it's a hard knock life

I'm so happy to say that Opium print magazine will be publishing a poem of mine, ' after your phone call ' in their upcoming edition. I think they are a wonderful publication and I'm happy to be included with such great poetry. I let the editor make two editorial changes- capitalization of a few words, and contractions of 'i am' and after I gave the OK they sent the accept. It was interesting to see what an editorial eye saw in my poem, and the editors have been really gentle and friendly with me in our email exchanges.

So my son: last night was our third stay-upsolateyoureyesturnred-talk-cry-session, and he is starting his new school tomorrow. I transferred him to another public school because he can't get into the private Christian school until next year. The new public school has a different vibe of kids (less edgy and more dorky, which is WONDERFUL) and shorter classes, which will really help him with his attention problems. He starts the biofeedback on Sept. 2cd. He'll go three times a week for a few weeks, and then twice a week for a total of about 30 sessions.
He's so amazing that is pains me to think of all the kids he knows, equally amazing, who are being parented by neglect. Another friend of his, D, who is 13, has already overdosed on prescription drugs and almost died in the ER, thrown in jail on Spring Break, and his parents, exhausted from their older son's exactly same problems, have basically given up. I can't stand it. The boy is a BABY. I mean- thirteen? Do you remember being thirteen? You're still a chick in the egg, tapping at the shell and trying to figure out the whole deal. So I embarrassed my son and told his friend on the phone that if he needed any help quitting drugs or dealing with his feelings that I am here for him, and that we care about him. And still it feels futile. I wish I could reach in and yank him out and love him.

My daughter started first grade and is wonderful. She transitioned beautifully, and Ed, I and one brother all went to her first day and got her settled in her class. She was so cute with her Camp Rock backpack and big nervous blues.

Ian is at camp, his school doesn't start yet.

Ed and I managed, against all odds, to make some serious whoopie late at night the other day.
Rock on.

In news of no concern to anyone but me, our third vacuum has broken. This is what happens when your dogs shed more than Big Bird and stay inside a lot.

The private school I will send Dakota to next year is amazing. We went and saw the campus, all of us, and talked to admissions. Their website: http://www.maranathachristianschools.org
I got that gut feeling when I know something is going to be good or bad, and I've never been wrong. I've *ignored* it before, but never been wrong.

I'm thinking about the woman on the cover of NYT the other day, in Russia. Her wailing and her upturned grieving face against the background of demolished buildings. As the wicked witch says ' what a world, what a wicked world! ' It's hard to watch and be able to do nothing.

Did you guys know that I like big butts and I cannot lie?

Did you further know that I inhaled four tootsie pops last night? And that sugar suppresses your immune system by 50% for hours after you intake it?

may the fork be with you, and also the spoon.