doesn’t know exactly how we can escape this cycle of violence, make these wars obsolete, or help heal the brokenness of those who have suffered through the wars, only that we must try. I certainly don’t have an answer either, but for as long as I can, I will continue to listen to and retell these stories, because they must be told, and they must be heard.