The Turn of the Wheel

In the old Celtic pagan calendar, Samhain (or Halloween) marked the end of the year. So, in a sense, it's already 2009. (Yikes.) So my thoughts tonight are on the new year and a dilemma that's tickling at the back of my mind.

I'm still in the broom closet at work. I work with a lot of very good people, don't get me wrong, but many of them are also very devout Christians...and some of them are of the evangelical persuasion. And there's the rub. I respect their beliefs, and their right to have those beliefs, but I can't guarantee that mine will receive the same respect.

I don't talk about religion at work, which is fine for the most part, but sometimes it strikes me that I should be free to wear my pentacle, as a symbol of a faith that, while private, is not something I'm ashamed of. (I often wear a Mother Goddess pendant, which doesn't get so much as a hairy eyeball...but then, in my experience, people don't initially associate the Mother Goddess with paganism. I'm not sure why. :))

So with the turn of the wheel, I'm starting to ask myself if it's time to take a step out of the broom closet. Wearing the pentacle openly is more than it seems---it's also a step into fully acknowledging my beliefs and being prepared to defend them.

Do I want to open that can of worms at work? I'm not sure.

Stay tuned for further details :)

"Hi, Mommy"

Yeah, that was said to me today, for the first time. On the phone. My daughter is now speaking. Not in sentences (yet, though that's clearly coming) but the wheels are turning and she's talking. She's talking. :)

Preemies sometimes have speech or motor delay, and yeah, her dad and I were a little concerned. Not about her motor skills (good gods, the kid doesn't spin, she pirouettes...so, no, nothing wrong with her motor skills.) But her speech seemed very mildly delayed...and yeah, we were worried, the more so because we know how lucky we are that the wee one escaped her stint as a preemie with only a few IV scars. Lots of other kids aren't so lucky...and besides, telling the parents of a preemie not to worry is like telling them not to breathe. It just doesn't happen.

So yeah, today she's speaking. She knows I'm her mommy and she hugs me. Life is good. :)

Some loose ends...:-)

*We survived last Sunday's trip to the No Obama Zone. Mom only made one comment about how she loves Sarah Palin (hey, someone has to) and how we're all "just soooo unfaiiiirrrr to her" but that was tolerable. Save me from one of her rants any day of the week.

The wee one was her usual cute self, and stunned the grandparents with her growth. (They hadn't seen her since July, so...yeah. She's grown. Like two or three inches.)

*The wee one got her flu shot on Wednesday, in which we discovered a few things. 1) She likes trucks, and cars, and things with wheels, and giant legos. 2) She is not bothered at all by boys who have three inches and ten pounds on her and who won't let her play with THEIR truck and 3) She trusts everyone. As a parent, I know that means it's because she's never been hurt, and I know it can't last. And that makes me sad.

*She also got her first haircut yesterday. She looks like a toddler now, not my tiny baby. Oh, she's still small (though catching up pretty darned quickly) but you can see from looking at her that she's leaving her babyhood behind. I still haven't figured out how I feel about that--mostly, I'm happy she's growing, but I guess I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't miss the baby she'll never be again.

Oh, for goddess' sake...

Yeah, I had "that" conversation with my mom tonight. Being a dedicated Republican, she voted for McCain. Fine. It's a free country and it's her right. But then I got called a "feminazi" (thanks, Rush, for that particular endearing term, you bastard) because I told her---when she asked---that I didn't like Sarah Palin. (And again, this isn't any great shock. I voted for Obama, for deity's sake---not because I believe in sunshine and rainbows and purple fluffy unicorns, but because I believe, truly, that he's the best person for the job.)

Sure. I'm a feminazi because I insist that having two "x" chromosomes doesn't mean diddly if you aren't qualified for the office. Riiiiggghhhhttt....

So, yeah. We're heading to the No-Obama Zone this weekend (seeing my parents on Sunday) and I'm pretty sure my tongue will be near bitten off come Monday.

Le sigh.

Oh, you know I have to say it...

YES, WE CAN!!! AND WE DID!!!

I cried last night watching the people at Grant Park, in Atlanta, in Times Square. I saw hope in their faces and I knew I'd voted for the right man. Obama's facing a world of trouble---some within the country, some without. But last night, he made us believe in ourselves again...and so, no matter the work that has to be done, I know we as a country can do it.

Yes, we can. And we will.

No, "we" are not discussing this. Ever.

Let me be the first to say that my relationship with my mom can be a bit strained.

Nevertheless, I know she loves me. But every so often, she gets on a kick and it's all I can do to keep from pounding my head against a wall. Sunday was that kind of conversation. I was telling her of my shopping trip to Wally World, how I saw the preemie clothes there and how, once upon a time, even those would have been too big for my daughter. (The wee one was a whopping 3 1/2 pounds when she was born, which gives you something of an idea.) For me, this is a happy thing---when your preemie daughter is now into normal clothes for her age (and is also as normal as she can be with our genes) it's something to celebrate.

But oh, no, not for mom. The conversation went off the proverbial deep end. Mom started on with, "But you won't want to do that again, it's just too hard, you don't want to have another child."

Oh, really? How nice of you to tell me what I do (or don't) want to do with my reproductive organs. /end sarcasm

I bean-dipped* her. No joy there---she went off the subject for a little bit, then was back on it again, with a twist. Now, it seems, I don't "understand" how hard it was for everyone else. (Hey, lady, nine weeks of bedrest ain't exactly a cakewalk.) I got the lecture on how concerned she and dad were (which, to be fair, I'm sure they were) and how---again---I couldn't possibly be thinking of ever having another child. (Of course not. I'll be 35 in May and I love being a mom just as much as DH loves being a Dad. Of course, we couldn't possibly want to be parents again. /sarcasm) And yes, we know what the odds are of us having another premature baby (less than what they were with the wee one) and yes, I know I'd have to spend some time on bedrest. And that's...well, it's not okay, but it's how my "normal" pregnancies go. :)

The thing is, if she'd actually treat me like, say, an adult, I'd tell her this stuff. I'd also tell her that it's by no means guaranteed that we will even be able have a second child (not to put too fine a point on it, but all those TV shows where they show one night of unprotected sex and the woman gets pregnant instantly? They're lying) and that if it should turn out that way, that we'd be okay with it too.

Or maybe I wouldn't tell her. I don't know. What I do know is that I don't want to hear about it from her. I don't want her advice if I haven't asked for it. And lastly, I just want the simple courtesy of not being blathered at as if I were a disobedient kindergartner. Whatever decision DH and I make, will be the right one for us.

Le sigh. Maybe I should have some cheese with my whine....



*For those of you who don't know what I mean, I tried to change the subject. Repeatedly.

The Ties That Bind

My grandfather is in the hospital---at 91 years old, he's still fairly sharp, but his body is slowly giving out on him. Being honest, we haven't really had a good relationship; when I was younger, he seemed to think of me only in terms of what I wasn't--I wasn't tall, or thin, or blonde, or as pretty or smart as my older cousins. And there's been some ugliness much more recently that's made it hard for me to talk to him, even now.

But I called him in the hospital. And I'm glad I did. For all his faults, he's still the only grandfather I have left. And he loves my daughter---loves her and asks after her and is interested in her in a way he never was with me. So...yeah, I'll call him tomorrow.