the filibuster

Nathan and Nell and I watched a little bit of the filibuster last night.  We don't watch TV with Nell, and I never have it on during the day, but we made an exception last night and tuned in to C-SPAN on my laptop for a bit while Nell decided to be unexpectedly awake around 10 pm.

{isn't she sweet?}

I felt like we were seeing a bit of history being made.

“I will speak until I can no longer speak,” Paul said as he began. “I will speak as long as it takes, until the alarm is sounded from coast to coast that our Constitution is important, that your rights to trial by jury are precious, that no American should be killed by a drone on American soil without first being charged with a crime, without first being found to be guilty by a court.”

{from The Washington Post}

This evening I'm trying to process the events of yesterday, trying to read recent articles about the drone controversy and John Brennan and Pakistan and Yemen and be at least a fraction as informed as I'd like to be about everything.

There's this: John Brennan Confirmation Battle Stirs Drone Strike Controversy

And there's this: Living Under Drones

There's finally a bit of an answer for Senator Rand Paul: Sen. Paul Reaches Victory Through Filibuster

And there are a hundred other things I could try to read and process about war, about politics, about our nation, about mothers and their babies living a world away from me right now, and what their lives are like, and what effect my country is having on them.

Nell is sleeping, so it's my chance to be on my computer a bit, to catch up on the news or read some blogs or write something of my own.  It's also my chance to tidy my messy house, to vacuum the bedroom or finish up the last of the dishes in the kitchen or start soaking pinto beans for tomorrow's dinner.  I'm behind on work, with emails hanging over my head and financial matters waiting to be checked and double-checked.  Where do I start?  It's easy to get overwhelmed.

Nell keeps waking up.  Five times since she went to bed at 7:00, she's awakened crying out and needing to be re-settled.  I run up the stairs, pat her back, lay down beside her.  Her soft, warm little hands reach out for me, find my face in the dimness, and her cries quiet, her breathing deepens.  I kiss her little palms, one and then the other.  I breathe in her scent, sweet and clean from her evening bath.

I want to solve the problems of the world.  I don't want children in Pakistan to die.  I don't want Americans to be complicit in the unnecessary deaths of innocent civilians.  I want change for our government.  I want Rand Paul's filibuster to mean something to our nation.  I want liberty and justice for all, the Constitution to be upheld.

But I can't solve all these problems.  I can't even finish reading the websites and the articles I'd like to read this evening, and those dishes in the sink probably won't get finished tonight, either.

I can only solve the problems of one little baby with warm hands and sweet-smelling skin, who just needs a reassuring touch from her mama.  I can do that.