Sassafrass

Tonight at the dinner table, we talked about Prop 8

There were only a few minutes at a time today that I wasn't thinking about the same-sex marriage ban upheld by the California Supreme Court today. How could I not? Twitter and Facebook updates were explosive in response and I felt emotional all day to see how vigilant we must be to ensure that all people have the fundamental right to marry.

Then I wrote about it, knowing I would get the all-caps responses that I indeed got (and am getting). And wanting, in spite of the hate or ignorance or just ill-informedness or shelteredness that might be revealed in comments section, for the conversation to be opened.

After I picked up Lil E, we went over the details of other things present in our day -- how he ran to the sink to wash his hands in the bathroom, slipped, knocked his head pretty hard on the floor and had a goose-egg still swollen on his noggin;how the Spanish teacher wasn't there but really was there but by the time they realized she really was there, it was too late, and so they played on playground instead of having class today; how we would not be eating pizza on the floor in a picnic and would actually have to talk at the table together.

We did talk at the table. We shared our usual Four Things About My Day and the favorite parts of our day. He asks, as he usually does, what I'd been blogging about, and in the most age-appropriate language I could find, I told him.

We've discussed this all before. This time, I gave him the context of the November elections and the California Supreme Court review of the proposition. Then I asked him what he thought. I grew up having a valid voice over such issues at the kitchen table, and he has that, too. Even at four. Especially at four.

He listened. He made a pouty face. He shook his head. His eyebrows framed a wrinkled nose.

"What do you think?" I asked. [The whole convo after the jump.]

Yeah, that's right: I'm still talking about Inauguration Day

President Obama's already shaking stuff up in the Oval Office. This reminds me -- Did you love that he told reporters how happy he is that he will now "work from home"? This makes me wonder if there is some kind of official emblem-stamped silver tea set packed up with my wedding china and fourteen crystal cake plates that I should be taking my midday coffee on before I meet up with some prime minister of the interwebs or dignitary of high heels or some such.

Regardless of what kind of business he conducts at his desk and I conduct at mine, there are two things I know for sure:

1) I rarely can find the charger to my BlackBerry amidst the piles of extremely official paperwork (also known as the sweetest little clippings ever than my grandmother sends me as blog inspiration, fourteen Gymboree coupons, a pile of cards I collected at BlogHer '07 and blank CDs I swear I am going to burn with kickass playlists and photo montages...next week),

and B) this is not true for President Obama.

Oh, and also, 3) George W. Bush did not leave me any kind of message last week. There was a slurry text message at 2 a.m. about seven months that possibly could have crossed secure lines, but I will never know for sure.

While I am intensely watching Obama's intention to lift the "global gag rule" (I wrote about it here, and if you'd like to add your opinion in among the Bible quothers, please do), stem cell research funding, Guantanamo Bay closure and all kinds of other swift progress, I am also still riding high on how I spent Inauguration Day.

I was delighted to watch and cheer and eat oatmeal (yes, Quaker...of course) with some of my favorite Chicago mama bloggers -- the very talented and wise-cracking Jeanne from HouseInProgress, Danielle from  Foodmomiac, MJ from Chicagonista among them. These women have laughed and ranted and written about so many political issues that it just seemed ideal to sit among them in front of CNN, our laptops, coffee and maybe even a brunch-time cocktail or two. Here are a few postcards from the day in photos generously shared by Foodmomiac (because I can't handle a coffee cup, champagne and a camera all at once):

3 little things I loved about the inauguration

What a dreamy day. I felt so in love with the ceremony and celebrations, the hope and the accountability, the crowds of people cheering and the memory of all of those people there in spirit and in memory. And of course, I was head over emerald heels with the Obamas.

As overwhelmed and emotional and high as I felt with the day on the whole, I hope I remember these three things:

1. Malia cam and Sasha silliness. I adored that the first child of the first family is a real kid, texting and taking pictures and even handing over the camera to Joe Biden for a closer peek at her dad on centerstage. I loved that Sasha was as entertaining as Aretha in some moments. I've listened closely to what the Obamas have said about their views on parenting and I imagine many other people have taken pointers from their seeming centeredness and stress on the kids' (and their own) responsibility. I like that. Shining out from the adorable, brightly colored coats and coordinating gloves, it shows. And I totally want to be Malia's Flickr friend to see those shots.

2.  The poem. Ohhh, the poem. Is there any better ritual than commissioning such fine art to commemorate a day? Every single line is perfection. Is it too much to dream that one day Lil E will stand in front of a classroom, reciting this memorized poem for an oratory assignment? Or that he will study it in a college class, doodling around the edges of the copy in front of him, Xeroxed many times over? Maybe those are my own dreams, but I hope he one day appreciates the beauty of this one work by this one writer, who that day was welled up with her own emotion, and who proudly has Chicago ties.

3. The clear love. I watched the new president and first lady walk toward the White House during the inaugural parade and was struck (once again, this is not the first time) by their connectedness. Even as she changed hands to wave at opposite sides of the crowd, she never lost contact with his hand. In this lovely, sweeping, rhythmic motion, Michelle Obama released one hand from his to raise it in a wave while grasping his hand with her other. That tiny moment spoke so much and it made proud of the force of life she seems to be beside him. (And if you haven't seen it already, this head shaking take on their connection is quite funny. Someone please point this woman to the Urban Dictionary.)

I'm taking requests for a new political manifesto theme song

How do you even begin to describe what today feels like? Any words I have to offer are inadequate. Heartfelt but inadequate.

This morning, I am grateful to open my eyes to a new day, to hear something other than what we have heard too loudly, too gratingly, for too long. I know that change won't come as swiftly as we all might like or need, but I am hopeful. More hopeful in our government than I have been during most of my voting life.

Maybe it's that I have a child now. Maybe it's that I feel our nation teetering on the edge of a cliff where there is no reproductive justice left for women, no arts or P.E. programs left in schools, never enough healthcare for uninsured kids, too tight of a restriction on who gets to marry whom, too many opportunities to go to war again or drill again or deny scientists the chance to see what stem cells really can do again.

Maybe it's that I get chills that he will not remember a time when this country didn't have an African American man at its helm. Perhaps it is because there is so much good that can happen, might just really happen, will happen in the years ahead, and that gives me hope for my lifetime and for his.

I will be watching in awe and I am sure, with tears. I will be prayerful and celebratory and thankful to see this point in time with my own eyes.

I am so fucking happy that I will no longer feel the anger rise up in me every time I hear and belt out and drum my fingers on the steering wheel when I hear this song.

Because everything comes back to how I'm single now. And hot breakfast. OH! And the almost-President!

The past few weeks have been a roller coaster of endings and beginnin gs and transitions that have had me smiling and hands up and screaming with glee, dipping into exhaustion and emotion, and inhaling and exhaling slowly, slowly, deeply to try to find some sort of restful center. And all within minutes, maybe seconds. That's just this time of life, and after a weekend of good stuff -- being with my grrrls and seeing a phenomenal show and just lazing about with my boy in our PJs until noon -- I feel ready (and I am totally ripping this line off from an old friend's Facebook status, but I know he won't mind a bit...or won't once I remind him of that one - ahem - $50 poetry prize from sophomore year of high school) meeting the press and then facing the nation.

I am Christmas morning excited about the inauguration. Our t-shirts are clean and folded and ready to wear (a particular feat since the walls, steps and landings leading to our basement storage unit and laundry are covered in two inches of solid ice).

I will send Lil E off to preschool, where I am sure he will incite the wee ones into Oh-rock Oh-bama glitter-and-pipe cleaner inaug mania.  And then I will head over to that House in Progress for a little presidential hype of my own.

I am thrilled to join Jeanne and many other fabulous bloggers for the Quaker Oats inauguration brunch. We will be toasting the hope of a nation.  And we will be celebrating Quaker's own commitment to change in this country with their Start with Substance Campaign, serving up 1 million bowls of oatmeal to families in need in the year ahead.  (Join the Facebook group here.)

It's a great cause and a wonderful opportunity to watch the page turn for these United States (and I hope, I hope, our individual quality of life as well) with my people. It's also crazy (and perhaps a teense more enticing) that all this celebration and the ten others around the country have caused a little NYT controversy (ohhh, the former journalist in me loves it when journalists get all salty about bloggers).

Where will you be on Inauguration Day? I will be with some of my favorite smart, funny, political, progressive women friends --  in person and in spirit -- and taking my Obamas with a little oatmeal, brown sugar and buzz on.

If you feel the need to dance around, then dance around in these (yup, Obamundies)

This morning, I'm prayerful one moment and giddy the next. I looked up from my laptop and saw the sun shining down from a glorious blue sky on a street full of yellow leaves and honestly, my first thought, "God is smiling down on us today. She thinks we did well."

And then in an instant, the giggles bubble up when I think of Lil E cheering this morning when he asked who would be President and I spelled out O-B-A-M-A.

I'm careful not to forget the impact and sadness of a that Prop 8 passed in California (how that happened astounds me) and all the work that has yet to be done to secure marriage equity, reproductive justice and health insurance accessibility. 

For now, though, I think that God or the goddesses or whomever is beaming along with us will give the nod if we do a little dancing today.

And hell, if we're going to dance, we might as well be dancing in these. (Take it easy, gentlemen, that's the year printed on there, not something you have to stress about customizing.)

Or these.

Or hell, why not these? It's for AMERICA, people!

Our own little Grant Park

We debated whether or not to take the train to Grant Park and decided that witnessing the moment was more important than our vantage point.

Over dinner, Lil E detailed his preschool election to us. Later, I tucked him in his bed and he slept soundly while the whole of his world changed to the steady rhythm of his breath.

We watched in awe. Of our city. Of the returns. Of what was unfolding in front of us.

We laughed. We hoped.
We ate apple pie. We cheered.
We toasted champagne. We teared up.

We wished we were downtown with the thousands of others. We were so glad to be together.

There is more to say. So much more. But for now, the only words that come to me are...

Oh, what a night.

This little light of mine

I'm going to let it shine.

This little light of mine.
I'm going to let it shine.

Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.

All around the neighborhood,
I'm going to let it shine.

All around the neighborhood,
I'm going to let it shine.

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Let. It. Shine.

[all photos credit Jessica Ashley, except Mama for Obama photos, credit Lil E]

Linkety Dinkety Doo: Points to consider while I'm in line at the polls

I am taking Lil E with me to our new voting place today. They won't recognize us there, as they always did in gym of the Catholic school across from our old apartment. But that's OK. Lil E's convinced he's voting too, so I will bring him a special Sharpie and homemade ballot of his own to keep him occupied and happy and well-prepared for (oh my) the 2022 elections.

While we step out to step in line, won't you catch up on some of my favorite reading of the week? I promise to swipe a few stale donuts and weak coffee so we can sit and chat when I get back.


Oh, Stefania, thank you. You said a whole world, a big hope, in only a few paragraphs. Plus, you made me cry during an election that has mostly made me rant.

Oh, Tracy, I know. I turned down lots of offers to flaunt my boobs during the 18 months (yes, EIGHTEEN) I breastfed too. OK, so none of them was a major box office production (some grrrls are meant for much lower budgets, I guess), but still, I hear you (ummm) knocking.

Oh, David, I get it. Trying to be grounded, especially for yourself and by yourself, is a long, exhausting and invigorating journey. Here's to walking our talk.

Oh, Rachel, you ask the best questions. This one is about how we tangle emotions up in our bedsheets and if intimacy is possible without sex. Oh la la. What to say about that? Ideally, yes but realistically, no?

Oh dear, Batman and Penguin's debate is just a leeetle too familiar

This post-debate gem just landed in my email inbox. Of course, it plays right into the Batman obsession around here.




It's good it makes me laugh because otherwise, I'd get too creeped out by the many parallels between The Penguin and The McCain (and yes, that includes a little "my friends" refrain). The Barack-Batman connection's no stretch. But it does make me wonder when Hillary's going to enter stage right in a rubber suit. And would that make Sarah Palin the perfect Harley Quin? Hmmm.

More importantly, if this means I can extend the wear on my own dream costume from door-to-door candy collecting to campaigning, then...hey, all the better. I'm all about getting as much use as possible out of my red boots. All for a good cause, right? All for a good cause.

[via Wonkette]

Linkety Dinkety Doo: No, really, I'm clicking on spreadsheets and professional development sites

Knock off work early, kittens. And if you can't pry yourself from your cubicles and mama duties, then at least distract yourself with a little of the linky goodness that's kept me from giving my full attention to anything this week. Happy holiday weekend!

• This is crazy and compelling. I vote for the "before" pic. 
• This site may just entice me to stop IMing thank you notes.
• This is an amazing idea. That I will get started on. Next year.
• This is funny. And this is even funnier.
• This speaks to my inner sixth grade teacher.
• This speaks to my inner sixth grade grrrl.
• This speaks to my inner sixth grade boy.
• This would be so perfect for me. If only I was much younger, hipper and could get my ass in a skinny jean and my hair to do that side-swipey thing.
• Happiness doesn't come in a shoe. But if it did, it would smirk just like this.

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Linkety Dinkety Doo: I haven't even gotten to Palin's shoes yet

Last week, during the Biden-Palin debate, I jokingly Twittered that I wished someone would please tell the Governor of Alaska to lay off the White Rain and Wet-n-Wild peach blush. I was kidding.

Sort of. But it is too easy to focus on Sarah Palin's appearance. While I'd like to do that in an ear-covering la la la, I can't hear what you're saying sort of way, I know it's not fair. It's not fair to focus on her make-up and up-do because what she is saying and what she stands for is so much scarier.

I want a woman in the White House, not just planning parties and hosting the holiday tours, but officially participating in the administration of this country (not unofficially as we all know many First Ladies have done). But I want a woman in office who is good for women. Sarah Palin isn't that woman.

This is only one of many, many reasons we're ardently, loudly, happily supporting Obama and Biden. In my fear of another eight years of Republican misogyny and in my attempts to downplay what is really on the line here -- reproductive justice, in particular -- I instead went right for the easy target.

Please, if you see me in Wal-Mart giving Sarah Palin a lecture on why should put back the Bonnie Bell tri-color eyeshadows already, just steer your cart past us. Instead, stop here, where much better stuff is being said on this election:

A Woman's Worth is written by author and blogger and single mother Goldie Taylor. I got this in an email forward from my mom's brigade of activist retired teachers and immediately went to the blog to read more. This post is worth reading and (yes, mom) definitely worth forwarding on.

The Repubs have mastered the art of co-opting feministing language for not-feminist agenda. Oh, and they've also gotten quite good at misquoting feminists as well. This one made me want to flood Sarah Palin's office with Starbucks cups printed with accurate quotes by activist women.

I want this t-shirt. Sometimes it just comes down to a simple tagline, right? A friend told me this week that she was going to download this on to postcards to pass out when election conversations inevitably turn into laments about how afraid we are. She said we need to keep the faith. And hey, I'll take almost any excuse to say, "Chill the fuck out, duder." (OK, I added duder...I can't resist that.)

This is also worth a laugh. And then some serious analysis on CNN or something. I mean, if you are lucid enough yet after Palin bingo. 

Lil E Explains: Who he's voting for

On the candidates: "I know I know I know! I know John McCain and Ohhh-bama are running for president. I knowwwwww, Mom."

On the issues: "Oh, so Oh-bama wants our war to end. He wants to talk it out just like we try to talk it out when we're mad. Does John McCain think fighting is good? Maybe they need a time out. Maybe they should try because talking is good. Right, Mommy? Right?!"

On the historical significance of having a Black president: "In preschool, we mixed paint to match our skin to make masks of ourselffffs. One girl has really dark skin. It's pretty...LIKE CHOCOLATE! Mine is like...what color? Oh yeah, like white, sort of. Like peachy or something. There's all colors at preschool. But mostly white, sort of. But we're all our own color. Why is my skin mostly white again?"

On Lil E's official Decision 2008: "John McCain does not believe what we believe. I'm voting for Oh-bama, Mommy. I am. I AM! I AM VOTING FOR HIM!"

On what it all comes down to for the kid (call it preschool policy): "Oh-rock Oh-bama is really special."

Agreed, darlin'. Agreed.