fashion clothes

Some of my thoughts before the new school year begins.


To The Oldest,
Keep being weird. Do what you love and don't let anyone pick on you for it. Have fun with it. Hang out with kids who like what you like, but hang out with kids that are different too. 

Be kind. Reach out to the new kids, to the quiet kids, to the ones who get picked on. Show them what a good person you are. When that little voice inside your head tells you not to do something, listen to it. It's there for a reason.

Write stuff down. School is only going to get harder, assignments are only going to get more complicated, and you're only going to have more to remember. I'm not bailing you out if you turn stuff in late, and I'm hoping you learned that lesson last year.

Try new things. Read a lot. Push yourself. Sleep in on the weekends, but get up on school days without too much of a fight. Take showers and use deodorant. Every day. That stuff is important. 

Remember that you can talk to me, that you can tell me anything. Even that stuff. And if you don't want to tell me, your dad will listen. I promise. We love you.

To Freckles,
This is your last year as a "little" kid, so enjoy every second of it. Things are going to change so much for you in the next 12 months, so hang on tight to what is left. 

Be silly, be goofy, sing and dance and laugh. 

Learn how to keep yourself organized, because you're going to need it. Read whatever interests you. Then read some more. 

Don't let anyone tell you that you shouldn't love math or science or sports or My Little Pony. If you don't want to wear dresses, that's okay. If that's all you want to wear, that's okay too. I do ask that you wear socks though. Please.

Stand up for yourself. Stand up for others. You have a strong voice, so use it for good. 

Make good choices. I know you're going to make mistakes. We all do. Remember that your dad and I are here for you no matter what. We love you.

To Mini-Me,
First things first, sweetheart....I love you. Whenever there is anything that makes you doubt that for even one second, I want you to look down at your hands and remember that there is a kiss in there from me, for you to use whenever you need it. 

This year might be hard, but we'll do whatever it takes to get through it together, because we are a team. All I ever ask from you is that you do your best. We'll figure out the rest of it together.

Read a lot and find things you love to write about.  Play lots of games and hone those analytical skills you were blessed with. Have a good time learning more math and science this year. 

Play and have fun, laugh and giggle. Try not to take life too seriously and just enjoy being a kid.

Smile. Be happy. We love you.

To Little Boy,
This year is going to be an interesting one, and even if I worry too much sometimes, I am sure that you will be okay. I promise I'll try not to cry and linger too much.

Try not to climb the walls or jump off of anything. Please keep your clothes on. I know you can sit still and listen, honest. Try and do it there too.

Make lots of new friends and learn lots of new things. Sing songs and make art projects that have to hang on the refrigerator for a minimum of six months. 

You get to decide what you want the grown ups in charge to call you, and if you want to use your real name instead of your nickname, that's just fine with me. 

Be the brave and strong boy I already know you are. We love you.

Love, Mommy

A few months ago, my husband sent me an excited text message. Somehow or another, he'd learned that Sonia Sotomayor was coming to Denver to speak, and that the event would be open to the public. He sent me all the links, which told me that we had to wait a few days to try and get tickets, after the students had been given the opportunity to request them first.

The day tickets became available, we both jumped on the website when it opened up, as though we were trying to get tickets to the playoffs or something.

He knew how much I wanted to see her.

Who wouldn't want to see her???

(Okay, so I'm a legal news junkie, a huge fan of historical firsts and not at all normal...but then I've never claimed to be.)

We got tickets, and I was immediately giddy with anticipation. How often do you get to see a Supreme Court Justice?

Many years ago, before we left California, Antonin Scalia spoke. At the time, I really had no interest in seeing him, primarily because I tend to disagree with most decisions he's been a part of during his time on the court, but more because I knew that it would be difficult if not impossible to get tickets because he tends to draw a large and passionate crowd. Looking back, I know that I should have at least tried to see him.

My oldest son asked if he could come with us, and I was a bit hesitant at first. I warned him that it would be long and probably boring in parts for him. Told him that he probably wouldn't get most of the references she would make. Then told him that he could come if he finished all his homework, put on a nice shirt and combed his hair.

Inside, I was bursting with pride that he'd even ask.

His sister wanted to go briefly, until she realized that she'd probably get bored. Sitting still just isn't part of who she is.

We drove down to Denver last week to pick up my husband and head to the campus. We'd been warned in advance that no bags or purses would be permitted in the building, but people are stupid and oblivious and always seem to think that somehow they'll be allowed to bring their stuff in because they are special.

All that meant is that the security line took forever. The Secret Service and US Marshals aren't a very forgiving group, and aren't going to be talked into letting anyone bring stuff in that they aren't allowed to. After almost an hour and a half in line, we finally got through the metal detectors.

You know I laughed at the piles of purses abandoned on the ground, while I simultaneously cursed all the purse owners in my head for making the entire process take longer for everyone.

Anyway, we got in. Barely. She had already started speaking by the time we cleared security.

I walked into the gymnasium to see this.


Yes, we were that close.

She was talking about her childhood, about being raised in the projects in a home where Spanish was the predominant language. About struggling in school until she made a conscious effort to learn English, realizing that the only way to success was through education. She talked about how her cousin, close in age to her, turned to drugs and died of AIDS in his twenties, and how growing up in the kind of childhood she had gave her an equal chance at either fate. It's only out of resolute stubbornness that she is where she is today.

I had a feeling that she would talk about living with Type 1 Diabetes, and waited with baited breath for the moment that someone would ask her about it. She was diagnosed at 8 years old, twice the age my son is now. Though he's not yet fully diagnosed, he very well may end up spending the rest of his life dealing with this condition.

She spoke about how she learned from a very young age that things were just going to be different for her. She had to be more aware. She had to take better care of herself. She had to be present in the moment, she had to remember what happened in the past and she had to always prepare for the future. Rather than being angry or frustrated at the disease that so often altered her life, she chose to embrace it as a child.

It is a part of who she is, but it does not define her.

I stood in the gym, tears running down my face. Here before me, this woman who'd lived almost her entire life with the very thing my son may have, and she sits on the highest court in our nation. If she could do that, he can and will be able to be successful in whatever he wishes. We just have to make sure that this disease isn't allowed to tell him otherwise.

I know there are a few T1 moms who are reading this right now, so I'll just give you a moment.

When asked what she thought the most important Supreme Court decision is, her answer was quick and precisely what I thought she would say. Brown v. The Board of Education. She elaborated by saying that although that decision to end segregation in schools was pivotal, what was more important is what people did with it. The changes that occurred in towns and cities. The changes within individuals. She talked about the importance of equality and how our society must continue to strive towards it.

She closed the event by talking about how essential it is for people to be involved. To use their talents to help their communities. To take part in society. To be active members. To appreciate civic responsibility. To not sit idly and complain, but actually to take steps to effect change. To expose injustices. To do it better.

And that's when I started crying for the second time.

When the formal interview was finished, the Secret Service tried to usher her quickly off stage. Being the security nightmare she must be, she refused. She grabbed the microphone and told everyone in the room that if they'd sit down so that her handlers calmed down, she'd come say hi.

To all of us.

And she did. She walked up and down the bleachers. She stopped and talked with people. She posed for pictures. She smiled and thanked everyone for coming.

The area we were sitting in meant that our section would be the last she would visit. So we sat. And we waited.

Then this happened.


She walked right up to my son, shook his hand and asked him his name. Asked what grade he was in, and if any of his classmates had any idea where he was right now. She told him that 6th grade was really important in her life, as it was the year she realized how important it was to push herself to achieve at higher levels. She asked him what classes he was in, and he told her that he's in the advanced math class, the advanced writing class and is directing his first movie for a school project.

Then she looked at me and said, "Good job, Mom". She reached out to shake my hand.

As she turned to move on to the next person waiting, she glanced back at him and told him to keep it up. The world needs smart kids, the world needs him.

A grin spread all the way across his face, then mine.

She is a living, breathing piece of history. She is a model of conquering a disease that hits too close to home.

She is an inspiration.

Last week, I wrote up a list of all the things about my youngest that make me laugh.  That drive me crazy.  That he requires.  That he asks for.  That he needs.  I'll be going through the kids, one at a time, making these lists.  Today is about the oldest.  That kid who's taller than me now.


Just in case I ever make good on those thinly veiled threats to run away....

1) Make sure he always has lots of good pencils and paper.  He gets antsy when he runs low on his drawing supplies.  He likely won't ask for new stuff, so just check periodically if he needs any.

2) When he isn't feeling well, there will be marathons of Dr. Who, Star Wars and Must Love Cats.  There is no rhyme or reason that dictates which marathon will be viewed.  Eventually you'll get used to watching six hours of kittens on tv.  I promise.

3) Buy lots of cans of peas.  He likes cold, canned peas.  It makes me throw up in my mouth a little too.  I know.  He's gross.

4) When you're going to the store, ask him no fewer than three times if he needs any bathroom supplies.  Even then, be prepared for an emergency declaration of the fact that he's out of deodorant the following day.

5) He sings in the shower.  He sings whenever he's in the bathroom.  He sings in the car.  He sings a lot.

6) He's obsessed with his knit beanie hat right now.  If you're ever at the store and see something like it, buy five and stash them for later.

7) His feet grow every 37 days.  I'm convinced of this.

8) He likes to pull out baby teeth.  He's almost out of them. Thank god.

9) He'll ask you for a computer, but be perfectly content with a box of Legos.

10) He has a cell phone, but you shouldn't expect to be able to contact him most of the time.  I'm pretty sure his battery is always dead.  That's his story and he's sticking to it.

11) He flails.  A lot.  He comes by it honestly, though.  I blame myself.

12) It takes him 45 minutes to empty the dishwasher, an hour if you count the obligatory trip to the bathroom.  I swear it has a laxative effect.

13) He will do anything to get out of picking up dog poop.

14) He is adult sized, but will still sit on your lap if you let him.

15) He has a completely grounded, self-deprecating sense of humor.  He is goofy as hell.  He's hilarious and he makes me laugh all the time.

He would still totally do this.

16) He's a really good big brother.  Unless they touch his stuff.  He doesn't like it when they touch his stuff.

17) Every self portrait he's ever drawn has his signature mole.  His Mii on the Nintendo even has a mole.

18) When he was little, he called himself Annie because he couldn't pronounce the letter "d".  It became a nickname and he still answers to it.

19) He asks a million questions and is convinced his mother has all the answers. Start studying.

20) He's a big kid, but a gentle soul.  He's my calm in the storm.  He's mature when he needs to be.  He's thoughtful and kind.  He has a good heart.  Take care of it.