I'm taking requests for a new political manifesto theme song

How do you even begin to describe what today feels like? Any words I have to offer are inadequate. Heartfelt but inadequate.

This morning, I am grateful to open my eyes to a new day, to hear something other than what we have heard too loudly, too gratingly, for too long. I know that change won't come as swiftly as we all might like or need, but I am hopeful. More hopeful in our government than I have been during most of my voting life.

Maybe it's that I have a child now. Maybe it's that I feel our nation teetering on the edge of a cliff where there is no reproductive justice left for women, no arts or P.E. programs left in schools, never enough healthcare for uninsured kids, too tight of a restriction on who gets to marry whom, too many opportunities to go to war again or drill again or deny scientists the chance to see what stem cells really can do again.

Maybe it's that I get chills that he will not remember a time when this country didn't have an African American man at its helm. Perhaps it is because there is so much good that can happen, might just really happen, will happen in the years ahead, and that gives me hope for my lifetime and for his.

I will be watching in awe and I am sure, with tears. I will be prayerful and celebratory and thankful to see this point in time with my own eyes.

I am so fucking happy that I will no longer feel the anger rise up in me every time I hear and belt out and drum my fingers on the steering wheel when I hear this song.

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Because everything comes back to how I'm single now. And hot breakfast. OH! And the almost-President!

The past few weeks have been a roller coaster of endings and beginnin gs and transitions that have had me smiling and hands up and screaming with glee, dipping into exhaustion and emotion, and inhaling and exhaling slowly, slowly, deeply to try to find some sort of restful center. And all within minutes, maybe seconds. That's just this time of life, and after a weekend of good stuff -- being with my grrrls and seeing a phenomenal show and just lazing about with my boy in our PJs until noon -- I feel ready (and I am totally ripping this line off from an old friend's Facebook status, but I know he won't mind a bit...or won't once I remind him of that one - ahem - $50 poetry prize from sophomore year of high school) meeting the press and then facing the nation.

I am Christmas morning excited about the inauguration. Our t-shirts are clean and folded and ready to wear (a particular feat since the walls, steps and landings leading to our basement storage unit and laundry are covered in two inches of solid ice).

I will send Lil E off to preschool, where I am sure he will incite the wee ones into Oh-rock Oh-bama glitter-and-pipe cleaner inaug mania.  And then I will head over to that House in Progress for a little presidential hype of my own.

I am thrilled to join Jeanne and many other fabulous bloggers for the Quaker Oats inauguration brunch. We will be toasting the hope of a nation.  And we will be celebrating Quaker's own commitment to change in this country with their Start with Substance Campaign, serving up 1 million bowls of oatmeal to families in need in the year ahead.  (Join the Facebook group here.)

It's a great cause and a wonderful opportunity to watch the page turn for these United States (and I hope, I hope, our individual quality of life as well) with my people. It's also crazy (and perhaps a teense more enticing) that all this celebration and the ten others around the country have caused a little NYT controversy (ohhh, the former journalist in me loves it when journalists get all salty about bloggers).

Where will you be on Inauguration Day? I will be with some of my favorite smart, funny, political, progressive women friends --  in person and in spirit -- and taking my Obamas with a little oatmeal, brown sugar and buzz on.

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Actively raising a frat boy

A 3-1/2 day cable outage has been incredibly irritating but it has also made for some lovely mornings with the laptop propped up on the kitchen counter while I make breakfast, music filtering out to the rhythm of fresh coffee brewing.

Today, we had pancakes and yogurt, sitting at the table instead of in front of a kiddie show – a habit born out of survival in the early days of living with my parents and lingering only so I can shower in the morning now.

None of that justification mattered this morning as Lil E dipped his pancake into maple syrup and we talked about the day ahead. Nina Gordon was playing in the shuffle. It made me wish every day could start out so lovely.

That is, until the boy looked up at me, clearly inspired, eyebrows raised and eyes shining.

“MOMMY!”

I raised my eyebrows back at him to meet his enthusiasm.

“Yes, baby?”

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