Conversations with a 3-year old

Walking Through a Busy Gym

"Mama! What are these people doing?"

"They're exercising."

"Oh."

Points to a man on a treadmill: "Oh, Mama. He's trying to run but it's not working."

---

Preparing for a Dinner Guest

"Come here, nakey-boy. We need to put on clothes." 

"I don't want to put on clothes."

"But we have a new friend coming over."

"I don't want clothes. I like to be naked."

"We need to have clothes on for the first time we meet someone. Remember how we don't answer the door all nakey? We don't meet people naked."

"We need wear clothes when we meet someone?"

"Yes."

N.B.: Jordan kept his clothes on for about the first 10 minutes of the visit, after which he stripped to a T-shirt. After brief negotiation, he agreed to put his undies back on as well. 

---

Aaaaand the Answer Is Always Yes

"Mommy"

"Yes, love?"

"When I put my finger in my bottom."

"When you put your finger in your bottom what?"

"When I put my finger in my bottom? It gets tiny little pieces of poop on it that I can't see?"

"Yes, honey, it does."

"And then I have to wash my hands?"

"You sure do."

"Can I wash my hands?"

I want to put on my my my my my boogie shoes just to boogie with you

Betty and I introduced India to DSW. Let's just say she enjoyed it.

And now I'm totally on the lookout for some sort of eagle headdress to make me look official

Last Friday, after a morning with my baby, I hurried into a shower, suit, and makeup, grabbed suitable heels and purse, slid on my flip-flops, and rushed out of the house, down the street to the bus stop.

I usually wear a cross-body bag that fits things like commuter shoes, diapers, toy backhoes, and the like. But I chose a more professional purse for the heading to the White House occasion. And this bag, I realized on the bus, would not hold my rather large and sturdy (and bright blue and green) flip flops.

I didn't have time to go up to Nick's office, so I asked the guard in his lobby if there was somewhere I could hide my flops. He very kindly let me stash them in the plants.

(So now I feel like when I was so pregnant and itching to sneak into the koi pond at Nick's office that even though Nick sternly forbade me, maybe the guard would have let me??)

Anyway. Because suicide prevention is not about what you wear, ahem, Lisa., on to the meeting.

President Obama needed the Roosevelt Room in the West Wing, and so, sadly, we got to spend about five minutes loitering in the West Wing lobby, and then were directed to the Old Executive Office Building (OEOB - try saying that three times). Which, still awesome. We loitered in the West Wing!

Plus, it's not like the OEOB isn't spectacularly impressive in itself.

Since we'd gotten there at 2 pm, as instructed, and been the first people processed (big security!) we had plenty of time before the 3 pm meeting. Our leader suggested heading down to the cafeteria. Everyone (else) got a drink or small snack.

Nick hadn't had lunch. And thus walked into former Secretary of State Cordell Hull's office with a giant plate of BBQ. (Which was done by the time the meeting began. Thankfully. I was all twitchy. He was all, "What? I didn't get lunch!")

We, AFSP staff and walk fundraisers, met with Obama's and Biden's senior staff - coincidentally members of the Army, Navy, and Air Force. The administration is putting a lot of focus on mental health and suicide, as it's an increasingly dire issue for current military and veterans.

We went around the room introducing ourselves and giving our reasons for involvement, and that was when my tears began. The officials were very engaged and asked what our priorities were, and shared the administration's goals for decreasing the stigma of mental illness and lowering suicide rates.

I wish I'd taken pictures of the room, because it was gorgeous, but I was shy and nervous. By the end of the meeting, I felt comfortable, but by then we were all heading out to take group pictures over by the White House!

Here we are on the OEOB steps, with the White House behind us. Just imagine, because I know the background is too bright. But look how attending-an-official-meetingy we look!

Wait, don't imagine. Here it is. So close! And yet so far!

And then we left and got a drink - because all of those stories of loss - loss of children, loss of more than one relative, loss of people so young and so loved - it filled me up with sad, and opened this sealed place where I suppose I store my grief most of the time.

I believe more than ever that we walk around with splinters and shards within us. We protect ourselves, we heal, but they are never gone.

So then in case you're wondering, I retrieved my flip flops without incident from the plants in the lobby. I'd still get in that fish pond in a hot second if I didn't know I'd be in Big Trouble. With a capital T, which rhymes with P, and that stands for...Pond! Koi pond!

I may sneak in there yet...

Out of the Darkness Overnight

Because of you, I was able to contribute over $7,000 to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.

I want to thank you, all of you, thank you with ever itty bitty ounce of my being, for donating money to the Out of the Darkness walk, for supporting me personally, for trusting me with names of loved ones you've lost, and for being all around extraordinary, and extraordinarily kind, people.

I felt so lucky to have been a part of the walk, to have contributed to a cause that is so critically important, and to have met such amazing people. I intend to start volunteering with AFSP.

You know, I did the public health stuff in the Peace Corps because I was raised thinking I liked that kind of thing, although I really did not. And I've always felt like I should want to save the planet, should want to go help Sudanese refugees, and while I applaud others who do so, I've not had a drive myself.

But this? This is where my heart is.

The weekend was so many things all swirled together: exhausting, uplifting, devastating, energizing...

I think it best to write about the walk today, and tomorrow write about Friday and our five minutes at the White House before heading to the Old Executive Office Building (because Obama needed the Roosevelt Room, of all things), and the reception, and the awesomeness of it all. Because it is just so much.

And surprisingly, Friday was much heavier for me than Saturday.  Friday held more tears.

India and Nick went with me to check in Saturday afternoon, and India got a balloon that she loved loved loved until it flew out of her hands and into the street and popped.

This is why she can't have nice things.

I returned at 7 pm and met up (finally! in person! yay!) with Kiran of Masala Chica, who is truly lovely. We knew each other from blogging and yet, as is the case, we didn't actually know each other and we met and we hugged and we walked together and now we do.

One of the interesting things about the night was that even though there were 2,000 people walking, finding your friends wasn't hard. I walked into the meeting with White House officials on Friday knowing nobody but Nick, who thankfully had been able to accompany me, and left with friends. It was the same with the reception that night.

Suicide is a strange, brutal thing to have in common, and it is powerful.

Everyone there had lost someone, or multiple people, or had struggled personally, or was supporting someone who struggled, or all of the above.

Usually when I'm in a room of people, my family history always wins as the worst, even though it's a contest I never enter. I'm the one with the dad who killed himself.

Walking into a room, a courtyard, a street full of people who have all lost someone dear, who have all been through the same kind of horror and pain...I don't know. Oddly, it was a little bit like going to my high school reunion. It felt in a way like going home.

I felt safe.

So Kiran and I walked together for a while, and then my dear friend Amanda, who was with me at the hospital when I called the sex hotline, came and walked with me for six miles.

I'd made a lovely new friend - Joy, a name that suits her - on Friday night, and after Amanda headed home around 12:30 am, I walked with her and her friends through the rest of the night, arriving at GW around 3:30 am. And then collapsed on the grass with so many others to wait for dawn.

Everyone had been given a bag to decorate in memory, and I regret not having had the time to do much but write names on mine.

While we were walking, volunteers were busy setting up the bags, filling them with sand and lights, so we returned to walk through beautiful paths lit by memories of loved ones.

Walking what turned out to be 16.5 miles was harder than I expected (go ahead and say "duh"here), but I would do it again tomorrow.

I will do it again next year without question.

I've never stayed up all night and been so proud of myself for doing so. (Which is not to imply that I ought to be embarrassed about other times I've stayed up all night. I mean, probably some of those times. Oh, whatever. I was proud. of myself. I still am.)

Thank you again for your support, for your love, for cheering me on. I couldn't have gotten to the walk, through the walk, to dawn alone, and I'm so happy I had such amazing company all along the way.

Overnight names

This is my shirt and the paper with the names.

I've taken all the names you've given me and written them on a piece of handmade, hand-dyed paper. I chose yellow, with a tye-died circle, as to me it represents sunshine and a new day.

A number of you emailed me, rather than leaving them on the blog, and so I've blurred them out in case you don't want them public.

I checked in this afternoon. I'm about to head down to the walk.

Everyone I met yesterday was so friendly. We brought India down with us this afternoon, and people we'd met yesterday were excited to meet her. This group feels like a hug.

I can't wait.

Hugs to all of you.