Three By The Sea

So I've been asked to share some ideas about projects, parties, and activities.
I actually love getting ideas from other people's blogs (Ellie was my pinata inspiration and now I'm hooked for life) so I thought I'd add a new category for those who are interested.  A good place to start would be Little One's birthday party.
This year Little One really got into the whole birthday thing.  For weeks leading up to it, She asked every day if Her birthday was going to be tomorrow, and repeatedly told us how 'cited She was about it.  We got lucky that She has made some great friends here and many of them came, because She very much missed Her DC buddies and was sad they wouldn't be coming.
So this year I decided to make Little One's party all about Little One.  Which meant two things:
First, I wanted it be the one party all year that She could eat anything She wanted; no worries over Her being safe. So I was determined that ALL the food at the party be food She wasn't allergic to. 
And second, I wanted Her to be as involved with it as possible.  So She helped me pick out the favors and activity items, the plates and cups and napkins, even the color of the signs.
She helped me make the invitations.  Since we're here on the coast, we went with a beach theme. For invitations we made a "message in a bottle".
Doing this on a budget, I skipped the glass bottles and used goo-gone to remove the labels from some mini-water bottles.  Little One poured them all out into pitchers so we could drink it later.
I typed up the simple invites and cut them out.  I rolled them up and tied them with ribbon.  Little One helped me fill each bottle with sand we had collected together at the beach.  She had also worked very hard collecting tons of tiny seashells for this project, and so She helped me put some of those in too.  We added a little glitter to each one, and slid the invite in.  Little One helped stick the names on, and decorate the tray we carried them to school on.

She also chose the pinata.  She wanted a jellyfish.  This is how we started:

So to make a Jellyfish, I taped two large bowls together to get the shape, and blew up a small balloon to hold the goodies.   Little One helped me smear them all over with vaseline.
She helped me mix up the papier mache. 
We dipped strips of newspaper in the papier mache and lay them carefully on the bowls and balloon, smoothing out air bubbles, until we had covered them completely.

Little One was great at this, and thought it was super fun.  Once She got past how messy it was.  At first She asked to wash Her hands after every strip!   We let it dry and them added two more layers the same way.

Once it was dry we slid the papier mache form off the bowls and She helped wash them.  I popped the balloon and pulled it out. 
She helped me fill the balloon-form with treats.  
I punched 4 holes in the top of the jellyfish and in the balloon, and secured the balloon inside the bowl-form.
 
I also very securely tied a looooong doubled-over ribbon to the top, to hang it from later.

 We crunched up paper and stuck it around the balloon, inside the bowl.

Then we used more papier mache strips to cover the gap.  I cut a door in the balloon before covering the whole bottom with another layer, and letting it all dry.

Little One chose the tissue paper, but I had to do the rest myself. First cut the paper into long strips, then fold them in half.  Cut them into fringe just to the crease where they were folded.

Then I glued them onto the papier mache jellyfish and covered the bottom in tissue-paper circles.
I wanted an alternative to the violent bashing pinata, so I had punched a hole in the balloon's trap door and tied ribbon through it.  I used ribbon, crepe paper, and streamers for tentacles and attached them not too securely to the bottom.  The idea being that the kids take turns choosing a tentacle and pulling on it.  The tentacles will just fall off, except for the lucky kid who chooses the one tied to the trapdoor- that one releases all the treats.
  We added a little glitter all over.  And it was a jellyfish!
Hard to see in the intense wind of the party, but I think it turned out pretty well!

For favors Little One helped me put together little plastic pails with a shovel, rake, and sand-scoop inside. They took their pails on a treasure hunt and dug up little treasure boxes that my sister-in-law hid earlier.

A pinata-full is enough candy, so instead Little One and I had filled the boxes with a few markers, stickers, and foam cutouts, plus glue-dots and lots of fun stuff like rhinestones, seashells, silk flowers, and feathers, so the kids could decorate their own treasure boxes.

 

Then we did the pinata and they filled their boxes with treasures!
(Little One loved making these boxes, sorting and counting to make sure each one had the same number of everything, talking about how Her friends would "just love" each thing.)
In keeping with the sea theme and allergy-safety, for lunch we had:
"clam-burgers" and "octo-dogs" with "Mer-stard and kelp-chup". 
The burgers were just sliders. To make the octo-dogs cut the bottom half of a cooked hotdog into eight strips and splay them out to look like an octopus.  If you're really into it you can add eyes with mustard.

We had "sand-dollars" (oyster crackers), pirate's booty, and "sea cucumbers" (pickles) for snacks.
We had a veggie platter arranged to look like a beach ball, with the dip in the middle for the white part (I made an awesome allergy-safe dip using vegan sour cream).
My father-in-law made this AMAZING shrimp-boat out of a watermelon and filled it with fruit.

And for something sweet we made Little One's favorite treat- rice krispie treats.  J's family helped me cut them into rectangles, dip the bottoms in blue icing, and stick a drink umbrella in them, to look like little patches of beach.

I can eat aaalll this stuff?!

Then came the hard part- the cake.  In past years, I've relied on J's aunt who makes these incredible cakes.  Remember last year?  How could I live up to that?!  But now that we've moved, I had to try.  And I had to make it a vegan cake to be safe for Little One to eat.  I made a sandcastle cake using a bundt pan on top of a sheet cake.  The first one I made fell like a chocolatey avalanche when I flipped the pan.  Disaster.  Apparently, the trick is that vegan cakes have to bake a LOT longer- almost twice as long- to hold the shape.  The second one came out ok.  I covered it in frosting by melting the frosting a little and painting it on with a basting brush.  Then before it hardened, I covered it in graham cracker crumbs and turbinado sugar to look like sand (The graham cracker with the chocolate cake was soooo yummy).
I used candy molds and vegan chocolate chips to make little chocolate sea animals and shells, and used those to accent the sandcastle.  In the end, it's nothing like what J's aunt can make, but I think it turned out ok! And it even tasted good.

We had the party at a great little park with a small beach and boardwalk and a big shaded playground.  And bathrooms.  Perfect!

Happy as can be with Grandma!

 The weather looked very ominous when we arrived, and the wind precluded us from hanging decorations and sent paper plates flying around like frisbees a few times.  But the clouds passed and the wind kept the heat and bugs at bay, making it really a perfect day.  Little One's guests were all sweet, adorable, and fun, and Little One had a BLAST.
She loved every bit of it and I have to admit.  I did too.
Even if this was the best family picture we managed:

Well hey, you know what they say.  It's Her party, and She can monkey-face if She wants to!
What better way to irrefutably document the fact that, yep.  She's THREE.

Through The Eyes Of A Child

We went poking around some antique shops awhile ago.  You never know what you might find!
Little One, for instance, happened upon this interesting item:

"OOOoooohhh! Look mommy! I find a really, really BIG lipstick!"

Thanksgiving Turkey Trot Cross-Country

Before our trip to DC- right before- the girls and I took another trip. A road trip.
We drove aaaaalllll the way from Florida to San Antonio.  Stayed the night with my mom.  And then drove aaaaalllll the way to Tucson, AZ to see my sister and stay with J's family for Thanksgiving.
We had a great visit, and then drove aaaallll the way back. 
We are talking about 3000 miles and 56 hours of driving.
How did it go you ask?!?! 
Well.  Great, actually.  It's an awfully long time to be stuck on one's booty in the car, but the trip went extremely smoothly.  We had not one complaint, not one cry, not one "are we there yet".  I never even had to resort to movies or ipad time until the last 2 hours of the journey.
The girls were fantastic.  I've been asked for some traveling tricks, and so here are a few of what worked for us on such a long journey:

1- Bring entertainment.
Little One had a backpack full of coloring books, crayons and those magic markers that color only on the paper, books, magnet-sketch pad, dress-up princesses, and a leapfrog thing that She practiced writing letters on for hours.  We also played classic games like "I spy" and "count the cows".  Don't be jealous of our coolness.
For Little Miss I had a bag full of baby toys handy and when She started getting bored I'd just toss a new one to Her.
Luckily, they were often each other's best entertainment.  Little One was wonderful about playing "peek-a-boo", tickling toes, and retrieving dropped toys when Miss started to lose Her grin.  And Miss was such an appreciative audience, that Little One was very content to while away many minutes singing song after song to Her.

2- Bring FOOD.
I packed a cooler and a big box full of healthy food.  We had costco containers of baby carrots, grape tomatoes, edamame, blueberries, steamed broccoli.  We had craisins and apples and bananas and triscuits.  Hummus and soy-nut butter and wheat bread and oatmeal.  This way, we never had to eat nasty fast-food, and we all felt better for it.  Also, though, it saved a ton of time not having to stop when someone got hungry, and not having to drive around looking for a place to eat, which in Little One's case could be forever.

Little Miss in the Mirror

3- Pit Stops
We only stop at gas stations.  At every stop, we fill up the car, we empty the trash.  We change and feed the baby.  And everyone, I-don't-care-if-I-have-to-reach-under-your-ribs-and-wring-out-your-kidneys-myself, pees.  Restless pre-schoolers do a few jumping jacks and toe-touch stretches, if they must.  Then we are back on the road.  15 minutes or less.

4- Night Drive
For really long stretches- like 12 or more hours to be covered in a day, the key is to drive at night. On my way home I left Tucson in the afternoon and drove through the night, getting to San Antonio about 6am.  But I don't think I'd do it again. Getting sleepy while driving precious babies is no good.  My preferred plan is to get completely packed up and ready the night before, go to bed as early as possible, and then leave around 2am.  That way I get in a solid 5 or more hours of driving while the kiddos are sleeping, but the sun coming up (and a cup of coffee) make sure I'm wide awake for the rest of the drive as well.

With Great-Grandparents!

5- Enjoy It
Yes.  It's possible, and I did!  The scenery was lovely, we were on our way to see people we love.  But also, I appreciated the fact that I was in close quarters with both my girls, where there were no other responsibilities nagging at me and distracting me from them.  We got to talk and sing and play games together with out interruption.  It was nice to have that kind of time with them.  And then, when they fell asleep? We are talking hours at a time of total peace and quiet.  And absolutely NO laundry, dishes, vacuuming, or scrubbing to do of any kind.  It was actually quite lovely.

Making Thanksgiving Dinner and Memories

Providing Moral Support

So there you have it.  We also had the good luck to see Nana and Jaju on the way there, to see them and great-grandparents on the way back, and to stop in both directions in Los Cruces, so I could tank up on enough good, hot, real green chile to last me until the next time I visit New Mexico.
We had a little time with my sister, and lots of good time with my in-laws.
J's mom and sister even went to the trouble of cooking an entire, exquisite Thanksgiving dinner, all with ingredients that were safe for Little One. Right down to a chocolate-avocado torte that was to die for.  J flew out for the day, to share the meal with us.

Little Miss' First Thanksgiving Bite! (pumpkin)

Three Desserts for ME?!

Thanksgiving-ed Out

His mom, aunt, and sister and I went out to my sister's bar for a girl's night out.  Both Littles ate up all the love and attention, and I ate up all my MIL's yummy cooking, and of course, some In-N-Out.
When we finally got home after that long drive, I stopped just a minute before unpacking/repacking for DC.  To be thankful for safe travels, for friends and family we love to travel to, for sweet wonderful daughters to travel with, and a safe, warm, and loving home to return to. 

 We are so blessed.

Good Girl

Our trip to DC wasn't all work and misadventure.
We had lots of fun too.  For one thing, hanging out with our hosts was fantastic.  They were amazing to let us stay with them, and they spoiled us to the best of their ability.  I ate so much injera- Little One did, too- that it almost made up for my deprivation of it these last few months.  (Because no. No there is NO Ethiopian food in our little Florida town.  A tragedy).  I loved playing with their much missed little girl and meeting and snuggling the brand new one.
We also got to spend a night (two, for Little One) with some of our dearest friends.  You all remember O?  O, the longtime love of Little One's life?  They are still quite the item, long-distance though their love may now be.  They had an absolute blast together, and I loved listening to them speak sweet nothings to each other like this:


Little One: "O. You are my BEST FRIEND!"

O: "You MY BES' FRIN!"

Little One: "O. I WUV YOU!"

O: "LOVE you! HEEHEE!"

Little One: "O, I wuv you much of a RAINBOW!  I wuv you much of a BUNNY!  I wuv you much of a choo. choo....TRAIN!!!!!!"


And O did give Her a car from his much beloved (by both of them) train set, which Little One did not let out of Her sight for days.

It was great to see them reunited, great for Little One and I both to hang out with his wonderful parents, and O's mom and I stayed up until midnight talking, despite both being super tired.  I miss these people too much.

Another highlight was the evening after the event was over, when "Zashy"'s family and the Littles and I went out to the Mall.  We tried to go see the giant train display at the Botanical Gardens, but they were closed....except.  In a holiday miracle, one of Santa's elves (guessing) was in charge of locking up, and offered to sneak us in.  Amazing!
This place usually has hour-long lines to get in and is jam-packed.  But there we were, getting our own private showing!  Little One was dead asleep, not trains nor planes nor a tuba to the ear could wake Her.  So She sadly missed out.  But Miss was far more interested that I'd expected! She LOVED the trains.  They made Her wiggle and bounce and squeal with delight. EVERY time they passed.  It was adorable. 
Afterwards we wandered down by the White House to see the National Christmas Tree all lit up with the trains zooming around.  Little One did get to enjoy this lovely scene.  There was a giant bonfire to warm hands by, a big creche that Little One had quite a lot of questions about, and then the highlight for Her.
We walked through Santa's Workshop, seeing to toys and shiny packages, and the naughty/nice list.  And at the end- we saw....SANTA.  Little Ones eyes were saucers.
She climbed up, shyly flirting, and whispered, "Hi, Santa".
He asked Her what She wanted for Christmas and She was SO ready to tell him.
"Oh!  I want to have a teddy bear!"
Santa Said ok, and they posed for a picture.  But before hopping down, Little One clasped Her hands and looked up earnestly at Santa's bespectacled eyes,
Little One: "E'scuse me, Santa?"
Santa: "Yes?"
Little One: "I....I'm a good girl, Santa."

Which, of course, She is. 

Now She's put Her Foot in Both Their Mouths

Little One watched from the tub as I dried off Miss and got her ready for bed. I was brushing Little Miss's two pearly Stubbs, when Little One thoughtfully mentioned,

"you know. One time I used this Miss's toofbrush." 

"you did??" 

"oh, yes. I used it to brush some sand off mine toes."

AFC Benefit

Our rough trip home was the end of an exhausting trip altogether. 
We stayed with the AFC director, making it two toddlers and two babies in a two bedroom apartment that is also fundraiser command-central.


And because chaos and insanity and last-minute fiascoes and slicing brochures with Miss on my back at 11pm and then OMG 100 brochures are printed half-upside-down and where is that thing we can't find and who is in charge of picking that other thing up and the staple gun is running because we're still stretching art at 1am and Little One is running around like She's in a minefield screaming "mom! Ah! A cookie is on the floor-mom! AHHH! A orange peel is on the floor! I can't touch anything!" and what did the baby just put in her mouth, is our style guys, (deep breath) there were about two dozen moments in which I seriously reconsidered my sanity.
And mothering. And decision-making skills.
And swore to myself that this was nuts- nuts! and it's not like I could even be that helpful, what with always needing to save the babies from mortal dangers at the last minute, and I am never. Never doing this again.
In past years, even without kids, I have said to myself; 'I don't think I'm doing this again next year'. 
THIS year, after driving Little One an hour to have a sleepover (thank you thank you dear angelic friends who watched Her!) and then wearing 20lb of Little Miss in a carrier, while on my feet in heels for seven hours, I really swore to myself that this had to be my last AFC event.

But the thing is.

Next year, when World AIDS Day rolls around?

....I will probably sell my right kidney to do it all over again.  Every year since my first, I have been there in the middle of it as much as I can.  What kind of crazy is this?!
I thought about it.



Sitting at a big Ethiopian breakfast the day after the event, looking around the table at some of the most completely amazing people I have ever met or likely ever will, I thought about why, despite the stress and the exhaustion, I felt so utterly grateful to be there.

For one thing, of course, it's the AFC kids.  You can't meet those kids and not want to die fighting for them.  That's just a fact.

For another thing, it's those amazing AFC team members.  A whole room full of really good people who do really good things for the right reasons and mean it, and are also incredibly fun is hard to pass up.

But the crux of it, I think, is that life is so shaded in grey.  So much is contentious, or controversial, or open to interpretation.  So often bad comes with the good, things are complicated; subject to opinion or interpretation.  It is a rare, nearly impossible thing in this world of harsh realities to have the opportunity to be involved in something that is so clearly and definitely Good. 

The Auction Rocked.

Sometimes charities are run by well-meaning people who have a mission that's kind of meh.  Sometimes the mission is really important but there is corruption and ulterior motives or piper-paying or whatever. Sometimes one man's "right" is another man's crime.
Rarely can you find something so inarguably important being done so honestly and with so much love. 
Rarely can a person be involved in something that is just. Plain. Good.
It's more than fair to say I get more out of my 'volunteering' than I give.  So even if part of what i get is a few gray hairs, I am so happy that I got to be even a small part of putting on this event-which came together beautifully and was a great success, as always- and so grateful to be a part of the AFC family in general.
Of course, since I feel about it the way I do, I can't end this post without reminding you all that it's a family you can join too, if you want to. And, trust me, you do.

http://artistsforcharity.org/new/projects/

A Long Trip Home

A tale of misadventure and redemption, of misfortune and rescue! A tale of traveling with two tiny children all alone.
To make things "easier" in DC, I rented a car.  But see.  When I went to return the car, the "return spot" was in the middle of a desolate garage.  I pulled in, both of my babies sleeping under the weight of brand new fevers in the back, looked around, and tried to decide between laughing a crying.
Imagine, if you will, me and my high-heeled boots, crossing the loooong deserted tundra of a december parking garage while hauling-seriously try to picture it it's ridiculous- hauling a small red suitcase.  A HUGE fat green one with a broken wheel (thanks Delta), TWO carseats, a shoulder bag, and TWO sick babies.  Do not picture me doing it with one of those handy cart things, or an assistant, or even a small Mexican burro. Just me.
Any ideas I had of being pulled together or maintaining any sort of outward dignity were crushed under the smashed wheel of that infernally heavy luggage.  It took us a good half hour to get to the elevator.
Just in case you were wondering about the state of chivalry in the current age, I will mention that I toiled my way past three able-bodied gentlemen who sat in their parked, heated cars watching or rushed by without making eye contact.  One even bumped into me, knocking a carefully perched car seat and causing the whole pile to crash over, without even slowing down.
There I was, a beast of burden, lamenting the downfall of humanity, Peanuts, the downfall! When a sympathetic employee offered to take my paperwork down the staircase for me to check out the car.  Chivalry lives in middle-aged women, apparently.  And also the dude with shiny heeled boots, Armani shirt buttoned down to show off the bling and the chest hair, who helped me off the shuttle and to the check in counter.  Bless every red little hair on his chest.
And then, after toting my lighter load to security, I did the thing with the shoes and the jackets and the ipad and the liquids and the bags and then got specially selected- oh goody!- for a search, and as I went to walk through the metal-detector, Little One crying because She was already through and they would not let me get to Her, the security guy said, "you might want to take your car keys out of your pocket".  
 My car keys.
My rental car keys.  20 minutes until our flight was departing.
And I just stood there holding the wiggly baby, as Little One attempted to climb my right leg, looking stunned.
I am not proud of being a damsel in distress. But that day, I certainly was.  And this time, my knight came in the form of the great big 7ft man who offered to take them back for me.  Bless him too.
We barely made it to our flight. 
The one with the water pouring down from the ceiling.  The one that got delayed, and then cancelled and then -wait! we fixed it!-uncanceled and then delayed and canceled and uncancelled again.
We were stuck on the plane while they tried to fix it- back open to the chilly rain, no access to the bathrooms, when Little One, a good 102 degrees by then and having waited for 2.5 hours, said the words every toddler mom stuck on a plane fears.  "Mommy.  I pee-peed".  
At any rate, we got our connecting flight re-booked, we finally took off, and we landed at the exact minute-what are the chances?!- our new connecting flight took off.  It was the last one.

Miss fell asleep exactly 6 minutes before landing

Little Miss was wearing Her last. Diaper.  Why in h-e-youknowwhat don't airports sell diapers?!
We were offered a hotel room but told we wouldn't have our suitcase (with the clothes and toothbrushes and DIAPERS) and would be waking up in less than 5 hours to catch the morning flight. 
So instead, we flew into a neighboring town and poor J drove an hour and a half in the middle of the night to pick us up. 
Our luggage was lost. We got into bed around 2am.  But (after 14 hours) we made it. 
After that day, and this trip, and the one right before it which is a whole other story, you will understand, my darling friend Lordy, won't you, why when you sent me a message proposing we change our planned girls trip in March to a trip to Disney with my kids, I didn't answer. 
Sometimes, no answer is better than "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"
That's all. 

For You, For Now

After a long, I mean LOOOOOONG Thanksgiving trip, we had a lot to be thankful for.  I want to tell you about it, but today I have been busy busy doing laundry, doing work on the computer, and packing. All in preparation for our next trip, tomorrow. We are going to DC for the AFC benefit! 
Today is World AIDS Day.  IF you were sitting around, thinking of all you had to be Thankful for, and wishing you could express that thanks by giving back, AND at the same time thinking, hmm, what to do for World AIDS Day, well GUESS WHAT!
I have just the thing for you.  It's right here: http://artistsforcharity.org/new/about/who-we-are/.

Heads. Tails.

When you think "Florida", maybe you think of retired people in Hawaiian shirts, cruising around upscale golf courses.  Maybe you think of Miami, and neon nightlife and young men in rather tighter Hawaiian shirts, strutting their chihuahuas through the shopping district.  You might think of a booming Salsa culture; you might think bikinis and surfboards. 
We are not in that Florida.
The "Florida" of our town here is nominal.  Culturally? We are in South. 
There are a zillion reminders of that here.  The groups of people in red shirts on corners, a part of the scenery like any other landmark, hoisting up signs about Satan and salvation.
The number of pigs who have met their demise in order to support the local cuisine.  The tendency of vegetables to be cooked until they are nearly transparent. 
Some things are true in life.
One of those truths is that we exist in a world of dimension.  There are at least two sides to everything; to every story, to each of us. To a place, even. Like a coin.
And here is like anything, it has heads, and it has tails.
There are some lovely things about the expression of the stereotypical "Southern culture"; things we see here all the time.  A warmth and friendliness even from complete strangers that we can feel to our toes, especially after 5 years of cold DC shoulders.  The employ of manners in a way that is so automatic you think people here must drink "ma'ams" and "pleases" through the tap.  A willingness to go out of the way to lend a hand, say a thank you, adore a baby.  The propensity of 5-minute errands to stretch into 50 minutes of chatting at the cash register.  (I count that as a plus, since I'm a born stranger-chatter.)  There are a lot of things that feel comfortable here, welcoming.  Idyllic even.
But every coin has two sides.  Or, as Mark Twain put it, "each of us is a moon, and has a dark side we never show to anybody". 
I have also heard a woman refuse to take her children into a park because there were "sketchy homeless guys" there.  Who were not at all homeless, with their expensive shoes and shiny bikes and iphones.  But they were black.  I've noticed a lot of stratification at local events, almost like a middle school dance where the girls all stayed on one side of the room, and the boys huddled in the other.
And then yesterday, I walked my daughter to school. 
My daughter is three; she has a pure heart and innocent eyes, and on the way to school She saw flowers.  And pigeons on a phone wire, and a calico kitty cat.  She didn't notice yet, but I did, the emblems on the pavement, black and glaring and two feet tall. 
K.
K.
K.
She didn't notice, and so I ambled past, pointing out some morning-glories.  I made sure there was honey in my voice, but my heart was frozen over.
Now look.  I try to keep out of contention on this blog, for the most part.  One of the most important things about my friends, I think, and people in the world around me in general, is how they occupy spots all along the vast spectrum of opinion and values and personality.  Sometimes I most appreciate those with views who contrast my own, because it helps me question my own predjudices and pushes me to see from new angles.  And out of respect for the right of everyone to choose their spots on that spectrum and stick to it, I try to keep my own spot more or less to myself.
But those three letters froze my heart, and I don't care who knows it, or who agrees or doesn't.
And I don't care who saw me that day, in the middle of the road, in the full sunshine, on my knees in my high heels scrubbing the damn pavement. Twice. (Because it is as hard to erase from the road, I guess, as it is to erase where it came from.)
This is my neighborhood.  My children live here.  Go to school here.  It was written right at the corner of the Christian school next-door to Little One's preschool.  We pass that spot twice a day. 
So I don't care how many people slowed down to stare at the crazy lady, I don't care if venom rose up in them when they saw what I was up to, I don't care if all the other mommies noticed and think I'm nuts.  That was something inside the boundaries of my home life which I found to be too ugly to allow. 
Even after scrubbing with a stiff brush and solvent until my knees bled, the shadow of those letters are still there if you really look.  And in all the world try as I may, I can never erase hate altogether.  I'll never be able to remove it completely from my children's world, and even when it isn't spelled out, I know.  It's there.  Out there, hiding behind manicured lawns and smiling faces as much as it lurks in the shadows.
It was just some paint, or shoe polish, or something.  But it was a tangible reminder of all that darkness, a reminder that even in our own safe places, I can't protect Them always.  A reminder in my nice, middle-class white complacency that there is hatred and anger out there in the ether, so strong that it can coalesce and congeal and turn solid and take shape right under my nose.
A bunch of letters on the ground can't do anyone any harm.  But where they come from, what they are there to remind us of.... that can.  And it does.  Almost all the harm out there comes from the same deep chasm that those three ugly letters crawled out of. 
And so I'm shaken.  The bright light of this sunshine state has taken on a slightly duller cast and I find myself wishing I could see through people's hearts to know what's really inside them. 
I guess even if I did all I would find is heads, and tails. 
None of our souls are flat.  We all have this human capability to love, and also to hate.  Each of us has this potential to achieve wonderful things, and every single one of us has the ability within us to do horrible, ugly things.  We're all two-sided coins, just like the moon, just like Florida. 
At the end of the day I can't change that truth and I can't hide my babies from it; I have to accept that.
It won't do any good to throw the whole coin out; the good and the bad are stuck together. 
I guess all I can do is look for the heads and tails in my own heart, and decide which one to show. 
It upset me to be reminded of that chasm of darkness and how deep it runs, but I can say this.  That even if my three year old had noticed the writing on the ground, it would have meant nothing to Her.  It would have been of far less interest than the kitty and the morning-glories. 
It's true that there is an ugly side to all things.  But as long as there are little children, there's hope.