May 10, 2008
i carry your heart with me
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
ee cummings
* * * * *
Charlie has a friend at school, a charming little girl with wispy blond hair and gigantic blue eyes and round pink cheeks. She loves him, and has told her mother that when she grows up she’s going to marry him. He seems to feel similarly about her, too, once writing her a note, all by himself, that said I LOVE YOU in big preschooler scrawl and then asking if we could mail it to her house.
Yesterday we learned that Charlie’s little friend has been diagnosed with lymphoma. At carpool pickup, a small group of mothers huddled together, whispering over the heads of our children, not wanting them to hear our conversation. We shared what little we knew and wondered what we could do for this wee child and her family. Mostly we just stared at each other in complete shock.
* * * * *
Next week, I am returning to ParentDish. When I left, in October, to write for AisleDash, I swore that I was finished writing about parenting, that I was done having complete strangers call me out for being a terrible mother because my children have an early bedtime and aren’t allowed to leave their toys all over the house. And then there was the commenter who, on a random post about Angelina Jolie’s daughter carrying a tiny Louis Vuitton handbag, suggested that I should find something “more important” to write about. Of course, I thought, because all those thousands of words I had written about autism and literacy and breastfeeding weren’t very important.
* * * * *
When I started this blog, in 2005, I was feeling overwhelmed and isolated; I felt like a terrible parent, not because I put my kids to bed early or kept them on a schedule or said no to them, but because being a parent can be overwhelming and isolating. It’s the nature of the beast, I think, even when you have healthy, happy children and a loving, supportive family life. I started blogging because writing about feeling isolated and overwhelmed, putting the words down somewhere, made me feel a little less isolated and overwhelmed. And then, to my great surprise, other people started reading what I was writing, and to my even greater surprise, they understood, they got it, they were feeling the same way or had felt the same way. And it was like a light in the darkness because while I still felt like a terrible parent some days, I felt less like I was completely failing.
That’s not a new story, I know; mommyblogs are all about community and connection and about a whole generation of women who have found a way to talk about what it means to be the mommy, for better or worse. I am going back to ParentDish because it’s a great job, but I am also going back because that community — the bloggers, the readers who understand, who get it — is an important one and one I believe in, and one that we all need at some point, because the work of carrying someone else’s heart around, all the time, everywhere — and that’s what we do as parents, really — is so very difficult, even at the best of times.
* * * * *
Last night, after dinner, we took the kids to the park. Charlie and my niece were on the teeter totter together, screaming with laughter as they bounced up and down, Charlie hanging on with his one good arm. And my niece said, “Charlie, you are my BEST FRIEND. You are the BEST COUSIN EVER. I love you, Charlie.”
And Charlie said, “Thanks Ellie! I love you too!”
I can’t stop thinking about Charlie’s little friend and her family. I know that the community at our school and at the church will take care of them, I know that people are praying for them and pulling for them. My mommy heart just aches for them.
Posted by Susan @ 7:13 am • when you're here you're family, fretful and worrisome
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May 10th, 2008 at 7:59 am, Heather Says:
Congratulations on going back to ParentDish I look forward to reading your work over there again. It’s always hard to hear news like that about families we know and harder to know what to say or how to offer support. It also reminds us of how vulnerable we all are. To even think about the possibility of that happening to my family is just too much, it is these unknown, unpredictable and unbearable possibilities that make parenting so hard.
May 10th, 2008 at 8:06 am, Blythe Says:
Congratulations, Susan. Based on my acquaintance with you via my laptop, you seem to possess just the right combination of humor, backbone, and common sense to do a fantastic job and support that valuable community while keeping the crazies in perspective. Hooray for you!
I can’t imagine what Charlie’s friend and her family and, by extension, you and the school community, must be feeling. I am sending my hopeful thoughts your way.
May 10th, 2008 at 8:49 am, Angella Says:
I’m praying for Charlie’s friend too. My heart is aching right now
But SO HAPPY for you. I just read Kristin’s post about resigning from PD and wondered who was taking her place. You are PERFECT for the job. Congrats!
May 10th, 2008 at 9:55 am, Lucinda Says:
Children and cancer just sucks. Sending prayers for this child and her family.
Congrats on ParentDish.
May 10th, 2008 at 10:29 am, All Adither Says:
My heart is vicariously aching for this family as well.
May 10th, 2008 at 11:15 am, miguelina Says:
That was beautiful. I’m sorry.
May 10th, 2008 at 12:55 pm, Alison Says:
Oh, I am so sorry about the sad news. It’s an unwanted reminder that there are no guarantees. I’m praying for all of you too.
I look forward to reading you at ParentDish.
May 10th, 2008 at 1:56 pm, Jenn @ Juggling Life Says:
I hope everything ends up okay. My heart is aching as well.
May 10th, 2008 at 3:09 pm, Emily Says:
Thanks for sharing. The longer I attempt this thing called “parenting” the more I realize you have to do what works for you and your family. And as long as everyone is HAPPY and HEALTHY…everyone else can shove it (to put it eloquently).
Prayers for the little girl and her parents. I think the hardest thing in the world would be to watch your child suffer.
May 10th, 2008 at 3:48 pm, Stephanie Says:
Susan,
I am glad that you have decided to return to Parent Dish.
Like Blythe, I have enjoyed our relationship-via- computer, and I was sad to see you leave.
I agree with what you said about the community of mommy bloggers and I appreciate your willingness to share, regardless of those who will speak against you.
You seem like a very intelligent, earnest and wonderful woman who is also a wonderful mother. I enjoy reading your insights and your experiences and sharing with you as we all tread lightly through this minefield called parenting.
The horrific challenge your friends are currently undergoing, with their precious daughter being diagnosed, there are no words. I am so very sorry. Please know that our family and community here in Washington will be thinking and praying for them.
May 10th, 2008 at 3:57 pm, Shan Says:
So excited to hear you’re returning to ParentDish. I stopped reading after you left, not only because you left–I got busier and was reading other things–but partly because I missed your posts. I’ll starting reading over there again.
This post made me tearful. The part about the little girl with lymphoma, of course, but even your words about what mommy-blogging has meant to you were very touching. I feel the same way; that kind of community and connection has saved me, as an often isolated, overwhelmed, and lonely at-home mama, many times since my first daughter was born nearly 4 years ago. Connection through the written word is incredibly meaningful, and important.
May 10th, 2008 at 4:20 pm, gorillabuns Says:
Does this mean you will be too busy with your new duties to come and hold my unborn child?
As for Charlie’s little friend - loving and raising a child is quite heart breaking on a daily basis much less adding something truly horrible to the mix. I will keep them in my prayers.
May 10th, 2008 at 7:05 pm, daysgoby Says:
Beautiful, Susan.
The last time I read that poem I was just about to get married and equated it to being in love - and I’ve never read it thinking of the love I have for my children.
We will remember Charlie’s friend in our prayers tonight.
May 10th, 2008 at 9:23 pm, Sue Says:
I love that poem.
Congratulations on the new job! I look forward to reading more about parenting from you. I so respect that you are willing to endure criticism so that the rest of us can connect in a way that makes us feel less “overwhelmed and isolated.” (Gosh, I can relate to those words!) And although we’ve never met, I can tell by what you write how deep and strong your connection to your boys is. That is the stuff of a great mom.
My son who is Charlie’s age also has a “girlfriend”. She is a sweetie. I can’t imagine hearing the news you heard. It makes my heart hurt and reminds me not to take my family’s health for granted. My prayers are with her family and yours.
May 10th, 2008 at 10:18 pm, Angela Says:
I’m sorry to hear about Charlie’s friend. I don’t know if it’s any comfort, but my father was diagnosed with lymphoma in January and you’d never know now. His cancer was detected early and the standard round of chemo seems to have put him into remission quickly. I hope that his little friend has a similar experience.
May 11th, 2008 at 8:23 am, Kyran Says:
I think it may be a unique to the genre of blogging that it allows us and our readers to shift between, say, ee cummings, personal catastrophe, professional updates, minor grousing, and juicy sweet slices of life, all in the same exhale.
I’ll be following you on pd.
xo
May 11th, 2008 at 8:35 am, blackbird Says:
I’m so excited for you…I know you will be unbelievable at your new job.
I will hold Charlie’s friend in my heart today and you too -
Happy Mother’s Day to you, the most stylish mom I know.
May 11th, 2008 at 4:13 pm, Anna Says:
Happy Mother’s Day…and congrats on the Parent Dish job!
May 12th, 2008 at 6:07 am, Lucy Says:
Hi Susan
I came accross your blog quite by accident in a google search chain I can’t quite remember. I don’t have kids (yet, maybe one day i hope!), but I just love reading your blog. I check it every day when I get into work because you offer so much LIFE and HUMOUR to everything you do. It fills me with hope and joy to think that there are people like you in this world, I want to be just like you when I grow up! (not in a creepy way I hope you understand!
)
Very best wishes to you and your family,
Lucy
London, aged 25 and three quarters.
May 12th, 2008 at 2:34 pm, crockpot lady Says:
my heart and thoughts are with charlie’s little friend and her family.
and with yours.
my kids go to bed early and aren’t allowed to leave their toys willy-nilly.
xox
steph
May 12th, 2008 at 9:24 pm, GinnyMac Says:
Congrats on the Parentdish gig–I’ll have to start reading. I’ll be thinking about Charlie’s little friend tonight and wishing her well…it’s been a tough year for so many.
May 13th, 2008 at 3:36 am, Carrie Says:
Never commented before, Susan, but I have to delurk to give some unsolicited advice. Aren’t you just delighted?
Seriously, though, we are coming off a year of grave family illness. (Fortunately it was an adult, not a child, and we think we’re almost out of the woods). Please don’t think there isn’t anything you can do for Charlie’s friend’s family! So many friends and acquaintances offered to help and offered us prayers this year — which were all lovely. But the best thing of all was that some people showed up and did things! Some brought us meals (without waiting for us to ask for them), some mowed our lawn, raked our leaves or shoveled our snow. Some took our kids on play dates or to the movies or bowling so they could feel normal. So, don’t wait and wonder — show up and help in some way. It can be small (drop off a batch of cookies, or a flowering plant, or a batch of balloons) or medium-sized (invite the little girl to a quiet story and craft play date on a day she’s feeling well) or bigger (weed the garden so Mom has time with her child). Just show up. I promise it will make a difference.
May 14th, 2008 at 12:20 pm, Ceece Says:
It seems as though that is a universal poem for love. I read it to my husband at our wedding, I smiled and laughed knowingly when it was read from one sister to another in, “In Her Shoes”. Now I want to brand it into my children’s brains so they’ll know they’re never alone.
I’m weeping at the news of Charlie’s little friend and her family. I’ve said a prayer and will continue to do so. I also ran over and gave my children crushing hugs.
Please keep us updated on the girl and her family, and of course, let us know if there is anything that can be done.
May 18th, 2008 at 12:54 am, Tricia Says:
I’m with Carrie.
Show up to fold some laundry, drop off a pizza gift certificate, take care of a sibling… Accompany her to a doctors appointment, or just drive them there, on a day when the little one is feeling okay, force the parents out of the house for an hour to walk around the block with their cell phone- just in case…
And don’t think Charlie won’t know. He can write a card, bring her a flower, play.
There is always some way to help.
I once picked up a huge load of ironing for someone…
I’ll add her to my list of people to send positive thoughts to. good luck
May 19th, 2008 at 10:51 pm, Aimee Greeblemonkey Says:
Sorry about Charlie’s friend. Along those lines, I am donating photos for a runner who is raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphomia Society, if you or others would like to participate…
Link to Photo Post
May 29th, 2008 at 10:54 pm, carry my heart ee cummings Says:
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