grrlTravels

Bloggy Fun proves my life is dull

I am enjoying the "Top Ten Things I've Done That You Probably Haven't" lists that are popping up everywhere. Did you know that Short North Mama proposed to her husband and promptly threw up? Or how about Mrs. Figby milking that alpaca?

I have been contemplating my own list. Now if we were going to write a list about K., we could dash it off in about 5 minutes. Have you ever had a motorhome as your primary residence for 2 years? Ridden in an acrobatic airplane without a parachute? Had a successful lawn business and equipment valued at $15,000 when you were 16? So you see if this were K.'s blog we could write the list, but the blog wouldn't have any other entries because for K. writing is physically painful. (At least that's his excuse for never leaving comments on my blog.)

Anyway, it's not K.'s blog, it's mine. And all my ruminations have resulted in my realization that apart from a very cool trip to Bangladesh and a few little things, my life is not interesting. I really haven't done 10 things that you haven't done. My list is something like:

1. Cool thing from Bangladesh trip


2. Cool thing from Bangladesh trip


3. Cool thing from Bangladesh trip


4. Cool thing from Bangladesh trip


5. Cool thing from Bangladesh trip


6. Cool thing from Bangladesh trip


7. Was married barefoot in Hawaii by a hippy who also took the pictures and filmed the wedding


8. Cool thing from Bangladesh trip


9. Cool thing from Bangladesh trip


10. Cool thing from Bangladesh trip

Sad, very sad. At least I live with someone who has a stash of funny stories. So if you ever come to our house, it won't be all that boring, I promise. I'll be the one sitting in the corner wearing the salwar kameez and looking mysterious.

Sinking...

My grief over my mother's death seems to be mixing with some grief I have about some other losses in my life which is mixing with and magnifying my grief over the losses my daughter is experiencing/has experienced. This, coupled with all of the reading I have been doing, and the Yahoo groups, and the thinking, the educating myself, has served to swamp me. I am sinking...

Annotated Bibliography: Finally a feel good book

Thank heavens for Dim Sum, Bagels, and Grits: A Sourcebook for Multicultural Families. Because after that last book, I needed something happier. This book is an easy read, and its comforting tone maked me want to keep reading. It's not that the important issues are not addressed, and not that dissenting opinions are not expressed, but with an air of hopefulness and an affirmation of each individual family this book stays optimistic throughout. Two big positives for me: the text is permeated with the voices of many adoptive parents and adult adoptees who share small bits of their lives with the reader; and a lengthy (but by no means comprehensive) Resources section is included at the end of the book.

This book strikes me (no authority whatsoever) as a fairly basic introduction to multicultural families. However, for some adoptive parents grappling with these issues for the very first time a basic introduction is warranted. I appreciated the differing viewpoints and thoughts expressed in the book. I have some additional perspective and some new things to think about.

Recommended for multicultural families. (Judging by the comments on Amazon, you either love it or you hate it.)
Alperson, Myra. Dim Sum, Bagels, and Grits: A Sourcebook for Multicultural Families. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2001.
More info on Amazon
More books and videos on my Annotated Bibliography

Oh Spring, Where Art Thou?

Has anyone seen a glimpse of spring yet? Because here at our house, we are a little wee bit tired of winter. It's gotten bad enough that I save little bits of housework as a boredom buster for living with a two-year-old.

E. goes through phases with his playing. For a while it was "choo choos need help", a fascinating game in which the choo choos, engineered by E., chug down a steep ramp and crash, at which point they need help and the bulldozer, driven by yours truly, comes in to save the day. The latest game is "play toys...blankie", enchanting in its simplicity. The blankie is dropped on the floor in a heap, creating "mountains", "tunnels", and everyone's favorite "secret hideouts". The matchbox cars and trucks are then driven over the mountains, through the tunnels, and into the secret hideouts. Pick up the blankie and drop again for a totally new and fresh take on the game. New hideouts! Different tunnels! Sometimes a totally flat blankie which is still a "good one" and deserving of lengthy consideration.

Pathetically I now look forward with eager anticipation to the dishes and laundry. I play choo choos or blankie for as long as humanly possible without my brain melting and beginning to drip out of my ears. When the brain melt is imminent I say cheerily, "E., Mommy has to go and do the dishes. You can either stay here and keep playing or go with Mommy into the kitchen." And I am excited about the dishes. Truly impatient to go and wash them. Forthwith.

Please, please tell me that you are occasionally as desperate as I. When laundry is perceived as engrossing, then Houston, we have a problem.

Getting through the reading list one heartache at a time

I just finished the second book required for our home study. The book, International Adoption: Challenges and Opportunities, may as well have been titled "Prospective Adoptive Parents: Just Give It Up Now", it was that bad. I feel reluctantly angry: I can understand why the home study agency wants parents to read this book as it gives quite a bit of information on the various issues your child and your family may face as a result of adopting a child who has lived in an institution. However, much of the information wasn't relevant to me because: 1. I'm not adopting a child over 3 (that I know of); 2. I'm not adopting a child from Eastern Europe or the former USSR (pretty sure of this one). And it was a painful read.

From my perspective, many people including myself go into parenting with some unacknowledged dreams. The dreams are centered around the health and wellbeing of my child. And many people (myself included) secretly wish for a "perfect" child--no physical problems, no mental or emotional issues. A "perfect" child, while not guaranteed a healthy and happy life, seems to have a much better chance of having one.

After the arrival of your child you begin to realize that your child is not the next Einstein, is not coordinated enough to be a professional athlete who will keep you comfortable in your old age, and does not have any of the same dreams for himself/herself that you secretly have. There is a process of letting go of the ideal and accepting your child for who he/she is. I'm not sure the dreams are a bad thing, either--they help us to see the true potential in our children and to value their accomplishments along the way. They also speak to the love that we have for our children and the life that we would wish for them.

A part of this process of adopting internationally for me is grieving the loss of the ideal a lot sooner. More than likely our child has spent some time living under less then ideal conditions. Since we are not adopting an infant, our future child has sustained well documented wounds, both physical and emotional, very early in life. Before we meet our child, before the referral picture arrives, we are grieving the losses our child has already suffered. She will have suffered the trauma of being separated from her birth parents. She will have lived her life under less than ideal conditions. She will be developmentally delayed when we meet her.

Please don't think that I am being unduly negative here. We will love our daughter unreservedly. We will hope for a quick recovery, and do everything in our power to help her along the way. We will accept our daughter for who she is, celebrate her culture and ethnicity, and support and encourage her talents and dreams. We are very capable of loving a child who has special needs. I long to meet her with every ounce of myself. I cannot wait for us to begin sharing our lives.

But the ideal has never been a possibility for the child we will bring into our family. And that is a loss, for her and for us.

Day Two

Different day, different way of coping. Yesterday was Stay In The House. Do Not Go Outside. Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect $100.

Today was more of, let's go out and do things and entertain E. and get tired, really, really tired, so that we can go to bed in a timely manner tonight. I think I have a night owl on my hands. There are days where E. will NOT eat dinner until 8 or later, and then he gets a burst of energy and his already rather late bed time of 9:30 is passed with a flying leap across the bedroom. Last night was one of those nights, even though I am much more strict about bedtime than K. is and we were home alone so I should have had complete control over the situation. Ha! Do you ever have complete control with a 2-year-old in the house?

It's a 3 day trip. I shouldn't whine and complain. I should be glad that we are half way there already. I should be thinking about dinner.

Where are all the drive-through ATMs?

The next time you are at the bank and there is some obnoxious person pulled right up in front of the ATM in a clearly marked No Parking zone rather than parking in the obviously situated parking spaces take a moment and look for car seats. It might be a mom with one or two or three or more kids which she just got strapped into the car seats five minutes ago when she left her driveway and she can't stand the thought of unstrapping everyone to go to the lousy ATM when she has to unstrap them all in 5 minutes anyway to go into Wawa to buy milk so that they can have some breakfast. If there aren't any car seats evident, then proceed with the dirty looks and gestures, etc.

(I'm not saying I do it, I'm just saying that the temptation is very, very strong.)

Day one

K. is on a business trip. At least, he's trying very hard to be on a business trip, only some days it's very hard to get out of the great NorthEast, today being one of those days. On our last trip to Hawaii we had some trouble with weather and cancelled flights and the like, meaning that we made it to Cincinnati and then just stopped. When you are flying from Philadelphia to Honolulu, Cincinnati isn't that much of an accomplishment. We spent so much time in the Cincinnati airport that we could have driven ourselves from Philadephia to Cincinnati, stopping for a nice lunch along the way, and the airlines would have been none the wiser.

Here at home, we are pacing ourselves. The days are long when you are home with a 2-year-old and there is no relief pitcher warming up to take over when you think you will either scream unremittingly for 10 minutes straight or play dead on the living room floor and hope that all of the sharp objects were returned to their childproof locations. This means that the longer any of the necessary daily events takes, the better. This is in sharp contrast to a regular day when even minute counts. Now, the minutes don't count and "Take Your Time" becomes our new motto.

Anything at all to delay the next hour of the fascinating "play with toys blankie game". Here's a way to waste some time and go crazy while doing it. Get a blankie, plop it on the floor so that is has "secret hide outs" and "tunnels" and "mountains". Now drive your Matchbox cars all over the place until you are actually having fun, at which time pick up the blankie and reposition it. Repeat one million times. See, we just wasted 15 minutes. Only 62 hours and 3 minutes until the relief pitcher awakens, showers, plays for 5 minutes and heads off to work.

Annotated Bibliography: Chinese Daughters

Sometimes this process of educating myself about adoption is quite painful. I have to force myself to watch the emotionally arduous and anxiety producing documentaries and movies about adoption and China in general.

Chinese Daughters was an enlightening (if brief) peek into the lives of three adopted Chinese girls living in Canada. At 9- and 10-years-old, they still have more questions than answers, and appear to be at the beginning of their grappling with the questions that adoption brings. They seemed to be focusing on their "real" mothers (their term, not mine), and listening to them talk about ther "real mothers" just about broke my heart. I don't think it's a case of semantics when discussing ten-year-olds--in this context, "birth mother" or "first mother" might have hurt just as much. The adopted girls want to know what their real mothers look like, one wishes she could write Chinese so that she could write her real mother a letter, and one makes up names for her real mother and grandmother. My skin needs to get quite a bit thicker, I think. I do believe that I will be quite a bit less insecure when our daughter is here, living with us, communicating with us, relating to us. This stuff is hard to process in a vacuum.

K. and I try to think "out of the box". This is easier some times than others. But this documentary did plant a little seed in our heads. The adoptive mom of two of the girls took them to China. For 3 months. While she did some type of consulting project. What a great idea! We were already convinced of the value of traveling to China with our daughter(s) as often as possible. After watching this, we are more convinced. And also thinking a little more out of the box. Take a 2 week tour? Well, that would be good. But wouldn't 3 or 6 months be better? Wouldn't it be great to find a way to live over there for a period of time? The mind boggles.

Recommended for you and your adopted child(ren).
Chinese Daughters. Dir. Naomi Wise, Prod. Dorlene Lin. Videocassette. OneStone Entertainment, 2002.
More info on ChinaSprout
More books and videos on my Annotated Bibliography

Flattery will get you everywhere

Overheard this morning:

Me: Good morning, E.! How are you?
E: (Glances at me) Good. (Does a baby double-take.)
Me: How did you sleep?
E: (Staring at me) Mommy pretty.
Me: What???
E: Mommy pretty. Mommy cool.
Me: Thank you, E. That was very nice to tell mommy that.

And what provoked this outpouring of affection? I had my hair in two pony tails on either side of my head, like a little schoolgirl. I looked a little kooky for an almost-39-year-old. But not to E. He loves me anyway. But especially with the pony tails apparently.

(I'm growing my hair out, ok? And it looks really bad. But I want it longer, so I'm just going with it for now. It's winter. I can wear hats when I need to.)

What I do all day

My newest obsession--adoption. Yes, we began our paperchase almost a year ago. Yes, I've known for quite some time that our next child would be adopted. So what has changed?

The excitement you feel when you begin the paperchase is one kind of excitement. You have Things To Do. Lists. Piles of paper to be notarized. More lists. Appointments and schedules. The most lists you have ever had. It's exciting in a busy, hectic, stressful-because-it's-taking-so-long kind of way. But you are accomplishing things.

Then the I-171H arrives and you rush about for a bit and you are done. In our case the agency handled the translations and seals and everything. And suddenly the adoption is real. And just when it becomes real, well, there's nothing to do but wait. My take on the waiting has been to start reading everything I can get my hands on, start worrying about trip details including packing lists, and start looking at all of the referral pictures I can find.

It hasn't helped much. I am obsessed. Obsessed with the Yahoo groups, because there are people there who care about all of this stuff as much as I do. Obsessed with the lovely World Wide Web, where all manner of information is readily available. Ah, the bookmarks I've collected. Obsessed with reading blogs, especially those about adoption. Let me tell you, I'm OBSESSED.

Reasonably I don't think we will see our referral until May or June. June!! It's February. February!! Ack.

Why I can't wait for the next one

I am officially one of those parents who looks at her son and thinks, "That is one beautiful child. I just cannot get over how exceptionally beautiful he is." Never thought I'd be one of those, but I'm just so in love with him right now.

I'd like to add my own experiences to the bonding discussions going on all around me. I did not bond with E. while he was in utero. My body reacted to the pregnancy as if an alien had implanted its spawn in my uterus for the most part. I had a difficult pregnancy, although I have heard far worse stories than mine.

When he arrived, I still did not bond with him immediately. There is a difference between loving the new baby and bonding with him/her. I did feel love for him immediately. But I did not feel all that bonded to him. The overwhelmingness of being a new parent had a lot to do with the slow bonding for me. I couldn't handle the lack of sleep very well. I wasn't all that functional, certainly not on a level to process anything from the emotional quagmire.

For me bonding has been a long, slow process. And we've gotten there--I feel extremely bonded to him, and he is a very secure and responsive child. So here's my words of encouragement--don't push it. If you don't feel immediately bonded the second you find out you are pregnant/give birth/get your referral/meet your adopted child it's ok. Bonding is a process like everything else in life. It's human nature to want it immediately. But it's ok to just sit back and let it happen.

And now when I call E. "my little buddy" I actually mean it.

Slime covered swamp creature still resident. But unwanted.

I came to the realization that life is indeed a journey rather later than most. I am a worrier. My life was not so much a journey as a swim in a swamp. I would drag myself out of the muck only to turn around and jump right back in. There wasn't much movement, just lots of anxiety. And depression.

Through a series of unfortunate events I started therapy. And I got better. Through another series of (un)fortunate decisions I became pregnant. And I got E. And somewhere in the middle I got myself some perspective and began to look at life differently. I embraced the idea of thinking of life as a journey.

Recently I started thinking about the pervasiveness of the metaphor of life as a journey. While most of the people I know do not share my fascination with third world countries as tourist destinations they mostly do embrace the concept of travel. What is it about the traveling? Is it the chance to escape? To have a break from the ordinary? Freedom from the million details of life? Is it the (mostly unrealized) dream of relaxation? The promise of fun? For myself, I have moments of great clarity when my reality shifts, the more abrupt the shift the better. I am energized by waking up in a place where my senses are assaulted immediately by strangeness and my comfort level plummets.

Isn't that shifting inherent in reading blogs? Crawl out of your own skin for a moment and into the dailyness of someone else's existence. Think to yourself, "I've never thought about it that way," "I would never have chosen those words to describe that situation," or I have no idea what this person is talking about."

That shifting of reality coupled with the commonalities of the human experience is powerful. Grin at someone who language you don't speak but whose child is as irrepressible as your own. Mourn with innocent victims who you will never meet. Share a moment of understanding with a stranger across a crowded room by simply making eye contact.

I hope your life is a journey, a journey replete with new experiences, meaningful connections, and lifelong learning. I've got some great journeys to experience: marriage, parenting, adoption, travel (the kind with airplanes, not metaphors), nurturing creativity. All while avoiding the swamps.

JERRY: Let me get this straight. If you're stuck in quicksand the trick is to do nothing.
GEORGE: Nothing. To do something only makes you sink faster.
JERRY: But you gotta do something.You're in quicksand.
Show me a guy who's stuck in quicksand doing nothing and I'll show you a dead man.
GEORGE: I'd do something. I' d struggle like crazy. Boy, I'd do something all right.
JERRY: You. You'd be dead in a minute.
GEORGE: Gone, baby! Right under.
--"Seinfeld".

Formerly known as "Mulberry Leaf"

I've become like the INS/CIS. I'm trying to decide if I want to change the name of the blog. I think I am going to change it since my focus has changed since I started it. Initially I thought I was just going to track the process of the adoption. It seemed so overwhelming--all of the bits of paper, the angst. Now, really, what else is there to say, at least for the time being? La-la-la-la-la-l-ala-lal-ala-la-la we are waiting, waiting, waiting. And now that I have the new design I can also work on the rest of my site. So welcome to grrlTravels.

Why my heart still goes pitter patter

My DH, K., for whom all superlatives seem unsuperlative, got me this for V. Day. He thinks I am underwhelmed, but he is just too good at giving gifts these days.

The Big Apple is Big on the Empire State Building

If you are not familiar with James Rizzi, the print is made in layers and the finished image is 3D. (The truly romantic part is that we got engaged at the top of the Empire State Building.) And we love New York. The "I Love NY" slogan could have been created solely with us in mind.

An dull entry about this blog in which I make excuses, but no one really cares anyway

I am about to embark on a project to spruce up the old site. I cannot stand the colors here any more, nor the dreariness unrelieved except for the lovely shot of E. and I frolicking in the sand. I begged, cajoled, and finally threatened a lovely artist I know into doing a design for the site that I could stand to look at every day. She came through with flying colors because she is a talented professional and I would link to her site except that the cobbler's children have no shoes.

Anyway, if the site looks a little strange for the next few days, just go with it, ok? And then we'll get back to the regularly scheduled programming.

Just call me Attila

Despite knowing a lot about the Internet with a capital "I", I do not know much about Yahoo Groups. Never had the need to join one, never even knew about any specifically until we began this journey to adopt. But now I need packing lists and advice on vaccinations and more information on gifts for the orphanage employees and really I'm just a big bundle of need. So I had to join the Yahoo lists.

I took me some doing just to find the right lists. Don't know what I was doing wrong, but my first search didn't turn up a-parents-china. This list, coupled with post-adopt-china (PAC), are The Mothers of All Lists Relating to Adoptions from China, as I understand it. I guess it's just like anything else with the Internet, though, tough at the beginning with acronyms and the unfamiliar protocols and the strange mannerisms to absorb. But I'm still a librarian at heart, and you have to go where the information is. So. I'm jumping in without really knowing how to swim, and I hope the water isn't too infested with sharks. Because my Attila impression needs a little work, and I'm not here to conquer, just to learn.

Happy Hallmark Holiday, a little early

It is still my contention that if you truly love someone, you don't need a holiday created by the greeting card industry to tell them so. At least you shouldn't. That said, I've just spent a lot of time sending out Valentine's cards and gifts to various members of the family. Mostly because it's a good reason to send mail to various children, and what child doesn't like to get mail of their very own? Especially with stickers or cash inside?

My mom was thoughtful about the holidays. We always got little gifts for Valentine's and Easter even when we got older and she didn't really need to. I am attempting to keep up the tradition, although it requires planning which my busy life sometimes doesn't make much allowance for. Yesterday I did dash into Hallmark and mumble to myself while perusing the cards along with many other people. Hey, at least it wasn't Sunday. But then again, the post office was jamming today and my carefully planned "send it today and it will get to most of these people on Monday, the very day of Valentine's Day fame" may not be correct. Many, many cards and packages clogging up the works at the P.O.

Also, today was a very angry day. I witnessed two different situations where people were yelling at each other forcefully, with cursing and gesticulating. The anger in both cases was way out of proportion to the situation at hand and ugly. Where is the pre-Valentine's Day love, people? My own day will be spent at Jury Duty, so I've got to get my V-Day love out early.

I did get an early Valentine in the mail today. Inside, a copy of "I Love You Like Crazy Cakes", one of the more popular adoption books for children out there. I read it and cried. Mostly I really liked the story, although parts made me a little uncomfortable. The page describing the baby's new room, for example, was a little squirmy for me. But the last page made up for everything. A timely tribute to the baby's birth mother, and a gentle reminder of the loss that adoption brings. Just right.

Sometimes you're up, sometimes not so much

Some days I cruise around my favorite blogs, top down, hair blowing in the breeze. I wave "Hi!" here and there, and blow a few kisses even. I feel loved, understood, connected. On other days I put the top down, pull out of the driveway and immediately feel like I am going the wrong way down a one way street right into a brief, unexpected, torrential downpour.

I haven't had the anti-adoption crew visit my humble little blog, and for that I am thankful. I don't deal well with vituperative comments, no matter how many times my therapist tells me to "consider the source". I have come to this idea of international adoption through a complicated mess of emotions, coherent thought processes, research, misguided hopes, logical thinking, day dreams, and love. I can't explain every step we took to get where we are. I worry daily that we will knowingly or unknowingly inflict great pain on any of our children. Perhaps it's not reasonable to even hope that you won't--perhaps that's just part of the gift of being human.

Adoption makes the process of raising children even more complicated. I believe that inherent in the act of adoption is a terrible loss and sense of grief, certainly for the child and hopefully for the parents as well. I believe that K. and I can help her to work through these feelings with a therapist as needed. I fret over the process of bonding with our daughter, and brood that the bonding won't be going well and we won't notice or want to notice. I agonize that we won't be able to give her the proper balance of being American and being Chinese. I know that she will face discrimination in ways that we never have, and hope that we can give her the tools to deal with it.

Some days I think to myself, "We have made a thoughtful decision which is right for our family. We are doing the best we can. Every life has loss and pain, and we can help our children to acknowlege and accept that. I am a loving, generous person who is not out to hurt anyone, certainly not my own children." That is on my good days. On the bad ones, like today, I have moments of utter panic wherein I think, "What Have I Done? Is it really the Right Thing to remove this child from her culture and forever alter her identity?"

K., who is a pretty practical person, would say, "Life is complicated and pain is inherent. We will help our children to find a way through. Everyone has the good and the bad, and it's up to the individual to choose the way they will respond to both the good and the bad in their lives." I agree with him. We will give our kids all of the skills we have at our disposal, help them to see the good and the bad in this world, and hopefully help them to choose the good when all is said and done. We are not afraid to acknowlege when there is a problem, not afraid to say the hard things to each other, not afraid ask for help if need be. I hope it's enough.

Think Pink

I did finally bite the bullet and have bought a few things for our daughter. I LOVE shopping for little girl things. But every time I buy her something I am overcome with emotion. I've nearly cried in every store I've been in. (Online too, but that's just sitting here at my desk at home so not as bad.) K., being the truly DH that he is, said, "It's ok. You're just excited. Cry if you need to.", acting as if my shopping crying jags were in the realm of normal.

The funny thing is I wasn't nearly this emotional when preparing for E.'s arrival. I didn't bond with him much in utero, and it took a while to bond after he was born. I think this time I understand how much I am going to love this child and how important she will be to me and how great our life will be with her in it. The second time around, baby, it's great. Teary, but great.

Did I like the eel?

Yesterday we went to the local Korean grocery market. I was on a quest for miso. I am deeply enamored of the ginger dressing frequently served at Japanese restaurants. I found a recipe years ago that perhaps may produce something reasonable, and finally decided to try it. Hence, the quest for miso.

The grocery was fantastic. All manner of things which were totally new to us, nary a spot of English to blemish most of the packaging. For a few brief moments I felt a tiny taste of what our trip to China may be like. It got my adrenaline going. And my adoption hormones.

As we were leaving (with the precious miso), we passed a man making some rice cakes, I'm guessing. He smiled at us and handed one to E. It was flat like a pancake and larger than the size of a dinner plate. It was crunchy with a hint of sweetness on one side. It was lovely.

Driving away I was reminded of the "homework". And I contemplated choosing something at random and trying to eat it. And then I felt a pang of sadness for our daughter. And then I decided that I just wanted her home already.

Our First Chinese New Year Celebration

Today we went to our first Chinese New Year celebration with our local chapter of FCC. I was anticipating it and also a little nervous. We had joined the group way back when we began our paperwork (we were going to be the only couple in history to complete their paperwork in 3 months!) but never attended any events because they all seemed geared around the girls. I had read somewhere that it was a good idea to join so that you could meet some families and get some good information before traveling. We, however, were the only ones there without a Chinese child in tow.

I was concerned because I am just so weepy about our daughter right now. Every time I do something that brings her closer to our family I get weepy. And today was no exception. I had many blurry eyed moments, especially when the little girls came out to dance the traditional Chinese dances. I have never been interested in dance at all. I ran track and played field hockey and never took a ballet class in my life. But as I watched the little girls dancing I could imagine our daughter doing it too, and suddenly she became a little more of a real person to me. A person who will have her own likes and dislikes. A person who may love dancing. A person who may hate dancing. I person I want to meet.

Our chapter is large and friendly. The girls all had friends there and ran around like children will, yelling and chasing and having a good time. It was encouraging to see how well they were all doing. I was scoping out the names of the girls as best I could and interestingly to me I think there was only one or two Chinese names in the bunch. Another small step forward.

The Ebb and Flow

This grieving thing, it's tough. One day you think you have things under control, and the next the air around you is murky and thick. You know the fog that comes in on little cat feet? This is not that fog. This is the fog of pea soup fame. This fog is the darkening of the seaside when a nor'easter barrels through; one moment sunny and bright, the next ferocious sheets of rain. This is the fog that rolls in abruptly following a glimpse of a little plastic organizing box in the fabric store.

The grief itself is a thing in its own right. It's amorphous and squirmy, not easy to hold, less easier still to tame. My inclination is always to box it up, push it down, grab hold of it, control it. But the grief is not amenable and will not rest long enough for me to grasp it. It dances away, just out of reach, tantalizing, bewitching.

And so I throw myself in again. My lesson: the only way through is to give myself wholeheartedly to it, immerse myself, submerge. I float aimlessly, tumbled about by its irregular tidal surges, scraping again and again against the sand. I feel the raw power of the grief anew. And I give myself to it.

One track minds

First thing this morning...

Me: Good morning, E! How are you this morning?
E: Doortee i-balz.
Me: (with nary a blink) No, the eyeballs aren't dirty, they're clean.
E: Doortee i-balz. Play i-balz.

He was talking about these. He was starting up right where he and Daddy left off the night before.

Am I crazy, or is it just me?

1. Thomas' Waffles
   Where did the Thomas' waffles go? One week we were happily eating them for breakfast, and the next they were no longer. I didn't panic right away, thinking that my grocery store was out of them or just decided to no longer stock them. But now that I've checked around, I believe they went away for good and seeing as how they were one of our very limited breakfast options, it hurts. We're stuck with Eggo frozens now, and it isn't the same at all.
2. Shout® Color Catcher™ dye-trapping sheets
   I am bad at laundry. Very, very bad. So I like to buy any laundry gadgets I can find, like these color absorbing sheets, which save you if you accidently throw in one red sock with the whites. But neither Target nor Walmart has them at last check. What gives? Am I the only one that is that paranoid about the laundry?
3. Martha Stewart Online Shop and Catalog
   My admiration for Martha continues unabated in the face of incarceration. Because it's not really Martha I love, although I was always fascinated by her "calendar" in the front of MSL. I tried to imagine a life where "pick blueberries", "prune trees", and "gather willow branches" would be on the calendar. I was never successful. Anyway, it's her style gurus that I truly love. The gurus and the photographers. And now the beautiful catalogs are going away? Granted I rarely ordered from her unless the stuff was on sale because I found it pricey. But as eye candy? Priceless.