What do you say when your rights are taken away?

Like most of America’s women, I’ve been lost and stunned since the…I can barely even say it out loud…overturn of Roe v Wade. It disgusts me to even type those words. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. 

I’m back in 2016 when I thought maybe just leaving the US was my best bet. Or that maybe we as a nation should just fracture into two - progressive and regressive. Or that elections going our way could save us…they can’t. Not when the other side consistently lies, cheats, and strong arms their white supremacist Christo-fascocracy agendas down the progressive majority’s throats while we sit here helpless. Ugh, what can I say about this atrocity that hasn’t already been said? I’m exhausted. 

I had a very important, very stressful high profile gig this weekend that spanned Thursday-Sunday nights and took all of my time and energy. Our band was playing on an open plaza downtown, and Sunday night a group of pro-choice protestors marched through our performance space, I believe with the intention of “fucking shit up”, but instead were met with cheers and raised fists from all of us, and we applauded them as they marched through. There was hardly a dry eye in the place after. We’d all been dancing and singing our rage for two days and that just brought it all home. It was a moment I won’t soon forget.

The only solace - and I mean only - is the fact that I’m not alone in my rage, terror and depression. Every woman I know feels this way, and most of the men, too. This country is solidly on its way to becoming a Gilead-style theocracy, but at least very smart people are fighting back. We are not going gentle into that dark night. 

Shall we talk about how incredibly triggering it is for a Christian cult survivor such as myself to see our entire nation becoming that? Let’s not. 

Let’s talk instead about how I leave for my honeymoon a week from tomorrow and so far no one has covid, but we still have 8 days to go, and I’m still scared. How my band and I spent the last two days recording a Christmas CD for the end of the year and how stressful it was since my voice was a raspy mess from singing all weekend. How the boys are enjoying their final week of summer camp for now, and what a relief it is that it was a hit. How after determining visiting my sister for Thanksgiving is going to be too expensive, I booked us yet another Death Valley trip, and I’m really excited to get back there. How my 98-year-old friend is on her death bed and I have to go say goodbye tomorrow and how much I’m dreading it. How I have no intention of celebrating July 4th because I don’t know this country anymore, and how my black friends tell me they’ve never known it, welcome to their world. I think of that every minute of every day. These are the things that occupy my thoughts as I close out my 40s. 

Today I told Bobby and Theo how I had an early miscarriage before I had them. I don’t know why I chose to tell them this now; if anything my story sounds deceptively pro-life for how much I mourned that tiny clump of cells that never could have been anyone or anything. It wasn’t about that potential baby not making it; it was about what it meant to me that it didn’t make it - that all that trying and failing and money had been in vain, that I might never be able to be a mother, that I’d waited too long and now it’s too late, that my body was broken, that I now had to make hard decisions about just how far I was going to take this whole pursuit of single motherhood thing. That’s a lot to put on something that can’t even be seen by the naked eye. 

For now, I barrel ahead, head down, slowly picking away at band stuff and event stuff until I can (hopefully) catch a much-needed break next week when we (hopefully) head out to Fiji to forget all this shit for a few days. 

First week of camp

The first week of cheap rec center camp went well. It’s always a relief when the kids like these things I sign up for - although as of now they’ve never disliked anything enough to absolutely refuse to go. Or maybe they feel like they don’t have a choice, which, to be fair, is kind of true.

They had their first field trip since 2019. They made tie dye shirts. They barely ate lunch and came home and ate six hot dog buns with cheese whiz. I think I’m finally starting to have boys that eat me out of house and home. I have long anticipated this day. I declared this summer Operation Food Independence summer - I’m going to really focus on getting them to prepare basic foods for themselves. Especially breakfasts. Another thing I’ve waited probably a little too long for, but better late than never.

This week was not good for me emotionally. I chalk it mostly up to a lengthy drawn out PMS - I was ravenously hungry all week and destroyed my diet; I was out of sorts and annoyed by everything; I took long naps every day and was still tired. Now at last I’m suffering from horrid cramps as my period finally makes an appearance. So over it. How much longer do I have of this bullshit now? One, two years??

I felt discombobulated from the end of school and arrival of camp - the camp is 20 minutes away, so it’s 80 minutes of driving back and forth every day (this will be my life when B starts jr high - for nine years). I did buckle down and get some event work done…but not the important, customer-facing work, which is the Byzantine class schedule. Instead I focused on approaching everyone regarding their travel, which of course meant about 2/3 of the people never answered me. I knew flights were a lot but didn’t realize just how much - most are at least 2x as expensive as they were last year; many are 3x. Flights from the east coast or Midwest that were $300 last year are now $800-$900. It’s pretty horrifying. This translates to extra costs in the tens of thousands. Good thing I raised prices. It also explains why people aren’t exactly flocking to sign up at the moment, which they’re not. I’m worried about money this year. With potentially a huge drop in attendance, no sign of that state grant (the issues were supposed to be resolved this month but I haven’t heard a word), and my fed grant still not dismissed, it’s scary. I keep trying to figure out a budget or how much I could have left after the event but it’s impossible - I have to guess how many people I think will still sign up, what my expenses still are, what will happen if the state grant never materializes, etc etc. I know I’m not alone in feeling income insecure at the moment. It’s a scary time. 

I had a friend post an anecdotal account of two acquaintances - young, healthy guys - who dropped dead of heart attacks after recovering from covid. That had me all worked up. The H is not being cautious at all right now, since we’re in that window where it’s “ok to catch covid”, but I have to say I disagree with that - covid could seriously fuck both of us up at our age. I wouldn’t mess around. By Thursday we’ll be two weeks out from our honeymoon and so will have to take on added precautions anyway. I know catching it is pretty much inevitable at this point - it’s fucking everywhere - but I’m not going to make it easy to be caught. 

Some kind of summer

I’m sitting in the morning June Gloom (hello, summer in LA) and thinking about everything this summer will bring. I took the boys for their first day of summer camp at the new rec center. I’m glad that field trips are back. In fact, everything is pretty normal except for the mask wearing. I hope this new camp has kids Bobby’s age and isn’t just all 5 and 6 year olds. I’ve been thinking lately that Bobby is going to age out of these cheap rec center camps really soon - if not by next year, then definitely by the year after. What do people do with their tween-aged kids in the summer? Apart from spending tens of thousands on expensive sleep away camps?? I’m not sure what my options are going forward. 

This weekend I threw away the piles and piles of schoolwork and schoolbooks the kids had brought home all week, after picking out a couple of interesting art projects to save. And that’s it, that’s the end of the year. I found out from a fellow parent that LAUSD plans to drop weekly testing but keep the stupid daily pass next year, which is the exact opposite of what I was hoping would happen. The weekly testing was a good gauge of what was happening in our home - after all, there’s no reason for me or the H to get PCR tests weekly. And the daily pass is like taking your shoes off at the airport - just safety theater that’s utterly meaningless and a pain in the ass for parents. It makes drop off more difficult - unless you want to use all your printer ink and paper printing out the slips every day for your kids to take in, you have to walk them in with the passes on your phone, which means everyone’s parking, which means there’s no parking. All of that for something that’s useless at best. Oy.

Now I’m just counting down to Big Thing #2 which is our honeymoon in Fiji in four weeks. Everyone needs to just not get covid in the two weeks before, and everything has to go right with my sister and brother-in-law arriving from Florida and us taking off, and we’ll be fine. Personally, despite the stress of everything hopefully falling into place and all the moving parts that have to work perfectly in concert, I’m very much looking forward to the break. The idea of a whole week with no kids, which means no having to arrange three meals a day, no haranguing people to brush teeth twice a day, no slathering unwilling people with sunscreen or forcing people to poop or having to be mindful of two other people’s water consumption or bed times or general safety…ahhhhhhhh. I get relaxed just thinking about it. To be responsible for only myself for a few days. What a luxury.

Speaking of think-for-yourself time, a friend has invited me on a walking tour of the Scottish Highlands next spring, and I’m into it. I’ve longed for a return of international travel, and since the concept of our band being flown to other countries (or even anywhere else in the US) seems like it may be gone for good at this point, I’ll just have to self-fund these trips. 

This week I have to start focusing on my event, a concept which fills me with dread. I’ve put off the big projects - class schedule, travel arrangements, booking hotel rooms - as long as I can, but I must dive into these things now. I need to get as much done as possible before we leave. Time to take a deep breath and dive in. 

First day / last day

Today is the last day of school. Although I’m feeling a little touched by the magnitude of another school year gone by, I’m not feeling as sad as I was last year - I think because we had a somewhat normal school year so I was less traumatized, and because there’s a plan in place for the kids starting Monday. So I don’t feel thrown to the wolves as far as what the heck I’m going to do with these kids all summer.

It’s been a slow wind down all week - I think the kids have done nothing but eat candy and watch movies at school. I wonder how many teachers will permanently leave the profession this summer. Already Bobby’s third grade teacher, who’s been at this school 26 years, has decided to move on. I’m bummed this means Theo won’t get her. I’m interested to see who they get next year - it’s Bobby’s only chance to get the 5th grade teacher with the Mohawk and the PhD. I sincerely hope he does. Or if not, that Theo does in two years. 

Today I pick them up at 1 and then we get ice cream and/or In-N-Out, depending if they had lunch at school or not. This morning Bobby left behind the stuffed animal he was allowed to bring - his eyes teared up when I told him we couldn’t go back and get it; so I ran back and got it. I’m happy that at ten years old he’s still so attached to his stuffed animals. Hang on to your childhood as long as you can, kid. 

Time for summer!

The Air That I Breathe

Our wedding is over. At 49, I am a married woman.

I would like to stress that this is not an accomplishment. If you want to be married, and are lucky enough to find someone who also wants to be married to you, then you will get married. If you don’t, you won’t. That’s pretty much it. Luck and willingness and, in my case, tenacity in not giving up trying to find someone, no matter how truly hideous that process was. But I always wanted a nice family - whether it was just me and a kid, or kids, or with a man around whether we were dating or married - and I have made those things happen. So I celebrate those things today.

How did it go? It was fabulous. Just fabulous. Everything went pretty much perfectly. The weather cooperated - mild temps and almost no wind - the terrain caused no problems (a miracle), nobody got hurt climbing boulders or lost driving home in the dark, everything went perfectly on time, it was perfect. The wedding that could have been magical or a total disaster ended up magical. Phew!

The only disaster was our RV, which I had rented from an individual, not a company, and therefore was in terrible broken down shape. When we went to pick it up, it wouldn’t start, and also a fuse was blown so we had to drive around looking for certain types of fuses. The refrigerator door was broken, so it barely closed, but to be honest it never worked anyway; two days later all our food spoiled. The owner said none of the gauges worked, and I’m pretty convinced she sent us out there with full waste tanks - the shower overflowed Friday night, the hot water stopped working, and then by our wedding day the generator quit, too. So no air conditioning, which meant the F and the boys had to find somewhere else to change, and all the florals and cake had to be kept in a friend’s functional RV. It was also not “fully stocked” as advertised - only one spatula as a utensil, the salt was empty, no pots larger than a small saucepan, no coffee maker, etc etc. The list goes on and on. But thankfully the RV being a total, non-functional wreck was the worst thing that happened to us. And we had friends around to help. So it all worked out. 

My dress, hair, and makeup were perfect. The F loved the dress, thank god. And he burst into tears when I sang him Evergreen at the end of the night. 

Here is the world’s most adorable picture of Theo (changed out of his suit) comforting his dad while he cried listening to me sing. 

The food was fabulous. The cupcakes were out of this world. People took the favors and centerpieces as I’d hoped. One couple had to cancel due to covid exposure and my step aunt’s flight was canceled, but everyone else made it. Despite his stressing out about it, his vows to me were amazing - very thoughtful and sweet and funny; ours actually matched a great deal. People didn’t really stay that late - just a small group until about midnight and then everyone took off, and we went to our boulder house to pretty much just collapse as I knew we would. 

But all night I just felt happy. I had a couple of choking up moments - seeing the boys in their suits, and seeing the arch with the flowers on it. I would have liked to have been more emotional, I suppose - but I was very present, and just enjoying everything. The next day as we were cleaning up we both broke down a little over how amazing it all was and how sad we were that it was over. 

Highlight for me was our first dance to Bowie’s “Heroes”, when everyone joined us on the floor, and we were surrounded by our friends and family all having a great time gathered around hugging and dancing to this unconventional song. Being the bride can honestly be kind of isolating and lonely at times. That’s when I really felt the love and community. 

My other favorite moment was when, the night before, I walked Bobby to the port-o-potty and warned him as he was inside that there was a giant bug on the ground the size of a Buick. His little voice rang out from inside, “what’s a Buick??” 

So the next day we painstakingly cleaned up the entire site, leaving no trace, and then returned the ramshackle RV and all the rentals and collapsed again. Now the kids are on their final week of school, while I focus on cleaning up and organizing and writing thank you cards, which is going to be a massive undertaking. Lots to be thankful for, for sure.