Hmm. Now why don't she write?

Yeah. It's been a bit.

Here's why.

Pneumonia.

I had it.

I'm still recovering.

I spent a week sick. I went to the doctor who sent me to the hospital for nearly another week. I came home and was barely able to move for falling asleep.

It's hard to explain how it feels to be so weak. How it feels to tell my daughter that mommy can't right now and needs to nap. The fear in her eyes as she saw me in the hospital. I'm still not back at 100%, I'd say I was about back to 70%.

What else is going on.

My oldest niece got married.
The less said the better.
The ceremony was beautiful. The reception was not.
And I'm looking at my oldest niece and wondering what became of the little girl I adored. In her place is this bridezilla who managed to hand out emotional gut-punches at her wedding the way I handed out Milky-ways on halloween.

Since then I invited her to Thanksgiving to try to set a new tone to our relationship. I have since been ghosted. No answer. No response to my many queries. So I'm assuming she and her new husband won't be here. After a long talk with my husband I realized that I don't miss the person I just saw--I miss the one who I watched grow.  And to be honest, I'll be missing her father, mother, and sister--my youngest niece who has a good head on her shoulders, kindness in abundance, and a boyfriend who appreciates both--more than I will miss the older one. But family shifts are like earthquakes and they aren't fun.


More later--the 70% is almost up.

What I learned - Microblog Monday

Sorry for the radio silence.

I was trying like crazy to finish my book before the writing conference this weekend.
I didn't.
I'm about 6000 words out--a little more because the conference made me see a glaring error that I did two chapters ago and I have to fix now.

One of the breakout sessions I took was about storytelling--oral and written.

We were to write about times in our life when we needed help.

This is what I wrote.

My goddaughter turned one.

A year after her mother's four-day labor. A year after my eyes caught my husband's as I held her. We went home and cheerily threw out the birth control pills We joyfully went about the business of adding to our family. It would be easy, right, I mean I'd spent so long hearing that it only takes one time. It had been a year full of periods that were always on-time. I wasn't worried-much.

My goddaughter turned three.

Three years of hearing "great news!" from my friends until we were the only ones of our group who wanted a chid and were without. Three years of worry and once a month depression. Two years after sitting in a doctor's office answering aseptic intimate questions and hormone shots that made me question my sanity and reason for living.

My goddaughter turned six.

A year after we started the process to "Just Adopt." Social worker--a lovely one who would become our advocate--came to our house to decide if we were worthy to parent. We had to ask our friends to write us recommendations. We had to ask other people to help us become parents. No one else seemed to have this trouble. I had been losing friends who told me horrible things. Some forever.

My goddaughter turned eight.

No one invites us to baby showers anymore--nor should they. Mother's Day has become a landmine of epic proportions. After waiting to adopt for three years and realizing it could be another three we decide to try IVF. It doesn't work.

My goddaughter turned ten.

People tell us to get out of the line for China. We say no--that's where she is.  We've been waiting for five years, We see ourselves getting closer. But the wait is still so long. We renew our paperwork and pray.

My goddaughter turned thirteen.

She joyfully swings my daughter in her arms. My goddaughter laughed and my beautiful little girl giggles the way only a one-year-old can with her whole body.  After the laughter my daughter reaches for me.
My goddaughter gives me boxes of her old clothes, that her mother saved for me. Her mother, my heart-sister never doubted that we would watch our two children playing together.
Our child lights up our world and, even today, I don't know that the joy would be as much without the struggle and the help.

Seeing the future

My grandmother had a gift. Maybe a curse.

She could attend a wedding, engagement party, even watch a couple who were dating and know, know as an undeniable truth that they would not work out.

I remember going to a cousin's wedding. Big fancy wedding. Bride and groom made lovey-dovey faces at each other. When we came home my mom said what a nice wedding it was. I said that it would have been nicer if I thought for even ten minutes that the happy couple would work out. I watched my mother's face pale. It seemed that I said my grandmother's exact words with the exact tone that she had used about this cousin's parents. My grandmother had been proven correct seven years later. My cousin's marriage didn't even last that long.

I haven't always been able to predict it. Some friends split up and I really thought they were going the long haul. But right now, I'm watching my niece start on the road to the wedding and I know, I know, she's going down the road for heartache. Other people have told her and she just doesn't care.

I don't get this.

Her "fiancé" asked her to marry him, with a ring and everything, at the end of 2017. But--she's not allowed to tell anyone on social media. He wanted to wait to tell his family. Then he wanted to wait to tell someone else. It's March now, and she's still not allowed to tell people on social media. This means most of her friends don't know.

When her father got engaged, I remember that he was so proud and happy that he stopped the mailman and pointed out my soon to be sister in law.  "Isn't she beautiful! She's the most amazing woman inside and out and she is marrying me!" They've been married over 30 years. Not without bumps,  but still.

My niece has been dating this guy for a while. about six years or so. They broke up when she wanted to become engaged and he didn't. Then he charmed and wheedled and she took him back and she told him that if she didn't have a ring by the time 2018 came she'd be gone. So he got her a ring and forbid her to tell anyone about it.

When it comes to wedding planning he refuses to get married near where her parents live and where she wants to be married. There is an elderly aunt who can't travel and my niece wants her there, but he refuses so that's it.

He insists that she must formally convert to Judaism. Her father is Jewish, her mother is not. She was raised Jewish. She teaches Hebrew School. But it isn't Jewish enough and he belittles her hard-won Jewish knowledge. Their relationship is filled with his micro-agressions towards her.

Yet when anyone tells her that this is not the way a loving man treats his bride-to-be, she dismisses it. She loves him. She wants him.

So I wait with my heart hurting. I know that at some point she will see him for what he is. Maybe he'll change, but I'm not holding my breath. I wish so much that she could see him the way we do. I wish that she would stand her ground. She's a strong woman.  Or she was.

But her biological clock is ticking. She's worried she'll have problems getting pregnant. She wants to be a mother and she thinks that this guy is the only way that can happen. I worry that if she has problems getting pregnant he will blame her and come down on her. I worry.

I wonder if she really doesn't see it, or if she's using her heart to override her head. Has anyone ever dealt with this kind of thing--if so what did you do?

Charlottesville and the racists we know--Microblog Mondays

Like everyone else I'm horrified by what went on in Charlottesville this weekend.

Note, I'm not saying I'm shocked. Racism is as endemic to this country as corn--and just as prolific. I'm reading my friends lists and everyone is shocked--shocked that this is what America looks like now. They're blaming Trump.

Now look, I'm for blaming Trump for anything but people aren't getting this. Trump is now in the Oval Office because of people like this. He didn't create it--he took advantage of it. People are surprised that Trump didn't denounce them harder. It always bewilders me when people are jolted by the fact that a racist was elected to the presidency. Did people really think that when Trump walked into the White House he'd suddenly become a decent human being? Did people think that he would suddenly be an adult? This is a man who has to get two scoops of ice cream while everyone else gets one. He's not going to change.

But other people can. The people you interact with every day--they have changed since you met them. Maybe they've changed for better or for worse but likely they are not the same people you met at the beginning.

Take my in-laws for example. They are majorly homophobic. They think that gays and lesbians are against God and the bible. Don't even get them started on transexuals which they just don't understand--and they admit that. Their church has splintered because of the gay and lesbian issue and my in-laws proudly attend the "non-welcoming" one.

This has understandably led to friction. But I wasn't going to cut off contact with my in-laws. I certainly wasn't going to stop associating with my LBGTQ friends to make my inlaws more comfortable. I kept throwing people together. All of a sudden my mother in law would ask me. "That friend of yours--is she gay?" I said "Yes." and went on with whatever. I kept telling them funny stories about my friends. All of them. Little by little the phobia went away. Little by little they realized that gay marriage didn't hurt their marriage. Little by little they realized they were wrong.

I see a lot of people on my Facebook feed saying "if you think such and such is right, then just de-friend me."  Unlike the hate--I see this on both sides. I'm not de-friending anyone. I will engage when I feel it is called for. I will discuss.

I don't feel that I am helping my friends who are being hurt most by the current situation by closing off my friends who have different views. We won't learn from each other that way. We have to start listening to others before the screaming starts.

I close with my favorite quote from The American President.  It is still so true.

You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can't just be a flag; the symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. Then, you can stand up and sing about the "land of the free."

Comforting After Loss - Microblog Monday

I'm in California. Visiting my Aunt. It's so weird not to say "my aunt and uncle," but I lost my Uncle a few weeks ago.

It was a hard visit. The look in her eye was lost. They were married for 73 years and now he's not there. They had no children. If they were bitter--they never ever showed it. During the times of IF hell, they were my rocks. They refused to accept that life without children had no meaning. They also said that their nieces and nephews were more devoted to them than some of their friends children--and we were. We are. All of us offered to have Aunt Vivian come and stay with us, but since we are east coasters and my Aunt thinks of 85 degrees as comfortably cool she said no.

It is the third time I have had to comfort after such a loss. The first was my grandfather, when I was 15. My grandparents missed their 65th anniversary by 8 months.

The second was my father, after my mom passed. They missed their 65th anniversary by 1 month and 19 days.

People don't know what to do or say.
They don't.

People kept calling the loss "a blessing." My aunt, who never swears--I mean she thinks "hell" is bad language told someone that calling this a blessing was "bullshit." I stared at her for about two minutes totally speechless. I was stunned to learn she knew the word--much less could use it in a sentence.

I took Lotus to see her and help comfort. It was disquieting for everyone, but eventually I think this will be good for Lotus. She's going to need to do this--and she rose to the challenge. She drew a picture of her self with a heart and her name. My aunt said it was beautiful.

None of us get through life untouched by loss. Lotus had one early on. It helps to help others.

Now to address my own grief at some point. Probably I'll do what I normally do. Hold it in for a while and then totally lose it. Ah, something to look forward to.

Microblog Monday - What's been happening

So here is some of the stuff that's been happening.

1) We went on the first full family road trip vacation with my little family of three, my father, and my siblings and their families that we have done since my siblings and I were in the back seat of the station wagon.
"He touched me!!!"
"Stop hitting yourself!"

It was fun.
It was "interesting."

My sibs and I have different travel styles. Mine is somewhere between plan everything--even your bathroom trips and let's just wander and see what comes. It was...interesting.


2) My uncle passed away.
Since I wrote about how he was dying in January--I have to say that this has been incredible that he held out for so long. He was 96. How could I expect him to live more.

I know this. And I am grieving. Grieving for my aunt who is alone. Grieving because I'll never hear a piece of classical music and not think of him. It hurts.

3) D and I are getting better.

I wouldn't classify us as fixed, but we are touching each other. We are talking and not yelling. We are sending Lotus out to watch TV and talking out our differences instead of yelling or freezing each other out. There is ground to recover but I am smiling more. I am reaching out to touch him more.

And more to come.

Thursday Thirteen --Lessons Learned from My Uncle, The teacher.

On Monday my Uncle passed away.

He was 96 years old.

He had been married to my aunt for 73 of those years.

No one needs to tell me that he lived a good life. No one needs to tell me that it was time for him to go. But hearing the loss in my aunt's voice is horrible. Feeling the loss of knowing I won't be able to pick up the phone and hear his voice is also horrible. I'm trying to concentrate on the years I had him. On what he taught me. So here is my Thursday 13.

1) Laugh when you get annoyed.
Watching my aunt and uncle pack was funny as hell. She'd pack everything and he'd stand at the door of their bedroom and laugh at her. Then she'd yell at him in french. Then they would laugh and laugh.

2) There's no cure like travel.
Go away from your base for a while. A Staycation means work--it really does.

3) Music can solve any problem

4) If your emotional state is still bad, you need to listen to more music.

5) Education can solve the world's problems. We should have continuing education for adults--especially civil education.

6) Listening is better with everything. Music, people, problems

7) Don't ask, how can you help--find something and do it.

8) Hand written cards are in fashion. They will always be in fashion.

9) If you dress up for dinner you are honoring your dinner companions

10) Love takes time and work.

11) Once you've reached your 70th anniversary, you can sit silently and hold hands and everyone will just think you are cute.

12) You're not smarter at 95 than you were at 45--you've just seen a lot more and know to keep your mouth shut until asked.

13) Slip from one world into the next holding your beloved's hand.

On Monday night, my uncle passed away. My Aunt was holding his hand.

Microblog Monday - And for worse

We had a wonderful weekend. We truly did.

It intersected the line between fun and productive. Lotus enjoyed it. As I was putting her to bed Saturday night I asked her what her favorite part of the day was.

"Having fun today and you and Daddy not fussing."

Oh.

When we first brought Lotus home, I had this idea that D and I wouldn't fight in front of her. Then we called it fussing. We tried to always make sure she saw us hugging and kissing and making up. Or at least the PG part.

Lately, to be honest, we've fought so much that fights haven't had a distinct beginning and a distinct end. Last week our fight got so intense that L sat at the dinner table with her hands over her ears.  And sometimes, when I stayed up after the rest of the family was in bed, I wasn't sure that everything was going to be okay.

I love D. He loves me. There is no addiction, no infidelity, no abuse. My grandmother, who was married to my grandfather for 65 years said that with the exception of the aforementioned three things anything can work out. I still believe it.

But the operating word is "work." Our marriage has gone from something that just "was" to something that we need to work through. Our differences which seemed to complement each other like gears that line up perfectly. Now the gears are misaligned and grinding at each other and I'm not sure how to fix it.

Most of it is D's job. He is a teacher, and it seemed that last year they set him up to fail and then pecked at him so he would. To be honest, his administration has been helping him to get better but D is burnt out. He comes home exhausted and hides from the world. I've been home either with Lotus or writing with her in pre-k and I want company. The extrovert part of my ambivert needs adult conversation. D can't handle conversation. Add to that my grief, a five-year-old who has decided to start really pushing her limits, money issues and you get the picture.

We've talked. We've cried. Again we've made the commitment to stay. But it isn't the fairy tale. I don't know how we're going to get to happily ever after. A few times the past month I didn't know if we'd get to the next day. I don't want to leave him. He doesn't want to leave me. Why is this so hard?

Before you ask, D gave me permission to write this out here. I wouldn't talk about it otherwise. Though I think that talking about it outside of the marriage helps. Sometimes you need a fresh look. We both are in counseling and might do it jointly we're not sure. I've had friends who were so good at hiding some of the shit they were going through I had no idea they were going through it.

But lately, I've been asking for help. For breathing space. For time away, for time with people.  So I ask you lot,  if you've been there and have advice for how to stay, I'd love to hear it.

An important bit of nothing

Today we readopted Lotus.

We filled out more paperwork.

We went to a court and a judge
smiled at our daughter
and pronounced her our daughter
now
and forever more.

When she asked,
we tried to explain?
Why?
Why did we do this?
Again?

Lotus is an American citizen
since after a flight
from China to New York
we placed her foot on the ground
Of JFK Terminal.

Lotus has been our daughter
since we dipped her foot
in red ink
and placed it on the paper
Making a blood-red footprint
that says
She is ours.

How do I tell you
My daughter,
My child,
My very own,
That our country elected a tyrant.
Who hates you?

How do I say that
I worried that
that tyrant might write
new laws. And those laws
would call
you an immigrant
and take you from me.

How do I say
that I waited because
I wanted to honor
your China Mommy.
I am saddened because
the birth certificate that
will come from the capital city
of our state
will not have her name.

All I can say
that it was for a piece of paper.
And would you like cake?

And my child will hug me.
And ask if she can
lick the beater when
we make the icing.

I say no.
We will share.
Because we are family.

Microblog Monday - And You

And You*

When I get angry at Lotus, 

or she's done something she knows 

she's not supposed to,

she will cry. 

"I want my mommy!" She'll say. 

She will say this clutching to me.

Her face

buried into my very ample stomach

and breasts. 

"I want Mommy." She cries. 

"I'm right here." I say, holding her close.

"I'm here, baby."

"I'm not leaving."

What she means sometimes is

she wants mommy, 

the one who isn't mad at her,

and is fun.

And I generally get this through my brain,

and I rock her,

and she stops crying,

and she says sorry,

and we're okay. 

Sometimes she cries for mommy

as I am holding her

and I realize there's another woman she's crying for.

a woman who she lived with for five days.

A woman whose heartbeat she heard,

while she was getting ready to be born.

A woman who chose to give birth to her, 

and then made the 

heart-wrenching

unimaginable 

decision 

to leave her to be found 

and cuddled 

and loved 

by strangers. 

Lotus cries for that mommy. 

She misses her.

That woman who looks at the world 

from eyes that are like her own.

That woman who,

I imagine,

Aches for my crying little girl

in ways I cannot imagine.

And I don't want to . 

When Lotus does this

We hug each other very hard

and send our love out

and hope China Mommy

can feel it

can understand 

this is the best I can do 

to pay the enormous debt that I owe 

this woman with 

my daughter's face. 

And one time

After being scolded

Lotus said she wanted mommy.

I realized and asked.

"China Mommy?"

She nodded.

Then

tearfully

She raised her head 

tears soaking  er face

tears soaking my breast

to look me in the eye. 

"I want China Mommy." she said 

lifting her hand to my chin

"And You."

Her head returned

just above my heart

as more tears fell. 

I held her,

and rocked her, 

and internally praised her intelligence. 

Because my four-and-a-half-year-old daughter

summed up adoption angst

in two words. 

* The style of this post is a tribute to the book Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson. I am in the middle of this amazing book told in verse so I tried to do a blog post in verse.  Was I successful?  Let me know. 

 

Microblog Monday - My Real Grandmother

Lotus is named after my grandmother.  My father's mother.

I adored her. I looked up to her--even though by the time I was 14 I was taller than her.  When I spoke of my grandmother, I meant her.

But I met both of my grandmothers. I met my mother's mother. She taught me how to bless the candles on Friday nights. She put dots of honey on my fingers and after I said some of the words right I would lick my fingers. She would read Torah stories to me. I remember her scent.

Grandma G. passed when I was around 7. I remember the funeral vividly. I remember my mother ripping a black ribbon as it was pinned to her suit. I remember that so well that when I was at my own mother's funeral, I flashed back to that day and broke down. It became real then.

But this isn't about my mom--or not really.

I came across a cache of pictures of my mother's parents.  I never met my maternal grandfather, he died before I was born. My then 42 year old mother thought that her missed periods and nausea was extended mourning. She went to the doctor and was declared 4 months pregnant.

There are several pictures of me with my grandmother. But the picture that stopped me cold was a picture of both of my maternal grandparents--taken not long before my grandfather's death.  In it my grandfather is smiling adoringly at my grandmother and she has--an almost shy smile on. It's the smile of a woman who loves the man she is with. It is a beautiful picture of two people very much in love.

I realized that while I had met my maternal grandmother--I didn't know her. Not because I was a child, but because so much of her died with my grandfather. This woman, with the shy, loving smile, this was my grandmother. The one my mother wept for. The one my mother knew.

Lotus met my mother but knew her less than a year. Afterwards my father had a lady friend who slipped effortlessly into the role and Lotus loves her. She knows and loves my father. He is Papa. He can't count. Every time he asks Lotus to give him three kisses he counts "one, one, one, one" He makes her giggle.

Today, I was looking through more pictures and I saw a picture of my father smiling so broadly with my mother in his arms smiling back. This is a lovely picture. I sucked in my breath as I realized I was staring at my real father. The complete one, the one with my mom at his side. No matter how long my father lives, Lotus will never know this man. My father, when he was complete.

Aunt and Uncle

I believe in reincarnation. I believe that some people have been in our lives for many lifetimes.

Here I talk about my Aunt and Uncle.  I'll just call them Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Phil. Both teachers--down to the bone. My uncle taught music. One of his students was Donna Summer with whom he exchanged birthday cards until her death. Her death took my Uncle Phil by surprise--and hit him hard. No teacher wants to outlive his students.

My aunt taught history. She still does when she can.

Both of them outlived younger sisters. Their last trip on a plane was to bury my mother.

They have been married for 73 years.  No typo.

They are 96 and 97 respectively.

And they are dying.

They taught me how to live without children, and it makes me feel terrible that once we had Lotus my contact with them wasn't as frequent.  Part of that was--well parenting.  Part of it was that my Aunt Phyllis would time travel in her head.  Most often she knew who I was when I called, but we were always about to get Lotus.  And my mother was alive.  Hearing Aunt Phyl talk about her in the present tense broke stuff in me.

I believe in reincarnation. I believe that when they leave this earth they will wait for me and we will be born again together.

But right now, I just hope that if there is a merciful Gd, he will take them together.

And I hope that they will hang on until I get out there to hug them, one more time.

Blood ties

I tend to belittle blood ties.
Hmmm, maybe belittle is not the word.

I understand and appreciate blood ties, but when people say to me, "You can't possibly love your adopted daughter like I love my daughter because she isn't your blood." I roll my eyes and take a step back from the speaker, often both metaphorically and physically.

I have a biological sister. I love her.

I have a sister that I chose for myself in my first week of college.  I love her too.

In my heart there is truly no difference. I often introduce the latter as my sister--something that kinda gets my bio sister upset. That being said, I often don't understand it, I don't love my b-sister less, I couldn't possibly. Somewhere along the line, with my non-bio sister, the word "friend" just didn't seem to cut it.

Anyway, blood ties--not a thing.

Then there was yesterday.

We are in California visiting my Aunt and Uncle. They are celebrating their 72nd wedding anniversary--and that wasn't a typo.

My Aunt is my mom's older sister. Though over 90 she traveled from CA to NY when mom passed. She said that she was there when mom came into the world and she would perform the mitzvah of burying her. She did--bent over with her own grief she did.

Yesterday after a incredibly long and traffic filled drive we arrived to meet them and I took my Aunt's hand.

More often than not I don't think about her being my mom's sister--seriously if you met my aunt you'd understand, she's in a class by herself. Yesterday I held her hand and it felt like I was holding Mom's hand. Her touch was the same.  We sat while eating dinner, holding each other's hands. I wasn't about to let go, neither was she. We were both looking for a link to mom and found it in each other.

I love my Aunt, and she loves me. Yesterday when I held my aunt's hand I also held my mom's. Yesterday when she held my hand she held a link to her sister.  The blood is there and so is the love. Maybe it's when they aren't together, that's when people say don't forget blood.

Dear new owners of the house where I grew up

It's happened.

An offer has come on the house where I grew up. It has been accepted an a closing date has been set.

I want to beg Dad not to sell it.
I want to have it sold already.

But it is the house where I grew up.  I want to write a letter to the new owners and this is what I think it will say.

Dear new owners.

I grew up in this house. My earliest memories were of sliding down the stairs on my butt. Allow me to let you know some things about it.

The rungs on the bannister look wider than they are. Ask my brother. He got his head stuck between them. Mom called the fire department and expected them to cut through the bars, instead they poured a massive amount of cooking oil on his head. To the kids growing up--don't try it, it really sucks.

When you are in the basement, the house creaks. You will swear on a stack of bibles that there is someone else in the house. Nope. That's just the way it is.

My bedroom, the one that's pink now, is the warmest room in the winter and the coolest room in the summer. Yeah, you might like to have the big bedroom with the bathroom attached as the master bedroom--but if you are as sensitive to temperature as I am, take my room. It's good.

This house knew love. The kind that lasts lifetimes. My parents were the only owners of the house and they were married nearly 65 years. 54 of them were spent in this house. My oldest sister grew from toddler to adult in this house. My brother and I grew from newborns to adult in this house. This is the house where we hung out as teenagers, we held parties, and kissed our boyfriends (okay my boyfriends) at the front door. Grandchildren came to play in this house. The step that leads to the den from the stairs is called the evil step because every one of the grandchildren took a header on it. But afterwards they learned. This house rang with the laughter of a family with a good sense of humor. Yes this house knew tears, but when we wept, we didn't weep alone as the spirits of love remembered kept us company.

This is also the house where my mother died. I'm not telling you that to scare you or make this morbid. That is why my father is selling it, because when I come to the house I expect to see my mother in the kitchen, or coming up from the office in the basement, and it still hurts that she won't. We had a wonderful time in this house, and now it is your turn.

I have wishes for you.
May you make the house ring with laughter. The acoustics are such that if someone is laughing in the den, you can hear them upstairs.
May your children discover that if you talk about them in the basement office they can hear you in my room (the pink one).
May you have many meals where both ovens are used.
May there be a blackout--just cold enough that you sleep in front of the fireplace. I remember those nights of my childhood very well.
Fill this house with as much kindness, arguments, laughter, shouting, and love that we did.  It's a tall order but we are wishing that a family enjoys this house as much as we did.

Gd bless.

(and, if you find a wedding ring in the corners of the house, please return it to me. It was my mother's.)

Sitting on my kid

I think one of the biggest disconnects between people who are parents and people who aren't is the babysitter.

Prior to Lotus whenever I saw a kid in a place the child shouldn't* be the thought ran through my head. "Why on earth can't they get a sitter?"

Now that I am a parent--whoo boy. Getting a sitter is hard as hell.

 First, there is Lotus' objection to being left with people she doesn't know. Once upon a time her mother did that and didn't come back so she is understandably worried.

Second, The cost.
When I was a babysitter I had a formative experience. One of my families (and the one I was a usual sitter for) paid me minimum wage when others paid me far less. The family stated that they believed that watching their kid was important and they should pay at least minimum wage for it. That means it is $15 per hour--which is expensive.

Third, finding someone I like and Lotus likes.
That's been the issue.
I haven't found that person. I don't really know how to look for her/him. I know I need to.

Fourth. The part of me that doesn't want to.
I am lucky as hell. I enjoy my kid. I work full-time now and don't see Lotus until I get home. I love playing with her, cooking with her, just being with her. She is fun to be around. There isn't a whole lot I want to do without her.

For those who read--how have you managed the babysitter question?




*By shouldn't be I mean the following (Please note this is for toddlers and younger as I have a three year old)
Movies with an R rating are not the place for Toddlers or below.  I remember leaving the movie Matrix 2 because someone brought their infant and toddlers who were screaming and likely scared as hell. 
Restaurants where there is a tasting menu that costs three figures or more. I do not mean diners and family restaurants.  Kids are, and should always be welcome there. Even places like Union Square Cafe or like establishments are fine if you know your kid and the kid likes things.  But places like Per Se? Why would you spend that much?

Walking in the shoes

Mel had a great post about how when you are dealing with Infertility you are more empathetic to someone else who is going through it.

And I kind of agree.
Kind of.

Because there comes a point where it isn't true. When one leaves IF island on a boat (pregnancy) or a plane (adoption). Someone is now calling you Mommy. You are now dealing with all the stuff with parenting and they aren't. It can't help but cause something to happen, a distance if you will. If you're still on that island, it hurts to see someone off of it. If you're leaving that island...sometimes you don't want to look back.

I can speak of this from both sides now.

In the middle of my IF, one of my friends was going through it too. Together we mourned with every appearance of AF. Then, on my birthday, she called me. I had been having a nice birthday too. I had had a massage and was watching a marathon of crappy reality tv.  We seldom talk on the phone--doing most of our friendship online. When she called I thought something was wrong. She was over the moon as she was finally pregnant. She was doing her happy dance--and she should. I just thought she might have waited a day to tell me. I hung up the phone and cried. It was one of the worst birthdays because I  couldn't stop crying. She had other friends call me and they all wanted to share the news with me and wasn't I happy for her?

She had no empathy for me whatsoever. A few days later she emailed and said she hoped she hadn't ruined my birthday. I told her she did and she apologized. We're still friends, but I don't trust her as I did. I never will trust her to that extent again.


Fast forward a few years.
We had come back from China with our beautiful Lotus. My older sister is in agony. She and her husband had decided not to adopt from China even though they had come to realize that adoption was the only way they would grow their family.While we waited, and waited, and waited this might have felt like it was the right call. Then, after all this time I have this little adorable child and she's calling me mom. We went to a family thing and I was packing up to leave. I made a joke about the traffic going home, something like "I'm relying on a merciful Gd. We'll see how that works." I looked up and wanted to swallow my tongue. I gave my sister a hug and she turned away. I followed up, apologized again and she said that she knew it would be hard, but not this hard.

I try so hard to make my sister feel welcome. It is helping. Lotus adores her and in spite of everything I would imagine that Lotus considers my sister one of her favorite people--and her second favorite aunt. Lotus' godmother being in that first place berth. I still have to walk that line though. It was easier to be  empathetic when I was still there--but that is no excuse for me not to be once I'm not.

And then there is the dead parents club..... More on that later.

Microblog Mondays - Trust

Halloween was wonderful.

Lotus got so much candy in her candy pumpkin that she needed D to hold it for her.

She had a great time,

She got a bit miffed when we explained that she was not allowed to eat all of her candy all at once, but there was no tantrum. She's been very generous--sharing her candy and not getting upset when we help ourselves to some of the goodies. (She got Hot Tamales! I haven't even SEEN those in years!!!!)

So we're happy.

It makes me think of the Jimmy Kimmel challenge where people film themselves saying that they ate all of their kids halloween candy and watch the kids melt down. Everyone seems to think that this is funny as hell. I think that it is disgusting.

Maybe it is because Lotus is adopted and I am very conscious of building trust with her. I want her to be able to trust me when I say I will do something. I want her to trust me when I tell her not to do something. I think this is such a violation of the trust between a parent and a child.

These kids are going to watch themselves on Youtube later on. They aren't going to laugh. They are going to remember that their mom and dad violated their trust and taped that break for everyone to see.

We ask our kids to trust us, but the flip side of that is that we must be trustworthy. I remember very clearly a time when my mother broke my trust and it took a long time to get it back. I wonder how long it will be for these children to trust their parents again.

Microblog Mondays--Valuables

The Governor: (dismissively) Paper.
Cervantes: Manuscript
The Governor: Valuable?
Cervantes: Only to me.

-- Man of La Mancha


I went to my dad's house this weekend. He's looking at apartments and I went with him.

I wanted to take my mom's recipe file home with me. Then I couldn't find it.

Dad had hired a clean-out company to help him get a lot of stuff out. We had estate sales.  But we couldn't find some stuff afterwards--we know it is in the house somewhere but we don't know where. I freaked out about this the last time, but I had calmed down.

My mom's recipe file? That practically broke me.

These are the foods that she made her corrections to. The recipes she'd charmed from restaurants when she traveled--in her own handwriting. I called my sister to see if maybe she had taken it. She said no, got upset and then said that no one would have stolen it. They couldn't read mom's handwriting.  It made me feel slightly better--but not much.

We found it, well my husband did.  I hugged that file to me the way I couldn't hug my mother. To others it was worthless, for me--it was priceless.

Do you have any objects that are "worthless?"

Viddui

Tuesday night is Yom Kippur, the day of Atonement. Jews around the world fast, (abstain from eating or drinking) and spend the day in temple.  One of the prayers said is the Viddui (Confessional). We say it aloud surrounded by people who are saying the same things.  It begins, for the sin which we have committed against you....  A few years ago our Rabbi asked the kids to come up with what they were sorry for.  Some of it was touching, some adorable.  My favorite was "For the sin I committed agains you for punching my sister--but she really deserved it."

Anyway that inspired me to come up with my own that I sometimes say in temple.  Still this is public and maybe others can find that they are not alone.

For the sin which I have committed against you for forgetting others humanity. 

Donald Trump is human. So is Kim Davis. So are a lot of people who I disagree with. If they died tomorrow there are people who would mourn them like I am still mourning the loss of my mother. When did people become the sum total of their opinions on one thing? Would I want people to judge me on my opinions on one thing? The best thing about this country is that someone can stand on a street corner and scream things at the top of their lungs that I would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of mine. They have that right. If they want to run for president--they have that right and I have the responsibility to oppose them if I so choose.
But they are human.
They have people who love them and I will not say anything that demeans their humanity because then I am no better.

For the sins which I have committed by inwardly bragging about my daughter. 
Do I need to explain this one?

For the sins which I have committed by being in denial about some of my health issues. 
I have to put myself back on track.

For the sins which I have committed by judging other mothers harshly.
This one I want to stop. We are getting through this thing called life the best that we can. I have to stop thinking "What is that mother doing to that child?" I have to stop. People are thinking it about me and I hate it. I'm doing the best I can. So are they.

For the sins which I have committed by not giving people the benefit of the doubt.
"Could you tell me some of the costs involved in adopting your daughter?" Someone at my daughter's daycare asked me. I opened my mouth to blast her with both barrels. Why on earth is it her business. Then I saw her eyes. The hunger. She wanted to be a mother as badly as I had.  What if I had said something bad? I have started to ask "Why do you ask?" instead of hitting them and found wonderful conversations.

For the sins which I have committed by making every tear my daughter sheds somehow related to her time in the orphanage or her adoption. 
Sometimes she is crying because it is bedtime and she wants to stay up later. Sometimes she is crying because I said she couldn't have another cookie.

For the sins which I have committed by treating my husband as my coparent instead of my partner, lover and best friend. 

For the sins which I have gotten impatient with my siblings and dad. 
We're all trying to figure out how to go on in a world where mom isn't. I should cut them some more slack because they are hurting too.

For the sins which I have committed by trying to do too much. 

For the sins I have committed by not doing enough. 

For all these sins oh Lord, Forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement. 

I wish a happy healthy new year for all.

Things I want to work on for next season

Damn.
Sorry about the blog hiatus.

Back to school + needy child + Back to school teacher hubby + High Holy Days = blog hiatus.

Anyway I'm back.

I don't do new year's resolutions.  Or at least, not on January first.

I do them around this time of year. The High Holidays.

I'm a submarine jew and this is one of the times I surface.

I spent Monday in temple. I spent Tuesday in thought and quiet prayer. And playing with the child I prayed so long for.

What do I want to change next year?

Well, with my career...

• I don't know where my career is and where it is going. I want to change that. I have a contract position, but I don't know what happens when it ends. 
• I want to blog more. 
• I want to finish the last revision (I swear it--until I get an editor anyway) and send my novel to an agent. 

With my friends...

• I want to start seeing friends instead of texting them and messaging them where practicable. In this past year I met a lot of people I only "knew" online. I enjoyed it. I want to keep doing this. 
• Barring that I will use my cell phone the way Jobs intended--as a freaking phone where I can hear a friend's voice, and not just imagine it via text.  
• I will also go out of my way to start meeting some of the parents of the children I hear my daughter mention often. Okay maybe not the one who tried to push her down the slide, but the one she plays with every day. 

With my family...

• I will try to remember how damn lucky I am to have the family that I have. 
• I will try to be more patient with my daughter. That doesn't mean giving in to her every desire, but allowing her to bitch and moan when I don't. 
• I will find a babysitter (two hopefully) that I trust as much as I trust the daycare teachers. D and I need to get out alone now and again. 

With myself...

• I will listen to the doctors regarding my blood sugar and getting it down. 
• I will have a mammogram in the next month. 
• I will try to exercise more--maybe playing tag or ball with my daughter more. 
• I will learn to ask for help--ideally before I break down screaming that no one will help me. 

To all--I wish peace, love, health and joy in the coming year.