Never Walk Alone

I was going to post Xander's birthday today. It was eventful, and I will have to get to it later. Spoiler: he spent part of it in the hospital. But if you read this blog, you probably already know the story. So it can wait.

Times are hard. Bobby lost his job again. 2014 was a long string of new jobs and layoffs, sometimes in quick succession. This year, he almost made a one year anniversary with his animal hospital. Unfortunately, the primary doctor had a heart attack, and many of the staff lost their jobs, Bobby included.

The past three weeks have been frantic: searching postings, interviewing, hearing back, not hearing back, worrying. We don't really have a nest egg. The holidays are coming.

Yesterday was tough for both of us, but I was reminded of this song. I listened to it 1,000 times. And something clicked. Everything is going to be ok.

Today is Thanksgiving. We have so many things to be thankful for. For years, all I ever wanted was X. The Thanksgiving after he was born, we pulled the wishbone and I, the winner, realized that I had absolutely nothing to wish for. It's moments like this that make moments like that.

Life ain't perfect, but it's certainly good enough. That'll do for now. I love you all.

Happy Thanksgiving, ya'll. We'll be ok.

The Strange Ways We Deal with Tragedy

This terrible thing happened in Paris. There was massive loss of innocent lives. It was senseless. People were gunned down for the simple crime of being out on a Friday night. It's tough to process this, more so because so many of us have been to Paris, know people from Paris, or have French family. There's not really anything these victims could have done to avoid their fates. They could have been any of us or our family members.

In the face of such incomprehensible heartbreak, we have become oddly polarized. Gun rights activists have started screaming about how this wouldn't have happened if the citizens of Paris were armed. I have started to realize that there's some magical thinking involved in gun rights rhetoric. It's much easier to believe, "well this would never happen to me because I am armed," than to realize that this can happen to anyone.

The more troubling sentiment, to me, is the strange liberal one that we're somehow wrong in mourning with Paris. Parisians are European, and in making a big deal out of their tragedy, we are somehow lessening the tragedy faced by African and Asian countries every day. It's hard for me to see people I am usually on the same page with ideologically act so ridiculously.

I like to think that this comes from a very human place; that it's just easier to argue than it is to grieve. Still, I wish we could stick to arguing about Starbucks cups and not snipe at each other about the proper way to feel pain.

Happy Halloween

This was sort of X's first Halloween. This was the first time he anticipated the holiday, knew a little about what would happen, and picked his own costume. He's a huge fan of Rescue Bots at the moment, so he decided to be Optimus Prime. As soon as the costume came--two weeks before Halloween--he started wearing every day and declaring that he was Optimus Prime.

On the big day, he donned the costume to go to a library party. He decided to "park" in the parking lot, which Bobby did not find amusing. In his defense, Optimus Prime is part truck. He hid in my office during the big party, which I suppose is a librarian's kid's prerogative.

We had a helpful hint that a nearby rich neighborhood was a great place to trick or treat. We got there a little early for the trick or treating part, as it turned out, and had to walk in a Halloween parade first. Afterwards, we were richly rewarded. Not only was there a lot of good candy and snacks, but we got to ogle some beautiful houses and enjoy the sound and smell of the ocean. X was very excited to walk up and say, "trick or treat!" at first, but after a few houses, he just started running towards the houses yelling "CANDY!!!" He walked through a haunted house twice. Ghosts and monsters do not spook this kid. When his legs wore out, Bobby, wanting more candy, carried him through another street.

He loves the idea of his candy more than the candy itself, and rarely eats more than one piece at a time. Which is no problem--Bobby and I are happy to help him with the rest!

At the library party

The parade

He was enamored with mommy the princess