A Big Weekend for Firsts

A lot of big firsts this past weekend -- Tobias went halfway across the monkey bars and Esme rode her bike with her hands over her head. But the most momentous of them all: 

Esme celebrated her First Holy Communion with both her godparents in attendance. She wore the veil I wore 33 years ago when I made my first communion at St. Edwards the Confessor Catholic Church. And, for the first time since she received it, she wore the necklace her Aunt Dawn gave her at her baptism.

See that smile, the one with the fresh tooth missing? It didn't leave her face the entire day.

Coraleen

It turns out, if you shake a heavenly bamboo bush at dusk, a cloud of bitty winged bugs flies toward the sky. 

I know this because I'm desperate to feed a dozen hungry praying mantis nymphs. What I don't know is why I have a dozen hungry praying mantis nymphs because the idea was to save only a handful from the sea of nymphs that spilled from the egg sac last week. But as I started to separate them the other day, I found I couldn't part with them all. 

This past week, a Mama robin built a nest on our porch on the top of a corner column in the small space beneath the ceiling. Other birds, not robins, have built nests in the same spot in years past but the nests have always come down in strong winds or storms. Based on experience, I should have used a broom to pull this nest down as soon as she started. But I didn't. And for the past few days, the Mama has been roosting with little respite. She stays seated even when I go to the porch. 

Every night, I lay in the same spot on the couch and watch shitty TV to numb the day's chaos. I can see the robin from my spot. Today, I stood on the arms of the rocking chair and cleaned the window so I'd have a better view. 

It strikes me that the fawning over the praying mantis nymphs and going to ridiculous lengths to feed them (do you know how hard it is to catch tiny, transparent bugs in flight?) is related to my affection for the robin. 

It's most definitely not baby lust. I wrote a few months ago that I am settled with our family. I do find it staggering how quickly the children grow and there are moments when I'm nostalgic for them as babies (like when I found Esme's newborn hat buried in a drawer), but I love where we are now and, as I said, I'm excited about where we're going. 

I settled on another idea: perhaps it's that I love growing things. The mantids, the robin eggs, my flowers, our garden. I wondered, has it always been this way? I don't think so. It was never so essential as it is now. It's curious, don't you think?

In other news, Josephine told me she wants to name her praying mantis Coraleen. It strikes me that would make a great name for our robin. 

The Hatching

Imagine, if you will, you're my across-the-street neighbor, standing on your front porch as your three kids play and suddenly there's a scream from my house so loud, so sustained you hear it like a train whistle despite closed doors and windows. 

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"

Over and over and over. 

You'd wonder what became of me and the kids, right? I'm certain you'd never guess. 

Lately, the day to day with the children has bordered on unbearable. Tobias hit an intense phase marked by repeated tantrums and a dour outlook, classic 3 and a half, as one friend described it. Josephine upped her stubborn quotient and challenges every rule, disputes most requests and harumphs her displeasure.

Then Esme came down with strep. 

So, we were out for fresh air yesterday to clear our heads, stretch our legs and run some of the bad mood off but the bad moods and misbehavior chased us home. I was so ticked off when we finally burst through the front door that I made the kids a glass of water each and walked straight to the basement to fold clothes (but mostly to get away from them). 

I wasn't there long when Esme shouted from the top of the steps: "The praying mantis! The praying mantis."

Three weeks ago, when I bought the package of ladybugs to release in the yard, I also bought a praying mantis egg case filled with what the online retailer told me was 200-300 praying mantis eggs. We put it in a borrowed terrarium and placed it on the dining room table - voila, an insect centerpiece - then, we waited. 

Different web sites told me the eggs needed a few continuous weeks of warm weather to hatch, but we didn't know what to expect. I moved the terrarium back and forth between the table and buffet at mealtime so many times that I rather forgot to wonder about when the eggs might hatch.

Until they did. 

I ran upstairs to see why Esme was shouting, and then promptly started shouting myself. Like a ninny, it must be said. The praying mantis nymphs were oozing from the egg case in such a ghastly mass of translucent foam that I couldn't control myself. It was like watching transparent meat with black eyeballs spill from a meat grinder. 

It was fascinating, sure, but for several minutes I couldn't get past how gruesome it looked. And I couldn't stop screaming (while simultaneously scolding myself internally). It was like the time a mouse ran through our front room and I stood on the chair and hyperventilated. Total nonsense, yet totally incapable of slapping myself into silence. 

Of course, I did eventually gain my composure and I took the terrarium to the front porch with the kids following closely and put it on the picnic table for us all to marvel. 

The nymphs quickly unfurled themselves, found their footing and flitted about the terrarium as more oozed from the case and joined them. My across-the-street neighbor and her children joined us too. (She likened my screaming to a woman who drinks daintily from a tea cup. Indeed.) 

Within 30 minutes, the egg case was empty and the nymphs ready to start their life cycle. I was warned by many, many friends to watch out, praying mantis are ruthless predators and will set upon one another quickly. So, we took the terrarium to the back yard and let some of them crawl into the garden. 

The plan was always to cull the mantids down to a handful of hardy ones so that we can eventually select one strong mantid to grow to adulthood. The others would be released to the garden where they can fend for themselves and hopefully feast on bad pests that we could otherwise do without. 

But the nymphs seemed content to hang out in the terrarium, so I brought it in for the night with upwards of 50 still in there. I turned out the light at midnight and wondered what I'd find in the morning. 

Well, I found them all mostly as they'd been the night before, only noticeably bigger and darker. As the morning wore on, they seemed to grow more feisty too (but, as of dusk, they still haven't started to devour each other). I had 100 things to do this morning but after I finished the most pressing, I sat with my nose to the terrarium and watched, spellbound. 

A sampling of my morning tweets: 

I can already tell this is going to be a project that consumes me. So, prepare for praying mantis stories galore. I promise I won't scream. 

"Think of me before you vote"

I have a small blog as far as blogs go and I've never minded much. I created this space for me with hopes that some conversations - especially those about infertility - could reach a wider audience. But mostly I wanted a space where I could write, readers and editors be damned.

A few weeks ago, I got an email that made me wish it was otherwise. Made me long for an audience so big, so mighty that when I roared, people listened or when I asked Wil Wheaton to collate paper, he did.

The message came from a former colleague from my early newspapering days in North Carolina. Susan knew that I'd long since moved north, but she sent the letter to me and others with ties to North Carolina in hopes that we'd help her spread the word against a constitutional amendment on the state ballot May 8. 

It's called Amendment 1 and it reads, in full: 

"Constitutional amendment to provide that marriage between one man and one woman is the only domestic legal union that shall be valid or recognized in this state."

As opponents note, the amendment is so broadly worded it won't just affect gay couples; it could also impact civil unions and domestic partnerships like the one Susan's 76-year-old mother and her partner, Pete, have shared for 20 years. 

Of course, Susan wasn't writing me just to help couples like her mother and Pete. She wanted me to help her and Sera, her partner of four years. 

"It might be helpful to know that nine years ago, I finally accepted that I am gay," she wrote. "I sincerely hope that you'll seriously think about how this Amendment will harm my family as well as tens of thousands of others in our state."

I finished the letter and felt not just enraged - by an amendment that codifies discrimination and prejudice and seeks to deny my friends the rights that I enjoy - but I also felt impotent. All of my friends that live in North Carolina are dedicated voters sure to vote against this amendment. Most of them likely have either given money to efforts to fight the amendment or are actively working to defeat it themselves. I can't really help, I thought. 

It was one of the only times I can recall wishing for a bigger platform. 

Almost immediately, I decided to write about it anyway because to not do so would be an affront to my friends in North Carolina and elsewhere who have to fight this type of discrimination day in, day out. 

I mean, can you imagine having to write a letter to a former colleague to ask for help to defend your personal relationship? It's preposterous and yet, Susan had to. She has to fight to protect her right to make financial and medical decisions for her partner, if God forbid, Sera was ever incapacitated. She has to fight for their rights as a couple to even visit one another in the hospital. 

"... at the end of the day, this is about my ability to hold Sera's hand as she draws her last breath," she wrote. "It's about Sera's ability to claim my remains after my death."

I emailed another friend back in North Carolina, a guy immersed in politics who works for the state, to ask how the hell this amendment even made it to the ballot. For perspective, when I covered the statehouse from 2000-2004, Democrats held the House and Senate in a vise grip, and Republicans were so far out of the power loop they were square. 

That changed in 2010, when Republicans seized control of both chambers for the first time in more than 100 years. 

"It came to pass because the R's have been pushing (it) for years and they finally took over and they have been pushing all this crazy social stuff," he said. It should be noted, however, that it didn't pass without support from Democrats too.

I went back and read a number of news stories to find out exactly why the Republicans lobbied for the amendment and it seems to boil down to this: they want the gay marriage ban codified in the constitution because they fear the possibility that even though state law already defines marriage as the legal union between a man and a woman, some judge somewhere could overturn that. 

They also think gay marriage portends the collapse of all they hold sacred and good. To wit, here's what one Republican county commissioner said when asked why the state was focusing on social issues during tough economic times: 

"One thing comes to mind. If the moral and social issues of our country are not addressed, we don't have to worry about the economic issues. They will not matter at that point in time."

The notion that gay couples threaten the institution of marriage or the fabric of our society seems ludicrous to me, not to mention bigoted. Maybe it's just indicative of my own ho-hum life, but my gay friends are fairly ordinary. No offense guys. They share photos of their vegetable gardens on Facebook, adore baseball parks like national treasures and take their children on annual vacations to Disney World. It's hard to take anyone seriously who thinks such couples undermine their own union or imperil mine. 

Susan wrote a separate, but similar letter to someone else too -- a former county commissioner turned state senator whom she once covered as a beat reporter, a man she admired and respected. I've read the letter and it is vulnerable and deeply moving. In it, she tells her former source, a man in a position to vote on the amendment, that she has finally found a happiness she thought she'd never know now that she has embraced her true self. 

"...for so long, I thought -- even feared -- that I would end up dying alone," she said. "I no longer have those worries, BUT I do fear the implications of writing discrimination into our state's founding document. Such a move not only devalues the life that my partner and I have worked hard to build together, it sends the message far and wide across this state that as an individual, I do not deserve the same respect that all other North Carolinians deserve."

He told her no can do and voted to put the amendment on the ballot.

Which is where you come in. Do you live in North Carolina or know someone who does? Did you vote early? Are you going to the polls May 8? Will you take someone who needs help getting there? Can you help Susan and Sera, Susan's mom and Pete and others like them? 

Please help defeat this amendment. 

(Susan and Sera)

One more thing, do yourself a favor and take a few minutes to read the letter Susan sent me. I linked to it above but I'll link to it again -- here. It speaks to the many consequences of this ballot initiative. 

A Single Bloom

I give myself a hard time about lots of things everyday. A constant battery of that's not right, you coulda done better, stop being such an asshole, what an idiot, and so on and so forth. But looky here: I grew a rose, my Grandma Josephine's rose, from a cutting and it bloomed. Huzzah!