Waking up

And for once I'm not talking about my midnight rendezvous with my sleep-resistant child (although I could be--she was up last night as usual).

Sometimes I think I've spent the last year in a selective coma. Politics? Wha? Huh? Current events? War? Part of it is survival--how much depression can you heap upon a woman who has already been pushed to the very edge of what she thinks is possible? And part of it is just not having time and energy for much more than Project Runway after getting yourself and child ready for the day, out the door, to daycare, to work, through a full day, then put it in reverse to arrive home for dinner, bath, bed and an hour of down time.

Today, though, I attended the Michigan Democratic Convention in support of one of our great friends Julie Donovan Darlow, who is running for regent of the University of Michigan. I started the morning thinking I was going to get a few signatures, cheer for a friend and then get home for a nap, but I was very quickly impressed by this whole world that has been sailing along without my paying attention in the last year. I got to hear politicians speak (including our troubled governor, who reminded me how close I am to living in a red state--a thought that keeps me up nights), I got to be around all the passion and fervor that comes with politics, and I got to feel a little jolt of the real world, the there's-more-to-life-than-diapers-and-the-life-you-eke-out-in-between-them world. I felt so recharged by it all, so committed. And now I am home thinking I need to get way more involved in shaping a world where I want my kid to grow up. Isn't that the ultimate act of mothering? Making the world the place you want for your kids?

Another significant act of mothering, though, has to be the procurement of fun and outrageous adventures, which is what motivated me last night to drag my darling C. and loving husband to the Ukranian Sunflower Festival in a nearby suburb. While not as polka-fabulous as the Sausage Festival we have been to in the past, there was plenty of church-sponsored gambling, ethnic food, crafts and a white elephant sale for all of us (though I missed out on a fabulous vintage hair drier chair that would have been awesome on my front porch). We also got to see the Polish Muslims, a crazy band that brought out the amazing dancer in darling C. She was out on the floor like a madwoman, bouncing up and down, chasing other kids around, trying to catch the lights cast from the disco ball. It was a sight to behold. She wanted nothing to do with us, of course, so I let her careen around the floor, flirting with the whole crowd of clapping, cheering people she thought were there to see her and her alone. It was a fabulous night.

I'm going to take myself and my new political consciousness to the tattoo parlor today to see if I can't work up some little art in honor of Clementine's 1st birthday. That's right--the house is a mess, there's no menu and I have tons to do, so I'm just going to avoid all that and go be frivolous. Isn't America wonderful?