Thank You!

If you know our family, then you know that Fenix only lives with us half the time and and that he spends the other half of his time with his mom and her family. This is tough, as I'm sure it is for the billions of families who are in similar situations. However, despite splitting his nights between his two homes, we still get to see Fenix every school day, even on the mornings that he is technically with his mother. Why? Well, my husband meets Fenix's step-dad or mom at 6:30 every morning that they have him. Ken brings Fenix back to our house and they eat breakfast together and then Fenix gets ready for the day and Ken takes him to school. Usually once a week on one of Fenix's mom's days I pick Fenix up from school and take him to religious ed as well. Sometimes, this annoys me. Having Fenix in the morning DOES NOT annoy me, nor does having extra time with him in the afternoon, but the fact that Fenix's mother can't seem to make the time to take her son to school does (last year she worked from home, so her schedule was more than open to take him to school, etc. This year, she is going to BSU, therefore she passes right by his school on her way to school, and she is also working part time at a place located 3 minutes from Fenix's school/5 minutes from our house.) Yet, despite all this, she absolutely cannot take him to school. I have to admit I don't understand this AT ALL! God forbid, I ever be in the situation where my child is living in a split home and I only have her half the time; however, if that did happen, I can guarantee you that I would be spending every moment I could with her. In fact, I spend every moment I can with Fenix when we have him. We make plans around our schedule with him because we want all that we can get with him. We make sacrifices for him because we want him to be happy and because that's just what you do when you're a parent. Although to be honest, we don't look at it as a sacrifice. It's just what you do. Needless, to say, I am completely baffled by Fenix's mother. And in truth, kind of think that if she can't budget in taking Fenix to school in the morning, then maybe Fenix should just be with us during the school week. It would be different if she worked at that hour and so she had to drop him off with Ken in the morning. However, that's not the case.

This morning was one of those mornings where my husband picked Fenix up and he spent the morning with us before school. I have the day off because Grace has her four month doctor's appointment. We ate breakfast, Fenix and I played with Grace together, and when it came time for Fenix to go to school, Grace and I walked him down to the bus stop, because Ken had to leave for work. Now, despite my annoyance with Fenix's mother, if I could say something to her about this situation, it would be this:

Thank you!

Thank you for giving us more time with Fenix. Your selfishness is only resulting in a loss for you and a gain for us. I'm sure there will come a time (especially when Fenix begins to realize and vocalize which of his parents have been the one to always make time for him) that you will look back, and regret the time that you gave away.

But in the meantime, thank you! We will take all the extra time that we can get.

Because I Can't Seem to Find the Words, I've Borrowed Someone Else's.

"The Names" by Bill Collins

Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night./A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,/And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows,/I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened,/Then Baxter and Calabro,/Davis and Eberling, names falling into place/As droplets fell through the dark./Names printed on the ceiling of the night./Names slipping around a watery bend./Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream./In the morning, I walked out barefoot/Among thousands of flowers/Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears,/And each had a name --/Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal/Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins./Names written in the air/And stitched into the cloth of the day./A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox./Monogram on a torn shirt,/I see you spelled out on storefront windows/And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city./I say the syllables as I turn a corner --/Kelly and Lee,/Medina, Nardella, and O'Connor./When I peer into the woods,/I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden/As in a puzzle concocted for children./Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash,/Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton,/Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple./Names written in the pale sky./Names rising in the updraft amid buildings./Names silent in stone/Or cried out behind a door./Names blown over the earth and out to sea./In the evening -- weakening light, the last swallows./A boy on a lake lifts his oars./A woman by a window puts a match to a candle,/And the names are outlined on the rose clouds --/Vanacore and Wallace,/(let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound)/Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z./Names etched on the head of a pin./One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel./A blue name needled into the skin./Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers,/The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son./Alphabet of names in a green field./Names in the small tracks of birds./Names lifted from a hat/Or balanced on the tip of the tongue./Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory./So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.


This poem always gives me chills. We read it each year in my class to start off our poetry unit. I am always amazed at how little my students know about an event that in many ways, gave definition to my generation. It's hard to believe it's been ten years. I'd share a story about how I spent that day, but to be honest all I remember is feeling overwhelmed and sick to my stomach while sitting in complete silence in my history class as we all watched footage of the second plane hitting the twin towers. I imagine that September 11th will be to my generation, what the assassination of JFK was to my mother's.

I LOVE This Girl!

If Only I Had Learned the First Time

If you read my blog semi regularly, then you may recall a post where I did nothing but complain about my wisdom tooth and the constant pain I was in. Well, I was pregnant at the time and so I hemmed and hawed for quite some time before getting the tooth removed. If I didn't think that losing my mind was a real possibility I probably would have waited. Because I was pregnant, they only took out my problem tooth and told me to have the rest removed that summer after Grace came. Did I listen? Nope. My teeth weren't bothering me and a day with gauze filling my mouth didn't sound appealing. Well, guess what? Did you make your guess? Bingo! My gosh darn wisdom teeth are killing me again. KILLING me! Now, it's not as bad as it was when I was pregnant, although it was bad enough to wake me up last night (as if I don't get up enough already with Grace:). And, it's bad enough that pain killers only seem to work for about an hour. I'm sad. You would have thought that I would have just learned the first time from my mistake of putting off removing them. My dentist has seriously been telling me to get rid of them for years. I'm unfortunately already taking a day off this month for Grace's doctor appointment and then two days next month for Ken's surgery. Hopefully, they can get me in on our four day weekend in October, otherwise I just may go completely insane.