Political Mama

Well, he's there. He loves it. Loves the kids and the teacher and the bus most of all. What is it about that big yellow thing that's so inviting?

But I digress. He's doing well but I'm a mess. There is so much to remember, so much to keep track of, that I'm clearly losing my mind.

Everyday is a new fundraiser, which pisses me off because I pay over $9,000 in taxes. What more do you want from me?

And seriously, at five-years-old, who do you think is going to go around selling stuff to neighbors who already have piles of crap to buy themselves? The first thing I got was a Christmas catalog anyway. Don't even get me started on that!

So far, I have failed to get in touch with the teacher, using two separate notes. I've forgotten the damned book sale.

Fortunately, a kindly neighbor through him a five to buy a book.

He's writing his first and last name three times in a notebook every night, which takes close to a half hour. Which leads me to my final failure--Jeremy Shaffar is the longest name in history, and very difficult for my five-year-old to fit on two lines in a notebook. Had I known when he was born, I would certainly have kept it shorter!

I don't remember college being this difficult, so I can only hope that it gets better, or that he turns out to be more organized than me.

I spent all day crying. Everyone I know in NY did. It's amazing how immediate it still feels, and I wonder if it will always be that way. I also wonder how much different it is for the rest of the country.

Every year since, I've watched the reading of the names. How can it be that when I take the boys to school around 9, they're still reading when I finish lunch?

For the last few weeks, I've avoided coverage because I just can't do it for weeks. Today is my day to remember, and I did.

I listened, via satellite to Howard Stern's replay of his broadcast from that day. Of course I hadn't heard it then, because I was riveted to my television and my three-month-old who smiled all that day, while I watched the world crumble. What I got from it was the shock and confusion of those first few hours, when nothing made sense. I forgot that I was worried for my own life that day.

I know of several people who died, but none personally. I feel lucky and guilty about it in equal measure.

Five years later, I just suffer for a day. The widows, the children, the parents, the friends, the coworkers have suffered for five years. Our heart is with you.