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Originnaly written on 1/11/17

Oof I am feeling triggered right now. Bursting out of my skin, mind racing, can't settle down to figure out how to calm myself. I found my way to Bloom, one of my happy places, so I can sit in beauty and drink healing tea, listen to good music, see faces of friends and gather my pieces

It is confusing to sit on the couch and listen to a man calmly speak about the importance of our democracy and the hard work it entails and feel tears falling as we move one step closer to saying good-bye to the first president I have actually loved and then pick up the newspaper two days later and bounce from paragraph to page, reading of the fierce dismantling that is threatening to take place. I don't and haven't expected uniformity but it feels so jarring to know that as I'm listening to Barack Obama, feeling pride and hope, others are booing him and saying he's the worst thing that has ever happened to our country. That he speaks of the fact that more U.S. citizens are insured than ever before and the incoming administration speaks of Obamacare as an unmitigated disaster that must be destroyed.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I took our son to his speech assessment today and the practitioner triggered me over and over. Our boy did so well--naming every single picture on the cards and adding more detail than necessary. Not hiding his face in shyness or fear. Listening to her and following instructions with that clear, open, beautiful face of his. And I know, and have known, that he is hard to understand and he needs help pronouncing many of his words. Even as he strings together the most complex sentences of any of our four children. I know he will be ok and there are people to help him and he will get the help he needs. I talked to him about it in the truck afterwards, telling him that we will see an ENT which stands for Ear, Nose and Throat, doctor who will help us figure out how to clear out the fluid in his ears that is making it hard for him to hear. And then we will go to some other appointments so that people can help him practice pronouncing some of his words. He listened. And he said "I don't talk so good because I have allergies." Prounceed with a soft G (or is a hard G?" Whatever G sound is the wrong one. Which sounds so cute. He didn't sound sad but the tears came for me and they're coming now. I don't want him ever, ever, ever to feel like he is not good enough, that there is something not good about him. Even though I tell him and his sisters that we all need help sometimes, that we all make mistakes, that we all know and understand some things better than others. Flaws aren't unacceptable. All of that and it still makes me cry.

A few days ago I read an article about a local high school that is trying to secede from our big, unwieldy, behemoth of a school district to start their own. It is a racist move, cloaked in other words so well that the people instigating probably don't even know or believe it is racist. They speak of it as protecting their kids, advocating for what their kids need, you would understand it if you had kids, that's why we moved to this neighborhood to keep our kids away from those other kids. . .
Which is saying that they think its OK for it to cost more to give your kids what they need. And if you can pay it, in this case those higher home prices, your kids deserve to have what they need. And those other kids don't.

Can't there be enough? Can we work to give all the kids what they need and not have that be a pipe dream?