Whatever.  I had no idea when I planned June 30 as the evening for my Livestrong Challenge Fundraiser in the beautiful backyard of Layla Jones that we would be in the middle of the Apocalypse with the Biblical rain and whatnot.  Still, my Brooklyn people are a magnificent species of fundraise-ees and we triumphed! Despite the umbrellas over the tables that apparently were of a decorative more than utilitarian variety, most people had some pretty soaking wet clothes and hair but here’s the thing: everyone was smiling.  The spirit of the night could not be rained out, and that made everything feel right as rain.  So to speak.

The Pistols + Popcorn team raised $5,000 all for the Lance Armstrong Foundation.  I had some amazing prizes to give out – and as it turns out some of the distribution of some of the prizes turned out to be pretty damn cool.  Here’s a run down:

Tickets to the Red Carpet Premier of “Shutter Island” were awarded to Michelle Weber.  Michelle is the beauty brains and brawn behind Thursday Night Smackdown.  She plugged the hell out this event in her own writings, and donated plenty of her own money.  I’m so happy to have this lady and her super-cool husband on the carpet.  I will be buying every copy of US Weekly, IN Touch, and People that they appear in, and hope to be a regular in their eventual and inevitable reality series.

Appaman Clothing Set went to Beth Hulme.  Who the?  Well, that’s Anson's sister and I did not put the fix in but you know….his family has to love me just a little more for bringing awards and riches into their realm, no?

Speaking of Appaman, the Segway Tour of the Hudson Valley went to Lynn and Harald, the people behind Appaman.  I cannot think of any two people I would rather spend an afternoon with, our helmets on, me occasionally breaking the rules by reaching over the handlebars and touching hands with Lynn.  What?  My life is lived in slow motion with soft focus filters and Air Supply playing in the background.  Why do you think I’m pregnant again?

And who better to win the Colbert Report tickets than a local church, CCfB? The beautiful thing here is that I’d guess each member of the congregation is an avid fan of the show.  This speaks to why this church is so cool that they would even be aware of the badness that is Pistols + Popcorn.  Yeh.  If any of the members are wondering….Casey assures me that she’s willing to donate her time to go to the show. She’s a giver!

Speaking of CCfB – another friend from there won the tickets to the All Points West show.  It’s a little suspicious because truthfully I was totally indebted to her anyway because she created the flyers for this event in no time and for no money, with a song in her heart and birds chirping in her ears.  But again, read my lips, I did not fix any of these contests.  Yay Sarah!!  (By the way do yourself a favor and check out her site – she’s a gifted graphic designer and unfairly talented in the creativity department.  You’re welcome everyone.)

Finally – the hand painted portrait by Lori Nelson.  Let me preface this with part of a comment left not too long ago by my old High School friend, LeLaLu (or Lauren, as we call her) directed towards my sister:

Lauren’s sweet firstborn boy is named Acanaan.  I cannot tell their story because I don’t own those words.  I can say that the words would tell the story of a young mother who loves her son the way we mothers love our boys.  The words would then describe the profound loss she experienced when she lost Acanaan, at age twelve, to Leukemia.  I can’t even imagine those words, to tell that story.  But it is a hugely important story.  Still, it’s only part of her ongoing story which continues with her two other sons and loving man. 

I read Lauren’s comment and had to put a donation in her name, for the portrait, hoping that somehow things would align.  They did, and when Roan pulled her name out of the soaking wet paper bag, I was glad for the rain so I could turn my face away and back to my friends with tears and no questions.  Lori was equally happy. 

There were more winners –

Painted Pot Birthday Party went to Jackson

Painted Pot Pottery Classes went to Antoinette, as did the Big Movies for Little Kids Season Passes (though she feels guilty for winning twice)

Boone who I will be taking with me to Vegas next time I’m feeling like gambling won:

“Kitchen Play Dates” by Lauren Bank Deen

A Haircut by Lola Newsom at Hello Beautiful

One Year Unlimited Pass at Area Yoga

Lauren won a $75 Gift Certificate from Catbird

Abigail won a sassy Leather Bag from Exit 9

$50 Gift Certificate from Exit 9 went to Sachin (who shared it with Roan.  Sachin = awesome)

Roan's cast signing project was a huge success - he was overwhelmed with signers, and I'm posting the picture which came from furthest away, from Ingrid, via her proxy, my neice Emmie.  Thanks Ingrid.

I just wish I had better words than “Thank You” to all the people who donated their money and all the people who donated prizes.  But that’s what I have, and so that’s what you all get.  Thank you, from my whole heart, for giving me the ways and means to feel like we CAN do something to fight this violent disease.  It means the whole world to me.  Thank you. 

Well this has to be quick as I am busy writing the name of each person who donated to my Livestrong Challenge Page on the back of thousands of raffle tickets.  Today coincidentally is also Spike Lee day here in Brooklyn, to celebrate the 20^th anniversary of “Do the Right Thing”.  (Yes, you really are that old, but that’s ok because so am I.)   As today is the end of my fundraising efforts (for this event, anyway), I like the theme of “Do the Right Thing”, because each person has done exactly that, and then some (but let's not trash the pizza joint like in the movie, agreed?)

So thank you to everyone who has donated so far, and to everyone who plans on attending tonight and donating.  All winners will be drawn tonight at Layla Jones Pizza (obviously kid-friendly bring 'em) beginning at 5, ending at 8ish.  The winners will be posted here on Pistols tomorrow (or Thursday if I have to emergency-sleep the day away tomorrow.  Not that I’m tired or anything.  Nope, top of the world, never felt better and I have energy running out of my eyeballs.  Yeh.)

One Roan note, because after all who would I be if I didn’t name-drop that guy?  He decided he wanted to donate something, and offered space on his cast.  It was reinforced and re-wrapped yesterday, so it is (sort-of) clean.  Roan will be accepting donations tonight to sign his cast, with all proceeds going to the Lance Armstrong Foundation, because as he said, “Cancer is bad and we have to fight.”  Then he started throwing crosses, uppercuts, and Muay Thai kicks and something tells me Cancer does not stand a chance.

This is the last prize to be offered here on Pistols + Popcorn as part of my Livestrong Challenge effort.  Raffle tickets will be available online until midnight (EST) on Monday the 29^th; every $5.00 donated will generate a virtual raffle ticket, with the winners for all the prizes being drawn at Layla Jones in Brooklyn on Tuesday.  All raffles will re-open at the event, and prizes will be given out all night.  Party starts at 5:00 until approximately 8:00 (if I can stay awake that late.)  (Do I know I am pathetic?  Yes.)  (Does that change anything?  No.) 

Starting today, you have the chance to get impossible-to-get tickets to a taping of the Colbert Report!  While these tickets are free to the public, they are currently unavailable through July of 2010.  That’s a mighty long time but I’m here to tell you…if you want to fight cancer, and get a chance to see Colbert, donate any amount directly here, my Livestrong Challenge Page and you just may win.

To recap all the available prizes, just so you can figure out how to best spend your $5.00 on Tuesday night (after you buy some of the best pizza you will ever eat):

[Note from Jodi: Many thanks to everyone who helped with support during the broken arm incident.  It's funny that it helps to hear that other people have been there - and worse - but it does help.  Thank you everyone.  Also, if you haven't noticed, the Appaman Raffle  is taking place right now, to benefit the Lance Armstrong Foundation.  Click here to find out what the prize is, and click here to donate any amount to my Personal Livestrong Challenge page.  Thanks!!]

It's Going (yawwwwn) Just Fine. 

I know that my memories of being pregnant with Roan may be a little distorted.  For instance, when people ask if I had morning sickness with him, I reply that I did not.  I proclaim that it was an easy pregnancy, in which I was finishing up some college courses, secured a great job, facilitated group sessions with drug addicts and worked right up to the day I was to be induced. 

However, I do remember one snippet of a conversation with my brother-in-law, Rocky, where I proclaimed that I couldn’t understand why anyone would do this more than once, to which he replied, “It’s because you will forget”.  He was right as rain.  I have been having a fairly easy time thus far being pregnant with Roan’s teammate (whom he is certain is a girl.  I feel it’s a boy.  Anson inexplicably is firm that we have twins though about 6 ultrasounds have shown otherwise.)  Still, before I became pregnant, I could do pretty much everything I wanted to do, PLUS everything Roan and Anson wanted me to do and feel like I had energy to burn.  I was teaching five Muay Thai Kickboxing classes per week, running about 15 – 20 miles per week, and was at this hard-fought place with my body where my weight was cool with me while I was still eating all the things I felt like I wanted to eat.  In short – my body felt like it was my dominion. 

So, predictably I’m about to tell you it’s all changed.  True it has but the thing that’s getting under my skin?  I’m tired.  I’m tired as I roll out of bed in the morning, after I drop Roan off from school, I have to work up my energy to put my house together every day and it takes all my power to show up to Muay Thai.  I feel lucky that the nauseous thing has so far pretty much stayed at bay, so I’m not going to complain (hang on is this complaining?  No no, just documenting.  Seriously.  If you could hear my tone, it would be upbeat and friendly and not whiney at all no sireeebob.  I’m not even bringing up the fact that I’ve broken out my “big girl” clothes.)

This energy deficit was so pathetically evident on Sunday for Father’s Day.  Anson, Roan and I went to a favorite restaurant for brunch (I had yummy Sour Cream Pancakes).  Then we hopped the subway to get to Dylan’s Candy Bar, which is an extravagant candy mecca owned by Dylan Lauren (daughter of up and coming designer Ralph).  Walking in there is like licking twelve lollipops while simultaneously mainlining a bag of chocolate.  The air is sweet and cool and smells of everything good.  Everything.  While Roan was losing his mind going through the three floors of candy shop, I had to go sit down and drink a bottle of water.  Because I couldn’t keep up, because I am 102 years old.  So I finally got my mojo back and suggested we take the Sky Tram over to Roosevelt Island to hang out on the grass by a beautiful little lighthouse and the boys were into it.  We arrived, and this time not only did I sit rather than play freeze tag, I demanded a smoothie.  I don’t know who I am anymore.  It was actually a lovely day and both of my guys love this new more vulnerable and tired me, but I don’t think it’s all that cute.

I suppose I can take solace in the fact that the day spent my Roan, as evidenced by him falling asleep one full hour before bed time, and putting up no resistance as we carried him to bed, only muttering “Is your wrist strap on?  Is your wrist strap on?”  That’s very telling, isn’t it? And Anson is laying here next to me, tearing up while watching Extreme Home Makeover (Ok, that’s possibly crossing the TMI line because he will never admit that in public but if I’m lying I’m dying it is happening right now) and it is all of 8:13 PM and I see him fading.  So, in essence, I’m going to frame it up this way: being pregnant has finally helped me travel to a place where relaxing on the couch trumps doing dishes, and playing Wii counts as quality time for the family.  Everyone seems to be adapting just fine.

If you’ve been keeping up with the life and times of Roan and myself, then you understand our brand loyalty to Appaman.  Now – let me just tell you all that even way way way before we met the people behind the brand, we were fans.  The fact that the designers live in our hood and are the kind of people you’d want to live on a commune with just adds to our Appaman love.  But, the clothing stands alone; it is the cuteness.

Appaman has donated a girl’s set or boy’s set of clothing to my Livestrong Challenge raffle.  For every $5.00 you donate, a virtual ticket will be issued for you to win either:

Boys straight leg dark wash denim (RSP $60) denim jacket (RSP $66) railroad carpenter pant (RSP $60) Appaman footbal jersey (RSP $32)

                                           ********OR********

Girls straight leg dark wash denim (RSP $60) denim jacket (RSP $66) carpenter railroad skirt (RSP $48) Appaman football jersey (RSP $32)

The available sizes are 6m - 8. Once the winner is chosen on June 30^th, at Layla Jones Pizza, he or she can submit their child's size and Appaman will ship the prizes on to you directly. 

To enter, click here and donate any amount.  To find out why I’m participating in this fundraising effort, click here.  To take a look at some of the other prizes, all of which will re-open on the night of the 30^th, click here.  Best of luck!

Snap. 

I think that when we see people get hurt it affects us partly because we are vulnerable, it could happen to us, and that is part of our horror. That feeling is amplified by, oh I dunno about a zillion, when we think of our children getting hurt.  So on Saturday night, when Roan missed his footing on the stepstool in our kitchen and my reach didn’t break his fall and he hit the floor backwards I closed my eyes before I looked at him, and I knew somehow – I didn’t want to see.  So I grabbed him close and said, “It’s ok”.  I think I said it as an instruction to myself rather than a comfort to my son.  And when I saw the contortion of his little left arm, then met the horrified eyes of my husband, I knew it was time to be strong and cool and leave my own freak-out until later.  Roan’s arm was clearly broken, and I didn’t have a plan.

The best I  could do was, “Anson, go grab a cab.  We’ll take it to the ER.  No wait, should we call 911?  No go get the taxi.  No, should we call Kara or Lola for a ride? They’ll get here quickly.  No just get a cab.  Yes, taxi.  Now.”

Only in Brooklyn.  Or Maybe Manhattan.  OK, Maybe any Metropolitan Area.

Just an aside about Anson: he is strong and smart and the most capable person I’ve ever met at the widest assortment of things.  But he doesn’t really function so well under intense crisis type pressure (he almost fainted at our wedding.  That was sort of like a crisis.  Made me love him more, though.)  So while he was out I wondered if he would make it back, or be lying in a heap on the sidewalk.  Roan only cried, and mildly so, for about 3 minutes, and just started asking questions, like why is Dad getting a cab?  Where are we going?  I told him we had to take him to the hospital to fix his arm, because it really needed some help.  His eyes brightened, and he said, “Help like I’ll need a cast?”  I told him for sure he would, and he was calm and waited for me to get my shoes on.

Anson returned and had triumphed in a magnificent way.  He did not hail a taxi.  No, he flagged down an ambulance and brought them to our front door.  I grew brand new confidence in that man right then.  We got to the hospital, and Roan was definitely in shock as he had sort of shut down, but he could answer questions, and was as calm as could be.  He mostly complained about the ice pack the paramedics had put on his arm because it was cold. 

No Cell Phone Usage Allowed

When my boys went into the X-Ray room I sort of had my own special break down.  I couldn’t be with them because I’m pregnant.  Being alone and knowing that this process was going to be very painful for Roan – moving the arm around in different positions to get all the angles – I couldn’t stand not being in there with him.  So I started texting my family (ignoring all the signs that said not to use cell phones), and when there was more and more and more time passing I posted my situation on Facebook which at the time I felt kind of dumb about doing but I just needed to have some community around me.  And you know – it worked.  I started getting loads of texts and comments and support from my people.  And that helped because I could hear my boy whimpering in the room next door for over ½ hour and I thought I would die not being next to him.

Sometimes Rainbows Are Not All That Beautiful. The X-rays showed that Roan had broken both his radius and ulna in the forearm.  The doctor said it was the kind of break they’d need to anesthetize him to set.  Since Roan had just eaten, he also said they’d have to wait at least two hours before they did that.  So we were looking at the entire night, in the ER.  Roan and I started watching Tom and Jerry on my iPhone.  He wasn’t complaining, and I was trying to not look at his arm, bent like a rainbow.  He had received no pain medication, but was just chilling and enjoying some Looney Tunes.  I was a proud and sad mama.

Making the World Small

Another doctor showed up on the scene and said that since he seemed to be tolerating the pain so well, she thought she could set it just by injecting a local anesthetic into the arm where it was broken.  The idea of that totally threw me – I mean, I didn’t want him to feel that.  But I also knew he’d probably feel better if he didn’t have to be put under.  So we agreed, and I put my forehead on his, and cupped my hands over our eyes, trying to make our world together really small as she put a giant needle into his arm, where it was broken.  He cried in pain and all I could do was kiss his eyeballs, forehead, and cheeks telling him all about the homemade ice cream we’d eat when we got home.  In my life, I’ve never wanted to take pain away from someone so desperately.  But true to form, he bounced back within a few minutes, and as the doctor began to set his arm, my friend Lola showed up, with a blanket for the boy, a sweater for me, and the calmest sweetest smiles that lifted everyone up.  Her husband was waiting outside, to give us all a ride home.

And…..Breathe.

We got home and set up a Family Slumber Party in the living room.  We ate ice cream and started to watch a movie but Roan fell asleep within minutes.  I don’t think I slept at all, as I kept waking up to make sure he was ok.  Anson was in the same boat as me.  We wondered to each other how we had been so traumatized by this event – a boy breaking his arm.  It’s a right of passage, a common childhood occurrence, and one that we’ve both been through in our own younger days.  But it was really intense to watch Roan have to go through it, and to shine so brightly as he did.  I wouldn’t have been less proud had he wailed like a maniac the whole time, but his peaceful demeanor and willingness to get through it gave me my own sense of peace.

So now, with his friends and cousins digging into their own hard-earned money in their piggy banks to buy him presents (Wii games that he can play one-handed), and with cards and designs and flowers and pictures being gifted to him, Roan feels less encumbered and more like a rock star.  He is proud of his new ideas and ways he’s finding to do things one-handed.  He hasn’t complained even once about pain, or anything else for that matter.  He sat and watched me teach kickboxing yesterday, and waited until after class to kick at the bag a little, and do some wicked crosses, as his jab is currently unavailable.  I’m finally beginning to feel a little more normal, no longer on high alert.

So this is what it is to be a parent, huh?  This is some scary stuff. 

Listen people: Jason from Segway of the Hudson Valley has offered up six spots (which doesn’t include the two spots that Anson and I are stealing for ourselves.  I’ve held out long enough, and really really want to do this.)  Each spot has a value of $65.00.  For every $5.00 donation you make to my Livestrong Challenge page, a virtual raffle ticket will be generated for you to win all six spots.  The winner will be drawn at the Fundraiser we are holding on June 30^th at Layla Jones Pizza here in lovely balmy Brooklyn.  We love to get out of the city and into nature, especially during the summer, no?.  Here’s a chance for a quickie, with friends.  Scheduling will be worked around you, so really why haven’t you clicked here to donate yet?  Oh, you were waiting for me to be quiet?  Ok.  I’m done for now.  Good luck!  (If you're wondering why I'm involved with the Livestrong Challenge, click here.  If you're curious about other prizes available, click here.  All raffles will re-open on the night of June 30, in person at Layla Jones Pizza.)  (OK, for reals now I'm done and will be quiet.)

[If you haven't seen the amazingness that is called Lori Nelson and the art she creates, click here to check it out. Then click here to donate to my Livestrong Challenege page.  For every $5.00 you donate, a virtual raffle ticket will be generated for you to win a portrait hand painted by the afore mentioned amazingness Nelson.  You don't have to live in NY to win this, so get to it.  More details here.]

I'm the Friend Who Drives You Bananas

I think I’m mostly a naïve person, and maybe a little careless.  My naivety shows in my belief that everything will just be fine, unless it wont be, in which case, well I probably couldn’t have changed it anyway.  So I live my life in this way, fingers crossed most of the time, but always hopeful that the universe is conspiring in my favor.  I understand that not everyone is built this way.  Some people may be wired exactly the opposite way, and I’m the kind of person that makes them furrow their brow, shake their head and breathe deep. 

One Should Wait Until One's First Trimester is Over to Announce One's Pregnancy

This personality trait started shining bright as a lighthouse when I found out I was pregnant.  Of course I told Anson right away, and we kept it to ourselves for a full 12 hours at which point I couldn’t bear to keep it from Roan.  There are a lot of really good, really valid reasons why I shouldn’t have done that.  But there I was on a Saturday morning sitting on the couch eating Lucky Charms with him when I just started a guessing game with him and led him to his big guess that he was going to be granted his wish for a teammate in this household.  Roan was so excited.  He was excited in a way that surprised me – it went all the way down to his core, and made him think about all the things he could do would do with this new person.  That very day he placed his hand on my stomach and said, “I can’t wait for that baby to kick me.”

Roan kept it to himself for a full 15 minutes before he began shouting it on the streets.  It was way to early to be telling people, but I couldn’t help but be caught up in his magical enthusiasm.  Again, my naiveties lit up bright by letting it get into the world that quickly.  For me, it was ok, though.  I know all the millions of things that can go wrong; I’ve seen heartbreak with my own mother in a pregnancy that ended too early. Still, in my life I find I hang on tight to these happy things, and if tragedy creeps up on me, I will feel it then.  I will not anticipate it.  So I let Roan and his excitement run loose on the playground, at our friend’s homes, and wherever he needs it to manifest. 

Is it Wrong to Call a Closet a Nursery?

I am of course worried about some things – will this pregnancy be as easy as Roan’s?  I’m older now – a whopping 38 which in my old digs of Utah is a little old to be having a child but here in Brooklyn, people will likely shake their head and compare me to Bristol Palin.  (Viva la Madres de Brooklyn!!)  We have exactly no spare space.  We have exactly no spare change.  We have exactly no baby supplies as my penchant to get rid of everything that hasn’t been used in the last 20 minutes rules this household. 

But mostly, I’m excited to see my boy Roan with his new friend, whom he is anticipating with the most love and excitement that I have ever seen.  He has started making a mental list of what we need to buy, and randomly will verbalize the list, “Hey mom, we can’t wrap the baby in towels so we’re going to have to buy it a blanket, ok?  Also: diapers, cause you know…..”  Roan stares at the printouts from the ultrasound with fascination and sees things that I cannot see.  He’s practicing singing songs, reading books, and has committed to wearing a sling to carry the baby down these Brooklyn streets.  I promise to you:  I will photograph that.

The Yin to my Yang

And my husband Anson, who is one of those people who is driven crazy by people with my sense of “what will be will be”, he’s hanging on tight and trying his best to keep up with his two pregnancy-proud banshees.  Anson wants this child, he’s excited for the future and for where we are now, but he worries so much more than I do.  But too bad for him – all the literature out there says that while your wife is pregnant, she is always right, always just and always deserving of your total support (don't make me site sources, just trust me).  So this is going to be a good time for all of us.  Some of us may just need to practice our breathing excercises more than others and I'm not talking about me.

[Special plea from me: The voting works again, so if you feel like I shouldn't be getting clobbered in the Nickelodeon Parents' Picks for Best Brooklyn Blog, click here, vote for me, and then come back to see what cool things are in store for you here, today.  Thanks!]

Super Glam Prize!

Beginning today, right now, yes this minute for every $5.00 you donate to my Livestrong Challenge Page (to benefit the Lance Armstrong Foundation), a virtual raffle ticket will be generated for you.  The winner will be drawn at our fundraising event to be held at Layla Jones Pizza on June 30^th, beginning at 5:00 pm.  You do not need to be present to win, but you do need to be present to eat their pizza, which I DO recommend above all others.  Indeed.

What are you entering to win?  A hand painted portrait of your child by New York artist phenom Lori Nelson.  I would tell you how awesome she is and how magical her work is, but why don’t you just take an eyeful right here, right now, and then help me fight cancer and hopefully get a piece of artwork you will love forever and ever, by clicking here and donating any amount.  Every increment of $5.00 gets you one ticket.  (Secret pointer to help you win: I’d get a few.)  Just an FYI: you do not need to live in NY to win this prize.  Lori can work off a picture, and knows how to ship things.  She’s not just talented, she’s smart as well.

Also one more announcement:  If you live anywhere within the Tri-State area, you’ve already heard Roan screaming this from the rooftops.  Or if you’ve passed him on the street, he’s probably at least whispered it to you.  He has asked me if I’ve told the people that read about him (yes, he knows you exist, and lets me know what things are ok to talk about.  He’s like Tony Danza – He’s the Boss.)  I told him no I haven't written about it yet, and he looked at me like I wasn’t speaking English.  So, I’ll let his workbook exercise from last night fill you in.  Get your decoder rings on…

My name is: roan I am 5 3/4 years old. I was born on Dec 19. I have schrat hair. I have tow eyes. My mother's name is Jodi. My father's name is anson. My favorite food is PIZZa. My favorite color is all.

My favorite book is CHaPR Books. My favorite movie is all on my TV.  My favorite thins to do are SWIng VIDYO Gaem

My brothers and sisters are In Moms Tomy. (You see where we went with that?  It's true.  Except it isn't "brothers and sisters", it is one or the other.  We all agree that we'll be cool with either.  Roan is seriously excited about this, and already has taken to letting me know when he thinks my belly is getting fat, which is always nice to hear.)