my brother the turkey farmer

My family is full of celebrities. My brother Jon Bermon is a farmer in Rochester at Aberdeen Hill Farm. He treats his turkeys better than he used to treat me when we were kids, that's for sure. Remember when you tied me to the pole in the basement and turned the lights out? I'll bet you don't tie up your turkeys in the dark, and that's good for the turkey and the turkey eater. Anyway, I forgive you because I do yoga now. It's good to see that my big brother has grown up into such a respectable member of society. My mother must be kvelling all over her Jones New York outlet cardigan. I'm not a big meat eater, but Jonathan has the right idea with the humane treatment and the local food movement. Please watch the video and buy his meat. That's what she said.

toughskins

"What are you lookin' at?"

Seriously. 

This morning in the mad dash to get the kids to school on time, I ran upstairs to throw on a pair of jeans, leaving them to their own TV-less devices only to return downstairs to find four-year old Hamish screaming for help, his leg stuck between the wall and the bed where his two-year old sister Stella had pushed him. That's what you get for not putting your socks on when I told you the first ninety times. And yet, how many times does Stella shriek with rage because her big brudder knocked her down, took her shoe, closed the door on her? Many, my friends. My new mantra, other than, "You gotta let that go," is "They're supposed to be irritating." It truly helps. And so do your comments. Go us.   

USA!

The kids don't know what to do with me. Mom, dancing at 8 A.M.? Before her coffee? For freakin' out loud, what is going on? "Oh! Bama, Oh! Bama, he's the new president, the new president," I sing, skipping around Hamish's room this morning. His response? "I'm hungry." Everyone I talk to can't believe the relief they feel, we didn't know how stressed we were until California's polls closed at 11 P.M. last night. I didn't go to bed until 2 A.M. and this morning Stella woke up crying at 7 because  she peed in her bed and I couldn't be happier.

In the shower, I remember one of my favorite songs from The Wiz, "Can't you! feel a! Brand new day! Can't you! feel a! Brand new day-ay!" Who the hell am I anymore? What happened to the surly reluctant mom I once was, in America's dark age, just yesterday?

I feel the pride of, well, of a mother for our country for the choice we so clearly made. As my friend Danielle wrote on her facebook page, "I am so gay for America right now." I wish I'd said it first. I hope I can communicate the hugeness of this day to Hamish and Stella. The historical landmark it is, how it fills otherwise jaded and cynical grown-ups with the same wonder a child is naturally made of, and maybe, just maybe I can get Hamish to sit and watch Obama's acceptance speech and show him what class and humility and grace and brilliance really look like.