Finding His Voice

My heart and my mind have been consumed by the troubles of an under-funded school budget, the deceit of our local supervisors, and the constant worry of what the next school year brings.  I vacillate between feeling empowered and encouraged to feeling helpless and hopeless.  I struggle with finding a way to Advocate, Voice, Object, Persuade, and Fight what is happening in the local community with being Present, Patient, Loving, Tender, Gentle, Fun, and Funny with my children.  I keep saying that fighting the Board of Supervisors is my new full-time job, yet my Career - my Aidan, my Leo, my Pax - wonders why their mom is so short-tempered and angry, why she keeps crying, why she keeps hyperventilating in front of the computer, and why she didn't shower until 4:30 this afternoon.  [If you know me even just a little, you know that this is EPIC.  Not showering until 4:30.]

I could go on, and on, and on.  And I might, at a later date and in a different post.  But now, I want to celebrate the gift that was handed to me, in a moment when I needed it most.

The boys were getting ready for bed.  Aidan was already in another room, engrossed in one of the later chapters of The Lightning Thief (Rick Riordan - Percy Jackson series).  Leo was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and practicing, for the umpteenth time, the song he'll sing tomorrow at preschool graduation.  Pax was alone in Aidan and Leo's room, and I was trying to hurry him along in his book selection.  With just the slightest twinge of frustration, I implored (for the fourth time), "PLEASE pick your book out-- Aidan, or Leo, or whoever you are!"  

"Pax."  

I stared at him.

"Pax!"  he said again, with a grin.  He said it perfectly, pronouncing each sound so carefully, the proud grin stretching from one small ear to the other. He knew how good it sounded.  He knew that he was a Big Deal because of it.

I scooped him up.  I kissed him, I snuggled him, I laughed with him and asked him to say it, over and over again. We were triumphant.  "Pax!  Pax!  Pax!"  He loved the sound of his own name, and in that moment, when he named himself, I had a sudden realization of how long I've been waiting for this day, how much my heart has ached for this time to come.  My "late talker," who has made such arduously slow growth in his expressive language over this last year, whom I worry about endlessly - here he was, correcting me, asserting himself in the lineup of brothers, claiming his very own name.

Pax found his Voice, and I found the Pax - the inner peace - I've been seeking all week.

Save Our Schools

I am feeling cautiously optimistic, as it appears as though our efforts toward convincing our Board of Supervisors to amend the budget are working.... perhaps a compromise is in the works.  I've teeter-tottered between feeling empowered and encouraged by the incredible show of solidarity among an enormously diverse group of people united, and feeling utterly despondent and brokenhearted that the efforts of hundreds might be squelched by the decision of 3.  My letter to the Board:
********************************

Dear Board of Supervisors,

It is not often that we are given a second chance to make something right after we’ve made a grave mistake.  Your recent decision to cut over $2 million from the school budget was a grave mistake.  The 11^th hour decision came as a complete surprise to the School Board members, to two of your fellow supervisors, and to the community at large.  Your “hardball politics” are viewed by some as borderline unethical. 

A good businessman would certainly understand why you cannot advertise one rate and suddenly change that rate to something staggeringly different; you cannot, for example, advertise that an ice cream cone costs $1.50, yet when the customer comes to the register, announce that the price you really meant was $3.  Likewise, you cannot advertise a tax rate increase of $0.68, but suddenly decrease that rate drastically because of the influence of a single private group.  You blindsided the School Board and the community with your sudden change to a lower tax rate, and your decision does not reflect the desire of the majority of voters – and taxpayers – in the county.    

Despite the figures offered in various reports, the total cost of your decision is immeasurable: it is the cost of our children’s education and their future.  You have delivered them a devastating and crushing blow. 

When we, the voters, elected you, we did so because we trusted you to act in the best interests of the citizens and to represent us fairly and accurately.  You have done neither in your recent vote.  We believed that you were invested and committed to a healthy, safe, educationally solid public school system; your budget vote demonstrates otherwise.  Your decision does not reflect those whom you serve.  You have made a grave mistake.

Therefore, I implore you to right your wrongdoing, to fix your mistake.  I do not believe for a minute that any of you wishes to harm the students in this county, and I hold fast to the belief that, upon deep reflection, you will come to realize the error of your budget vote. 

Thomas Jefferson stated, “Above all things I hope the education of the common people will be attended to; convinced that on their good sense we may rely with the most security for the preservation of a due degree of liberty."

Amend the budget.  Restore $1.4 million to level funds.  Provide an additional $900,000 to fund the new high school.  Only through these actions will you demonstrate your commitment to our students, your investment into their future.

Sincerely,

Anne S. Carter

Call to Action

I have written and re-written several posts regarding my state of mind these days.  None are fit to post.  Until I can harness my anger and frustration into a publicly acceptable commentary, I shall post but the smallest tidbit of where my heart is right now.  I authored the following:

CALL TO ACTION: As you are well aware, the Board of Supervisors (BOS) recently approved a budget that cuts $1.4 M from the CURRENT budget, in addition to the $900,000 requested by the School Board for the FY13 - a net loss of over $2M. The School Board, along with the greater community at large, was shocked and blindsided by this sudden cut. The School Board has developed 4 plans that only begin to address this tremendous and unexpected loss: every single plan deeply affects people and programs, including preschool, adult literacy, and vocational education. The options are devastating and incomprehensible. Therefore, it is absolutely imperative that we voice our objection to this budget, and demand that the BOS amend the FY13 budget. I implore you to go to the Courthouse on Wednesday, May 16 at 7:00. Bring your family, your neighbor, a friend. Please be prepared to speak during the public comments forum - the BOS is required to hear the voice of each and every person who desires to be heard - and request that the BOS amend the budget; restore $1.4M to level fund; and provide an additional $900,000 for "Option 3." Our power will be in our numbers. Our voices must be heard. Borrowing from the words of Pr. Martin Niemoller: "First they came for the [teachers] and I did not speak out because I was not [a teacher.] Then they came for the [preschoolers] and I did not speak out because I was not [a preschooler]. Then they came for the [students] and I did not speak out because I was not a [student.] Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak for me." It is our time to speak. Do not assume someone else will speak on your behalf; there is no substitute for YOUR presence, YOUR voice, YOUR witness.

The Village People

You
Make
Camping
Awesome, Amazing, Adventurous!!

It's fun to stay at the YMCA!  These are my Village, People.

This weekend, we embarked on our second annual church camping trip.  It rained.  It was cold.  It was windy.  And it was marvelous, unforgettable, the kind of feed-your-soul weekend that I yearn for during the hard and trying and lonely times.  When one camper so eloquently offered her thanksgiving and praise of our group, she described The Village we'd created, thankful for the fellowship shared among our multi-generational group, thankful for watchful eyes and caring hands and loving hearts.  Thankful for laughter and songs shared 'round the campfire, thankful for open conversation, for kindness, for acceptance.  And she offered a prayer of concern, for those who seek a village, for those who desperately need a village, for those who have no village.  Her words echoed in my mind long after they were spoken, being too familiar with how it feels to be without.

Our Village includes toddlers, teenagers, grandparents, young parents, and seasoned parents; college professors, teachers, writers, an illustrator, an architect, a nurse, a rare books artist, musicians, a tour guide, a wine pourer, two pastors, a doula, a speech therapist, a foreign exchange student, athletes, and church leaders.  And yet this is just a sampling of the greater Village we have in our whole church family.

After we had packed up our wet and muddy tents and chairs and sleeping bags and stoves and the kitchen sink, and after we had gathered as a Village in worship on Sunday morning - non-campers in the brick-and-mortar sanctuary, campers huddling beneath the rain tarp sanctuary we'd created - I was reminded once again just how lucky we were to be a part of this Village. 


I was reminded once again how good it feels to be Home. 

Easter

As I started to prepare for Easter - deciding on recipes; prepping casseroles; boiling eggs to dye later; convincing the kids try on new clothes and making adjustments; finding belts and shoes; trying to make the best presentation of some rather lame gifts in the Easter baskets - I felt a bit weary. As I smoothed the creases in one of several bright plaids I was ironing that evening, I let my mind wander back to the years when I was a child...

I remember the thick scent of the dozens of lilies and tulips and mixed bouquets that filled the sanctuary. I remember shouts of Alleluia, of finally singing the choir anthems we'd kept under wraps all those long weeks. Of the descants I was asked to sing. I remember how chocolate and jelly beans from my basket never tasted sweeter than Easter mornings, devouring them before breakfast....

I remember how dressed up my grandmother got for church, always decked to the nines, an elegant pastel hat atop her perfect French twist. I remember how my mother and I shopped for a new Easter dress, every year - and oh how I remember those dresses. Yellow gingham. Pastel plaid. A Laura Ashley floral jumpsuit - so chic. A pale pink flowered dress with a scoop neck and Peter Pan collar. One year, a classy navy-and-white Houndstooth skirt with a smart white shirt, a red tie, and a navy blazer. Around the same time my father started buying me corsages to wear on Easter day, I often chose pink ballet slippers to wear in lieu of actual shoes - a tradition that continued into high school. I remember my father delivering his best line - "You make that dress, that flower, look beautiful."

Suddenly, I felt less weary. I realized, with so much gratitude, all the work and preparation my own mother had put into making our holidays - and our regular days - so memorable. I was renewed with purpose, suddenly finding pleasure in the list of tasks to accomplish. And I also realized that though the preparations may make me weary, I would have it no other way, for the anticipation and the preparation are, in part, what make the day itself so unforgettable and so special. Some moments include....


Continuing my most favorite Easter tradition with my own beautiful sons:

My handsome and beloved boys - Aidan felt especially grown up in this first-ever REAL tie.
Taking one million family photos for THE ONE.

(Now before you go and have a heart attack/go and call CPS, know that this is cellophane, not plastic... and that he was supervised at all times... and so it's totally worth the photo shoot)

Any guesses what they might be watching?? That would be Grandpa's "work"....commonly called GOLF by the rest of us commonfolk.

The jelly Bean Thief. Stuffing his cheeks full like a squirrel preparing for winter, knowing they're about to be moved out of reach - again.
I cannot take any credit for this gorgeous dish: my mother's shrimp and grits tasted even better than this sumptuous photo!


Chocolate fondue and Blenheim Rose to end a most beautiful day...


...with the family who makes it so.Alleluia!

Spring Break, continued...

The rest of spring break went by too fast, as long-anticipated respites from routine often do. Highlights from the rest of the week include.....

Painting canvases of original art. In the past when we've done art projects, I vacillate between wanting them to enjoy the process, but also hoping for a display-worthy product, at the end. Not wanting to quash their creativity, open-ended art projects often resemble the former, not the latter. But this time around, I realized that I could have my art and hang it, too. Just like when I guide my kids in writing poetry or composing short stories, so, too, could I guide their art - limit the tools, the number of paints available; increase the amount of time between drying coats of paints; introduce one particular technique, such as using Sharpie markers for added effect (and clarity). In this way, the process was creative and all their own, and the product is on display for passers-by to see.

Aidan planned out his design (a rough draft, if you will) and took his inspiration from the vivid paintings in The Imaginary Garden. Leo drew a family of three lions, all of whom are wearing bathing suits and visiting a nearby pool. He accentuated his art by colorful abstract bursts of color, an oversized flower, and a cheerful sun. Pax originally drew a spider in Sharpie, but then partially covered it with beautiful swirls of paint. The finished works of art:
(From left to right: Leo and his lions; flower vase they made last year; small Pax canvas, top; Aidan's garden, far right)

Another day, all three boys headed out with Grandma and Grandpa for an afternoon at Bounce and Play and dinner at Cheeseburger in Paradise - sounds like Grandsons in Paradise, to me! (Grateful for a few quiet hours, this was *definitely* Anne in Paradise.)

My mom hosted a "Clay Party" for my boys and two sweet girls we know, one of whom regularly comes and "does clay" with my mom. The kids sculpted while the mothers sipped spritzers.

We peeked in regularly on the nest that two birds had built in the wreath on my parents' front door. Pax waved and said in the sweetest, tiniest voice, "hi!" each time we held him up to see them. Leo pronounced,

"Oh, they are so cute. They look like little sponges!"

There were play dates and games of Uno, bike rides and fort building, and a whole lot of reading. Aidan finished reading Harry Potter (number 1) and blazed through two more books on his break. As the week drew to an end, I felt sad that it was ending, but so excited for what was to come - summer, in just 6 short weeks - and Easter - just a few days away.....

(to be continued...)

A "Tri-"ing Adventure!

Spring Break brought about the opportunity for us to embark upon our next Christmas gift adventure: a "tri"ing overnight in a hotel in Northern Virginia. We biked. We swam. And we hiked - our tri-sport adventure.

On Monday morning, we loaded up the van and headed north. Despite the fact that we've traveled this same route dozens of times, and despite the fact that even I, the directionally-challenged one, could get us from point A to point B with no problem, Jeff decided to use his new Garmin, whom he's named Michelle. Apparently, a Garmin and Common Sense are mutually exclusive. Jeff ignored what he knew was the right road to take because "Michelle didn't tell me to go that way," and ended up adding 10 minutes to the trip - plus enduring endless harassment from me, along with a lot of whining that his detour caused us to miss out on one of my favorite little towns. Wisely, he turned Michelle off for the trip home.

The first stop was for fuel - the food kind of fuel. Our lifelong friends the Thieles had us over for a feast of sandwiches, salads, chips, cookies, and more. We loved having the chance to visit a bit, and the kids loved playing with their sweet dog, Sydney. After explaining for the umpteenth time why we could not, in fact, take Sydney with us (the Thieles were absolutely no help here - they sided with the kids completely) - we headed toward the trail.

The W. and O.D. Trail runs for many miles through Virginia. Originally, it was the railroad track, but it was later converted to a trail to be used by bikers, walkers, runners, and roller-bladers. As children growing up in Northern Virginia, Jeff and I both rode this trail countless times with our own families. So it felt very full-circle, very complete, to bring our own children back here for our first long bike ride together.

What I loved best about our time on the trail was how many memories it brought back from my own childhood days. I love that I have ridden or walked or run on that trail with every beloved person in my life - my parents and my brother; my grandparents and my aunt; friends, boyfriends, my husband. And now, our children. The beauty of the day - warm breezes, blue sky, puffy white clouds, budding trees, newly green leaves, and plenty of sunshine - mirrored the beauty of the moment.

After our ride, we headed to our hotel and cleaned ourselves up for dinner. I don't know if it was because we were starving or if it's because the food is as good as we remember, but P.F. Chang's delivered that night. We came back to our hotel and swam for awhile before bed - the second sport in our "tri" adventure.
A dip in the chlorinated pool doubled as bath that night, and we tucked three very tired but very contented little boys into bed. But since it was still rather early, Jeff built a little fort using the curtains and a side table, and we played gin rummy and drank wine and made up stories about the traffic violations we witnessed from high above in our window overlooking the busy road....


In the morning, we noshed on Dunkin Donuts before making our way to Great Falls Park. The park is among my favorites. As college students, Jeff and I used to visit the Maryland side to go rock climbing. Other times, we'd head to the Virginia side for picnicking, hiking, and playing frisbee. Now, we return with our children to show them the powerful water, find wildflowers growing along the path, explore deep holes in trees, and hike along paths filled with wonders just waiting to be discovered. In truth, Aidan and Leo were crabby and tired. Yet the lure of the views, of the path through the woods, of hidden treasures in nooks and crevices, proved to be powerful antidotes to their weariness.

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul." -John Muir