The hospital room is dark, but not quiet. There's the nurses chatting in the hall, the hum of central air, and the constant rushing of the oxygen mask forcing air into my son's mouth and tired little lungs. A mask that, on any other day Darren might have found kind of cool, as it whooshes rhythmically, in and out with every breath. Very Darth Vader-esque. An IV in one arm, bandages up and down the other arm from blood being drawn, and many failed IV attempts, while nurses tried to distract him with stickers as he gritted his teeth and cried on the inside. His big toe glows red with the attached O2 monitor, that occasionally goes off in an alarmingly loud way, causing a nurse to scurry in an adjust his oxygen levels or monitor.
So that's 3. Three wires running to my baby boy, keeping him stable, keeping him o.k. That's also 3 more than I'm comfortable seeing on my baby. I'm supposed to be able to fix him with hugs, magical cure-all kisses, and the occasional tylenol. This, this is way out of my league. Way out of my control.
An entire day behind us of x-rays, blood tests, playing medical musical chairs room to room, pin pricks, all while telling him 'just a little longer' when he clearly couldn't take it another second. A day of watching my son not being able to breathe without pain, and a hundred different faces telling me 'just a little longer', when I clearly wanted to explode and cry out 'FIX my SON dammit!' Thank God, my mother came to be with us, to support us, and to give me the chance to just leave the room and cry, because I didn't want him to see how scared I was.
When they finally got that IV in, when they finally made it work, I cried and cried, we all cried. It reminded me of when Darren was born, and he wouldn't breathe at first and we all held our breath. None of us could do anything, we had no control as the nurses worked and worked. Then he cried out, and the floodgates of relief opened. It was the same feeling of relief, knowing he wouldn't have to have another attempt made, and finally, finally, the 'fixing' could begin.
And now, here we are, after this 12 hours of panic and emotionally exhausting ordeal, just he and I, and the whirring of his Darth Vader oxygen machine. He has such tired, heavy eyes, but he doesn't want to give in. A few rounds of "You Are My Sunshine" and some gentle caresses help things along. His eyelids droop, as my hand finds a sweet spot, a gentle figure eight over his brow and hair....I suddenly flashback as if it were yesterday, to a crystal clear memoryof when this tall 6 year old who now takes up an entire pediatric bed was just 6 pounds, a tiny, fragile infant. He would cry and cry some nights, and I would search for the magical cure. The right song, the right motion, the right caress; the sweet spot. The thing that would make the crying stop and the calm deep breaths of sleep begin. I would stand by his crib, crib rail jammed up under my armpit, tracing a magical figure 8 at 3 in the morning, for what seemed like hours, just to let him sleep. Whatever it takes.
The nurse brings in a pillow and blankets for me, well intentioned, but yea, right, thanks but no thanks...and I ask for a pen and this paper instead. Much more useful tonight. No, no sleep tonight, tonight I will sit here in loving vigil, alternating this writing therapy with magical figure eights when need be. With this hospital bed rail jammed up under my armpit so he can feel my presence and get some well needed and deserved rest. Whatever it takes.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
It's A New Day
I went asleep last night tired from the fight
I’ve been fighting for tomorrow all my life
Yea I woke up this morning feeling brand new
‘Cause the dreams that I’ve been dreaming
Have finally came true
It’s a new day
It’s been a long time coming
Up the mountain kept runnin’
Souls of freedom kept hummin’
Channeling Harriet Tubman
Kennedy, Lincoln, and King
We gotta invest in that dream
It feels like we’re swimming upstream
It feels like we’re stuck inbetween
A rock and a hard place,
We’ve been through the heartaches
And lived through the darkest days
If you and I made it this far,
Well then hey, we can make it all the way
And they said no we can’t
And we said yes we can
Remember it’s you and me together
I woke up this morning feeling alright
I’ve been fightin’ for tomorrow all my life
Yea, I woke up this morning feeling brand new
Cause the dreams that I’ve been dreaming
Have finally came true
It’s a new day
It’s been a long time waitin’, waiting for this moment
It’s been a long time praying, praying for this moment
We hope for this moment and now that we own it
For life I will hold it, and I ain’t gonna let it go
It’s for fathers, our brothers,
Our friends who fought for freedom
Our sisters, our mothers, who died for us to be in this moment
Stop and cherish this moment
Stop and cherish this time
It’s time for unity for us and we
That’s you and me together
I woke up this morning feeling brand new
Cause the dreams that I’ve been dreaming
Have finally came true
Yea, I woke up this morning feeling alright
‘Cause we weren’t fighting for nothing
And the soldiers weren’t fighting for nothing
No, Martin wasn’t dreaming for nothing
And Lincoln didn’t change it for nothing
And children weren’t crying for nothing
It’s a new day
-Will.i.am.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
January in New Hampshire...awesome.
I sit, alone, on my bed in my room, watching Fox New Channel. No, not because it's AWESOME. For me, Fox is a very strange thing. I liken it to having a sore, welting black fly bite, or a big poison ivy blister. You want to scratch SO bad, and even though you're not supposed to, you do anyway. And the resulting sensation is pain, but a satisfying pain. 'hurts so good, Bill O'Reilly, make it hurt so good,..." I can not stand anything that man says, every word of it spewing out like disease, from that smug asshole face of his. I am a person of peace and tranquility, but even I have limits, and Bill O'Reilly is the one person, who if I met in person, I would have to fight back the strong urge to just punch him in the face. Right in that ignorant, self righteous, asshole face. And yet, here I am, watching him. It really is an odd phenomenon. Everything he says, I yell at the screen in useless rebuttal, becoming increasingly upset. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but how is it even possible for someone to have their head quite that far up their own ass? Finally, I click over the channel to Family Guy before I have a stroke...throw the remote on the bed and go check on the kids. They're both sleeping quietly, which is a relief, because they have both been constantly sick this winter. But right now, they are happy and resting. Sweet. Time to raid the liquor cabinet. They say it's bad to drink alone, but honestly I hate being home alone. I am petrified of being alone in the house at night, and I'm pretty sure a little bedtime drink will take the edge off. Dean has been pulling all-nighters to catch up on the job, so we can hopefully catch up on mortgage and bills, and maybe even go grocery shopping! There is only so much ramen noodle I can take. And I love ramen noodles. (Don't worry, the liquor is from a gift card, I'm not that crappy a parent. ) Not that it would matter if he were here, it would still be silent. See, we are having one of those cold shoulder showdowns, where we are both holding out till the other gives in, the original quarrel that started it long since forgotten, but the winter doldrums make us extra obstinate. Like that barenaked ladies song, one week. "It'll still be 2 days till I say I'm sorry"....I bet they wrote that in January.
Yes. A bottle of Captain Morgan. Not something I'm familiar with, it was Deans' pick, but hey, there's a handsome pirate on the front, and he's looking at me like I could use a little capn' in me. Who am I to argue? I turn to grab a shot glass...then dismiss the idea. Nah. Having the blues needs a shot glass. Stubbing my toe needs a shot glass. January? January says take the whole damn bottle with you. Yes indeedy.
I return to the bedroom with my booty, and practically trip over the cats, who are breaking into a fight. 'Cut it out!' I scold, and one takes off across the room, them climbs the door jam and hangs there like a monkey. Yup, cabin fever has officially set in. 'Well, climb the walls if you want, but you're gonna have to chill out, it's 5 degrees outside. So either get along or die' she jumps down and skulks off, she won't mess with me and the Capn'. It's January. I'm not screwing around in January.
A swig off the bottle....not bad! Spicy and strong, without the jet fuel after burn of whiskey. Oh, what a wonderful new friend I have made. I wink at the captain, and he winks back at me. Time for a hot shower. I bring the bottle with me (it would be rude to let my new friend out of my sight)and set it on the counter. After a long hot soak I come back out, reach for my brush, and then...noooooo! I knock the bottle...it does the movie style-slow-mo teeter, before heading down. It does a 10 second tumble bouncing off my fumbling hands and the counter, and I desperately yell, 'Not the rum!' without even conciously thinking about it,before finally catching it. I break out in hysterical tipsy laughter over this. See? it really does put a little capn' in ya. Not the rum? ohhhh, that's pretty good, right?
I go back to my bed, guitar on my lap, captain by my side, and start playing some music. That always calms me down. The music makes my stress retreat for the night, so I can finally get some sleep.
It would be so nice if we could just hibernate...at least for January.
Yes. A bottle of Captain Morgan. Not something I'm familiar with, it was Deans' pick, but hey, there's a handsome pirate on the front, and he's looking at me like I could use a little capn' in me. Who am I to argue? I turn to grab a shot glass...then dismiss the idea. Nah. Having the blues needs a shot glass. Stubbing my toe needs a shot glass. January? January says take the whole damn bottle with you. Yes indeedy.
I return to the bedroom with my booty, and practically trip over the cats, who are breaking into a fight. 'Cut it out!' I scold, and one takes off across the room, them climbs the door jam and hangs there like a monkey. Yup, cabin fever has officially set in. 'Well, climb the walls if you want, but you're gonna have to chill out, it's 5 degrees outside. So either get along or die' she jumps down and skulks off, she won't mess with me and the Capn'. It's January. I'm not screwing around in January.
A swig off the bottle....not bad! Spicy and strong, without the jet fuel after burn of whiskey. Oh, what a wonderful new friend I have made. I wink at the captain, and he winks back at me. Time for a hot shower. I bring the bottle with me (it would be rude to let my new friend out of my sight)and set it on the counter. After a long hot soak I come back out, reach for my brush, and then...noooooo! I knock the bottle...it does the movie style-slow-mo teeter, before heading down. It does a 10 second tumble bouncing off my fumbling hands and the counter, and I desperately yell, 'Not the rum!' without even conciously thinking about it,before finally catching it. I break out in hysterical tipsy laughter over this. See? it really does put a little capn' in ya. Not the rum? ohhhh, that's pretty good, right?
I go back to my bed, guitar on my lap, captain by my side, and start playing some music. That always calms me down. The music makes my stress retreat for the night, so I can finally get some sleep.
It would be so nice if we could just hibernate...at least for January.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Ahhh, the holidays...
'Twas the Night Before Christmas in the ol' dutton house
The kids were all sleeping, so we slowly got soused.
A bottle of champagne so big and so cheap,
we knew the next day we'd need 3 aspirin each.
We made naughty snowflakes, not quite a 'holy night'task,
"Is there a penis in this flake???" dear old Santy would ask.
We sang Christmas carols and a few slipknot songs,
when I could no longer strum, I handed the guitar to John.
When out on the lawn, there arose sucha clatter,
we all sprang outside to see what was the matter.
Dean had fallen off the porch, but had a grin ear to ear,
"naked nativity!" he cried (the tab had broken from his beer)
Then from up on the roof, we heard the jingle of bells.
Santa peeked over the top, and said, "what the hell?!?!"
"Don't you all know that it's 4 in the morn?
The kids will be up soon!" he said with such scorn.
So down came the fellow with his big bag of toys,
and he shooed us all in, all us bad girls and boys.
Then he made us clean up, every can, every scrap,
all while he sat with a beer in his lap.
When the house was all clean, he tucked us in bed,
and set out the toys and then kissed all our heads.
Then he rose up the chimney (with Dean's Guinness in hand)
and away Santy went to other parts of the land.
But we heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas Dutton house, and to all a good night!"
The kids were all sleeping, so we slowly got soused.
A bottle of champagne so big and so cheap,
we knew the next day we'd need 3 aspirin each.
We made naughty snowflakes, not quite a 'holy night'task,
"Is there a penis in this flake???" dear old Santy would ask.
We sang Christmas carols and a few slipknot songs,
when I could no longer strum, I handed the guitar to John.
When out on the lawn, there arose sucha clatter,
we all sprang outside to see what was the matter.
Dean had fallen off the porch, but had a grin ear to ear,
"naked nativity!" he cried (the tab had broken from his beer)
Then from up on the roof, we heard the jingle of bells.
Santa peeked over the top, and said, "what the hell?!?!"
"Don't you all know that it's 4 in the morn?
The kids will be up soon!" he said with such scorn.
So down came the fellow with his big bag of toys,
and he shooed us all in, all us bad girls and boys.
Then he made us clean up, every can, every scrap,
all while he sat with a beer in his lap.
When the house was all clean, he tucked us in bed,
and set out the toys and then kissed all our heads.
Then he rose up the chimney (with Dean's Guinness in hand)
and away Santy went to other parts of the land.
But we heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas Dutton house, and to all a good night!"
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Happy Turkey Day
Things I am Thankful For
My two beautiful children, who are healthy and amazing.
Excedrin Tension Headache...because healthy children are loud and tension-causing.
Internet, for allowing recluses like me a window to the world where we can blog, play Neopets, and web md our symptoms that might just be dengue fever.
Wine.
Champagne.
A wonderful husband who is also my best friend. No one else can make me so mad and so happy. Not to mention he buys me Internet and makes pretty babies.
Bravo, Fox(ch. 15, NOT the news network...that's an entirely different list), Best week Ever and The Soup
My siblings. My partners in crime who have my back, but will throw me under the bus in a heartbeat if mom gives them 'the eye'. No one else makes me laugh so much, or makes me so brave.
Tissues with vick's vapo rub.
Anything Pepperidge Farm has ever made.
Gardening.
Wine.
ohhhh bud light with lime...that's yummy too.
Johnny Depp.
Chocolate.
Wine.
Music, and the ability express myself through guitar and lyrics.
OBAMA '08
My mom, because no matter what, she is only a phone call away when I am in tears and ready to run away and join the circus. And she usually brings snacks. Or wine.
My stinky Lila kitty.
Diet Dr. Pepper.
Calvin and Hobbes.
My whole family, near or far, old or new. I am 26 and still acquiring new brothers and sisters and that's pretty neat. :)
My vacuum cleaner.
Mascara. Never leave home without it.
My camera because I love being able to freeze time for a second, so I can go back and remember it, and share that with people.
Turkeys, for being so damn yummy. Sorry, I hate thinking about eating an animal...but really...you're just asking for it, being so damn tasty.
Laughter....I can never get enough of laughter. It is the best feeling in the whole world to laugh.
And of course I am so thankful, for having a strong healthy body, a healthy mind, healthy hands to play my guitar, healthy legs to dance, and a warm, healthy heart to laugh and love. Thank you God, for every blessing in my life, great and small. Though I guess there really are no small blessings. Everything we are, everything around us, every breath we take is a blessing, a miracle and a gift.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone.
Now, where's the wine?
My two beautiful children, who are healthy and amazing.
Excedrin Tension Headache...because healthy children are loud and tension-causing.
Internet, for allowing recluses like me a window to the world where we can blog, play Neopets, and web md our symptoms that might just be dengue fever.
Wine.
Champagne.
A wonderful husband who is also my best friend. No one else can make me so mad and so happy. Not to mention he buys me Internet and makes pretty babies.
Bravo, Fox(ch. 15, NOT the news network...that's an entirely different list), Best week Ever and The Soup
My siblings. My partners in crime who have my back, but will throw me under the bus in a heartbeat if mom gives them 'the eye'. No one else makes me laugh so much, or makes me so brave.
Tissues with vick's vapo rub.
Anything Pepperidge Farm has ever made.
Gardening.
Wine.
ohhhh bud light with lime...that's yummy too.
Johnny Depp.
Chocolate.
Wine.
Music, and the ability express myself through guitar and lyrics.
OBAMA '08
My mom, because no matter what, she is only a phone call away when I am in tears and ready to run away and join the circus. And she usually brings snacks. Or wine.
My stinky Lila kitty.
Diet Dr. Pepper.
Calvin and Hobbes.
My whole family, near or far, old or new. I am 26 and still acquiring new brothers and sisters and that's pretty neat. :)
My vacuum cleaner.
Mascara. Never leave home without it.
My camera because I love being able to freeze time for a second, so I can go back and remember it, and share that with people.
Turkeys, for being so damn yummy. Sorry, I hate thinking about eating an animal...but really...you're just asking for it, being so damn tasty.
Laughter....I can never get enough of laughter. It is the best feeling in the whole world to laugh.
And of course I am so thankful, for having a strong healthy body, a healthy mind, healthy hands to play my guitar, healthy legs to dance, and a warm, healthy heart to laugh and love. Thank you God, for every blessing in my life, great and small. Though I guess there really are no small blessings. Everything we are, everything around us, every breath we take is a blessing, a miracle and a gift.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone.
Now, where's the wine?
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Adventures in Feces
*caution* do not read if you are afraid of poop, or are eating.. You have been warned.
So, for those of you who know me well, you know who my arch nemesis is....that's right....poop. (boo!! hiss!!!) Ok, well, actually you don't even have to know me well. You could be someone who sat near me in Applebee's, at a movie theater, or walked by me in Wal-Mart and overheard me not-so-quietly regaling a family member with this week's tales of poop-tastrophes. Hey, if you spent your days elbow deep in other people's poo for 6 years, you would discuss it a lot too. Don't judge. I hate poop.
But, alas, at every turn, there it is. I walk through my house in constant search of it. Sniffing the air like an animal on the hunt. Searching it out and finding it in the darndest of places. I smell it..where is it? Aha. the litter box. My awesome cats decided to poo and not cover it up. Perhaps they think such an awesome smell should be shared, not hidden. Ok, clean out the litter box...and while emptying it, I accidentally miss the bag and dump the entire contents on my feet...sweet. clean it up, clean myself up....go about my busine...wait. *sniffsniff* poop. There's still poop. Where is it? Ew. Ok, guinea pigs went crazy on the carrots last night, and my reward for loving them is a thousand little pill-shaped nuggets of stench. Poop. Clean the piggy cage. Are you serious?! I still smell poop. Searching, searching. Aha. OK, WHO DIDN'T FLUSH??? Of course, no answer. Silence in a usually ear-splittingly chaotic house. No one wants to claim it. It's mom's now. No 'thanks' necessary, mum.*flush* A solid ten minutes of a poo-free home, and suddenly, there it is again. "Argggg....poooooooop" **shaking my fist**
I walk in on Abby, trying to take off her freshly pooed undies, smearing poo down her legs, and inevitably, the bathroom floor. "come here," I help her step out of them, and the motion slingshots a big lovely SLAP of poop against my pant leg. Awe-some.
Poop, you've won again. Well played.
And so, you see my pain. My life is spent cleaning up poop. Should have read the fine print. But anyway, I say all this, so that I can bring you this week's latest poo-caper:
The other night, Dean and I were laying in bed, watching t.v., romantically snuggling. Blissfully unaware poo was about to rear it's ugly head. Abby comes around the corner of the hall, her arm outstretched, devilish gleam in her eye. Something pinched between her two fingers..."what does she have?" too far away to tell...but deep down...I knew. She came a little closer. No longer could we deny. It was, of course, a morsel of turd. Dean got up to go inspect, (he knows the drill- when he's home, it's his turn to play poo-janitor), and came back with the report that she had pooped her pants, taken them off, and decided to play betty crocker with her feces. He found a few balls, and a couple pancakes. Fresh from the oven. He proceeded to 'clean up' her room and her body, and came back to give the all clear. Knowing a man's definition of 'clean' I went to inspect. There was chunks of poo on the carpet, poo smears on her little kitchen set, and the coup de gras, I found poo...in her cash register. Now, my friends, not just poo. A poo-raisin. An undigested, poo covered raisin, that perhaps, she was saving for later? I can picture her thinking about it, staring at it. "It still looks ok. I think this is salvageable..." Tucking it safely away. So I proceeded to sanitize everything, searching on my hands and knees for any stray nugs, wiping down every surface. I don't know how my husband likes to clean, but I have a strict 'No chunks of shit' policy.
So, I am sorry for any appetites I have ruined, but now you know. You can understand why I have such anger towards poo. And now you can take pity on me if you ever come to my house and it smells like poo. It's not my fault, it's just out to get me.
So, for those of you who know me well, you know who my arch nemesis is....that's right....poop. (boo!! hiss!!!) Ok, well, actually you don't even have to know me well. You could be someone who sat near me in Applebee's, at a movie theater, or walked by me in Wal-Mart and overheard me not-so-quietly regaling a family member with this week's tales of poop-tastrophes. Hey, if you spent your days elbow deep in other people's poo for 6 years, you would discuss it a lot too. Don't judge. I hate poop.
But, alas, at every turn, there it is. I walk through my house in constant search of it. Sniffing the air like an animal on the hunt. Searching it out and finding it in the darndest of places. I smell it..where is it? Aha. the litter box. My awesome cats decided to poo and not cover it up. Perhaps they think such an awesome smell should be shared, not hidden. Ok, clean out the litter box...and while emptying it, I accidentally miss the bag and dump the entire contents on my feet...sweet. clean it up, clean myself up....go about my busine...wait. *sniffsniff* poop. There's still poop. Where is it? Ew. Ok, guinea pigs went crazy on the carrots last night, and my reward for loving them is a thousand little pill-shaped nuggets of stench. Poop. Clean the piggy cage. Are you serious?! I still smell poop. Searching, searching. Aha. OK, WHO DIDN'T FLUSH??? Of course, no answer. Silence in a usually ear-splittingly chaotic house. No one wants to claim it. It's mom's now. No 'thanks' necessary, mum.*flush* A solid ten minutes of a poo-free home, and suddenly, there it is again. "Argggg....poooooooop" **shaking my fist**
I walk in on Abby, trying to take off her freshly pooed undies, smearing poo down her legs, and inevitably, the bathroom floor. "come here," I help her step out of them, and the motion slingshots a big lovely SLAP of poop against my pant leg. Awe-some.
Poop, you've won again. Well played.
And so, you see my pain. My life is spent cleaning up poop. Should have read the fine print. But anyway, I say all this, so that I can bring you this week's latest poo-caper:
The other night, Dean and I were laying in bed, watching t.v., romantically snuggling. Blissfully unaware poo was about to rear it's ugly head. Abby comes around the corner of the hall, her arm outstretched, devilish gleam in her eye. Something pinched between her two fingers..."what does she have?" too far away to tell...but deep down...I knew. She came a little closer. No longer could we deny. It was, of course, a morsel of turd. Dean got up to go inspect, (he knows the drill- when he's home, it's his turn to play poo-janitor), and came back with the report that she had pooped her pants, taken them off, and decided to play betty crocker with her feces. He found a few balls, and a couple pancakes. Fresh from the oven. He proceeded to 'clean up' her room and her body, and came back to give the all clear. Knowing a man's definition of 'clean' I went to inspect. There was chunks of poo on the carpet, poo smears on her little kitchen set, and the coup de gras, I found poo...in her cash register. Now, my friends, not just poo. A poo-raisin. An undigested, poo covered raisin, that perhaps, she was saving for later? I can picture her thinking about it, staring at it. "It still looks ok. I think this is salvageable..." Tucking it safely away. So I proceeded to sanitize everything, searching on my hands and knees for any stray nugs, wiping down every surface. I don't know how my husband likes to clean, but I have a strict 'No chunks of shit' policy.
So, I am sorry for any appetites I have ruined, but now you know. You can understand why I have such anger towards poo. And now you can take pity on me if you ever come to my house and it smells like poo. It's not my fault, it's just out to get me.
Friday, November 7, 2008
A Nukular Win...hehehehe
Well, I am so happy that my first post can be about something so wonderful. This Monday we voted Barack Obama in as our next President of the United States. (queue round of applause)
There isn't anything that I can say, that hasn't already been said about it, but still I just have to be in awe at what has happened. Not only has the country elected someone young, trustworthy, intelligent and kind into the White House, but the most groundbreaking achievement here, above all else....
We have elected someone who can pronounce 'nuclear'
(praise Jesus! hallelujah! amen! *queue upbeat gospel choir*)
What a wonderful, wonderful day it is, when we can now send someone overseas to meet with foreign ambassadors and rulers, who will actually sound like they know what they're doing. What a gift we have given ourselves, that we will be able to watch our beloved president give speeches, and actually understand the sentences he is trying to form, instead of shaking our heads and doing a shot every time we hear a 'Bushism'.
Thank you America....God Bless.
Ahhh.......how my funny bone will miss the Bush years. But, I have to bring it down to a serious note. Because this truly, truly is a historical event. We have elected the first black American to be president. Regardless of politics, views, whatever else, that is a wonderful thing. I am so inspired to see that from the dark, dark place of slavery and bondage that began the African American's history in our country, he has now gained freedom, acceptance, and risen to the very apex of our society, becoming leader of the free world. What a journey. I didn't find out Obama won until Tuesday morning, and I didn't cry when I did find out, because I was just plain happy. But later that morning I was watching the View and one of the hosts, Sherri Shepherd, a comic, mother, and very strong black woman, was speaking about what the win meant for her. She said that when she found out, she went to her young son's bedroom, and knelt at his bedside, and could finally say that 'baby, there are no limitations...NO limitations'.....then she was bawling, and I was bawling....because think about that. As a mother, as a parent, you look at your child, and want them to reach for the stars. As a white mother, I look at my kids, and see a future of optimism, hope, and setting goals for themselves that are lofty, but attainable. I never realized what a gift that is, to never question all that my children can be. But now, there are thousands of black mothers and fathers everywhere, that can look at their children and say, you can be anything you want to be...anything. No settling, no excuses for not wanting more for yourself. No limitations.
So, while I know for myself, for the politics of it, Obama's win is a wonderful victory, I have to step back, and acknowledge what a huge moment this is for all people of color in our country, what a barrier that has been broken for them. I will not pretend to know what it's like to be black in our country, to understand fully the struggles for freedom, equality, and respect they have endured. But I know and understand that this has truly been a victory of the spirit.
God Bless America.
There isn't anything that I can say, that hasn't already been said about it, but still I just have to be in awe at what has happened. Not only has the country elected someone young, trustworthy, intelligent and kind into the White House, but the most groundbreaking achievement here, above all else....
We have elected someone who can pronounce 'nuclear'
(praise Jesus! hallelujah! amen! *queue upbeat gospel choir*)
What a wonderful, wonderful day it is, when we can now send someone overseas to meet with foreign ambassadors and rulers, who will actually sound like they know what they're doing. What a gift we have given ourselves, that we will be able to watch our beloved president give speeches, and actually understand the sentences he is trying to form, instead of shaking our heads and doing a shot every time we hear a 'Bushism'.
Thank you America....God Bless.
Ahhh.......how my funny bone will miss the Bush years. But, I have to bring it down to a serious note. Because this truly, truly is a historical event. We have elected the first black American to be president. Regardless of politics, views, whatever else, that is a wonderful thing. I am so inspired to see that from the dark, dark place of slavery and bondage that began the African American's history in our country, he has now gained freedom, acceptance, and risen to the very apex of our society, becoming leader of the free world. What a journey. I didn't find out Obama won until Tuesday morning, and I didn't cry when I did find out, because I was just plain happy. But later that morning I was watching the View and one of the hosts, Sherri Shepherd, a comic, mother, and very strong black woman, was speaking about what the win meant for her. She said that when she found out, she went to her young son's bedroom, and knelt at his bedside, and could finally say that 'baby, there are no limitations...NO limitations'.....then she was bawling, and I was bawling....because think about that. As a mother, as a parent, you look at your child, and want them to reach for the stars. As a white mother, I look at my kids, and see a future of optimism, hope, and setting goals for themselves that are lofty, but attainable. I never realized what a gift that is, to never question all that my children can be. But now, there are thousands of black mothers and fathers everywhere, that can look at their children and say, you can be anything you want to be...anything. No settling, no excuses for not wanting more for yourself. No limitations.
So, while I know for myself, for the politics of it, Obama's win is a wonderful victory, I have to step back, and acknowledge what a huge moment this is for all people of color in our country, what a barrier that has been broken for them. I will not pretend to know what it's like to be black in our country, to understand fully the struggles for freedom, equality, and respect they have endured. But I know and understand that this has truly been a victory of the spirit.
God Bless America.
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