April 20th, 2009 Saturday night, as the sun set, I sat on the front porch watching my children play in the rain puddles. I could hear the music my husband was playing for me through the open door. He started with the song “Yellow” by Coldplay, very fitting for the look of the sky just after the rain. As I listened to the squeals of the four kiddos jumping in puddles and the floating sounds of a song I love, I remembered back to a time when I was a different person. Far from who I am today. Far from what I could’ve ever imagined back then. I was carrying my oldest in my womb at the time. I was working in the capital city downtown in a high rise, eating corporate lunches, validating my valet, and commuting to our rent house in the suburbs. I knew life would change, but just how much was yet unveiled to me. In that hour commute each way I would listen to the latest rock music, plan dinner, and dream about the life growing inside me. He was such a surprise. So unplanned. So unexpected. My clubbing had come to a halt by then, as had my drinking and smoking. The changes were already taking form. “Yellow” was popular at the time and just my kind of music. Soft, beautiful, almost haunting, with enough pop to keep it from being too edgy. I relished this song when it would come on. Somehow, it spoke to my unborn. Somehow, it captured a bit of the ethereal feelings I had for this life I didn’t know yet. Somehow, it has become a song of emotion for me.
So, while rocking this newest life growing within me in the chair on the porch, allowing the music to wash emotion over me, I let the tears fall over my smile. This little house in the country that I rarely leave, is only a few miles away from the building I used to find my worth in each day. And, yet, it’s a lifetime away. The unborn that I used to sing this lullaby to, now leads the others through the biggest puddle they could find and yells, “Watch this, guys, do this like me.” And, he, as well, is a lifetime away from what I thought a child would be. I had spent a great deal of my teenage and adult life with children, and yet he reinvented what children were to me. He reinvented what I thought my life would be. And that reinvention of my life is beautiful. So different from my plans. So full of puddles and laughter.
Not long after I crooned these lyrics on that beautifully monotonous drive to my little one, life changed. I was one of many that didn’t make the economic cut. We moved from the city to the crime ridden streets of the ‘hood that my husband had grown up in. We tumultuously rode the ride set out before us. One of poverty, living with parents, and being brought low. But also one of sweet child after child. One of finding our true meaning in life. One of drifting from one another and growing closer than we’d been before. A path that has brought me to a slower life of sitting, rocking, praying. Praying that I won’t soon forget this moment of lilting music and children playing under a yellow sky.
“I drew a line
I drew a line for you
Oh what a thing to do
And it was all yellow
Your skin
Oh yeah your skin and bones
Turn into something beautiful
D’you know for you I bleed myself dry
For you I bleed myself dry
Its true look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine for you
Look how they shine
Look at the stars look how they shine for you”
-”Yellow” Coldplay
April 2nd, 2009 About 3 weeks ago I posted this. I was very concerned about the future of homeschooling in Arkansas. And with good reason. It was to the point that my husband and I got involved in government. And, as I said before, that is SO not us. I called the state capitol. (With script in hand, mind you, I get flustered, scared, intimidated easily and forget that I have the power to just say what I have to say and hang up. My hubby had to tell me what to say and give me a pep-talk before I called. Hate that kinda stuff.) But I did it. I called more than once, left my messages, and prayed. Glad to be through with my part.
If you haven’t kept up with the progress of the bill I wanted to let you know that the HB2144 has been sent to interim study. Which is a good thing. This means they will not seek action on it or vote on it. You can read all about it here.
But the main point of this post is my husband. Because I love him. And he cracks me. All.The.Time.
My husband, while researching the bill, came across Mark Martin’s personal blog. He’s one of the state’s representatives: opposed the bill and is a homeschooling dad. When my husband first found his blog this was the post that he had up. My husband decided that a comment was needed and later in the day he called me and asked me what I thought of his comment. Okay, you really ought to go read the article to get Matt’s comment. But the gist of it is that, although Rep. Mark Martin supports homeschooling freedoms and opposed the HB2144 he thought that homeschoolers as a whole are not nearly involved enough in government. Calling us apathetic, retreated, isolated, and insulated. Granted, that may be true. But my husband responded in a little bit of a different way (shocking, right?) and I was, as always, thoroughly impressed.
(I do need to say that Mark Martin came back later and posted this. Making sure that we all know where he falls on the issue. Pretty strong stuff.)
Mr. Martin,
You say, “On both hands the retreated, isolated, and insulated homeschool community is too withdrawn from politics to have any relevance in its midst.” You then expect us to say, “How can I make positive contributions and engage in the political arena?”
Respectfully, you are missing the point Mr. Martin. We are not like you. We do not want to be involved in government. We want to be left alone by government, as you have stated. Homeschoolers are not going to suddenly invest their lives in attempting to create ‘Utopia’. We will stay in our hiding holes and fly under the radar. We will be silent. We will not choose involvement in government until our hand is forced, but if it is forced, we will be involved. The spike in attention by homeschoolers is not an indication that we desire a more integral part in government interaction. It is a reflex reaction. If you and your colleagues decide to pass legislation that is poorly designed, we will respond, but our response will not be more legislative involvement. It will be through litigation. In summary, suggest what you will, but I do not foresee droves of homeschooling parents becoming state legislators or active participants in the legislative process. It is not apathy, as you have postulated, it is just a differing world view. Keep your inefficient, bureaucratic, lack-luster education system off our toes, and there will be no “Arkansas Tea Party” of 2009.
Have I mentioned before that I love my man!
December 8th, 2008 My husband had some gems.
We were watching Enchanted for the umpteenth time (which I don’t mind because, frankly, Giselle is my hero) I asked my honey how it is possible that one of the last areas left untouched by the P.C. police are little people. How can they be the jokes in Elf and Enchanted and Trapped In The Closet and just about every stand-up comic’s routine? I’m not exactly politically correct myself, ahem, barely at all. But c’mon. So, when asked, he replied, “maybe they have a bad union.”
Later in the day…
We were watching the new Parent Trap (okay, so it’s not new, what with the credits saying “introducing Lindsay Lohan” and all, but since I’m now old enough to remember the original that kinda makes it new) ANYWAY, the kids asked what a “butler” was. While I was stammering to explain it in terms the kids could understand my husband chuckles from the kitchen, “it’s a mama – they do all the things Mama does.” Ha. Ha. Ha.
October 22nd, 2008 Well, our Tooth Fairy did it again.
(And, yes, that crooked tooth there is about to fall right out, too.)
When our Middlest lost his first tooth on his own yesterday (you know, as opposed to the way he lost his very first tooth), and then put it under his pillow last night, she didn’t show. Again. She has a habit of being unreliable. And then my honey tried to, first, defend her by saying since she works nights and weekends that she probably has to have her 2 days off in the middle of the week. (Since we pulled the “She only gets paid every two weeks and this wasn’t her week for payday, so she was broke” line before.) And then he moved on to “Why don’t you write a note, a nice one, tonight, and if she still doesn’t show, I’ll sit up the next night all night long by your bed waiting for her and give her a punch right in the kisser.”
She better get her act together. Because our poor kids are gonna be so warped it won’t even be funny. At least to them, anyway.
Or we better come clean. That’s all I’m sayin’.
October 14th, 2008 While telling my husband tonight that I forgot to wash our comforter and offering to throw it in the wash real quick like, he said no, that would be fine, we’d manage without tonight, “You know, I’m easy like Sunday mornin’.” And it suddenly struck us both as funny. Who wrote this song anyway? Because I know they didn’t have a bunch of young’n's they were tryin’ to get to church on time. ‘Cause ain’t nothin’ easy about that.
While we’re talkin’ about the things my family says – my girl was at it again tonight. While drivin’ back from gettin’ some groceries she said she knew what she would name her babies when she was all grown up. (In order) the name of her baby-est brother, Cornflakes, Santa, Tree, and Sign. Hi-larious. Where does she get this stuff?
Oh, and kinda related to the church thing (you know, the above Sunday morning reference? for those of you as brain-lacking as me). That thar’s my church down there. And that thar’s the art show. And that thar is my wall hanging a’hangin’ on that wall. And, why yes, if you can find it (kind of like my own version of Where’s Waldo) you’ll see a ribbon next to it. No money, but I did place in the top ten of my division. Ye-ah! And contrary to what I was convinced of, there were more than 11 entries. That may boost my confidence just enough to go ahead and start that etsy shop I’ve been shying (that’s a word, right?) away from now for months.
|
|
|
