Hey Bulldog!

On Friday evening, UGA VI, the beloved University of Georgia mascot, died. A couple of years ago, I had the great privilege of interviewing UGA's owners, Sonny and Cecelia Seiler, for Atlanta Dog Life magazine.

I'm publishing that story here now in honor of UGA. Even if you're not a college sports fan or a Georgia fan, the story of how the UGA tradition came to be is sweet and endearing.

When Cecelia Gunn met Sonny Seiler during the University of Georgia’s annual “Stunt Night”, the two could never have predicted the impact their meeting would have on the university they both so dearly loved.

Wed on a fall Saturday in 1955 in Columbus, Ga., the Seilers celebrated their nuptials by flying to Florida for the Georgia-Florida football game. “Georgia lost and it nearly ruined the honeymoon,” Cecelia reveals.

A few months later, in April 1956, a family friend of Cecelia’s named Frank Heard called the couple and told them he had a wedding gift for them: a solid white English Bulldog puppy. The Seilers accepted the gift, moving him into their cramped apartment. They named the dog UGA – an acronym for the University of Georgia -- at the suggestion of one of Sonny’s law school friends, Billy Young. Sonny recalls that for many months UGA was a gangly pup. “He looked more like a Boxer than a Bulldog.” However, by fall, he had begun to fill out his frame with the classic Bulldog stockiness.

That September, on a lark, the couple took their young pup with them to a pre-game party at the Sigma Chi house where Sonny had been a member. It was the day of Georgia’s first home game that season. Wearing a child-sized t-shirt with an appliquéd letter “G” that Cecelia had made for him, UGA was the hit of the party. He proved so popular that the Seilers decided to take him to the game. According to Sonny, a few sportswriters saw the dog in the stands and soon photographs of the adorable Bulldog pup with the cute clothes and the perfect name made their way into local papers. And so, a family pet was on his way to becoming one of the most recognized and beloved icons in the history of football.

Fifty years later the tradition set in motion that autumn day proves stronger than ever. A brand new documentary called “Damn Good Dog” celebrates the life and accomplishments of the six Bulldogs named UGA, following the history of the Seiler family and their canine companions. Likenesses of UGA abound, from figurines to wall art, stuffed animals to your basic college sweatshirt. Despite whatever your own college affiliation may be, if you live in Georgia, there’s no escaping the presence -- or impact -- of UGA.

But what is life really like for this family dog turned celebrity mascot? If UGA VI, the current University of Georgia mascot, could talk, he’d probably tell you that life is good and being UGA is a pretty good job…if you can get it.

Each of the six Bulldogs from UGA I through UGAVI has been raised and treated as a family pet, living at the Seilers’ home, napping on the couch, playing with first their children and now their grandchildren. Because the dogs are their pets, the Seilers have always been responsible for their care and upkeep, from food to vet bills. And, as UGA's managers, so to speak, they have also always been responsible for getting him to the games, driving from Savannah to Athens for home games and ensuring he’s available to travel with the team to away games.

The Seilers continued to take UGA to games throughout that first fall. Soon, the university’s Sports Information Director, Dan Magill, became aware of the solid white Bulldog. When the time came to make an official selection of a new mascot, Magill recommended to Athletic Director Wally Butts that UGA receive the job. The fact that UGA was a direct descendant of the team’s Rose Bowl mascot from several years prior helped seal the deal. Sonny Seiler, who worked in the Athletic Department ticket office, recalls being called to Butts’s office. “My first thought was ‘What have I done to get fired?’.” When he actually spoke to Coach Butts, Seiler was relieved to find out Butts simply wanted to ask him his thoughts on having his dog become the football team mascot. “I was honored,” Seiler says humbly.

The Seilers took their commitment to the university seriously. When the time came for them to move back to Savannah at the end of Sonny’s third year of law school, Sonny met with Coach Butts to explain how much UGA meant to their family and to suggest that the family be allowed to keep the dog, with the commitment to be at every game. “Our oldest daughter Swann had come along at that point. So I explained to Coach Butts that this dog had become an integral part of our family. I said, ‘He and my little girl are growing up together and I would like to propose that you let us keep him and I promise I will have him at every game.’ Coach Butts just smiled and said, ‘Sounds like a good idea to me, Sonny.’”

From that point on, a succession of Seiler family pets have served as the University of Georgia mascots, sharing in the triumphs and glories, as well as in the more challenging times. Each dog – hand-picked by Cecelia Seiler from pups born of the same bloodline extending back to UGA I – has had his share of accomplishments. UGA I launched the legacy, earning the epithet “Damn Good Dog” when the crowd spontaneously erupted into that chant at his retirement ceremony. UGA II had the briefest tenure, but enjoyed two SEC titles (1966, 1968). UGA III, who served from 1973 until 1980, seems to have brought the team the most success, with two SEC titles (1975, 1980), a National Championship (1980), and the most victories over ranked opponents (12). UGA IV became the first team mascot to attend the Heisman Trophy awards in 1982, when he flew to New York aboard Delta Airlines along with teammate and eventual winner of the award, Herschel Walker.

Yet, it was UGA V who gained the most notoriety of any of the dogs. Although the UGAs have always been beloved icons within the state, symbolizing the gumption and determination of the school’s Bulldog Spirit, UGA V was cast into the national spotlight the day in 1996 he lunged at Auburn running back Robert Baker. On the final play in the first quarter of the game, Baker scored on a six-yard pass that put Auburn ahead. As Baker ran out of bounds into the end zone, UGA V lunged at the player’s groin, standing on his hind legs and straining to reach Baker. According to Charles Seiler, UGA’s handler and the Seilers’ only son, the dog was merely being playful. To Georgia fans and the nation at large who saw the scene replayed over and over again on ESPN and in photographs printed in countless sports pages, the image of UGA going after an Auburn player represented the relentless spirit with which Georgia takes on one of its fiercest rivals every season. The dog’s popularity soared even further when Sports Illustrated named him “America’s Best College Mascot” in April 1997. His appearance playing his dad, UGA IV, in the Clint Eastwood-directed thriller “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil,” also added to his fame.

Still, each dog has been “treated just like a dog at home,” according to Cecelia. And of course, each family member has had his or her own favorite. Oldest daughter Swann grew up with UGA I and recalls that he followed her everywhere. To her, he was “the most loving of all the UGAs.” Mom Cecelia favored IV for his “perfect” looks while proud papa Sonny says that he does not have a favorite. “I loved them all and miss them all. They’re pets and they’re all very dear to me,” he says.

Over the last fifty years the family has loved and been loved by six truly great dogs, each adding his own unique contributions to the UGA legacy. They have stood beside each dog, loving and nurturing them through health crises, like UGA II’s near-death experience with heatstroke following Picture Day and the battle with leukemia that ultimately took his life. UGA III suffered from dry-eye, a condition common among English Bulldogs, and required surgery to place a saliva gland in his eye for tear production. Charles Seiler recalls, “UGA III would cry whenever he smelled food.”

Thanks to the University of Georgia School of Veterinary Medicine and medical advances, each successive UGA has enjoyed better health. Thanks to the Seilers they, like many modern dogs, enjoy the finest in creature comforts. The last several UGAs have enjoyed the comfort of their own air-conditioned doghouses. UGA VI, the reigning mascot, even rides in ease with his own custom-designed luxury golf cart, thanks to EZ-Go Golf Carts. According to Sonny, UGA recognizes the sound of the cart’s engine and starts barking excitedly, ready to go for a ride.

Sonny Seiler vows that his family will carry on the tradition of raising and caring for the school mascot as long as the university welcomes it. The family receives no compensation for its efforts and donates all royalties from UGA’s activities and endorsements to the University of Georgia. In fact, they even buy their own season tickets to football games. Clearly, this is a family truly committed to its dogs and its alma mater.

Long live the Seilers! Long live these Damn Good Dogs!

William Tell

Remember the mom with the funny song to the tune of the William Tell Overture (or if your memory is like mine The Lone Ranger theme song)?

Well, her name is Anita Renfroe and I just learned she's from right here in the ATL, y'all. She's doing full-time standup now, touring, and she just released a new DVD. Can you imagine, going from la-la-la, I'm a stay-at-home-mom and I write witty little songs about my life and the goofy things my kids do to I'm a full-time, on tour, stand-up comedienne with my own d-buh-d, as my son would say.

Actually, I guess I can imagine that, because I would love for that to happen for Scott's musical career.

Here's some of her new act. (She's being sponsored by LUVS Diapers, who by the way, have a limited-time coupon on their web site for $5 off their diapers. ) I don't know if you recall, but I got some free samples of LUVS quite some time ago and was really pleasantly surprised by them. I actually have to go out of my way to find them since they don't sell them at Publix here, but I may have to. Lately everything leaks on Beckett and those are one of the brands that don't leak on my little chunkamunk. If only they made pull-ups.

Alright, enough! Here's the video:

Look Out Cleveland

Apropos of nothing, I thought I'd let those of y'all in the ATL know about a couple of my honey's upcoming gigs.

He'll be playing at Kavarna in Decatur/Oakhurst on July 12. This should be a great show. It's part of the Atlanta Songwriters' Showcase and he'll be playing with Jim Combs, Eudora June, and Moses Atwood.

He's also playing at a very new, very cool space called Underneath on July 26. Underneath is a listening room built and run by the guitarist for the band Vortex Park. It's the ideal place for acoustic music... seats 32, professional light and sound, stage. And for the guests, your ticket price includes beer and wine. Oh yeah. Good times, y'all!

Seriously, though, you might not be able to find a more intimate venue in this town short of a friend's living room. If you enjoy good music and you believe in supporting local music, I strongly encourage you to come to this show. You can get your tickets here.

And, my beloved loyal readers, you'll get to meet me! How cool would that be?

Oh yeah! And if you are one of my deeply appreciated and loyal readers and you're not in Atlanta, please pass this on to your music lovin' friends who do reside here and encourage them to come.

Different But the Same

How is it that two children borne of the same parents, with the same essential genetic makeup, can be so very different? Night and day may be a cliché, but if the cliché fits....

This morning in the wee, wee hours, Beckett awoke in tears, gums aching with the pain of sharp new baby teeth poking through their delicate surface. At 2 a.m. I was in his room, giving him Tylenol and a bottle. He had already awoken at 12:15 screaming with what we thought at the time was a nightmare. Scott brought him into our bed where he cuddled sleepily, chewing the tail of his beloved puppy dawg and giving us the sweetest smiles. When he seemed sleepy enough I put him back in his crib and he settled in cuddling his doggie.

Just as I was drifting off while watching Conan interview a stripper bellydancer, I was snapped back to the here and now with more screaming. This time, I went in and just tried stroking his hair and he settled down, until I walked out his door to go back to bed. I thought, "He always puts himself back to sleep, so I'll just let him cry it out and he'll be fine." Ha!

He cried for over 10 min. and I couldn't take it. Even burying my head couldn't help me escape. This is entirely unusual for Beckett who has been an excellent sleeper from day one. So, I ended up, back in Beck's room. This time I brought the big guns. Tylenol. A bottle. And cuddly time.

I lifted him from the crib and we settled in the cozy blue velvet chair in his room where we sit to read before his nap every day. I just cradled him in my arms and stroked his hair and forehead while he smiled sleepily up at me and played with my face. He talked softly to him and massaged his jaw and cheekbones. Before long he was very relaxed and starting to drift off so I put him back into his bed where he settled in peacefully and was asleep almost instantly.

With Brendan, I would have been up until 5 a.m. He would never let me sit and cuddle him and ease him back into sleep. He would have screamed at the top of his lungs the entire time, taking the bottle, but batting away the Tylenol. Instead of sitting quietly and rocking, I would have had to pace the floor until I was ready to drop. Each time he quieted and I would try to sit with him or place him back into his crib, he would start screaming again. And this would repeat until I finally just gave up and put him down on the floor with some toys, lying down beside him, and praying he would wear himself out quickly.

And this went on for three years, more or less.

Why are they so different?

There are many other ways.

By this age, Brendan was playing much more independently. He was taller and thinner. Their interests, too, were very different. Brendan has always noticed details. From the time he was six months old he would look up at the sky and point out airplanes, helicopters, birds, and bugs. He would pick flowers and give them to me and point at any little thing that caught his eye and want us to tell him what it was. And he's still like that today.

Beckett could walk past an airplane parked in the driveway and not notice it I think. He's much more about the experience of things. He's very physical and wants to climb on everything, including you.

I'm just constantly amazed at how different two members of the same family can be, especially siblings. Still, they are alike in one very important way.... They both exhibit a very great capacity to show love and joy. They both love each other very much and have fun together. So for now, their differences don't really matter.

They just fascinate me. And sometimes I wonder if it's that they are so very different or if it's me who's changed.

So, I'd love to know if you see major differences in your children. Are you and your siblings different? How did those differences affect your relationship? Did your parents try to make you or your siblings more like one another or compare you?

Jesus Loves the Little Children

Have I told you all how much I loved going to Vacation Bible School when I was a child?

Well, if I haven't, you should know that going to VBS was the highlight of my summer for several consecutive summers. There were a few years when I went to the one at my church and one at the big new Church of Christ in my hometown. I don't know exactly what it was, but I loved going.

Brendan is going to VBS this week at our church. It's a very different experience than the one I remember, but even better.

At our church it isn't actually called Vacation Bible School. It's called Kaleidoscope.

It's a huge program with probably 200 kids ranging in age from 4 to 12. Each age/class is designated as a different country or ethnic group. The children spend the week learning about their country and how Catholics in that country or that particular group worship God. If Christianity is not the dominant religion in that country, they may briefly touch on the other religions and how they worship God. They learn about the saints from that country. Culture. Food. Art and Music. It's really neat.

Last year – Brendan's first attending – he was a Native American. This year, his class is Ireland. I've loved hearing him tell me about how St. Patrick chased the snakes out of Ireland with his drum; about how a leprechaun has wrecked the classroom every day when the kids have left for snack time; his interpretation of the story about Jesus and Zacchaeus (it involved Zacchaeus stealing everyone's money and Jesus telling him to give it back.).

I don't guess he's going to become Pope overnight or anything, but I love that this experience has him thinking about and relating to God on a level he can understand. The one thing I really dislike about our church is that there is no Sunday School for children who haven't started Kindergarten yet. And I haven't met a 4-year or 5-year old yet who can sit through a homily and get much out of it. So, Kaleidoscope offers a terrific opportunity for the younger kids to connect in a way that makes sense to them.

Of course, Brendan tends to focus on the outrageous aspects of any thing he learns or hears. This week I've had to answer questions about who killed Jesus and why, whether or not St. Patrick was killed, as well as whether or not a leprechaun would wreck Santa's workshop. He also informed me that Santa has a factory, not a workshop.

I can't wait to hear what he comes home with today.

The Parting Glass

In one of those other lives I would have loved to lead if I hadn't stumbled into this one, I would have been involved in politics somehow. Probably as a reporter. My idols are Molly Ivins, Cokie Roberts, Mark Shields, Al Hunt, Bob Schieffer, James Carville, Paul Begala, and George Stephanopolous. And of course, Tim Russert.

His death saddens me more than I could have imagined the death of someone I didn't know personally could. I literally sat at a traffic light and bawled when I heard on Friday evening that he had died.

Tim Russert took over Meet the Press in 1991, just when I was becoming immersed in politics as an adult. I have always been a news and politics junkie. I remember watching the evening news as a very small child and asking my grandmother questions and listening as the adults around me talked politics. It sure seemed to happen a lot more back then than it does in my life now.

My whole life, politics has mattered to me, but it was when I graduated from college and saw how politics was not just some idealistic belief system that affected other people, but rather, was something that had a direct impact on my life that I really became impassioned.

Russert was there. One of the first pundits I looked to to learn from and hear discussions that didn't dance around a matter, but delved deeply into the essence of whatever the discussion was, whether it was universal health care or war in the Middle East or simply being a decent human being.

I think Tim Russert was probably one of those people who really is just too good for this world. By all accounts he was exactly the kind of guy you would want as your son, your father, your husband, or your pal.

I feel awful for his wife, his son, and of course, his dad. I can't imagine what life would be like after losing someone who clearly had such a big and impactful personality. It's a space that can't be filled.

I think the world is a little less nice knowing that such a good-hearted, joyful, passionate person no longer resides here. But I bet Heaven just got a little smarter.

Going to the Chapel

I don't know a lot of folks getting married or burying themselves deep in their wedding planning these days.

If I did, I would tell them about this new organization I just learned about today: it's called I Do Foundation. With the tagline, Celebrate Generously, I Do Foundation makes it easy for brides and grooms (and their guests) to give to their favorite charity in honor of their wedding day.

Right now, brides and grooms creating bridal registries with Target, Cooking.com, REI, or Linens and Things, can give up to 10% of the purchase price of gifts bought off their registries to the charity of their choice.

How cool is that?!

I understand that giving is supposed to be a sacrifice and should teach us something real about the nature of giving and maybe even ourselves. But I also like it when companies find unique ways of giving that allow us to feel good about shopping with them.

So, if you have friends or families planning their weddings right now, let them know about this easy way to turn their wedding into a gala fundraiser for their favorite charity.

None of Us are Free

I suspect that if I were receiving a report card today, it would say does not play well with others. And after reflecting on this, I think I've always been this way, to some extent.

I do not like being part of a team. I want to be given a project and told to go at it. If I have to work with someone else, I want them to do their part and let me do mine and for them to keep their mouths shut and not tell me what they think about my work. And I'll do the same.

Now, why am I on about this, you ask? Well, I started a new job. There's the boss, who can give me feedback. That's part of the inherent, unspoken contract between a boss and an employee. There's a tech guy. And there's me... the marketer, the writer.

The tech guy thinks he can criticize my writing. And that pisses me the hell off. Especially when the writing is on a blog.

Ah ha! That was an example of exactly the thing he'd criticize... a sentence fragment.

I'll be more specific. I have a new job as the part-time marketing director for a small company. I am writing a blog on the subject matter of that company. I have worked with the tech guy on the blog because it's on WordPress at his suggestion and I am finding WordPress very user-unfriendly and ugly and it doesn't handle text well, etc. So, I've lots of questions.

Because it's a blog and I'm ghostwriting it, I've tried to find a way to match the conversational tone of my boss and keep it readable. I'm writing about specific subject matter and I need to sound like I know what I'm talking about without being stuffy or pompous. As I've shown here, I think that a blog is a conversation. And I tend to write in a conversational tone, phrasing things as I would say them if I were speaking to friends. I do not write in the formal manner, using all the conventions of correct grammar, as I would were I writing an English paper or an article for a magazine or speaking in front of a group of English professors who weren't also my friends. (You would be shocked at how many of my friends and Scott's are actually English professors.)

In writing this other blog, which has kept me away from here for more than a week, I think, I have used a sentence fragment for effect. I have begun a sentence with And (more than once), also for effect, and I have been soundly called out for those things by Mr. Techy-Smartypants. To my boss!

I met him for the first time yesterday and he gave off a cold and smug vibe that really rubbed me the wrong way. During the meeting, I learned that my boss is hiring another writer who was recommended by this tech guy, who by the way, I now think is a dirty louse for recommending another writer.

My boss says I shouldn't be insulted. He wants me to manage the marketing efforts and not write. But I love writing. LOVE IT. It is the one thing, other than my family and friends, that I am passionate about. Marketing is just something I do. Not what I love... what I wake up thinking about in the middle of the night. I don't compose marketing plans in the shower every day, but I do mentally write... fictional stories, blog posts, love letters to my husband and children, letters to congresspeople, magazine articles.

I know that if I were a better person, a team player, as it were, I'd be egoless about this. I would believe this is what is best for the business and I will be able to focus my efforts on generating great marketing ideas every day if I don't have to write the blog and web content. But I'm not there. I'm not selfless and egoless. I do believe I am a better writer than anyone else my boss will hire. I went to Agnes Freakin' Scott, dammit! No one trains better writers than Agnes Scott.

So, now that we're clear... Dawn doesn't play well with others and thinks she's a better writer than 95% of the people available to be hired as writers and she doesn't like being corrected by know-it-all techies... I feel much better. And I hope you don't think less of me for venting about it. Or for actually having the feelings in the first place. I never claimed to be perfect, right?

I will see letting go of the writing aspects of the job as an opportunity to focus those energies here and on other writing projects and I will try to see focusing on the marketing efforts as my actual job and the building up of those muscles.

Wish me the best.

*Tech dude actually criticized me for writing directly into the blog, as opposed to using a text editor and cutting and pasting. First of all, if WordPress actually came with a built-in spell check it wouldn't matter, and second of all, he must not know who he's talking to. I can only compare it to folks who do crosswords in pencil.

So, y'all, how do you write? Directly into the blog or with a text editor? Do tell, because I think he's insane and presumptuous to believe that I would need to do that.

Summer Lovin'

It seems like we've been going non-stop since school got out.

Brendan has been having swimming lessons once or twice a week. Rather than go with group lessons at the Y or the local swim club, I'm having the captain of the swim team at one of our many neighborhood pools teach him. She's very sweet and although he was afraid to put his face in, by the third lesson, he was jumping into the deep end and going under. After each lesson he has begged to stay and play in the water and we have although we're not members. I've been surprised at how easy it is to find a friend and ask if we can stay as their guests. Everyone in our neighborhood is so friendly and so willing to help a friend out. I love it here!

Beckett, too, loves the pool, which has surprised me since he hates baths. Go figure. Kids are full of surprises.

Brendan also gave me a big surprise this week. He's at a day camp at his old preschool all week. After the second day he came home and asked me who he was going to marry then proceeded to tell me the names of two of his female friends that he thought he'd like to marry some day. I have no idea where this came from, by the way.

He then decided that he preferred one of the girls to the other. The girl he picked is named Brynn and she was in his preschool class the previous two years but I don't know her well. He is so infatuated with her that he asked me if he could take flowers to her today. Yesterday, he came home and told me that he played with her during free play time and he shared his Play-Doh with her when she ran out.

I knew he was sensitive, but I had no idea we had raised such a little romantic.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. His dad is a pretty romantic guy and loves giving presents and doing thoughtful things for me. On the 10th anniversary of the day we met, Scott recorded the Beatles' song Michelle, which is my middle name and one of my favorite songs and surprised me with the recording.

And Brendan has shown that kind of consideration toward me and toward his friends in the past. At Christmas, he insisted that Scott let him buy me a small jewelry box because he thought it was pretty and he had heard me say I wanted a jewelry box before.

I thought little boys were supposed to think girls were gross at this age. Perhaps it comes of having had so many female friends since he was an infant, but Brendan shows no such misogynistic bearings as yet. Hopefully, all of this will turn into a fine respect and admiration of the opposite sex that leads him to get along well with everyone. Right now, though, it's pretty darned cute to see him crushing on his little friend and planning such grand romantic gestures when he's such a little person.

Last Words

My friend and esteemed fellow blogger Jeremy provided this link in the comments section to my last post. But it's such a great article that I don't want anyone who might be interested to miss it.

Here is Paul Begala*'s take on Hillary and the media.

*Paul Begala is my geeky political crush. Just like Josh Lyman on The West Wing. What can I say? I love smart guys.

32 Flavors

I am going to preface this by saying that I think Barack Obama will make a fine POTUS and I am happy to vote for him come November. I will also say that I am appalled by the idiocy of some who say they will vote for McCain because their candidate, i.e. Hilary Clinton, did not win the nomination of the Democratic party.

Now, that said, I will say that this race opened my eyes to the role that gender politics still play in this country. Before the primaries began, I thought it would be much more difficult for rich black man to get elected than for a rich white woman. I thought the country was much more racially biased than gender biased, even though I have had my own personal experiences with sexual harassment and sexual bias in the workplace.

But having heard the attacks on Clinton when she showed emotion after the New Hampshire primary and heard female pundits criticize Hilary for her appearance when they never would say the same things about a male candidate was shocking and frustrating. Of course, in hindsight, I think the media would attack a man for showing any emotion other than anger, too. As a nation, we seem incredibly uncomfortable with any sincere expression of emotion that isn't behind closed doors. But that's another post.

Right now, seeing clearly that we are unwilling to elect a woman and that the media willingly participates in the sexist stereotyping of female candidates (and the wives of male candidates) and that members of the so-called unbiased media hold blatantly misogynistic views, I am disheartened.

Only when it becomes as politically incorrect to label a woman a bitch or criticize gender as it is to focus on skin color, ethnicity, or religion will we be able to elect a woman.

And if you want to argue that it is politically incorrect and unacceptable in the media and our culture to make sexist comments, check out this video put together by the Women's Media Center:

Summer Days

It is difficult for me to believe that what passes for summer today is in any way related to the summers I knew as a child. Although many of my memories are blurred around the edges, others remain pristine in their clarity and I play them out in my mind like an old home movie.

There I am, riding my bike around the neighborhood or to the park, alone. I'm probably nine. I ride my bike to my friend Neece's (pronounced like niece-y, short for Glenice) house and then we go to get a couple of other friends and soon a group of four or five girls tear through the neighborhood, pedaling as fast as we can, pretending to be Charlie's Angels or the Dukes of Hazzard.

I see a blanket of sunny days with brown-skinned arms and legs that would merit being told I was brown as a biscuit. Mornings spent helping my grandmother in her garden followed by afternoons of playing tag or shadow tag, kickball and baseball with my cousins and the other kids our age in the neighborhood. A box elder tree, mailbox, a stone, and a silver maple tree served as our bases. After lunch, we'd walk to the store where 50 cents bought a Coke and a candybar or pack of Now and Laters or a pack of candy cigarettes. The afternoons bled into evenings of running around in the yard catching lightning bugs and putting them in a mayonnaise jar with holes poked in the metal lid. Then, we'd sit on the porch and eat watermelon, spitting seeds out into the yard. Or maybe my aunt and uncle would show up and we'd pile into the car, barefoot and giggling and go to the lake where we'd grill hamburgers and skim stones as we watched the sun set.

And with the exception of helping my grandmother in the garden, or having a meal prepared for us, or interacting with the clerk at the store, or being driven somewhere, there was nary a grown-up in the picture. We were self-sufficient. And trusted. And confident and competent. Because our parents trusted us and trusted the world we lived in.

Now, at five I wasn't riding my bike through the neighborhood or walking to the store or park alone. But I was walking across the street to my friend Scotty's house. And I was playing outside for hours on end by myself. I'm sure my grandmother poked her head out once in a while to make sure I was still there, but she wasn't hovering over me, making sure I was engaged and entertained in something constructive. I didn't have a summer reading list or daily flash card time. I was free to imagine and be and create my own worlds where I was a race car driver or a mommy or a veterinarian or a doctor. I climbed trees and sang songs and chased the dog and had the opportunity to be a kid in ways I didn't always get to.

We blame video games and TV for our kids lack of activity and creativity; the rise in obesity, and all the rest of society's ills. But really? Isn't it our fault? We're the ones cowed by fear of bad things happening to our children if they're out of our sight for an instant. And we're the ones who either don't have the time or the inclination to get up and get out and do things.

I'm not saying I do. Clearly, I'm sitting here typing and sounding off on a perfectly gorgeous sunny morning. But, when I finish my coffee and Kashi, I do plan to get my boys outside today. At least for a while.

I may not be able to recreate my idealized summer, especially since school begins August 11 (thanks Mr. President for your stupid NCLB). But, I want to do my best to create some fun memories for these guys and to allow them the opportunities to make their own memories as they become capable and secure in their abilities to do so.

Rocky Top

One little known fact about me – at least to people I've met the last five years or so – is that I am a huge sports fan. I love college football and college basketball and professional baseball and the NBA and once upon a time had the space in my brain to store names and positions and statistics and oddball anecdotes.

Then, I had kids.

All the space I reserved for sports has been filled with other trivia after a long stint as cold storage thanks to sleep deprivation. Where once there was room in my brain to have an opinion on whether Manning or Helton should be the number two behind Jerry Colquitt or who Duke should start against St. John's, or whether or not the Braves should trade Maddux and Glavine, now I have a broad and deep knowledge of all things geek.

I can name 20 different Pokemon on sight or by charades. I can name most of the Autobots and tell you what kind of vehicle they transform into. I know my Triceratops from my apatosaurus . I know more backstory on Spiderman, Venom, Carnage, Iron Man, Wolverine, Captain America, Silver Surfer, Dr. Doom, and the Fantastic Four than I do on a lot of my friends.

Now, though, I'm so excited about college football again that I might have to eke out some room for it this year. And it's all thanks to this man.

David Cutcliffe, is no doubt, a great football coach. He has coached and mentored two of the best quarterbacks in history and at two different schools. But he's also a good man. He and his wife, Karen, took in their son Chris' best friend when the boy's mother died.

Last week, after reading a story about how Coach Cut was changing attitudes about football at Duke and holding the administration and other coaches accountable for treating the football program with the same respect they want, I felt compelled to send the man a note to let him know that Duke football fans are really excited by his presence. (At least those of us who are dyed in the wool college football fans (i.e. the ones from the South) are.) Attached to my e-mail was a photograph of me holding Brendan at his first Duke football game. I never expected to hear anything back at all.

The next day, I got an e-mail from Coach Cutcliffe's secretary telling me the coach had something he wanted to send me and asking for my home address.

A few days later, we received a nice handwritten note from the coach along with a copy of my original photograph, blown up and autographed by Coach Cutcliffe.

It was a very sweet gesture and he certainly didn't have to do it or have his staff do it. But I think it shows what a great guy he is and I am very excited to have him at Duke. I can't wait for August 30th.

Go Duke!

Mary, Mary

It's been almost a month since I planted my garden. I haven't taken any pictures of it since the first day.

I followed these guidelines for a beginner's vegetable garden on the Farmer's Almanac site to get started.

My neighbor, Mr. Martin, broke up the ground for me. He's an awesome neighbor with every kind of tool known to man just waiting around for someone to need it. After tilling the soil for me, he got out his chain saw and cut some branches off a couple of trees to let more sunlight into my garden space.

Once that was done, I amended the soil and got it ready to plant. All I did was put some lime down to counter the acidity of the pine needles that had previously covered the ground. The next day, I planted.

I planted pumpkins, yellow squash, cukes, tomatoes (cherry, Big Boy, and yellow), cantaloupes, leaf lettuce, carrots, beets, bush beans, zucchini, green onions, and I think that's all. I honestly don't remember and forgot to diagram it. So, we'll see.

Right now, everything I've named has sprouted. Some things (beans, squash, pumpkins, tomatoes) are thriving. The rest, not so much.

Send positive vibes my garden's way.

I'll keep you updated.

Summertime

Today is the last day of school for Brendan's class. It's hard to believe that he'll be a Kindergartner next year. It would be a cliche to say how fast the years have flown by. I still feel like I'm just getting to know him, my smart, beautiful, imaginative little guy. Every day he surprises me with his ability to show and receive love.

I remember that last summer he lamented the fact that he, unlike many of his other friends, did not have a best friend. His teacher last year commented that unlike some of the other boys in his class, Brendan sometimes liked to play alone. How it has warmed my heart to watch him blossom this year ... to see him make friends and laugh and have a good time, to learn to write, draw, and count, to be well-liked by his teachers and fellow students, to find a best friend.

The pictures in the attached slideshow are some I took at the pre-K end-of-year party on Wednesday. It was a pool party and the children could not have had more fun! They ran from pool to pool, played on the Slip 'N Slide, ate pizza and popsicles, and generally had about as much fun as I've ever seen a bunch of kids having. I feel really lucky that I got to be there.

One of my favorite pictures in the slideshow is of Brendan with his best friend, Kush. They love each other in such a pure, unconditional way. Everyday when they see each other they hug. On Saturday, Brendan found a box here that a toy had come in. On the outside of the package were pictures of Spiderman and Venom. Brendan loves Spidey, but so does Kush, so Brendan asked if we could cut out the picture of Spiderman and take it to his friend. Of course we did. I am proud of my loving and giving little fellow, yet simultaneously surprised at how loving and giving he can be. But I guess that's what you do for your best friend.

As always, though, I've gotten ahead of myself, hoping they'll remain friends for a long, long time. Who knows? We'll see. Right now, it just brings me joy to see these two sweet boys and their friendship.

We're All In This Thing Together

I spent a much-needed evening with my girlfriends last night, playing Bunco, laughing, talking, eating delicious food, and drinking rum punch.

I got a little of that patchwork mothering and gave some myself. Today, I feel as if a reset button has been punched and all is right with the world. At least my tiny piece of it. Sadly, that much can't be said of the world at large. I am saddened about what a tragic week or two it has been in the world at large.

Here, though, on this tiny plot of earth, for this moment at least, I feel safe, happy, loved, and loving.

I'm done acting like a spoiled brat.

All the kids who got into that class deserve to be there. Maybe especially the more challenging ones like E., the jumping-bean of a boy who can't sit still.

I thought a lot about the fact that just a few months ago I didn't even want to apply because I was worried that it would harm Brendan socially because he'd have the same classmates for the next six years. I thought about the fact that his best friend, Kush, also didn't get in and I hope they'll get to be in the same class next year.

Like I said, we all end up where we're meant to be. Somehow.

Brendan's teacher reaffirmed this belief this morning when she said that no matter what class he's in he will succeed and do well. It made me very proud and happy to hear the confidence in her voice when she said that. And looking across the room at E., as he climbed into the middle of the table where his classmates were trying to draw, I hoped that he, too, would thrive and find success where he lands.

Another Brick in the Wall

Brendan did not get into the magnet Kindergarten class. I'm somewhat surprised by how disappointed I was over this. Twenty-three students from our district applied for 10 spots, while 63 students from outside our district applied for the additional 10 spots.

Of the kids currently in Brendan's pre-K class, only four got in.

When I saw the list, the worst base aspects of my personality rose up. I couldn't help but notice that two of the three boys whose moms have an exclusive little clique going on got in. And the worst kid in the class. The one who by all observation should be in a special needs class because he literally cannot sit still for five minutes. The one who climbed over and under and around and behind every table, desk, cabinet, filing cabinet, and play structure in the classroom while another mom and I tried to conduct story time. The one that I had to carry out of the boys' bathroom the day I volunteered as a lunch monitor because he refused to come back to class. Yeah. He'll really get a lot out of five day a week French lessons and extra math and science.

Then, I took a deep breath and decided that this was for the best. Somehow, we all end up right where we are meant to be.

Now, I just hope Brendan gets one of the two remaining good Kindergarten teachers and not the one with a reputation for sticking the kids in front of a video when she doesn't feel like teaching. I don't think anyone is actually meant to end up there.

Motherless Child

I just stumbled on an extremely powerful and moving article over on CNN. It actually complements the post I wrote for Jen over at SemiCharmed Wife rather nicely.

It's about how to create a new mother for yourself if you feel like you haven't received the mothering you need. The article originally appeared in O Magazine. Author Martha Beck starts off by saying to change the way you think about the word mother so that you see it as a verb rather than a noun. Solid advice, I think.

Ultimately she goes on to suggest four lines of thought to determine if and where you still need mothering. I've listed her thought provoking statements below and follow each with my own initial reaction:

1) I feel useless, unlovable, and disgusting when ...
I lose my temper with my children and when I lose control over my domestic duties.

2) I feel empty and needy when ...
I am tired and sleep-deprived and feel like I have more to do than I can accomplish.

3) I feel stupid and ignorant when ....
I am late for appointments or forget events.

4) I feel helpless and incapable when ...
I have to ask for help completing a task that is my responsibility.

Basically, says Beck, if you had an immediate response for each of those, you need your mommy. Or at least the verisimilitude of a mother in your life. She suggests a patchwork mother.

It seems I already have a patchwork mommy, an amalgam of friends, family, and people I've never even met. Over the last month, I have received and am grateful for the mothering I received from certain friends ....

Stacey metaphorically held my hand via e-mail two weeks ago when I had freak out as a result of coming off the Zoloft I've been taking for the last year.

Courtney, my best friend for the last 14 years or so, gave me wonderful and sound advice about child psychology.

Fran and Jen both expressed belief in me and my writing skills.

Scott has helped me more with the house and kids the last couple of weeks and has been extremely encouraging of me as a writer and as a promoter of his music.

A.,Leila, Aleta, Just Me, and Jeremy all had good advice about our food battles.

And suddenly, I feel so loved and connected and at peace. For all my bitching and moaning about feeling alone and like a motherless child, I have been getting all the mothering I need.

Oh! What a Beautiful Morning

I was just sitting down to blog when Beckett awoke. So, it's off to get him out of bed and dressed, then we're off to Decatur to run some errands and go to the Blue Sky Concert on the square. Hopefully, the weather holds.

And hopefully, I will be able to write more later. I want to tell you all about my garden!

Happy day, y'all!

Just Got Lucky

I just received a phone call from my brother-in-law and had to take a break from working out to take the call and now blog about it because I am so grateful about the news I received I'm teary-eyed.

My mother-in-law had an arteriogram this morning to check for blockages in her heart. She had been having some palpitations and other issues and a stress test was inconclusive.

The doctors found no blockages in her heart and said the heart looks healthy. This, in my opinion, is nothing less than a miracle.

Both of her brothers (one older, one younger) have had by-pass surgeries in the last four years. Her mother died following open heart surgery two years ago. Compounding the issue is the fact that my mother-in-law is extremely overweight. When Scott and I began dating 12 years ago, she was only slightly overweight and really did a good job taking care of herself. Then she quit smoking and became focused on her grandchildren and stopped caring about herself it seemed. We've all talked to her and tried to encourage her. I've given her so many different diet and healthy living books it's not funny. Nothing has worked.

I pray that this is the wake up call, the second chance, that gets her to start taking care of herself. I love her like my own mother. And my boy adores her.

I want her to be around for him to have a relationship with. I want her to see all the milestones in his life. I don't want her to die.

I just wish she felt the same and would start making the changes that will keep her here a while longer.