I had quite a collection of writing, and through the vagaries of technology somehow managed to loose it. I’m not going to attempt a re-creation, although I will add to this tomorrow when I’ve had some rest – and time to recover from my anger at loosing a 1300 word piece.

For now, a poem, which is and has always been a particular favorite of mine, it has followed me through high school, and college, and marriage, and a baby, and still it has new meaning each time I read it.

The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

When I am out among the tall, old pines, or the cold fresh streams, or at the meadow in the evening watching geese and starlings exist, Mary Oliver comes to mind. Her writing is of the earth, and is more of a spiritual text than any book of the Bible or the Qur’an or the Talmud. She seems to have written poems that express my heart more nobly and clearly than I ever could, and holds a place in my heart equalled perhaps by Elliott Smith‘s music.

So, what are you going to do with your one wild and precious life?

On Friday we were mostly grateful to get to the house in one piece, given the traffic and Mattie’s screaming bloody murder in the back seat…on Saturday it was all about family, but mostly we’re both incredibly grateful that “Gram Acqua” (as Michael calls her) is still with us. Not many people get to celebrate their 94th birthday, and especially not with almost all of their grand kids and great-grand kids around!

Val, Chris (holding Luca), Lucretia, Maria, Lucretia, Cat, Mike (holding Mattie) and Scotty. Missing are Laura and Matt.

It was also wonderful to have Mattie and Luca together again…watching them both grow up is an incredible gift. I didn’t have many cousins that were my age, and the ones I did have lived several states away. Knowing that Mattie has a guaranteed playmate for every holiday and family vacation is pretty nice. And, if you think one toddler is cute, try watching two of them play with a soccer ball!

The best shot of everyone...they were both more into running and climbing than sitting still!

Also on Saturday at the party, I was able to spend some time talking with Uncle Joe and Aunt Deb, whom I love dearly but don’t get nearly enough time with. I was glad to have a moment to talk to them both in the midst of such a crowd, and I left wishing we saw them much, much more often.

On Sunday Mary Alice made waffles (and who isn’t grateful for those?), and then after working on a report for RTC, we hit the road for the 2.5 hour drive home. I am exceedingly thankful that Mattie decided to sleep for the entire ride home. He only woke up when I started getting our suitcase out of the back of the car, which for him is an incredible feat.

That evening, he had a bath and I was happy to capture this moment on video…his babbling makes my heart swell with joy and pride and love.

Boog’s Bath Babble

I’ll get more fully back into writing tomorrow evening – I’ve already got my topic worked out, but I need some time to organize my thoughts. Thanks, as always, for reading and I apologize for the short break – next time I’m going away for a few days, I’ll have a few scheduled posts that will go up so you’ve got something to read.

It’s been a challenge, to say the least, to write every day. I was never able to journal very regularly – I usually only wrote during extremely emotional times, be they highs or lows. Break-ups? All documented in painful detail. Falling in love? Catalogued (the two times it’s happened) in overwrought, sweeping prose and horrible poetry. This leave gigantic gaps in my journals – parts of my life where I wasn’t giddy, I wasn’t sad, I was just…me. Going about my life, living well but generally not having anything remarkable to say.

In the months between when Michael and I started dating and when we had Mattie, I managed to fill three notebooks – most of it not fit for public consumption! It’s fun to re-read, though, especially because almost every time he said or did something romantic, I jotted it down. There are three pages filled only with heady, romantic text messages from him.

Following Mattie’s birth, I was filled with the urge to write. To document. To somehow record it all so that I could never forget it. The stress, exhaustion, desperation, and fear. The completely overwhelming love, and gradually the all-encompassing joy. The renewed love between Michael and I. Except, as most parents know, in the early days of an infant there isn’t much time for eating a bowl of cereal, much less coherently organizing your thoughts and writing them down. I made notes – hinting at what I wanted to write about – but only got to really sit down and devote myself to writing two or three times in a year.

Dividing time between parenting and work has been a whole new set of difficulties, from the expense of daycare to scheduling myself around Michael’s classes. But the most difficult part is time. When I’m at work, I feel like I should be at home raising my son. When I’m at home, I feel like I should be at work making money for our family and being a devoted employee. I’m learning to strike a balance, but what it means is that there’s no time for anything else.

Whenever I’m home I’m soaking up the time with Mattie and Michael; taking time to write makes me feel like I’m neglecting them. You may have noticed that most of my posts come after 10PM. This is because Mattie goes to sleep around 9:45, and then I can start writing without feeling like I’m short-changing either my job or my son.

Writing for this blog has forced me to resume writing, with more dedication than I’d ever really had before. Sure, I’ve spent years writing essays and papers for various classes, and I’ve written technical papers for my job, but I’ve never devoted myself to my OWN writing. An essay on Heraclitus or Derrida, or a report reviewing a limestone plant appraisal, isn’t exactly “for me” – nor is it self-directed. I’ve always had deadlines of one sort or another.

This…this writing every day simply for the sake of writing, is something new for me. I’m not particularly good at it, but that isn’t the point. The point is that I’m doing it, and that a few people have found something I’ve said inspirational, thought-provoking, interesting, or pleasing enough to subscribe to this blog. I’m not egotistical or delusional enough to think that I’ve got anything earth-shattering or world-changing to say, and even if only one person has been helped or changed by something I’ve said, I’ll be satisfied.

Beyond even that, writing has felt good. Since I graduated, I haven’t written beyond my own journal, and writing for others to read has been a reminder of how much I truly love the written word. I love listening, and reading, and writing.

When I began this blog, it was with the intention of seeking out the positive in my life. I meant to find things to be grateful for, and teach myself to find beauty even on dark days. What I didn’t expect was this renewed love of what had been a particular love and talent of mine. So today, odd as it sounds, I’m grateful for the challenge and commitment of this blog. I hope that as the year continues I can continue to entertain and engage you.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

The establishment clause of the first amendment of the Constitution of the United States, a 1789 addition to the original document (along with the other nine amendments that comprise the Bill of Rights) protects the religious freedom of the citizens of the United States. The expression “separation of church and state” comes from a letter written by Thomas Jefferson, in 1802, to the Danbury Baptists, in which he said (in part):

Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between man and his God, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legislative powers of government reach actions only, and not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature should “make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,” thus building a wall of separation between church and State. Adhering to this expression of the supreme will of the nation in behalf of the rights of conscience, I shall see with sincere satisfaction the progress of those sentiments which tend to restore to man all his natural rights, convinced he has no natural right in opposition to his social duties.

It should be noted that the intent of this separation was not the prevention of religion, but rather the protection of it. As noted by 19th century historian Philip Schaff, “The American separation of church and state rests upon respect for the church; the [European anticlerical] separation, on indifference and hatred of the church, and of religion itself…. The constitution did not create a nation, nor its religion and institutions. It found them already existing, and was framed for the purpose of protecting them under a republican form of government, in a rule of the people, by the people, and for the people.” [Source]

Also of note is the Treaty of Tripoli, ratified in 1797, which states: “As the Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion; as it has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion, or tranquility, of Mussulmen; and, as the said States never entered into any war, or act of hostility against any Mahometan nation, it is declared by the parties, that no pretext arising from religious opinions, shall ever produce an interruption of the harmony existing between the two countries.”

As a citizen of the United States, I’m guaranteed the right to practice whatever religion I choose, or to NOT practice a religion if I so choose. It’s also illegal for the federal government to establish a religion (hence the term “establishment clause”).

The Pennsylvania House has unanimously passed a resolution which is in direct violation of the first amendment if the Constitution of the United States. It reads in its entirity:

A RESOLUTION

Declaring 2012 as the “Year of the Bible” in Pennsylvania.

WHEREAS, The Bible, the word of God, has made a unique contribution in shaping the United States as a distinctive and blessed nation and people; and

WHEREAS, Deeply held religious convictions springing from the holy scriptures led to the early settlement of our country; and

WHEREAS, Biblical teachings inspired concepts of civil government that are contained in our Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States; and

WHEREAS, Many of our great national leaders, among them President Washington, President Jackson, President Lincoln, President Wilson and President Reagan, paid tribute to the influence of the Bible in our country’s development, as exemplified by the words of President Jackson that the Bible is “the rock on which our Republic rests”; and

WHEREAS, The history of our country clearly illustrates the value of voluntarily applying the teachings of the scriptures in the lives of individuals, families and societies; and

WHEREAS, This nation now faces great challenges that will test it as it has never been tested before; and

WHEREAS, Renewing our knowledge of and faith in God through holy scripture can strengthen us as a nation and a people; therefore be it

RESOLVED, That the House of Representatives declare 2012 as the “Year of the Bible” in Pennsylvania in recognition of both the formative influence of the Bible on our Commonwealth and nation and our national need to study and apply the teachings of the holy scriptures.

EXCUSE ME?

The Christian Right and the Republicans would have you believe that this country was founded on Christianity, and is thus essentially a Christian nation. Some direct quotes prove otherwise.

“Christianity neither is, nor ever was a part of the common law.”
- Thomas Jefferson in an 1814 letter to Dr. Thomas Cooper.

“The Government of the United States is not in any sense founded upon the Christian religion.”- George Washington, as stated in the signed Treaty of Tripoli in 1797.

“In no instance have the churches been guardians of the liberties of the people.”
- James Madison

“The purpose of separation of church and state is to keep forever from these shores the ceaseless strife that has soaked the soil of Europe with blood for centuries.”
- James Madison

“I almost shudder at the thought of alluding to the most fatal example of the abuses of grief which the history of mankind has preserved — the Cross. Consider what calamities that engine of grief has produced!”
- John Adams

Even Pennsylvanian sage Benjamin Franklin didn’t think religion was useful in government:

“A Firehouse is more useful than a church.”
- Benjamin Franklin

Here’s my personal favorite, and the one which seems most applicable in this situation. Again, from Benjamin Franklin: “When a religion is good, I conceive it will support itself; and when it does not support itself, and God does not take care to support it so that its professors are obligated to call for help of the civil power, it’s a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one.”

By his logic, Christianity is an extremely bad religion, since it seems to be desperately seeking the help of the state to enforce their moral code. I’ve seen Christian doctrines influence everything from school breaks and curriculum to women’s rights to their own bodies. Those, however, we’re couched in secular intent and ascribed not to religion but a more nebulous sense of “right” (never mind that that “rightness” is dictated by Christianity). This, however, is not even vaguely disguised.

Patrick Elliott, an attorney at the Freedom From Religion Foundation, had this to say:

“It is shocking that House leadership would classify this as a ‘noncontroversial resolution’ and put it to a vote. It is even more astounding that representatives would pass this. It seems that either they did not know what they were voting on or they were intentionally interfering with the rights of conscience of their constituents in violation of the U.S. Constitution. This is a blatant violation. The resolution proclaims that the Bible is the ‘word of God,’ states that ‘renewing our knowledge of and faith in God through holy scripture can strengthen us as a nation and a people,’ and declares 2012 as the ‘Year of the Bible’ in recognition of “our national need to study and apply the teachings of the holy scriptures.’ Once the government enters into the religion business, conferring endorsement and preference for some religions over others, it strikes a blow at religious liberty, forcing taxpayers of all faiths and of no religion to support a particular religious view.”

If you’re at all like me, you’re wondering not only why this was passed, but how it managed to pass unanimously. I would have expected the republican members of the House to vote yea, given the current campaign penchant for trying to out-Christian and out-conservative each other. Typically, though, the democrats tend to be less religiously inclined. Or do they?

The passing of this bill is indicative of both the current political climate, in which even liberals are trying to appear more conservative, and the near-total domination of Christian ideologies in the public sphere. In a country where people with degrees from renowned institutions are called “elitist” and scientists are eviscerated for failing to adhere to a dating scheme derived from a book of myths, is it any wonder that politicians fear the repercussions of coming down on the “nay” side of the vote?

Of COURSE the democrats passed it. If they hadn’t, can you imagine the ads the republicans would be funding right now? “This jihadist hates God!” “He wants to ban the bible!”

The Bloomsburg Daily had a particularly excellent article on the matter. I won’t paste it here completely, so you should click here and read it for yourself. The most pertinent paragraph, though, is as follows:

Ultimately this resolution of the PA House of Representatives is ridiculous. No government authority can dictate the private conscience of any person. At best this is shallow politics, intended to consolidate power and position by conjuring some vague feeling of goodwill on the part of the people toward their elected Representatives with some mealy-mouthed, insincere appeal to their deepest, most private convictions. How insulting! At worst it shows the Representatives’ blatant disregard and contempt for the varied sources of morality of each individual, whether that person relies on spiritual revelation or daily experience.

I urge you to contact your representative and inform them (even if you are a devout Christian) that you vehemently oppose a resolution which directly steps on the rights of American citizens. Perhaps you can quote their own book -
“And Jesus answering said unto them, Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s. And they marvelled at him.”

On to today. Many of you are probably thinking, “romance novels? Really?” to which I respond – “Jersey Shore? American Idol? The Kardashians? Really?” I’m kidding. Sort of. But just like trashy television, romance novels have a reputation as being trashy – bodice-ripping, poorly written schlock best kept to the beach or on the porcelain-cat-covered coffee table of a fat, lonely woman. Not true! I mean yes, the trashy bit is largely true. But there are plenty of smart bitches reading these books, so there must be a reason, or several.

First, I need to clarify the “romance novel” term. I do NOT read Harlequin or Christian romance. Harlequins are so poorly written they build in me a desire to tear my hair out, and the Christian ones are so overtly preachy that they aren’t fun. No, I read what I fondly call “romantic literature” – from Diana Gabaldon’s “Outlander” series to a more recent favorite, Lisa Kleypas. I’ve even been known to dig into paranormal romance (like Sherrilyn Kenyon or Christine Feehan) but my favorite novels are generally historical.

As someone with a degree in English (and a spare baccalaureate in Philosophy, just for kicks), I can see why a penchant for romance novels might be confusing. But let me explain it this way: even if you love your job, you need a break. I read many, many books for intellectual stimulation. I read books that challenge not only my vocabulary or syntax, but also my philosophical leanings, my moral underpinning, and my sense of right and wrong. In fact, I love the sensation of having gotten twisted around by a book and needing a day (or a month) to mull it over.

But sometimes…god, sometimes I don’t want to think. I want to loose myself in an easy story that’s just captivating enough to hold my attention, and then I want to be done with it. Romance novels are like fun-sized chocolate bars, as opposed to an elaborate holiday meal. As satisfying? Hell no. But a fun little distraction? Yes!

With a romance novel, there’s no need to put it down and wander the house pondering the meaning of it all. There’s no need to read about French and Latin word roots to understand a complex paronomasia, and certainly no crying at the end. You start the endeavor knowing that in the end, all works out as it should – the couple defy the difficult odds and end up together happily, and the bad guys get their comeuppance. It’s a neat little package with a pretty bow and it’s delightfully simple.

I got my first real sex education in sixth grade when I snuck a Jude Devereaux book home from the library, and there’s no denying that some of the books have a decided smut factor. Those are usually easy to spot by the covers, so you can avoid them easily. Since then, I’ve had an on-again off-again relationship with the genre, and I seem to go through binges of reading them and then purges of devouring Dostoyevsky.

The Kindle and iPad have made this much easier, since now I can shamelessly read “The Perfect Lover” no matter where I am. I don’t even have to awkwardly tuck the dead-giveaway trade paperback book under an ostensibly highbrow hardcover when I’m wandering the bookstore. Bless the anonymity of Amazon.com! The other sure bet is the library – usually the best romances are the most worn looking ones, with the bindings that are now perfectly beige and white, with no trace of the original colorful printing. They’re the ones with pages that have been dogeared by countless patrons and never been taken out of circulation.

On Sunday I was puked on for the third time, and I looked up at Michael. Before I could open my mouth, he said “why don’t you go read?” I started with a book on economics that I’ve been reading, but I kept hearing the noises of toddler and father downstairs and feeling guilty for reading. Then…then I grabbed my weary copy of Karen Robards’ “Dark Torment” (note that I only have five paperback romances in the house, all favorites, and that’s one of them! The rest of my shamefully large collection went to the AAUW when I turned 20…). I started at the very beginning (a very good place to start) and before I knew it Mike had Mattie down for a nap and it was three hours later.

It is, weirdly, like meditation. My mind is completely empty of my everyday thoughts and concerns, and devoted totally to the engaging but artless story I’m reading. It doesn’t hurt that most of the time I’m reminded of Michael and I, and can’t stop grinning at the couples’ interactions.

I’m VERY grateful for the trite, trashy, formulaic, cheap, smut-filled, diverting, engaging, happy-ending, bodice-ripping, smile-making genre we call Romance. Thanks for the hours of distraction and joy

Today I started to take a bath in our horrible bathroom…the grout around the tub has never sealed because the tub moves too much, the water leaks (from the tub faucet AND the sink faucet), when yo drain the tub the toilet gurgles, and if you let the water out all at once there’s a small flood in the basement. To cap it all off, there’s barely enough warm (not hot) water to fill the tub, and the tank doesn’t fill again quickly – if you’ve done laundry with warm water or run the dishwasher that day, you’re in for a cold bath. Needless to say, it isn’t my favorite place to take a bath!

In the world of great baths, my absolute favorite is in the top floor suite of the Carnegie House. It’s long, and the back is reclined so that you’re laying back, with no ridge behind your neck. The back slopes evenly up to the platform the tub is set down into, and you can nearly lie flat in it if you’d like to. My parents’s have a whirlpool tub which I’ve occasionally used, which is deep and relaxing. Or, the two-person jacuzzi that sits three feet from a wood stove in the one room cabin we stayed at in Cooks Forest – which holds a special place in my heart.

I suppose baths are so appealing because they seem luxurious. In an age of two minute showers while we rush out the door, taking an hour to devote to relaxation is downright greedy. Now that I’m a mother, my baths have become less frequent. When I was single, I’d take a bath every day rather than shower. I’d grab my book of the moment and loose myself for an hour in the weightless wonder of the world of fiction.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to mention float tanks. In a completely dark, completely soundproofed pod, you lay on and in water so salt-laden that you’re weightless. In the darkness and quiet – and surrounded be water that’s precisely body temperature – you loose all sense of direction and space. It can result in hallucinations, in a feeling of limitless ness and expansion. I’ve only been able to use a float tank on four occasions, but I wish we owned one.

Check out these videos of other people’s experiences! And I’d recommend it to anyone, but especially people with muscular or joint pain.

(in the following video, skip to about 2:30 or so)

Breastfeeding has many benefits for the baby. Breastfeed babies, as compared to formula-fed babies, have:

higher IQs
better visual acuity
fewer ear infections
less need for orthodontics
greater acceptance of a variety of solid foods
fewer respiratory illnesses
a reduced risk of SIDS
fewer gastrointestinal disorders and infections
a reduced risk of food allergies
a better response to vaccinations
fewer urinary tract infections
…and more!

Pretty great, right? And that’s just for Mattie. I get a lowered risk of breast and ovarian cancer, as well as a lowered chance of developing osteoporosis – and all just for nursing my son for six months or more.

And, it’s convenient – no powder, no bottles, no mixing and warming (nothing like going for a twelve hour hike and not having to worry about formula!). It’s free, and it’s tailored precisely to my son’s needs – the nutritional content of breast milk changes as a baby ages, as does the quantity of milk produced.

All of that? What I just said? It’s true, and it’s reassuring, and it’s awesome, and it makes me happy, but…it’s not really why I’m thankful for breastfeeding. What I’m really thankful for is the nursing relationship I have with my son.

He’s now nearly thirteen months old, and sometime between now and 24 months of age he’s going to stop. Just…not be interested any more. I can say now, without any hesitation, that it’s going to break my heart when he does.

Nursing Mattie gives me a closeness and bond that I cherish. I can instantly comfort and calm him, and I know that he’s getting nutrients and immunity at the same time. I should say here that as someone with a step mother whom I regard as my mother in every important sense of the word, I know full well that nursing is not the only way to forge a bond – but maybe it’s the easiest way.

It’s a heady feeling – being the only thing he really needs. Michael’s place is growing, but for now he still looks to me as the sun in his sky. The quiet moments we have – where it’s just the two of us and I get to stare down at his beautiful, sweet, perfect face – are grounding and vital to us both. We connect, deeply, and then we move on to play, or read, or go our separate ways. Maybe it’s just the calm, quiet, sustained eye contact. Maybe it everyone could get their babies to stare deeply into their eyes for ten minutes at a time, every two hours, than everyone would have this feeling.

In those moments, I look at him and I feel such love that I am speechless. Even mentally, the constant inner chatter – to-do lists, worries, musings, wonderings, songs stuck in my head – disappears. It’s as if we’ve ducked under a big downy blanket and all the world is gone, and all that’s left is softness and warmth.

Mattie always puts his hand on my side, on my ribs, and the other on my breast. The hand on my ribs always moves, a gentle stroking like you might use to pet a baby kitten. He squeezes me in a hug as big as his little arms will allow, and he looks up at me with the same love and wonder I only is shining out of my own eyes.

I’m grateful that for now – for just a little while longer – I get to be his whole world, because I know that for as long as I live, he will make up the greatest part of mine.
______________________
From Michael:
‘Breastfeeding. Where to start? Well, breasts are great. Obviously. And before we had a peanutchild I liked them (LIKED?! More like – nevermind that). But when we had a baby and my wife started using those things I’d always liked to do something amazing like feed a kid, I was kind of blown away. Like finding out your favorite BMW that you’ve always ogled is also a transformer and makes regular trips to the moon. 0-238857mph in 3.4 seconds. And in its spare time saves lives and helps little old ladies with their groceries.
Okay back to boobs. I mean breasts. Before I go much further I should say that husbands should love breastfeeding if for no other reason than that they’re out. All. The. Time. Like, if you come home from work it’s a pretty safe bet you’re going to see them before you have time to take your boots off. Yeah.
All joking aside, my kid gets superfood. Not the Odwalla stuff (although we like to drink that by the galon), but real, honest, SUPER food. Food that keeps him from getting diseases and gives his little weird brain lots of bricks to build with. Or neurons. Whatever.
AND (here’s where I choke up a bit, in a totally manly way), there is this bond that I can never touch. I thought I might be jealous of it, but that was before I was a dad. Now I just see love and happiness and that means I’m happy. It’s like Lauren and Mattie only have eyes for each other, and I get to wrap my arms (big strong arms, totally) around them both. I’m not not a part of it, either. I’m told that without my support they never would have made it past a few weeks. Go me! And there were times when he was biting, or in the beginning and her nipples were cracked and bleeding, and she’d cry and say she couldn’t do it. But see I know my wife, and I knew she could. So I’d say, “yes you can” and go get her more water or tea or weird nipple grease stuff.
So we kept going, and I got to sit back and watch my wife be stronger and more amazing than I ever knew she could be. Except for the birth part. But that was something else entirely. Like, some Phoenix-in-X-men-power-but-with-Jean-Gray’s-heart kinda shit.
Now it’s just easy peasy, and I love easy. And free is even better. So I guess “what I think about breastfeeding in general” is that it’s kickass. And what I think about it in particular is IT’S FUCKIN KICKASS. Let me recap – Boobs everywhere all the time. Superfood. Bond. Easy. Free.
Can’t argue with that.’

Our goofy laughing faces, right after we sealed the deal in the Judge's Chambers at the courhouse

Today we had a “moment”…you know, one of those times when you step back from the now and think to yourself “this…this is what life is all about”. Well, today I was tickling Mattie and Michael was tickling me and it devolved into a pile of limbs, laughing on the floor. We were all giggling like you usually only hear crazy or hysterical people do…the kind of laughter that, when you finally stop, makes you sigh deeply and keeps a smile on your face for at least ten minutes, if not the rest of the day. It was a Laughter Club of our own.

There is nothing more joyful and prescious to me than the sound of my son laughing…this video is old, in baby-age terms, since he was perhaps six months old in it and is now over a year old, but it still gives me that warm, happy heart feeling. His laughter now is, if anything, even more infectious. Mattie’s Laughter (Age nine months)

You know that saying, that “laughter is the best medicine”? Well, it might not be the best (in my opinion that’s love!), but it’s darn close.

• Laughter relaxes the whole body. A good, hearty laugh relieves physical tension and stress, leaving your muscles relaxed for up to 45 minutes after.
• Laughter boosts the immune system. Laughter decreases stress hormones and increases immune cells and infection-fighting antibodies, thus improving your resistance to disease.
• Laughter triggers the release of endorphins, the body’s natural feel-good chemicals. Endorphins promote an overall sense of well-being and can even temporarily relieve pain.
• Laughter protects the heart. Laughter improves the function of blood vessels and increases blood flow, which can help protect you against a heart attack and other cardiovascular problems.

But that quote isn’t the only one about laughter that I love. Here are a few more:

• A day without laughter is a day wasted. – Charlie Chaplin
• A sense of humor… is needed armor. Joy in one’s heart and some laughter on one’s lips is a sign that the person down deep has a pretty good grasp of life. – Hugh Sidey
• Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand. – Mark Twain
• All you need in the world is love and laughter. That’s all anybody needs. To have love in one hand and laughter in the other.  -August Wilson
• Amour is the one human activity of any importance in which laughter and pleasure preponderate, if ever so slightly, over misery and pain.  – Aldous Huxley
• At the height of laughter, the universe is flung into a kaleidoscope of new possibilities. – Jean Houston
• From your parents you learn love and laughter and how to put one foot before the other. But when books are opened you discover that you have wings.  – Helen Hayes (Oh, how I adore that particular quote…love, laughter, books…)
• I take people very seriously. People are all I take seriously, in fact. Therefore, I have nothing but sympathy for how people behave – and nothing but laughter to console them with. – John Irving

My beautiful (inside and out) sister in law Cat, who brings laughter to the lives of others through her yoga and doula practices - click the photo to learn more about her teaching and philosophy!

My husband Michael can always make me laugh…in any situation – even when I’m crying (which is a rare occurrence). He, and now Mattie, has the ability to turn my tears, my scowl, my gloomy mood into a grin and a giggle. I do the same for him, and that’s a large part of why we first began a relationship and eventually married. If your relationship is one of laughter and joy (mixed in with friendship, attraction, chemistry, lust, adoration, admiration, skepticism, honesty, love, and sundry other things) it’s a good bet that relationship is well worth holding on to.

Laughter can happen for many reasons – and for me, it’s less linked with humor than with joy and exhiliration. I laugh when something makes me blissfully happy (like when Mattie first walked, or when Michael proposed), or when I’m having an excited adrenaline rush (drifting a front-wheel-drive Toyota corolla on a dry road in NEPA, for one). I laugh when our dog does something goofy and endearing, or when ANY animal does something goofy and endearing. Sometimes, even when I’m sad, I take a step back, shake my head at my moping, and laugh it off.

That isn’t to say that laughter is a panacea…after all, like our foods we need a balance of emotion. Laughter would be meaningless without the tears that provide it’s contrast and illuminate its joy. But today, and every day, I’m grateful that I have laughter in my life.

I’ve been sick, lately. It started, as usual, with Mattie and daycare. Last night I was up until about 5AM with an earache, and today had the flu-like symptoms we all dread. I was feeling dreadful…didn’t want to eat, couldn’t sleep, and every sound Mattie made was like a hot poker to my ear drum. I dutifully drank water all day until Michael came home, at which point I collapsed on the couch. About five minutes later, I felt something warm and moist on my face, and opened my eyes in a cloud of steam from a mug of Echinacea tea.

My second-favorite tea mug

I wrapped my hands around the stonewear mug and held it up to my nose, letting the steam soothe my sinuses and warm my hands. And then I drank, and it felt like my aching muscles and sore throat were relieved for the first time in 48 hours. The decidedly herbal taste, sweetened with throat-coating honey, was a balm to all of my senses. I could have kissed Michael’s feet at that moment.

As I write this, at my right hand is another mug, this one of green gunpowder tea with Echinacea flowers in it. I’ve been nursing it for an hour now, and keep adding hot water to the mug. Tea purists would chastise me for allowing the delicate green tea leaves to steep for so long, but I’m not interested in purity – I’m in it for taste and comfort!

This is where I imagine myself, when I'm drinking tea...

In late April, 2010, I was pregnant but didn’t know it yet. On a sunny spring day, I found myself exhausted and laid down to take a nap. About 45 minutes later I woke up from a dream. In my dream, I’d been petting a brown and black puppy. I was struck with an irresistible urge to care for something small and fuzzy and cute, and I needed it OMGRIGHTNOW! I calmly informed Michael that I was going to the SPCA to fill out a form registering us as potential foster parents. Laughing at what he new to be a complete falsehood, he told me if we were getting a dog he was “d**n well going to help pick it out.”

At the SPCA we saw three dogs. One, named June, was a nine year old black lab. When we had him out in the yard, he was terrified of us and peed all over himself. We quickly realized that he was more work than we had time for – both of us were working eight hour days, and wouldn’t have been able to rehabilitate him as he needed. [An aside here: if the SPCA in Centre County were not a "no-kill shelter" we'd have taken him home. Since we knew he wouldn't be put down, we decided that a more fitting owner should have him. I later found out he'd been adopted by a retired couple who had the ability to spend all of their time with him.]

Next, we brought out the youngest…we’d walked right past her at first because she was barking like crazy and we didn’t want a loud dog, but when we went back to her cage she just sat there calmly, looking up at us like she’d been waiting for a long time. We took “Nala” out to the play yard, and she went berserk – she couldn’t stop running around, and it was difficult for either of us to catch her long enough to pet her, much less really get to know her. But she was sweet, and young, and so so happy to be around us, that we both wanted to give her a place to stay, people to love, and freedom to run.

The SPCA file photo

And so, we filled out the paperwork and listed a few references, and went home thinking we’d hear back from the SPCA on Monday. To our delight and surprise, they called us back within the hour – little Nala was ours! We went back immediately, stopping only long enough to pick up a collar and leash from the dollar store on our way.

When she saw us again, Nala – already “Cricket” in my mind, although I kept thinking “Peanut”, as well – went crazy again. She was flipping in circles in her cage, and when we opened the door she vaulted into Michael’s arms. After getting her microchip and her old registration tags, we left, and never looked back.

Once we got on the highway, we found out she was carsick and terrified when she leapt into my lap in the passenger seat. For the next month or so, she rode everywhere in my lap.

On 322, leaving the SPCA - our first photo with Cricket!

Off of route 322 between the SPCA and our entrance to the highway route home, there is a road that takes you to one of our favorite places on earth – Bear Meadows Natural Area and Alan Seeger, in Rothrock State Forest. Impulsively, we took a left instead of going straight, and set the tone for the rest of our relationship with Cricket.

We made the drive back – first on a two-lane road, then a narrow paved road, and finally gravel – and found one of the first trails that headed up the mountain. We got out of the car, stretched, and started walking. Cricket was delighted – she wagged her tail constantly, stopped to smell things, and looked happy – but she never left our sides. After a few minutes, I decided to try an experiment, and took her off the long retractable leash we’d been using. If anything, she stayed even closer to us – she hovered near one of us for the entire hike. We came upon a stream, and she was too scared to drink from it, so I scooped water into my hands and she drank deeply. I picked her up, and Michael snapped a photo.

Our first hike with Cricket, only half an hour after getting her from the SPCA

From that moment on, we hiked obsessively with her. Well into my eighth month of pregnancy, in November and December, we were still doing five and six mile snow hikes. And since that first day, Cricket has never – not once – strayed from our sides. When we get farther apart than she likes, she runs back and forth between us, as if urging us together again. It has become as much a part of her routine as going to bed and eating, and if we miss too many days in a row she becomes antsy and energetic, running around the house, picking up her collar and prancing to the door. When we open our car, she leaps in and sits down, waiting for us to take her somewhere wonderful and wild, where she can explore new places and smell new things.

From the very begining, she was an affectionate thing. She was equally so with both Michael and I.

Her first afternoon with us, and already she was wiggling her way onto our couch and into our hearts!

Until Mattie was born, these two were my whole world

We’ve had our share of the normal puppy troubles…Cricket was four months old when we adopted her, and had never been properly home trained (I loathe the term “housebroken” – I don’t want to break her, thank you, just help her learn to coexist with us). On her adoption surrender sheet, the former owners had written that she peed in the house all the time. They also indicated that she was alone for twelve hours of the day. (Excuse me? You expect a four month old puppy to be in the house for twelve hours and NOT have to pee???) It took some work, but within two weeks Cricket was accident free, and had developed a way of letting us know she had to go out.

She had a period – her teenager phase, if you will – where she was fond of chewing anything she could. She particularly loved soft things…One day I was at work and Michael was home, and he sent me this photo:

Trying to look innocent...

And then there was this incident (click the link, then go through the photos from the first – the captions will tell you the story!)

She also has a habit, perhaps sad but still blindingly cute, of sucking on blankets. She lays on them, and pulls up a corner and then sucks on it. Our vet suggested that she was weaned too early and still uses sucking as a comfort mechanism when she is going to sleep.

Cricket is the most playful, affectionate, sweet, and loyal dog I’ve ever known. Perhaps because she’s the first dog I’ve had on my own, but I’d like to think she’s really that wonderful. She has totally enmeshed herself into the fabric of our lives, including our second cat, Sophie. They’re the best of friends. Sophie is a bold, brazen creature, and when we brought Cricket home Sophie marched up to her and made it clear that she wouldn’t be cowed. Cricket was just happy to have a playmate, and they spend their days alternately playing and snuggling. They even groom each other, which is rare to find in inter-species pairings.

Despite her quirks – indeed, because of them – Cricket has become an absolutely essential part of this family. When Mattie was first born, the Acquavivas took Cricket for nearly a month, and we truly realized just how much she had become a part of our lives. Even with a new baby, the house felt empty. I got up from my seemingly permanent place on the couch at least once a day to let her out, only to realize she wasn’t there. And when I slept, which didn’t happen often but did happen, I missed her presence. She was supposed to be tucked against my legs, and I would wake up wondering where she was before remembering that she was with my parents-in-law.

When we got her back, it was like our family was finally complete. She behaves beautifully around Mattie, which was somewhat surprising given her natural exuberance and energy. In the past year, they’ve become good friends. Now, they chase each other around the house. Mattie will run up and tag Cricket, who will gamely follow him when Mattie turns and runs away. When she noses him, he turns around and chases her. This game continues until Mattie gets distracted, at which point Cricket licks his hand and goes back to napping or playing with Sophie.

This morning, I slept in a bit because I’ve been ill. Michael got up with Mattie, and let me sleep for nearly an hour…he only woke me when he had to leave for class. When he did, I realized that Cricket was with me, and had tucked herself into the curve of my thighs and stomach, with her chin resting on my outstretched arm. Her breath was even, and deep, and I couldn’t help spending a minute snuggling her before I got up. When I did, she followed me downstairs and waited patiently for me to get Mattie settled with toys and start coffee before letting her out. It struck me just how vital she is to us as a family.

I am something like her best friend, but Michael is her father. She truly worships him, following him everywhere and waiting for him to return home when he’s gone. Mattie is her brother, and Sasha and Sophie her sisters. It seems now as if we’ve always had her, and when I think back to our time at the Nittany Gardens apartment I remember it as if she were indeed with us. She’s carved a place for herself in our hearts, and nothing else can fill it. This is the same way I feel about Michael, and he about me.

Today, when I was thinking about writing this post, Michael told me that he was looking through photos to decide what to put in an album. He came across a photo of him in Austin, Texas, from 2006 – when we knew each other but weren’t dating. He showed it to me and said, “dude, we should go back there, just us this time.” When I said that I hadn’t gone, he spent a few minutes trying to convince me otherwise before he conceded that I was right. He said to me, “it seems as though you’ve always been with me.” I burst out laughing, and said “that’s how I feel about Cricket!” much to his amused dismay.

Once I explained that yes, I felt that way about him too, we got to reminiscing about our time with Cricket. I asked him for a favorite memory or story about her, and he said this: “I don’t know…she’s Cricket. She’s been with us, at our sides, since day one. How can you pick a favorite when she has just always been her perfect little Cricket self?”

He’s right. There’s no way to pick a favorite memory – it’d be like picking a favorite moment with Michael, or with my son. She’s a part of us now, and always will be. Today I’m grateful for Cricket…grateful that my crazy pregnancy hormones led me to the shelter at just the right time to find her, and that her personality was so perfectly suited to ours. We’d have loved any dog, but Cricket fits. She is friend, playmate, companion, and daughter to me, and every day I’m blessed to have her in my life.

And now I get the great honor and pleasure of watching my son grow up with the best dog in the world for a companion. A huge smile wells up in me when I think that they will grow together, and that some day he may have a dog of his own, but he’ll always think back to that “perfect dog”, our Cricket.