Another exhausting, taxing parenting effort on my part:

Being more aware of what I'm saying in earshot of Gideon.

Recently he asked, "Mommy, what's a dick move?"

We were in a car, listening to a radio program (not of my choosing) and I verbalized my reaction to a commenter who suggested President Obama should refuse the Nobel Peace Prize.

Come on, that WOULD be a dick move.

But there must be some other way to phrase such a sentiment.

I know in my heart of hearts there must be another way.

Is there a charm school for profane parents?

Preferably one that offers online classes.

my popeye

This week is pink eye.

Not me, Gideon.

Or at least not me yet.

You ever try putting eye drops in a little kid's eye?

3 times a day?

It got a lot easier after the first time.

When after 20 minutes I gave up with the soothing talk and jellybean bribery.

And held his head down and barked "Stop squirming!"

Some times Menacing Mommy has to make an appearance.

That's a Jungian Archetype.

Look it up.

When Gideon was done screaming he said, "Wow, that didn't hurt at all. I didn't even feel it."

How could he? What's one more drop in an eye full of tears?

I knew he had pink eye that morning when he woke and couldn't open his eye.

It was crusted shut.

He wouldn't let me put a warm wash cloth on it.

He insisted it was all good, he still had the other eye.

I let him go around the house one-eyed for 2 hours.

He insisted he was perfectly content.

But he seemed awfully happy after I finally cleaned it.

After he was done crying.

Our pediatrician better hurry up and get the H1N1 vaccinations.

Clearly the Livingston-Morrow abode would not survive the swine flu.

Clearly we are just too ridiculous.

critic

Gideon said my poetry and book publishing make me boring.

He said I need to get all the "crazy talk" out of my head.

He also regularly criticizes my wardrobe.

He says my clothes need more flowers.

He's been experimenting with his own style lately.

Last week it was a touch of goth influence (black shirt with flame sleeves, plastic skull ring)

This is what he was wearing when he left the house today.




Maybe a little Hunter S Thompson?

(Minus all the "crazy talk")

Chinese Fortune Sticks

1st: You will soon best a rival -- Ooh boy, bring it on!

2nd: An event will soon bring you money -- Yes, on Thursday I'm reading at Hobart & Smith Colleges. These sticks are really accurate.

3rd: You will soon have to choose between 2 friends -- Should have stopped at 2 fortune sticks. I always push my luck, don't I? Ok then, I will remain in Fate's sturdy hands by making my selection via coin toss.

I haven't written a poem since I started this blog. While this break lasted a little longer than I expected, I'm have no anxiety or concern about it. Some of my friends bemoan when they go any length of time without writing. I tell them they're being ridiculous (which usually pisses them off, but I know I'm right). I don't believe we're supposed to be nonstop poem-production machines. The downtime is when we recharge, when we unconsciously incubate. We can't rush that. Not without consequences. If we don't recharge, it shows in our work. I wrote the last poem for God Damsel on April 30. This summer and early fall I've been editing and revising. I'm close to finishing. I can feel the hamsters in my brain back in their wheels. It's noisy in there again.

I mentioned here that I've been dreaming a lot of death and pregnancy these past couple months. Those are becoming fewer. Last night I had two dreams. The first one I dreamed that Gideon opened a box and let out all the animal-flies. The crocodile-fly grew full size and bit my arm. Crocodiles and snakes occasionally bite me in dreams, so I'm kinda used to it. My second dream was about writing poems again. The first one was long and ended with an exclamation to Harriet! I was quite emphatic about that. Then I started my second poem, something about that story being over in my life.

I guess that's my cue.

Delirious Lapel is a new forum curated by Danielle Pafunda and Mark Wallace addressing the issue "This is What a (Pro)Feminist [Man Poet] Looks Like." Every weekday this week three new responses are being posted. It's like the "This is what a feminist [poet] looks like" except the essays are written by gentlemen poets instead of lady poets.

We all have our preferred labels, those are mine. It's OK if you don't like my labels. Your labels are valid too.

I appreciate the gentlemen poets who took the time to think about and respond to the invitation. I understand the possible trepidation entering a conversation where one may be perceived as culpable to a problem or appearing as if one is trying to make it all about himself or take over. There's a million ways to respond to the topic and I'm approaching each response with interest and curiosity.

The response posted so far that resonates with me the most is Hugh Behm-Steinberg's because he directly addresses what some do not. I can't help it. I love a man who takes action. He's taking action on a situation some (here I'm speaking in general) spend a lot effort avoiding or denying. Hugh writes of how he sees himself fitting into both a problem and a solution and how he actively addresses it as both a teacher and editor. I find this valuable for a number of reasons.

One is it helps me frame my own part and participation as an editor in the wider scheme. I'm partial to useful and constructive. These past few years I've put my editorial work under more internal scrutiny than I had before. Where am I doing well? So-so? Where am I sucking? How do I address the so-so and suck? What am I trying to do? What message am I sending out? Where do I go from here? type stuff. Maybe every editor does this, but I don't hear a lot of editors talk about it. Well, who walks into a room and announces "Check out this huge zit on nose"? Maybe a masochist. You put that out there, you can expect others to step up and tell you exactly why you have a huge zit on your nose and what you should be doing about it. Although often that can be useful and constructive, if one can get past that the only person who said "Oh, that's really small, hardly noticeable!" is the person with a boogar swaying from his nostril.

Another reason Hugh's response gives me solace is because he perceives a role for himself. Whenever an issue affects a part of the community, is it every members' responsibility to find ways to do his small part to make improvements? Even if it he doesn't perceive it as directly affecting him? Or should he do anything at all if possibly it indirectly gives him an advantage through no fault or doing of his own? Is feeling guilt enough? And if one doesn't see it as his responsibility, is that because he doesn't consider those who are directly affected to be part of his community? Who do we consider to be part of our tribe and who are the others? Or is it one big tribe with multiple layers of hierarchy? Is it a pre-divided pie chart? Is it not his concern because he thinks other people within the community should address it, not him because ________? Or does he blame those who are adversely affected for not doing ________? Or does he view it as all circumstances out of his control?

My feeling is that if you recognize and are bothered by a problem, then you should work towards a solution, no matter how seemingly small or insignificant your role may seem. And if you don't recognize a problem and/or are not bothered by it, then do nothing and stay out of the way of those who are addressing the problem that is not your responsibility. Unless of course, you consider those addressing a problem to be creating another problem. Maybe the "problem" isn't really a problem. Maybe the "problem" is really a good thing? I suppose if one believes that, that's quite a good reason to discourage others from making their own adjustments.

Rauan Klassnik's Stupid Drawings . . . introducing Reb Livingston.