Please.

Last week the wonderful and talented JW Moxie of The Smartness emailed me and asked me to guest post for her.  I was beyond flattered.  I first discovered Moxie via Twitter when somebody posted this.  It cracked me up.  Then I poked around her blog a little and found this.  And it made me cry.  Seriously.  Go read it.  It's an incredible story.  She's an incredible woman.

OK, if you're too lazy to click, just know this: after battling and overcoming infertility herself, Moxie became a gestational surrogate and gave birth to a beautiful baby boy for another infertile couple.  It's a fantastic story and I highly suggest you read it yourself.

So I was very excited to guest post for her, and asked her to do the same for me.  Everything was rolling along smoothly, and then today she posted this.  In short: Sam, her surrogate son, is 4 years old now, and he has been diagnosed with leukemia.

I can't describe how devastating I find this news.  Especially considering I have never met Moxie in person, have barely communicated with her at all, really.  But I know her.  And I consider her a friend.  Blogging is like that. She's my kind of people.  And she's done amazing things, and has inspired me with her story and her words.  And she loves this little boy with all her heart, as if he were her own, because really, he is.

So instead of the guest post we had originally planned, I'm dedicating this little corner of the internet, my little bit of real estate, to her and to Sam.  Please read "Please."  Please.  Read it, and pray.  For Moxie and for Sam, and for Sam's parents, who waited so long and went to such lengths to bring him into their family.  I have faith in God and in the power of prayer; if you do, too, please use it for this little boy and the people who love him and who waited so long to call him theirs.

Thank you.

This conversation happened.

"What's the opposite of hands?"

"Um. There is no opposite of hands."

"Yes there is."

"Feet?"

"YES! Now what's the opposite of feet?"

"Hands?"

"YES!  Now what's NOT the opposite of hands?"

"Clouds."

"Oh! What's not the opposite of feet?"

"Puppies."

"You mean cats?"

"Yes.  Cats.  Of course."

Native American Day and why I don't homeschool

Thursday is "Native American Day" in the Princess's kindergarten class.  Parents were asked to volunteer.  Every time parents are asked to volunteer, my daughter expects me to be there.  And every time, I have to explain to her that Mommy has to go to work, and some other parents don't have to go work in an office, because their job is to stay home with their kids, and those are the parents whose job it is to come volunteer at school.  And she's usually ok with that.  But she needs it explained every. Single. Time.  Yes, eventually I will have to request an early lunch or a vacation day and go take part in one of these kindergarten activities.  But in general?  No, I will not be the room mother, the crossing guard, the Girl Scout leader, or the PTA President.

And this Thursday, I will not be helping to facilitate Native American Day, whatever Native American Day might entail.

But.  Because I'm an involved and engaged mother who cares what her child is learning in school, I asked the Princess this morning in the car: "What is a Native American?"

She said, "I don't know. OH! Are they Indians?"

"Well.  Yes, they are American Indians."  (I know scenes from Peter Pan are running through her head.  You know the one.  "Squaw get-um firewood!"  I knew that movie was a mistake, cringed every time I heard that horribly, horribly catchy song.  But I let her watch it anyway, didn't I?  Grrrr.  Disney!)

"What do you know about them?" I ask.

"Um. I forget that one guy's name..."

"Christopher Columbus?" I say, because in addition to being involved and engaged (and culturally sensitive), I am psychic.

"Yeah! Was he a Native American?"

"Um...no.  He was not.  He...met the Native Americans when he came here from Europe.  Across the ocean."

"What IS a Native American then?"

"Well.  Native Americans were the first people to live in America."

"Are WE Native Americans?"

"No."

"Then who is?"

OK.  You'll be relieved to know that at this point, before I could do anymore damage, we arrived at school.  I said, "Well, I guess that's what you'll learn in school this week!" as I kissed her goodbye and sped off towards my grownup job, leaving her in the hands of the kindergarten teacher and her arsenal of workbooks and curriculum and training.

I used to think I wanted to homeschool my children.  You know, violence and bad influences, not to mention the gross failure of the public school system in America.  I had rosy visions of nature walks and family poetry slams and collecting bugs in jars and instilling in my bright-eyed children a genuine, independent love of learning that would guide them through life, allowing them to educate themselves.  I still believe homeschooling is a viable and wonderful option for many, many families, and part of me sincerely wishes I was in a position to do it myself.

Some days more than others.

Then there are moments like this, where I'm faced with what seems like the most simple little history lesson ever.  The first Thanksgiving!  Christopher Columbus!  Pilgrims!  The Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria!  These are all magical phrases in my mind.  Costumes and crafts, buckle shoes and feathered headdresses.  Multicolored corn.  Handprint turkeys!  Obviously I don't remember too many actual facts about this stuff, OK?  And facts are apparently what my five-year-old is interested in.  Go figure.

No, we're not Native Americans.  Who is?  Well, honey, I'm not sure you know any.


No, I know you have Indian friends in your class...Native Americans are not really Indians.  Indians are from India...Christopher Columbus just thought Native Americans were Indians and people have called them that ever since.


How could Christopher Columbus have discovered America if there were already all these people living in it?  Well.  Um...he didn't, really.  He was just the first European...No, we're not European.  We're American.  No, not Native American.  Well, our ancestors were European and they came over here after Christopher Columbus.  Ancestors?  It means...our grandparents' grandparents' grandparents.  People who lived here a long long time ago, and they had kids and they had kids and they had kids and then we were born, and...um...are you still listening?


I realize I'm trying really hard not to let the word "white" into this conversation, and I'm not entirely sure why.  I mean, we are white.  She knows we're white.  We live in California; it's diverse.  So she has plenty of friends who are not white and this is not a revelation to her, that people are different colors.  But somehow in this context it seems so wrong, to delineate "Native American" and "white," "them" and "us."  "No, honey, THEY were already here, but WE weren't here yet, so it wasn't discovered until WE got here. And by WE I don't mean WE, I just mean people who lived a long, long time ago and happened to have roughly the same skin color as us."  What?


Maybe I should go to Native American Day.

Wordless...Monday. Dude, shut up. It's my blog.

From Ashley, my dear friend and personal photographer:

"Why do I get the feeling that your son has some evil plot to take over the world?"

Hmmmmmm.

Muahahahahahahahahaha.

I'm such a winner. At last the universe confirms it.

I won a contest!

LOOK.  See that?  I won!

What does that mean for you?  Because of course this is about you!  It means that in the next few weeks you will be seeing an all-new, professionally redesigned blog header here at Near Normalcy.

I know, I know.  You LOVE the one I have.  So do I.  I mean, I made it myself, so it has sentimental value and all.  Plus the little pink chick, the one who's probably not really me but could be?  I love her.  Expect her to stick around in some form.

Because Melanie at Mommy Doodles Design?  She's talented.  She'll take good care of you.  I promise.  Go check out her blog, like her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter.

So, any thoughts?  Elements you would hate to see go?  Elements you would hate to see stay?

Karma Cupcakes.

If you aren't following me on Twitter (or were, you know, sleeping last night), here's what you missed:

That link leads to my post entitled "Humiliation and volunteerism. Also Girl Scouts don't eat cookies."  You may want to check it out before you continue.  And I'm not just fishing for clicks here, ok?  It's actually relevant.  And entertaining.  We'll wait.

Yes, Girl Scout leader suggested cupcakes.  I was relieved at first until I realized that instead of one big Girl Scout daisy, I now have to make 48 tiny Girl Scout daisies.  Doh.
Why do I always think cupcakes are easier??  They're not.

Buy one get one FREE, you guys.  It was clearly a sign.

The highlight of my night.  Who am I kidding?  The highlight of my week.

Oh yeah.  NaNoWriMo started yesterday.  Without me.

Twitter finally responded to my cries for help.
And no, they do not have fewer calories.  But I plan on telling Nike Mom they do.

Thanks, Mom.

This is important because I was making all the little daisy pieces out of fondant, and without white I couldn't make any colors other than the pre-colored red and blue I had on hand...which leads to some really poor imitations of the Girl Scout daisy.

Just for reference, this is what the Girl Scout daisy is supposed to look like.  Remember this for later:

Another link back to the Humiliation and volunteerism post.
Because seriously, if you haven't read that, none of this makes any sense.
Possibly none of this makes sense even if you have.  I was up really late last night, ok?

AAAARRRRGHHH!!!

And...there goes my plan to make up for the humiliation of putting my daughter's Girl Scout membership on layaway by providing a super awesome cake for Founder's Day.

The good news?  They will never ask me to do this ever again.

Here's a closer shot, just so you can really see the full wreckiness.  Sorry for the terrible photography, I was pretty much over it last night:

OK.  Now my pride requires me to show you these, to erase those cupcakes from your memory and prove I'm legit:

I made this.

I made this.

I made this.

Whew.  I wonder if it would be weird to print these photos out and distribute them at the Girl Scout Founder's Day party?

How NOT to begin NaNoWriMo

1. With a sink full of dirty dishes.
2. With a mountain of unwashed laundry.
3. With an endless to-do list at work (the kind that follows you home).
4. With a Girl Scout guilt trip cupcake order due November 2nd.
5. With no outline or any story-related prep whatsoever, really.
6. Without an official Survival Kit consisting of Mountain Dew, chocolate, fuzzy socks, note cards, post-it notes, guilt-inducing quotes and reminders, etc. (I always make one of these the last week of October.  Until now.)
7. Without a fully-planned menu and housework schedule to get the rest of the family through November with as little drama as possible.
8. With a mind that is totally scattered, distracted, unprepared, and not remotely in writing mode.

What can I say.  I'm a rule-breaker.

Write on, Wrimos!

I'll...um...catch up.