this morning i saw something i have never seen before.
on my block, in my tiny neighborhood, was an ice raid. my house sits on a dead end street that runs perpendicular with another dead end street. essentially, the residents on those two streets were blocked in and unable to leave. neighbors were confused. adults were trying to get to work. kids were getting ready for school. i was in my car with my husband and baby doug as drew asked the ice officer if there was anything that could be done to get us out, as i had a flight to catch. the officer looked at us closely. my eyes were glued to the incredibly large automatic weapon that was strapped to his chest. he tapped it lightly as he looked at us. he was calm, friendly. my heart raced, frantic. silent, i strained a smile. he looked at my clothes, my wedding rings, my hair and make up. he examined drew the same way. then he radioed the other officers and they created space for us to leave. they made an exception to let us out. an exception that i have no doubt in my mind, had to do with the color of my skin and the seemingly “nice” things the officer was so obtusely assessing about my appearance. nice white couple. jean jacket. big blue eyes. family car. no threat. as we drove the short distance to the main street, i looked at the other police officers, detectives and members of ice. it was terrifying. they had spotlights on a large house where no doubt multiple families of hispanic descent live. lived. there were loud bomb-like sounds coming from inside the house. i assume they were attempting to smoke the families out but i can’t know for certain. i heard no screams. saw no one leaving. only officers going in. but i only saw one part of this picture. i can’t begin to imagine what was happening on the other side of the door. children live there. i know that. moms and dads. sisters and brothers. families. no different from the one in the car with me. they said it was going to be a while. that’s what they told us. an apology for the inconvenience. i wonder if anyone is going to apologize to the families being torn apart in that house? an apology for causing the fear in those kids? an apology for barging in and physically removing people from their home. that seems like a bigger inconvenience to me. i know they came here illegally. i know they broke the rules. and i like rules. rules keep us safe. they keep things fair. but as i drove to the airport i couldn’t see the fairness in what i had just witnessed. perhaps it’s because of innocence of the children involved. perhaps it’s because of the families. and perhaps it’s because there isn’t anything fair about it. my parents taught me that righting a wrong with another wrong isn’t doing right at all. that’s what this feels like to me. it was wrong for them to break the rules. i know it was. they should have followed the rules. but as i watched my baby boy sleeping in the backseat i thought about how there isn’t a single thing i wouldn’t do to ensure his safety. i watched my husband as he drove us. my family. my whole world. we forget the privilege we have to have been born in this country. into these opportunities. and i know that if my family didn’t have these opportunities i’d be hauling ass to get to a place of safety and freedom. for them. and even this direction-following list-making goody-two-shoes would break and bend any rules to ensure those opportunities for my son. and i wouldn’t be surprised if you would too. i have privilege. i show no threat. i offer no reason for fear. no cause for questioning. i was reminded of that this morning. my heart aches. it hurts because i don’t have a solution to offer for this problem. i can’t think of a way to fix things. to right a wrong with right. in a manner in which everyone is respected and treated with dignity. in a way that doesn’t cause the break up of families. in a way where no one gets hurt. the shooting in el paso a few months ago was the largest and deadliest attack against latinos in modern us history. 53 people died last month alone from mass shootings. 53 who the hell cares if they were legal or not? this can’t keep happening. this can’t become the normal. the status quo. the terrible thing that, “just happens but what can we do?” today i saw with my own eyes what i had previously only seen on the news. it wasn’t bloody or noisy. i know of no casualties. officers were nothing but pleasant to my family. but that doesn’t make it less wrong. there will be empty seats in classrooms today. young players missing soccer practice or ballet. there will be children who go to sleep tonight without their parents. my child will go to bed without me tonight, as i travel. but his circumstances are much different. and that is his privilege. our privilege. my privilege. and i may be the white lady with a nice manicure who no one sees as a trouble maker but i will not be silent about what i saw. they came early. before the sun was up. they were quiet. no fuss. no mess. they didn’t want to turn heads. ruffle feathers. make waves. but they shook something in me. and i haven’t stopped shaking since. and i don’t think i will for a long time.
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10 markers.
for as long as i’ve been teaching, 10 crayola markers have caused more trouble and turmoil than any other toy, manipulative or treat. i have yet to meet a child who wouldn’t bend over backwards for a fresh pack of markers. in my classroom the students work at tables, typically in groups of 4. my students learn very early in the year that in order to keep the markers at the tables, the markers must be cared for properly and taken care of in a responsible way. the rule is simple: if you abuse it, you lose it. over the last 24 hours i’ve thought a lot about that rule, and how it could parallel to the situation our nation has found itself in yet again. i want to be clear, i in no way seek to minimize or simplify the issue of gun safety in our country. i would never suggest that it can be broken down or likened to a group of kindergarteners with a pack of markers. what i will say is that i believe the foundational principle can be applied to both kindergarteners with markers and citizens with guns. if you abuse the privilege, you lose the privilege. my father has legally purchased guns, which he uses for sport during hunting season. he’s had them for as long as i can remember and he’s always taught me the absolute necessity of using caution, care and responsibility when it comes to owning a gun. guns are not toys. my dad taught me that. but somewhere along the line they have become toys to so many individuals in our country. the access to guns has cheapened what they are at their core: weapons. my hope is to provide resources that will be useful for you, yes YOU, to educate yourself and take action within your state. i’m tired of feeling helpless. i’m tired of feeling despondent. i’m tired of the vigils, the flowers, the flags flying at half mast, the thoughts and the prayers. i’m tired of words without action. we say no more. we say never again. now our actions need to breathe life into those words and bring them closer to fruition. one of the victims from el paso was a young mother. she was murdered while shielding her 2 month old baby boy. she was shopping for school supplies. i took my son to trader joe’s this morning. i sat for minutes in the parking lot before getting out of my car. i almost didn’t go in. i was legitimately terrified. here’s the reality: with the rate of gun violence increasing as rapidly as it is, it’s simply a matter of time before one of the faces of victims on my tv screen is someone i know. someone i love. someone i can’t imagine the world without. we have to do better. which means i have to do better. so, i got out of the car. i marched my butt into trader joe’s and got my groceries. and when i came home, i started reading. i familiarized myself with court cases, the full gamut of the second amendment, background check processes by state and the nra. i read articles from victims, scoured statistics and got myself up to date on ohio’s gun policies. after that, i emailed the office of senate majority leader mitch mcconnell and requested that the senate be reconvened to vote on h.r.8, a bipartisan bill that establishes background checks on all firearm transfers. i researched organizations who strive to end gun violence in the united states, and i donated to them. i also signed up to volunteer at local events near me. i did these things for my child. and i did them for your children. and i’ll keep doing them until something changes. because something has to change. if you abuse it, you lose it. the second amendment of our constitution grants every u.s citizen the right to bear arms. and should you make choices that break laws and put the life and liberties of others at stake, you forfeit that right. rights are rights but they are also privileges. and just like in kindergarten, we must understand that privileges are things that you earn. please, take the time to learn more. knowledge is power. and power is what we need to eradicate this vicious cycle of gun violence is our nation. below are some articles and fact pages, along with h.r.8, the bipartisan background checks act of 2019. squeeze your loved ones. and do right by them by doing your part to ensure that the world is made safer for them. safer for all of us. https://www.congress.gov/bill/116th-congress/house-bill/8/text https://everytownresearch.org/issue/better-background-checks/ https://everytownresearch.org/gun-violence-america/ https://momsdemandaction.org/events/ my grandpa ron was a complicated person. he wasn’t particularly warm and he wasn’t much of a talker. he didn’t ask about school or your interests. he didn’t even like to talk about the weather, something i thought was a staple for all people over the age of 70. but he was my grandpa and i loved him in the way that all little girls love their grandpas. as a teenager, i spent a lot of time focusing on the differences between my grandfather and i. the ways in which we were not alike. not on the same page. the older i got, the more i came to appreciate all that we had in common. all that we share. my grandpa was an observer. he quietly look in the world. he loved his family and he was a loyal partner to my nana for many years. he had such respect for the life they created. and cared for her in a way that only a partner can. their relationship was confusing to me but being in my own marriage now i realize relationships don’t need to make sense to anyone except those who are in it. they knew what worked for them and that’s all that matters. my grandpa loved dogs. i have so many snapshots in my mind of my grandfather playing the dogs in my family. they responded to him in a way that made you believe they trusted him. knew of his goodness. when i was younger i remember thinking he liked the dogs more than me but i see how that perhaps he was drawn to them because of how uncomplicated they were. if there’s one thing i know about the women in my family it is that we are a handful. just ask any of the men. my grandfather’s affections spread wide and he loved many things. he loved his garden. the raspberries he picked for my sisters and i during our summer visits were my favorite. he loved small children. he loved cars. he loved his job and was passionate about what he did. he loved taco bell. he loved jesus. he loved my nana. he loved his kids and he loved his grandkids and great grandkids, in his own way. my son will never meet his great grandfather. at least not in this life. and that makes me very sad. but i will honor his legacy by sharing with my son all the great many things my grandpa was and all the good that he brought into this world. all the people he helped and the impact of a life lived well. before his passing i asked my dad how grandpa was doing. he told me he was sleeping and that he looked peaceful. then he told me grandpa probably wouldn’t wake up until heaven. and i smiled. because i can’t think of a better place to wake up. see you there, grandpa. see you there. today my son is three weeks old.
three weeks since he arrived, pushing butt first into the world while pooping all over my doctor and the operating room. three weeks since he was placed in my arms and i truly felt one of my longest held dreams come true. three weeks of nose kisses. three weeks of the happiest exhaustion. three weeks of cozy snuggles. three weeks of poop. so. much. poop. as i look at my son, i think of all the babies i’ve held before him. all the tiny humans i’ve loved and taught over the years. i’m not bragging, but if baby snuggsing were an olympic sport—i’d for sure have a gold medal. i’ve been babysitting and working with kids since i was 11 years old and as i reflect, i’d like to think that each of those children helped me to be the mama i am now. loving them prepared me for the love that was to come in the form of my son. so much of what i feel for my baby boy has been influenced and shaped by the amazing children i’ve loved before him. and yet, there are so many brand new feelings i never could have anticipated. my love for my husband has a new layer as i see him care for our baby and for me. my love for my family has been strengthened as our roots stretch deeper with this new addition to our little tree of life. there aren’t words to describe what it’s like to see the people you love share love with someone you’ve created out of love. to see grandfathers meet their namesake for the first time. to hear grandmothers ooo and ahh and rock your baby in the same way they once rocked you to sleep. watching your sisters show completely new sides, as this baby draws out love they didn’t know they had inside them. i’m telling you, it’s like a josh groban song and a warm chocolate chip cookie after you have a baby. i’m so lucky. to be here. to have this life. to share it with so many people who show me every day a love of which i’m far from deserving. to sit on my couch with hot coffee, my sweet pup and my sleepy baby while the rain falls gently outside. i feel so fortunate to join the ranks of moms. a sisterhood of bad asses loving littles and growing brains and hearts. for years i’ve watched in awe of the selfless way mothers pour into their children day in and day out. despite the exhaustion. regardless of how many times they are peed on, screamed at or spit up on in a day. mom. mama. mommy. there are many names by which they are known, but all of them are superheros to me. happy mother’s day to all amazing moms (and dad’s who are both mom and dad!) around the world. i celebrate you this day and everyday. it’s a privilege to join the club. xo i'm sure this won't come as much of a shock to you, but i happen to really freakin love valentine's day. the first valentine's day memory i have comes from my first grade classroom. we decorated shoe boxes to look like hippos and i was utterly charmed. as a 6 year old i was thinking, "ok so i don't have to ask strangers for candy on cold wisconsin october evenings, i get to wear all my favorite colors (pink, white and red) AND we put goodies and love notes into a HIPPO!?" sold. i'm in. another one bites the dust, smirks hallmark. through the years some of the best memories i have are from the first two weeks of february, wherin my gracious squad celebrates both my birthday and valentine's day. after i began teaching, valentine's day became an opportunity for me to share two of my favorite things with my students: handwritten love notes and candy. i believe the most powerful expression of love is written prose. it requires thought, dedication, sincerity and wit. i've been writing letters for a long time and nothing brings me as much poetic pleasure as writing notes that contain loving musings about the people who are most important to me. again, hallmark is eating this shit up. anyway, to me, valentine's day is about celebrating love in all its forms. today in kindergarten, some of those forms weren't as lovely or pretty as i hoped they'd be when i drove to school this morning. first of all, the mornings in k are kind of a cluster. 25 un-caffeinated but highly motivated tiny humans entered into our room feeling some type of way as i bustled around attempting to keep everything organized. (hi, i'm laura and i'm a micromanager. is there a support group for us?) cue church! always an exciting time for my class as we sit in the VERY front where we can cause the most distractions for both the priest along with anyone unlucky enough to be sitting close to us. (we do BRING IT with the hymns though.) in my 27 years i have never had vomit be a part of my valentine's day celebrations but i gotta say, when my kid projectiled today it really spiced up the homily and the congregation. and the good lord must have known how much i'd enjoy it because he sent more in the form of another up-chucker not 20 minutes later! fun times at the el royale. we returned to class only slightly traumatized by the eventful mass only to have, you guessed it, 2 more kids drop like flys! with two absences from the start, my class count has now dropped from 25 to 19 and everyone is wondering who is going to hurl next. the tensions were running high and i think we were all nervously sweating a little. or maybe that was just me... back to the drama! lunch comes and goes without incident (praise jesus, because it was nacho day). and although i'm fairly confident i was slightly blacked out, we somehow manage to make it to 2:00 pm which means it's party time! now, i didn't want to give a bunch of kids who could literally lose their shit any minute cookies and juice, would you? would anyone!? but i did, because LOVE DAY, DAMMIT! i was full on clark griswold with the eggnog losing his ever loving mind at the end of christmas vacation. we were going to watch charlie brown's valentine and g'dangit we were going to like it! 3:00 pm rolled around proving miracles really do happen and god really does love me. and as i sent my littles away with a donut eraser i had to remind them multiple times not to eat, i was left in my quiet vomit-smelling classroom reflecting on the shit storm of a day. i mentioned earlier that valentine's day is about celebrating love in all its forms. today, love took the form of my dear friend putting out the nasty sawdust vomit catcher in the middle of mass. love took the form of caring for a child with a high fever, crying for no other reason than he's cold. love took the form of 19 little people recognizing their teacher was spent and just chilling the eff out. love took the form of a cozy blanket in a quiet corner waiting for mom or dad to come getcha. love took the form of rubbing a back gently, as they become ill into a trashcan that will simply never be the same again. love took the form of gracious fellow teachers and friends checking in and helping out. love was all over the place today. it just looked different than i had expected. as i sit here now my feet are swollen, my back aches and i've got under boob sweat like you wouldn't believe. but oh how full my heart is. and how happy and thankful i am to have been around to celebrate another valentine's day. you could say i'm almost as happy as a 6 year old with a hippo box of candy. almost... happy valentine's day, friends. i hope you witness love in all its forms today. ...just maybe with less vomit. xo yesterday i cut all my hair off because it’s been getting in the way when i throw up.
i’m 12 weeks pregnant. i wanted to share this news with you all in a super cute and clever way but the truth is there isn’t really anything cute about this first trimester. i feel sicker than i ever have in my life. i’ve spent the better part of the last 6 weeks in and out of bathrooms and doctor’s offices where nice nurses try to explain why i keep pooping my pants and throwing up uncontrollably. i’ve given every imaginable sample from blood to stool and i keep plastic bags in my car because i can’t travel without becoming ill. my favorite game to play is “why is the pregnant lady crying?” today it was because the movie burlesque really touched me. real tear-jerker, that burlesque. i blame cher. i cried later because mama mia 2 isn’t yet available to rent on apple tv. then i cried because there are SO many worse things happening in the world than the release date of mama mia 2 and i felt like a selfish asshole. i really thought i would be better at being pregnant. i thought i’d be one of those ladies who crushed the name of the game with baby carrying. glowing and gleaming and all the other fun adjectives. i thought i’d feel happier. but i don’t. i feel hella sick and weak and sad. and then i feel horrible for feeling that way about something so wonderful that i’ve wanted for forever. and then i throw up. you sense the cycle. anyway, i wanted to share this with you all because i want you to know that whatever it is that you wish was “instagrammable” about your life right now doesn’t need to be pretty and perfect to be worth sharing. i wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and make some stranger take picture (on portrait mode) of drew and i with pumpkins and our sonogram photo. but that’s not what my life looks like right now. and that’s ok. i’m allowed to be happy about this new adventure and sad about feeling shitty at the same time. you’re allowed to feel more than one way too. today i choose to share this news with you all because i love you and the news itself is more beautiful than any portrait mode picture. baby h is due to make a grand appearance april 30, 2019. drew and i can’t wait. and i personally can’t wait until the second trimester begins. peace love and zofran, lh every person,
man or woman, old or young, has something they wear that makes them feel wonderful. for my dad, it's something camo, and probably from cabelas. for my mom, it's something colorful and expertly accessorized. for my sister emily, it's something yellow. for my sister marge, it's something black and very cool that would look ridiculous on anyone else. and for me, it's something comfortable that pairs well with glitter and glue. the first thing i ever purchased from kate spade was a pair of bright pink gumdrop earrings. i was in college and i got them as a birthday treat. they made me feel so fun and special that i wore them to bed. i loved those earrings. over the years i've purchased and received many other treats from kate. a pair of shoes here. a dress there. too many handbags to count. planners. sunglasses. notebooks. i've used her shopping bags to decorate my apartments. i've strolled around her 5 floor shop in nyc. i've carried her with me to different states and countries. i love her. my friends and i love her. my sisters and i love her. when i found out about her tragic death yesterday, my heart broke. i went to my closet and looked at all of the beautiful things i have that she designed. i thought about how strong they make me feel. how confident. and beautiful. and special. and i wished so badly that she could have felt the same way about herself. i wished that i could have given her all that she gave to me in the form of her designs. as i read more about her life and career yesterday, i was so inspired by her grace. her tenacity, grit and imagination. i learned about her struggle with mental illness and the shame she carried with her because of it. i learned that she was hesitant to speak out and seek help for fear of judgement from others. it seemed so wrong that someone so colorful and vibrant could be burdened with something so dark and heavy. but that's just it. mental illness doesn't discriminate. it affects all of us, in some way or another. my prayer is that in light of this, we will all be a little gentler to each other and a little gentler on ourselves. kate was known for her bold, colorful and creative style. she was also known for being a good friend. i only knew her as the former, but i know the latter to be true nonetheless. tonight, drew is taking me to see aladdin downtown. i'm going to be wearing my gumdrop earrings. i'll probably end up sleeping in them just like i did all those years ago. and when i see the bright and colorful stage tonight, i'll be thinking of kate. thank you for making me feel wonderful. rest easy. i knew i wanted to be a mom as soon as my little sister was born.
i remember thinking at a very young age, this is my baby. i loved her so. my mom taught me how to love like that my whole life, i've had kick-ass role models for what a mom should be like. the examples my mom and aunts and grandmothers set for me equipped me to do the work that i do every day. the love i received from other people's moms helped me show grace to my own mom. moms wear a lot of hats. they play a lot of roles. they tolerate a lot of shit. i've learned these things this year especially, teaching kindergarten. there are days when i feel like i simply cannot be all the things that my children need me to be. and it feels awful. but i don't have to do it alone. there are so many people with whom i share my kids who fill the spaces i cannot. and i think that's what momming is like. my mom was so brilliant in surrounding herself with women who complimented her so well and in turn, helped me to be a better woman. motherhood is a sisterhood. a band of badassery. the moms of this world are the nurturers. the hand holders. the fiercest huggers. the loudest applauders of right and the gentlest reminders of wrong. the defenders. they do the most work for the least amount of credit. to me, they are heroes. i am so proud to be my mother's daughter. so proud to very soon be a daughter-in-law (ah!). so proud to know and love too many amazing mothers to count. here's to moms. in all their forms. for all they do. for all they are. and for all they sacrifice. i am privileged to celebrate you this day and every day. i love you, mom. xo this morning i saw amy schumer's new movie, "i feel pretty."
it was delightful. i laughed until my stomach hurt. i teared up at moments with which i am all too familiar. i cheered. and i celebrated myself and my body for the first time in a long time. i also ate an entire large popcorn and a raisinet melted in my crotch, resulting in a chocolate stain that looked like poop. i am 26 years old. i am a woman of below average height and above average weight. i can count the number of times i've felt truly beautiful in my life on two hands. make no mistake, this doesn't mean i don't love myself. or that i don't recognize that i am wonderful and lovely. my character and heart will always be the best parts of me. as they are meant to be the best parts of all of us. but feeling beautiful has always been difficult for me. i remember as a child i envied the long smooth hair of my classmates. when i was incredibly lanky and bony i envied the girls who looked fuller and softer than i did. when i was filled out and top heavy i envied the girls who could wear the cute free people tops with bralettes instead of the mom bras i wore to support my back. these days i envy the strong women in yoga and the ladies who don't have double chins and big arms. what i loved about "i feel pretty" is the way it depicted the full spectrum of body image struggles. no one is immune to battles with self-confidence. there isn't a single woman on the planet who is perfectly and completely confident about her body. and in knowing this, there is a sense of community for ladies all around the world. i'm not the only one who cries when i put on my spanx and look in the mirror. i'm not the only one who feels like mrs. doubtfire in her fat suit when i'm trying on dresses. i'm not the only one who struggles to be seen by bartenders in a sea of crop tops and platform heels. i'm not the only one who has farted in yoga, thrown up after pure barre or avoided the mirror spot in a zumba class. i am not perfect, and neither is my body. and i recognize that even what i deem to be "perfect" still has it's flaws. what's beautiful and perfect is based strictly on who you ask. i encourage you to be the one who recognizes the beautiful parts of yourself today. and understand that they may be the very things that you may think are silly or ridiculous. i am laura. i drink too much wine, eat too many carbs and enjoy cheese far too often to ever have skinny legs or a flat tummy. i have a quick temper and a terrible work ethic when it comes to going to the gym. i laugh too loudly, sing constantly and frequently don't know when to shut up and listen. i have scars, freckles and cellulite. i have varicose veins, impossibly high arches in my feet and rosacea. and despite all of these flaws and shortcomings, i am beautiful. i am not a reflection of what others are unable to see in me. and neither are you. with love, ld when i was a child, and something awful happened, my mom always told me:
god never wastes a hurt. today, i am hurting. i am heartbroken. i am sad. a teacher at my school passed away unexpectedly from an aortic aneurysm last night. she was 24. she is 24. she IS 24. i saw her yesterday. i talked to her yesterday. she was here YESTERDAY. and today she's not. i spent a good part of today looking for resources explaining loss to a child. books. activities. songs. it felt wrong. it felt surreal. how do you explain to a child that someone who was here yesterday is gone today? how can you be strong when you feel so broken? how can you carry on when it feels like the world has stopped? i got the call early this morning. school was cancelled. the staff arrived as usual. and we wept. and we mourned. and we prayed. and even though things are horrible being there was, in a way, beautiful. and yet, i still cried. i cried because it's not fair. i cried because i miss her. i cried for her family. i cried for our school. i cried for her students. i cried because awful things make me long for my family. my mom and my dad and my sisters and drew. i cried because 24 is not when people are supposed to pass. i cried because our bodies are human and fail us, even when we think they're strong. i cried because it hurts. it hurts so so much. i do not understand what has happened. and i don't know that i ever will. but what i do know is this: god never wastes a hurt. and we will carry on. and we will hold on to each other. because that's what you do when things are awful. and it won't hurt forever. i can think of no better testament to her life than the kiddos in whom she invested. they will remain. and so will she. |
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