Sunday Morning...err...Early Afternoon Song of the Moment, by Rav

Here is one of Tabba's new faves. She is sitting at the kitchen table, diligently doing her school work. Currently she is also angry because I am an ass. Which I am. So without further ado, Good Arms Vs. Bad Arms by Frightened Rabbit:


Sunday Morning Song of the Moment

This week it's a cover. A Buddy Holly cover. I thoroughly enjoy M. Ward's version of Rave On. I hope you enjoy it too!
Have a great Sunday!


Christmas, It's Just A Trip Up 295 and Over The Bridge

The other day, I was snuggling in close to Gracie on the sofa. She looks at me so intent, so sweet and she says, "Mommy? Is Christmas gone forever?" I chuckle to myself a little and answer her the best way that I could think of at that moment and reply, "No, honey. It's not gone forever. It's just not Christmastime now."
"Oh." She says and thinks on that for a moment. She then asks, "Well, when will it be Christmastime again?" I say to her, "Well, it's Spring now. Christmas is in the winter. Christmas is far away."
"Oooooohhhh." she says again. By George, I think she's got it. Her eyes get all wide and I can see that she understands now. "So Christmas is far away. Like New Jersey?"


Sunday Morning Song of the Moment (It feels good to be back)

As it is 11:30 a.m. EST, it is still technically morning. The past two days have found us lazing about. We've needed the time to unwind. As a family, we have been contracting and releasing, contracting and releasing ad nauseum for months. So this still time, this lazy time has been a much needed reprieve.

After months of being MIA and collecting some "new" music I give you the house special. The Sunday Morning song post. I've missed my little baby over here. It seems that these little posts struck a chord with some of you & I didn't know that until I stopped doing them for so long. Here you go...one of my latest favorites: Old Old Fashioned by Frightened Rabbits. It makes a lot of sense to me right now. I hope that you enjoy!


It's Official

I'm old.
You're probably laughing - if you know me.
October 2008 came and went. And with it my 30th birthday.
Which, I grant you, does not put me on the list for AARP or social security or Depends.
But it's official.
You wanna know how I know?
I'll tell you.

Do you remember listening to an elder - a grandparent, aunt, uncle, family friend who was long in the tooth? They had seen it all. And they weren't afraid to tell you about it. Truth be told, when you look back, you relish in their wisdom and their ability to adapt and change to the changing times. But when you were a kid that didn't mean you didn't roll your eyes when they would settle into their chair, let out a loooong sigh, possibly hike up their polyester pants (or maybe even undo their belt) and regail you with how "things used to be".

Well it shames me to admit it, but I have turned in to that person. And it hit me last weekend like a brick in the head. Rav & I were on our way home from my dad's house. It was a celebration of sorts - more on that another time. It was a beautiful, bright sunny Sunday and I decided to take the country road home. I used to drive that country road with my dad to get to The Farm or to take a ride - just the two of us. On certain Spring days, the air will smell sweet and clean and it will take me down that country road in my mind. I will remember snippets of conversation my dad & I had when traveling that road. It's peaceful and beautiful and one part of Delaware that had remained untouched by the sprawl that the (then)booming banking industry inflicted on other open fields in our state.

I haven't taken a Sunday drive (see, right there? That in of itself makes me old) on that country road in years. Quite frankly, it has been too painful. After The Farm was sold, I couldn't bear to drive it. It was just too raw. But I decided that day that it was time. The kids fell asleep as I drove at nice pace, windows open. The slight breeze would blow their hair and I sighed. Yes. I thought to myself. Yes. This was a good idea. Eventually Rav even fell asleep and I was left alone with the air and my memories as I drove.

Then it happened. And there they were. On either side of the road were sprawling neighborhoods filled with cookie cutter homes. No trees. And filling up fields that once went on as far as the eye could see. It turned my stomach. Literally. I let out a cry in horror. It was loud enough that it awoke my peaceful napping husband. He startled awake, looking back and forth, "Wha-, Wha-.....What?? What's going on?" He managed to sputter out. "LOOK AT THAT! DO YOU SEE IT? ISN'T THIS HORRIBLE?" He grumbled and fell back asleep. He left me alone to have a conversation with myself about how "that field right.there. was where there once was a family farm. See where that neighborhood is??? Yeah. There used to be a horse farm THERE." This went on and on inside my head. And that was when it hit me. That I was old. That I am 30 years old and cannot bear to see change. I cannot bear to see change when it turns farmland into sprawling, overcrowded neighborhoods full of McMansions on teeny-tiny plots of "yard". It's almost more than I can bear.

I realized that my delusions of change creeping everywhere else but that country road are just that. Delusions. I realized that my home state is turning into one big, sprawling neighborhood.

Most of all. I realized I am aging. And that I am slowly becoming that person I used to roll my eyes at. And the most I can hope for is that I learn to adapt and change along with it.


Should I?

I miss this. I miss writing. I miss sharing. I miss your voices and I miss my Sunday posts.

Should I start over again here or somewhere else??


Mother's Blues

Three years ago, the famiglia de Ravioli really struggled.
We threw our hands up in the air.
We huffed and puffed.
We shook our heads in resignation.
We wondered What in the hell is going on? What did we do wrong? What can we do now?

Connor was struggling and as a result we were struggling too.
I knew before I knew that this was beyond us and we'd have to get help.
And we did.
And things were good.

He finished kindergarten without major incident.
And he is barely receiving any "extra" help or services.
We've seen some old behaviors/issues peak out of old, long forgotten places.
And we've seen some new things come up.
The summer has been rough.

And now he's heading to 1st grade.
Where he'll be expected to sit at a desk.
I well up with tears and feel a sneaking claw of panic grip my throat and chest.

Because we have to start over with a new teacher.
She has to figure out Connor.
He's a complicated fellow.
And yet at the same time, so easy to figure out.
Which makes it even more complex and complicated in the difficult simplicity of his personality.

I panic because a lot of his own family and friends don't understand him.
Do not understand that his lack of physical/eye contact isn't a personal affront.
They don't understand how full his mind is. And how when it gets too full he bursts at the seams.

They don't understand that his desire to hide when entering a new social situation is not
because he doesn't want to see them, it's because his body processes commotion and change
much differently than the rest of us.

My heart still breaks for the kid, my kid, our kid
that many people will not get to know.
Because they leave his aloofness at the door and handle him at arm's length.
Simply because they just
don't understand or try to.
Or pretend to.
But we see the difference between true, genuine love and acceptance
and the feigned.
Parents can tell the difference.
And so can the kids.
He can tell.

And I just want to scream and cry and thrash on the floor and kick people in the shins
because it's just so unfair and damned frustrating.