Peter Pan.

Peter Pan joined our household a couple months ago when Grandma E brought a videotape of the 1950s telecast starring Mary Martin. Shot with a static camera pointed to a proscenium stage, low production values and zero special effects to speak of, it was surprising that the girls took to it like they did. Within days, M was singing "Tender Shepherd" and C echoed along with "I Won't Grow Up" - and for some reason, both adore the exaggerated oddball Captain Hook. Maybe it's the sing-songy music, the "magical" flying actors, or simply the fact the Grandma was excited to watch it with them , but there is something so sweet and innocent about the girls' attraction to this show from a bygone era.

About a boy who refuses to grow up, Peter Pan takes Wendy and her siblings on a wild adventure to NeverLand where the nefarious Captain Hook and his goofy pirates chase after the children and their "Lost Boys" companions. Complete with a Tinkerbell fairy and pixie dust, I'm sure this movie set imaginations aflight in countless children, including my own little Darlings. My own imagination (clouded by the guilt that the lyrics & images of these songs are actually taking up brain space in my 2 year old) whirs around Peter Pan as well. Ahh, wouldn't it be neat to stay in a time warped 1950s version of 2008 where my children innocently delight in simple songs and never experience a harsh moment of the "real world?" Could they (and we all) be like Peter Pan and not grow up anymore? Or if they must grow up, could I sprinkle some pixie dust and fly to NeverLand to save them from Captain Hook?

No doubt that N's and my yearning to hold on to our babies pangs us so because C will start Kindergarten in the fall - a milestone that represents the "outside world" encroaching on our being her sole influence. I remember my mom saying she cried when I started Kindergarten & I'm sure I'll be in good company when I do the same. The truth is though, that this change doesn't happen in a single day, and that we parents will never stop being a major influence in our kids' lives. But there is something so damn harsh about being aware of the slowly slipping away of youth, of time. And while I wouldn't trade awareness for the alternative, and I know in my heart it's what gives life meaning, it still can suck.

Tonight during dinner C asked "Mommy, someday can we visit NeverLand?"

"Uh, yeah, someday... we can visit a pretend NeverLand?"

"We can make it with cardboard boxes and stuff."

"Yes, C, we can visit NeverLand!"

If pixie dust and Peter Pan can live in our imaginations then maybe we don't have to grow all the way up...

Obama.

Obama won Oregon and is probably on his way to the Democratic nomination. I feel good about this. I voted for him, as he can talk & "think" circles around our current president (but who can't (?) I might add...) and demonstrates inspirational leadership. But I don't know what is holding me back from feeling "woo hoo!!!" about this election. Not sure if it's my age & just feeling jaded from getting hopes dashed too many times about the possibility of a great leader turning this country around. Or perhaps the damage done in the past 8 years of Bush is such a huge trash-heap of a mountain to climb to even reach a vista from which to figure out a direction forward. Surely, a large part of my restraint is the disappointment and apprehension I feel about this crazy Democratic Primary Season. Two candidates, virtually identical in policy plans, have somehow polarized the vast majority of the population who, it would seem, has been ready to overthrow the current "regime." Either candidate, it would seem, could handle the job - Barak Obama or Hillary Clinton, even maybe Barak and Hillary... but now I must digress:

Hillary, if I could have your attention for just a moment...

Sister, what is going on?!? I so wanted to vote for you - to usher in a new era for women, for humanity, for my daughters, to ring in the death knell of sexism (even knowing in might take a few more knells...) - but you have spiraled down to desperate, disappointing behavior. And this has nothing to do with your challenging "likeability factor." This nomination has been yours to lose & you're doing a good job of losing it. Maybe you've just picked a lousy campaign team, which doesn't help your case for being a good president. Maybe the taste of power you've had being with Bill all those years in the White House is clouding your vision, throwing you off-center. Or maybe it's another 'vast right wing conspiracy,' I don't know. But I do know that you won't easily, or legitimately get the nomination at this point. And if you somehow manage to wrangle it out of this screwy primary system, the damage done will only hit another new low.

So, buck up, sister! Rise above your ego to unite this abysmal divide. Bring your redneck followers into the 21st century and let them know it's okay to vote for a black man. Convince your more conservative voters that McCain would keep us marching on this dark militaristic path leading to the Christian-God only knows where... I mean, "can't we all just get along?"

Thank you for listening. Now get on your way, girl, but keep your head high.

No.

No is a word that doesn't come easily. So instead of saying "no" to Catlin Gabel, the beautiful private school on the hill, we bought more time by putting down a deposit. After a long and perfectly intense, fun evening going out with B, her friend R, and K -- all women who are, or have been in the throes of the same difficult decision -- I came home after midnight with a fire in my belly that we should investigate both schools further. After all, there probably is no more important decision we can make for our kids. Of course, that fire got squashed after N woke up (having written an eloquent "rejection" letter to Catlin that night) completely baffled and annoyed at my inability to say No to this opportunity. And what is it we are saying No to? We _think_ we know...

If we send our kids to Catlin Gabel, we are saying No in some fashion to any or all of the following: our close knit community, a greater ease with money, the possibility of significant travels, 2 extra hours each day for something other than driving (which in and of itself is saying No to a healthier environment), our kids being surrounded by economic & racial diversity, a greater ease of maintaining a less stressful lifestyle, and last but not least, more family time.

If we send our kids to Buckman, we are likewise saying No to: a stellar education in a broad spectrum of subjects, every educational resource a student could want without any hassle of budget challenges, small class sizes where we know the teachers will more deeply understand how our child learns, having little worry that a department will close or a subject slashed for lack of funding or a school district re-vamp, resting easy that classes are not taught only to the average student or to achieve certain "test scores."

So with this expensive extra time we will dig a bit more, try on both for size, and talk, talk, talk to more people. And maybe instead of making this decision based on what we'd be saying No to, we can figure out what and why we are saying Yes to. And let's hope to God the Yes will feel right & good in our gut.

Money.

Money, or how much a person has, is generally an indicator of nothing. But money, and how someone spends what they have (or don't have) can be an indicator of, well, probably a lot. The "money" thing is a loaded subject - and one that I am so uncomfortable with. I'm glad I have some of it, but I think I would do much better with wampum, or living in a primitive-yet-friendly tribe where members traded skills, chickens and all cooked over a common stove. But all kidding aside, we're back to the school decision, and at some level it boils down to "money."

We found out this week that C got into the Catlin Gabel School off of their "wait pool." They told us she was high on their list and that they wanted her to be part of the small 17 kid classroom. Who doesn't want their child to be cherry-picked for a top-notch school, a premium education? But at nearly $20k a year, just how big of a pool are they picking from... We have to let them know by May 9th, whether we're in or not. And the following day, we got the Portland Public School Lottery letter notifying us that Chiara is waitlisted at Buckman (and for this we feel lucky, as we know some people who were flat-out rejected). But naturally, in keeping with the drama of this whole process, we won't know officially where we are on the Buckman waitlist until after the deposit is due to Catlin. And then there is the poor little neighborhood school, Irvington Elementary (I so want to love you more than I do) where I just don't believe C would thrive like she should. So, given these choices and my nature of being overly-thorough, I find I must torture myself by talking to anyone who can give me insight to these options. And what am I learning? That it all seems to come down to money.

Those for whom money is no object, it would seem, have a much less difficult time choosing Catlin. Paying that tuition (times 2) doesn't crimp their lifestyle, nor are they fazed by being part of a community where nearly everyone appears to have an abundance of wealth. Choosing Catlin *would* put a crimp in our lifestyle and I, personally, am fazed by being part of a wealthy community. But I don't want my baggage to affect this choice for my daughter. So, I find myself thinking very rational thoughts about how the commute alone would lower the quality of our family life, how money we wouldn't spend on tuition could go to any number of enrichment opportunities, etc. etc. So, why does some part of me fear that I would be cheating C out of an amazing educational experience? Just because I've always been more comfortable connecting to the working-class, immigrant roots part of my background - even though I grew up among the uber-wealth of Boca Raton, Northwestern, etc., doesn't mean my children shouldn't broaden their level of comfort among various social classes. Yuck - just the fact that I'm writing about this discomfort *and* the fact that this dilemma is steeped in bourgeois angst - is an irony that doesn't escape me and certainly disgusts me.

Well, I think I know what our decision will be and I will simply have to accept that every choice I make for me, for C, for us, will open up new opportunities while limiting others. I guess it's my job to be on it, be aware of what's going on with C's development - and just try to be at peace with the process. I mean, why did we even apply to those elite schools? To have choices and options. And the burden of having those options is actually having to choose one. I am grateful we can afford the choice.