We Must Remember

4 July 2016: 240 years of Independence

Today I am thankful to live in the country I do. Though politics lately are questionable, it's still a pretty amazing place. Here's a "short" list of everything I am thankful for:

• The ability to marry who I choose. 
• The choice to have as many children as my husband and I wish, and raise them how we see fit.
• I can have a career that I desire. 
• Water. Reliable, clean, instantaneous water. I can drink it, wash dishes and clothes, water plants, and urinate in a fresh bowl of it in my toilet. 
• School. Free public school for my children and their generation. They can attend easily and without worry abuse or violence (for the most part). 
• Home ownership. It's not perfect, but our home is ours. It's huge by world standards. We are safe and we can make it our own. 
• Free worship. The ability to follow my conscience and worship how I choose. My only worry is that this will become more restrictive for my neighbors who worship in other ways. We must be cautious and love our neighbors. 
• Stuff. There is no shortage of material belongings in the US of A. We have stores that sell things that other people have barely used--and these stores are full to the brim. 
• Roads. We have decent roads. They are relatively safe for our cars: maintained, policed, and everyone is welcome to apply for a license. Well, most everyone. We share the road, but we must be careful here too. I see too many people in too much of a hurry. We are angry, rude, and downright unsafe sometimes. We need to remember how good we have it, and to be just a little bit kind to one another. 
• Swimming pools. Sure, this could go under the "water" category as well. But it needed its own category. Without pools, no swim team. Without swim team I miss a good portion of my life and a large part of who I am. It's too cold to swim outside here most of the year. I am so thankful for pools! 
• Power. I can heat my house in the winter, cool it in the summer. I can choose to light my room at night to read. I can blend a smoothie, bake cookies, boil water, heat my shower, and easily vacuum my rugs. Yes, I am saying that I'm thankful for vacuuming.

While I am truly grateful for all of these things, I also want to remember.

60 years ago my marriage would have been unthinkable, and my children shunned.

74 years ago, our government imprisoned families because of their names and how they looked. Think about that for a moment.

75 years ago I may have gone to work because all the men were gone to war. Otherwise, I would have far fewer choices in a college or career as a woman.

100 years ago, I had no right to vote.

242 years ago, still further in history, before this country was established, before it was even a colony, this square of land I "own" was part of an open land. Most of the luxuries we enjoy today were not even thought of, let alone invented. But it was unpolluted, inhabited, and beautiful. A land of the free. Our founders' contemporaries and the following generations stole it--did not share it, but took it as their own. And I benefit from that today, centuries later.

Yes, this country is wonderful.
Yes, I am blessed to be here.

But do not forget. It was built on more things than equality, bravery, liberty, and rights.
It was also built on blood, lies, stealing, and death.

Do not forget.
Learn from our history.
Cherish what we have.

Happy Independence Day.

On the eve of your second birthday

On the eve of your second birthday, I snuggle next to you as your eyes flutter open and shut. A smile dances across your face, one that is an echo of my own, grinning at you as you wrestle to find the comfortable position to rest your small body in. I am putting you to sleep for the seven hundred and twenty-ninth time. My fingers itch to capture this moment, and thirty others crash around my mind simultaneously. Your life has been a wave—constant, growing and cresting, and vastly cherished by me. And so, for your birthday gift, I will chronicle some of the things you can do, and have done in the past few months.

1. You talk! Sure, it’s not always complete or correct, but my mommy brain is conveniently fitted with a translator. I know what a sigh-coh, mee-nah, and waddit are. I’ve seen you switch from one word sentences (dog was your favorite), to multiple words. “A dump, eh ickies” when you are speaking of your favorite machine, a garbage truck. “A dino fall down” when you recall with heartfelt sadness, the moment in the Minions movie when the T-Rex falls into the lava. We watched it two weeks ago, once. You know how to say what you feel, from “owie! Kiss it!” to "no like it, Mommy” to “I wov you too.” My heart quickens as you say each of these, and even in your frustration I cannot help but smile at your early tellings of your emotions. As you get older, it is becoming painfully clearer to me that you are your own person, with your own emotions, which I have no control over. Thank you for reminding me.

2. You are fiercely independent. While you still cry when I leave the room sometimes (I will remind you of this in fourteen years), you are the classic independent toddler. You wish to put on your Converse, with laces and all, by yourself. You shout “Aya do it!” over and over, and despite my attempts to talk you out of it, you insist on trying it yourself. Two minutes later, hopelessly unshoed, you shuffle over and meekly ask for help. You taught me that independence is not necessarily doing everything for yourself, but knowing when you need help, and being humble enough to ask for it. 

3. You love any kind of animal. Really, any kind. We were at the park this week, and you were toddling between the splash pad and the swings, when you saw it. A seagull! It was picking through the garbage about 100 feet away. “A see, eh crow!” you shouted gleefully. I hadn’t even noticed the bird. You notice all the birds. One time this winter, you spotted a dog at the other end of the park at dusk, barely discernible through the trees, and shouted “doggy!!!” so enthusiastically that I knew it was mere feet away from us. Turning, I saw nothing and said to you “you see a doggy? Where? Mommy doesn’t see one.” You pointed, and a few long seconds later, I made out the shadowy figure. You have a gift, sweetie. You make people notice things that they hadn’t seen before.   

      4. You get mad. Sometimes you get so angry, that all you can do is shout “no!” and hit whatever or whoever just made you upset. You know that you aren’t supposed to hit, but I can tell you just lost control. You are so overwhelmed by this torrential rage, it takes control of your brain, straining muscle and overheating your forehead. Later, after you’ve laid down on the carpet heaving for a few minutes (and maybe kicking the ground in release), you come to me. You say “sowwy mommy” in the sweetest remorseful voice I have ever heard, and you kiss and hug me gently. After we talk, we go back to playing, or reading, or singing. I realize that you’ve helped me remember that big emotions happen. We eventually learn to control them or deal with them appropriately, but they still come.

      5. You cannot go a day, or hour, without reading a book. Tonight, when I returned from an overnight trip for work, you ran and hugged me, settled in my lap, and looked up expectantly at my face. With your cheeky grin to help persuade me, you asked “a read, eh book?” As you climbed down from my lap and ran to get one of your favorites (a book about, you guessed it, animals!), I smile as I think of years to come, and how many books we will share. You will learn to read independently from me, but I know you still will share your excitement. Tonight we read five books in the span of ten minutes, each producing its own questions, its own wonders and delights. You are so enthusiastic about reading your books, you can hardly contain your voice as I read about animals we may see in our neighborhood.  I have not been reading as much, which is out of character for me. My love of reading is just as wild, and now I know I must not let it fall out of habit.

So there you have it. In the last few months, you have grown incredibly, love; so much so that your Nana and Papa marvel at your new abilities when they come to visit us. But beyond that, you have affected your mother. You have reminded me, taught me, showed me, and reflected my own life in yours. Thank you, I love you, my sweet two year old Helen.