The blessing of detours

I was almost on time for work today. That is, until I forgot I was going there and drove right past it.

Oops.

In my own defense, I'll remind you it is the Monday before a holiday weekend; I think maybe my brain is already on vacation.

Anyway, I drove right past work and didn't realize it for a couple of blocks. When I did, all I could do was circle around in a big loop and try again. Immediately, I found myself stuck behind a school bus.

I watched all the kids got on, and yet the bus didn't move. I wondered what was taking so long, and then I noticed a little kid running down the sidewalk. He was maybe six or seven, with a backpack almost as big as he was dangling from one upheld hand, his un-zipped jacket flapping behind him like giant yellow wings. He was running so hard, he literally ran right of his shoes! He had to stop and run back, in his socks, to cram his shoes back on before resuming his dash to the bus. He flung himself board, and off the bus went.

The bus made another couple of stops before we parted ways a block or two later. As I made the turn into the parking lot behind my office, I noticed a splash of blue and orange at the top of a tree. I looked up and saw it was a kite, caught in the uppermost branches.

The little guy's super hero charge to the bus, the kite, and even the parents waiting at the bus stops all sparked my curiosity. There was a story in each of those moments, a tiny little story arc, a micro drama unfolding. I that find fascinating. It is why I love writing flash fiction so much, because it lets me zoom in to magnify just how much can happen in a single moment of life.

I was pretty aggravated when I realized I'd driven right past my job, but my unexpected detour turned out to be the highlight of my morning. I'm reminded that sometimes the bigger detours in life turn out the same way, bringing blessings we never anticipated or would have missed out on.

I am thankful today for detours, for the unexpected, and for the richness of story, hidden in seemingly mundane moments.

Guest blog post by Princesses Jasmine and Ariel



Princess Jasmine Gives Readers the Goods

 

Princes Jasmine working on her blog post.

Hi, I am princess Jasmine, the guest blogger for today. Today I will tell you about my story I am doing for Nanowrimo this November.

My story is about a dog who lost a lot of things, like moving house to house and getting separated from his family. At the end he finds a family, but will they let him stay?

That's it folks, hope I did not say too much.

Princess Ariel Muses About her Muse

Hi, this is Princess Ariel,

A silly story Princess Ariel wanted to share

I'm writing a story with my sister for Nanowrimo. We are figuring out what is about. I'm eight years old and my sister is ten. We had a brainstorm and then we knew what we were going to write. I don't know why I like writing, it's just my thing. I like to draw the pictures, too.

Civil War: Head vs. Heart

Did you ever have one of those moments when you are about ready to give up on something you'd be hoping for, when something surprising happens?

Have you ever had one of those moments, the ones where your heart and your head are telling you different things?

I've bumped up against a couple of those moments recently myself.

A relative in Florida has a condo he isn't living in at present. He wanted to rent it out, and asked me if I might be interested? My bank account having just been drained by the bed bug debacle and Big Brother's automotive issues, I didn't even think about it. I told him thanks, but no thanks.

That should have been the end of it, but after I hung up the phone I couldn't stop thinking about my decision, wondering if maybe I shouldn't dismiss the offer too quickly. No, moving now was never part of the plan, but plans can change, can't they?

The more I thought about it, the less crazy moving to Florida seemed. Long story short, I called him back and we talked through the details. For once in my life, the dollars and cents actually added up in my favor. At first I thought wow, this is a no brainer! But the more I thought it through, the more I realized, this isn't going to be an easy choice.

Big Brother is my heart. Do I stay here, with him?

While my head says this is a good idea, a great idea, even, my heart is saying it doesn't want to leave my son. My baby might be twenty-one years old, but he's still my baby. Being far away from him indefinitely isn't just upsetting, it actually feels wrong on the molecular level. And then there are Baby Brother and the Princesses to consider, too. How would my moving so far away affect them, after all the loss they've already been through?

Or should I choose palm trees, sunshine and financial stability?

All the things I love about Florida--the warm weather, the endless beaches, the more relaxed pace of life--all seem hollow and meaningless when I think about being there without Big Brother; Spending time with him is, truly, my definition of happiness. Yet when I try to envision my future if I stay, the picture isn't a pretty one. I can never afford to buy a home here, and rents will only continue to rise. Retiring isn't likely if I continue to be a New Jersey resident, not unless something big changes.

To only complicate the matter more, my spiritual beliefs have been nagging at me, too. How does moving so far away fit in with my desire to more deliberately live with an Attitude of Gratitude? Giving up everything and everyone I know in search of something more fiscally advantageous doesn't seem much like an act of gratitude, does it? But then again, is wasting an opportunity like this really any better?

The negative voices of my insecurities have made a point to weigh in, too, telling me that no matter what I choose, I'll probably just screw it all up anyway.

I know a decision needs to be made. I owe it to my job, to the relative who is holding his condo for me, and to my son and myself.

I'd love to hear what YOU think about this whole dilemma, so please take a moment to leave a comment with your opinion, or vote anonymously below.

The nesting instinct

I remember when the nesting instinct took over during my last trimester of pregnancy with my son. It was a very purposeful feeling, and involved a great deal of bustling about, arranging furniture, assembling outfits, and so forth.

When Big Brother would spend the summer with his father in Florida, the nesting instinct would take over again. I would spend every evening working on his room, painting, organizing, preparing for his return.

I did it with the foster kids, too. I literally unpacked our whole house in less than three days. When the kids arrived it was to an organized, functional home where a freshly painted room decorated in red and white with pictures of their parents and extended family on the walls awaited them.

I've been nesting again lately, although this time it isn't the harbinger of a new beginning, but of an end. At twenty-one Big Brother is preparing to leave the nest, to go out into the world where he will build a nest of his own.

A cozy reading nook in the living room

However long or short our remaining time living under the same roof may be, I want his memories of this time to be as 'home, sweet home' as I can make them.

I've been cleaning, scrubbing, and rearranging all weekend, washing away the past in preparation for the future. It is as much for me as for him, I do realize that. When he leaves the nest a new chapter will begin for me, too. What it will be, where it will take me, is unknown and more than a little bit scary.

For now I'm content to be in the cozy little bubble of the here and now, nesting with my fledgling chick.

Meal swap test run results

In an earlier post I mentioned one of my cost-saving strategies was going to be to start a meal swap club. Not just to save money, but also to save time and to ensure we eat well even on busy nights.

I decided to do a test run, to see if bulk cooking was something I felt I could keep up with if this got off the ground.I planned my menu, did a shop, then got cooking.

The three entrees I decided on were veggie lasagna roll-ups, meatloaf patties (to make it easy to freeze individual portions), and two kinds of pot pies (tofu and chicken). I picked these three things at random, mostly because I thought they would freeze well.

The cooking wasn't too bad. The hard part was having three different meals going at once.

 

Once I got into a rhythm, it wasn't too bad. After the first entree was finished and packaged the rest seemed to go quicker.

Lasagna rolls separated with wax paper, ready for the freezer.

 All-in-all, it took me about three hours to do all the preparation, plus the cooking and packaging. 

It felt good seeing all these meals ready for the freezer

Unfortunately, the idea of a monthly meal swap group didn't really take off. My social circle isn't that big and not enough people were interested, but I am still cooking a few extra meals for the freezer each weekend. I love not having to worry about dinner during the week, and I'm having fun planning multiple meals around a theme ingredient. Last week it was chorizo, this week it will be fennel.

Whether cooking to swap or just for us, planning meals in advance saves money. Cooking over the weekend gives me time to try new recipes I wouldn't attempt on a work night. But there was one reason, in particular, why I've kept it up, something I discovered in the days after that first test run: Because I wasn't spending so much time on week nights preparing dinner, I had more time to linger over each meal with Big Brother. And that, my friends, is priceless.

If you need a reminder once in awhile to slow down and pace yourself read taking it slow in the slow lane.

Bumper Sticker Wisdom

I was parking my car on Main Street the other night, and spotted this on the bumper ahead of me. I just had to stop and take a picture.

Hours later, I was still mulling over the wise words of Jimi Hendrix:

I kept thinking about how many times in my own life I've let power be my priority over love. It is so, so easy to let wanting to be right, or wanting to be in control become my main focus - even when I'm trying to do good things with my heart in the right place.

A recent incident comes to mind. I got snippy with Big Brother when we were trying (unsuccessfully) to install a new cable modem. I was tired after a busy day, cranky from spending time I didn't plan on spending stuck in a customer service phone queue, and more than a little annoyed at Big Brother telling me (constantly) how I don't know what I'm doing (about anything, ever).

Immediately after snapping at him, I felt bad for doing it. He was tired, too, and just as frustrated as I was. I didn't need to be right, I didn't need to vent at him, and I didn't need to call him on the carpet just for feeling all the same things I was feeling. I didn't need to do any of that, but I did it anyway.

How might that interaction have been different if I had taken a deep breath, smiled at him, and asked him  nicely to give me some space while I was on the phone? It would have been a better outcome for both of us.

Being snappy and grouchy (especially when I'm tired or hungry) is a bad habit. When Big Brother does the same thing, I know he does it because he learned it from me.

Here's a thought - maybe if I work harder at changing how I respond to things that annoy me when I'm tired/hungry/grouchy, Big Brother might learn to do the same?

Thank you, Mr. Hendrix, for the reminder that the only true power we have in life is love.

Read more about loving thy neighbor and my take on whether or not good fences really make good neighbors.

Big News, Big Changes

The journey that began for the kids and Big Brother and I in December of 2011 has officially come to an end; The kids and their mom recently moved out to their own place. That chapter in all our lives is officially over.

So what now?

Big Brother and I are still here, in the house, at least for the short term. Big Brother's plan is to move out, too, either on his own or with a friend. He's been looking for a couple of months already, and it could be a couple more till he finds the right fit. Or the right place could turn up tomorrow, we just don't know. When it does, I'll be moving, too. I'll be going to live with my parents, to make saving for a house my number one priority.

In the meantime, Big Brother and I are enjoying our family time together. This is an important interlude for us, one we need to heal and reconnect. Grown up or not, he needs his mom, too, and I want him to feel loved and supported as he embarks on this next adventure in his young life. I also want him to feel mothered, something he has lacked for far too long.

We may not live under the same roof any longer, but I still hope to see the Princesses and Baby B often, and their mom, too. They are, after all, my family and I love them "up to the sky and back." I'm looking forward to many special one-on-one dates with each kid, and lots more group adventures, too.

A few people have asked me if I plan to foster again. I don't. In fact, I've already turned in my license. My mission is to stick with these kids, all the way up. I want to be there to be a part of and help with all the birthdays, holidays and special occasions in their lives. I want to be at their quincianeras, their graduations and their weddings (although I draw the line at teaching Baby Brother to drive. Somebody else will have to do that, I'm still traumatized from teaching Big Brother).

So there you have it, I am no longer a foster parent, just someone who is fortunate to be blessed with the four most wonderful kids ever in my life, and who now has two sisters instead of one.

Little Pieces of the Past

I have a hard time letting go of memorabilia. I literally have boxes full of things that I'm holding onto for no other reason than they recall a specific memory, a time or a place that I want to hold onto.

Some of these things are worth keeping, like mementos from my time in Japan, and cards and letters from my grandparents and other relatives. But others are not, all the little drawings on the backs of receipts made by friends, my name tag from a former job and other mundane little items. I know I need to lighten the load and am fully able to pass on clothes and household goods we don't need. But for some reason I am having a hard time letting go of these things, even though I know there is no good reason to keep them. Call me sentimental, I guess.

Big Brother, who recently discovered the joys of throwing things out, cannot relate. He wants me to get rid of anything and everything that we don't use on a daily basis. Pictures, letters, greeting cards, his old toys or kid artworks all need to go, in his estimation. He made it clear he would even throw out half the furniture, too, if I let him. My attempts to explain why these sentimental things matter to me have failed to convince him.

I'm thinking I probably shouldn't bother to show him this handful of seashells I brought home with me from Florida, should ?

Water Babies

Over memorial day weekend we had the proverbial backyard cookout at Grandma's house. Grandpa set up the sprinkler and the hose and we let the kids have at it.

Watching them run shrieking and yelling through the spray made me remember just how much they enjoyed going to the local swim club last summer. We were able to go because an agency we were affiliated with got guest passes for clients. The Princesses were super excited to put their previous summer of swimming lessons to good use, while Baby Brother splashed and had fun in the kiddie pool.

Some of my best childhood memories at their age are of that very same pool, and all the summer afternoons we spent there with my mom. I want the kids to have those same memories with their mom, so I started a Booster campaign to raise money to make it happen.

Follow the link to buy a tee shirt and help three little water babies enjoy making fun memories in the sun this summer.

https://www.booster.com/summeroffun

Baby Brother enjoying the pool last summer

Do Good Fences Really Make Good Neighbors?

The fence along my driveway

I've been thinking a lot lately about the old saying 'Good fences make good neighbors.' I've also been thinking about the biblical directive to 'love they neighbor as thyself.' One is about building up walls, the other is about breaking them down, meaning they totally contradict each other. Which one should I choose to live by? Should I be building barriers, or knocking them down?

When I look around me, the people I see who have achieved their goals in life all seem to have clear, firm boundaries. They may give generously of themselves and their resources, but they always make sure they have enough of what they need first, and they never let giving derail their personal goals. Their lives are wrapped up in nice tidy picket fences, so to speak. I admire and respect them, but I'm not sure I can be them, either.

Then I look at Jesus Christ, who had no boundaries of any kind. He invited everyone in, excluded no one, and encouraged us all to give of ourselves to others just as freely. He owned nothing, judged no one, and he had no goal or agenda except to teach others how to love.  Sadly, I will never be as selfless or as giving as he was.

When I visited Mexico many of the people I visited were very poor, on a level we don't often see in this country. Yet all of them, even people I didn't know that well (if at all), invited me in and shared what little they had with me. I've never seen that level of hospitality and generosity happen here, despite the fact that most of us have much more than we think we do, and could afford to share more of it than we think we can. I've been trying to give more with fewer expectations ever since.

Just the same, at home I feel like I'm going out of my mind sometimes. The kids and their mom don't do boundaries well. They make noise when we're sleeping, or they make a huge mess everywhere and leave it there for days on end. They out number us, so they take up more of the space and resources in the house without even noticing they do it. It isn't intentional, it's just that they are so wrapped up in themselves after being apart for so long, they are simply oblivious to Big Brother and I and our needs.

Big Brother and I are not happy living this way. We deal with it because we are aware that all of us living together has been good for the kids in terms of their emotional and mental healing. In theory giving them that has been worth a few blurred boundaries, but just knowing we did a good thing isn't enough to sustain us any longer. Like the kids and their mom, we, too, have been through a lot. Our little family of two needs time and space to heal, and we can't wait anymore. We need it now.

I knew a man on facebook, another community activist who was a friend of a friend who somehow friended me. He was clearly beloved by all who knew him, and had done much good in his community. He was something of a legend in that respect. But he hadn't done a good job of maintaining his own boundaries. He put service to others first to the point where he lost his job, then his home, and finally, his health. By the time others noticed how dire things had become, and rallied round to help him, it was too late. He was dead. 

Jesus Christ didn't last too long, either. Not in the flesh, anyway.

I've been grappling with all of this as I try to figure out how to resolve our housing situation in a way that meets everyone's needs. The problem is, what would work best for the kids' mother simply doesn't work for Big Brother and I. Yet what would be best for Big Brother and I would make things harder on the kids. The best solution for the kids is to leave things as they are, of course, which doesn't work for anyone else. So, whose needs come first in this situation?

The answer is there is no easy answer. What I've decided on is a compromise, where nobody gets exactly what they want, but everyone gets at least some of what they need. It won't be a perfect solution, but I hope all involved will find it fair.

I've learned a lot in the past few years about just how true it is that good fences make for good neighbors. I'll be constructing several of my own very soon. But I've also learned that every fence needs to have a gate, so when your neighbors are in need you can open up, and let them in.

Wag More, Bark Less. Big Brother, This One is for You.

Living life without change, with nothing to look forward to, is like trying to paint a picture using only one shade of a single color.

Seriously, think about it.

Mixing it up once in awhile gives us something to look forward to, and having something to look forward to is what gives us hope.

The same thing, day after day, can get a little boring.

 During the work week we look forward to Friday or our next day off. In the morning we look forward to our coffee, at night we look forward to a nice dinner, spending time with our families, or even just a restful nights sleep.
These are the little milestone we focus on to pull us through the monotony of the moment.

The big milestones punctuate our lives the same way the small ones do our days. Vacations, weddings, first home, first baby, retirement, etc. It isn't so much the focal point itself that matters, or whether the goal is big or small. What is important is the contrast and definition that milestones give our days.

Having something different to look forward to makes life interesting.

How often have you found yourself savoring a special moment, and thinking "I could stay in this moment forever." The reality is, the reason the moment is so special is precisely because it is fleeting.

Everything being the same, all the time, with no hope of change wouldn't be all that pleasant. In fact, prison is pretty much just that. Monotony, being stuck in the same place with the same people with nothing to look forward to, nothing every changing.

The happiest people are those who are consistently able to find something to look forward to, even in the bleakest of circumstances. Those who can't find themselves miserable, no matter what their situation. Most people seem to have a natural "set point" somewhere on this spectrum, but I believe we can consciously choose to move ourselves closer to the "happy" end by cultivating an attitude of gratitude and by seeking out things to look forward to, no matter what is going right or wrong in our lives.

Now does this mean I'm good at doing it myself? Ha! I wish. Honestly, I'm still struggling. The things I find to look forward to sometimes are not enough to blot out the frustration I feel on other fronts. But I continue to try, every day, to wake up and be grateful that I'm here, I'm alive, I have my family around me, a place to live and a job to pay the bills. It is a balancing act, but what in life isn't? I do know I'm happier when I put my focus on gratitude. Being middle aged is helpful in understanding this, actually. By my time of life, most of us have figured out how to choose our battles and have learned how to let go of the small stuff.

Cats are also good at this.

Big Brother, on the other hand, was born on the 'glass half empty' side of the spectrum. He has a very hard time finding joy in the small milestones of life. Even when things are going well, he seems to get stuck ruminating about past wrongs and old slights. Seriously, he still occasionally brings up a play ground conflict from when he was three that he's still mad about. Granted, our living situation has been chaotic for the past couple years which doesn't help. I've been a tad crispy around the edges lately myself, so I know why he's struggling.

But by the same token, Big Brother has a good job with excellent future potential. He is learning and has already learned a great deal during his year in the industry. He is in a relationship with a lovely young lady whose company he clearly enjoys. Come May, the kids and their mom should be ready to move out and live independently again at long last, which is a milestone we can all  look forward to.

In the meantime I don't know how to get Big Brother to focus more on all the things that are going right and worry less about all the little stuff he can't control anyway.  Not only would he be happier, but I suspect he would be healthier, too. He's been going through a series of tests lately for stomach issues that have plagued him for years. I may not be an MD, but Doctor Mom suspects stress is the culprit.

Do you want one too? Click here!

I bought him this bumpter magnet the other day that I think says it all. Hopefully, he'll take the message to heart.

My furry, purry little friends

We have two non-human family members, Toby, the dog, and Luna, the cat.

Toby and Luna

Toby came to us from a puppy mill rescue. Maybe because he didn't get a happy puppy-hood the first time around, he seems to be more than making up for it now. He loves to wrestle and play!

Toby is a happy pup now that he has a family to call his own

When Evan's friend's cat had kittens he said he would take one. He visited her from the time she was just a few days old, until she was big enough to leave her mommy.

Tiny baby Luna

 The same day the rescue group called to say we could come pick Toby up, Evan's friend told him Luna was ready go home with him. So it was that, by coincidence, both little furry people joined our family on the same day.

The small but mighty Luna

Getting to know each other

In the beginning, Luna stayed in Evan's room. She was so tiny compared to Toby, we weren't really sure she would be safe around him until she was bigger.

When we finally introduced  them, Toby just smiled and panted and sniffed at her curiously. He was totally enchanted by the angry little ball of kitten fluff hissing and spitting at him and was eager to be her friend.

Toby was eager to wrestle right away, Luna not so much.

For Luna it wasn't exactly love at first sight. She gave him the cold shoulder at first, hissing, spitting and puffing herself up whenever they crossed paths.

Luna's curiosity about this big (to her), fluffy, friendly person finally got the better of her. Before too long, they were galloping around the house, playing and endlessly chasing each other.

"Wrestling? Who, us? What makes you think that?"

Whenever somebody is feeling sad around here, the remedy is to go curl up with Toby, preferably in a blanket tent.

A cuddle with Toby is good for the soul

Although our Luna is a feisty young lady, she does have her snugly moments.

Luna sharing a little love with  'her' human, Big Brother

Having the animals to love and care for was very healing for the kids.

Toby is a gentle, sweet tempered animal who loves to cuddle and wrestle in equal measure.

Luna likes to supervise group activities. She especially enjoys board games and insists on having a turn with the dice like everybody else.

She even likes to help me compute.

Luna 'helping' me write.

At night the animals and I curl up in "our" room. There is nothing quite so cozy on a cold night as being in bed with a good book with a cat on my knees and a dog curled up at my side. 

Sometimes somebody gets a little testy . . .

Yet it never ceases to amaze me how much room two small animals can take up. I swear, I think they expand during the night like sponges dropped in water.

....but mostly, they make good bedfellows.

As I'm typing this Luna is sitting on my lap, keeping me company. On weekend mornings, when I have time to linger with my coffee, she often enjoys a good lap sit. But just sitting isn't her style, she likes to stretch out and be held like a baby.

Luna having a lap sit

Recently somebody said to me that they don't believe animals have feelings like humans do. I had to disagree, because I am the fortunate recipient of the love and affection of these two every day.  They love each other, they love their family, and their family loves them.

Quite often, as I watch Toby wrestling with the kids, or when Luna is curled up next to me, purring, I feel a deep sense of gratitude that I have them in my life.

Taking a bite out of my to-do list: Dental Work

One of my goals for this year was to finally take care of a laundry list of dental care items that I've put off for far too long now. I had the basic cleaning done, a filling, a post-and-crown put in, all soon to be followed by the extraction of two wisdom teeth.
 

My newly renovated choppers on display

I've known these things needed doing since 2011, but I couldn't afford to do it at that time. Then the foster kids came and I didn't have the time. Now, fashionably late by a year or two, I'm finally getting around to it. While I'm not at all enamored with the expense or the discomfort of doing so much dental work at once, I am kind of enjoying checking it off my "to do" list.

So how does all this fit into my three year plan? Why does it matter enough to be blogging about it?

It really all comes down to this: if you don't take care of the machinery it breaks down. What good is achieving any life goal if you're health and well-being had to be sacrificed to get you there?

One thing living life in the Slow Lane has taught me is putting things off might make today easier, but it makes tomorrow that much harder. Being proactive not just with my money and my writing, but with self-care, is going to be key to getting from where I am today to where I hope to be tomorrow.

I am fortunate that I have both medical and dental coverage at work, but if you don't and if you can't find a dentist in your area who works on a sliding scale, you might try looking for a Federally Qualified Health Center. You will find more than just dental care there, so check them out.

Until next time, here's reminding you not to forget to floss, from the Slow Lane.

Adios 2013

As 2013 draws to a close I can't help but look back and marvel at what an intense and amazing year it was.

When 2013 dawned we were still well and truly lost in the swamp of foster care with no clue what our outcome would ultimately be. After spending all of 2012 hanging in limbo, we desperately needed closure one way or the other. As the months passed, the outlook gradually became brighter until, in August, we were blessed with the happy ending we feared might never come. For months afterwards I floated around on a little cloud of blissful gratitude for answered prayers. When I think about how far we've come this year, it boggles my mind. It was, in every sense, a miraculous year.

At the moment 2014 is still a blank canvas. For the past two years all of my time, attention and resources have been focused on the kids and their needs. This year I hope to put my focus back on my own life for a bit. I would like to reconnect with my son, and spend some time getting to know myself. It might sound odd, but the person I am post-foster care is not the same person I was going in.

During the new year I hope for continued progress towards my goals, time to enjoy my family and the strength and courage to continue to live my convictions. Will I get better about blogging regularly? Will I turn my NaNoWriMo manuscript into a second draft? Will I ever find a suitable part time job? The answers lie ahead somewhere in 2014.

Although it sounds trite, I truly do hope that 2014 will bring health and prosperity and happiness for my family and I, and for you and yours as well.

Here's wishing you a Happy New Year from the Slow Lane.

An Exit from the Slow Lane

Too pooped for blogging this week

This past Monday a journey that began in December of 2011 finally came to a conclusion.

In typical Slow Lane fashion our trip through the land of foster care took forever, involved more than a few detours, wrong turns and pot holes. Because of privacy concerns I won't be blogging about what the final destination consisted of, but I can assure you it was worth the trip.

As you can imagine, packing-up almost two years of kid stuff takes a ton of time and energy. Accordingly, life in the Slow Lane is moving a little slower than usual this week. I haven't had time to blog, but I'll be back in action with my regularly scheduled Monday and Wednesday posts next week.

In the meantime, let me leave you with one last work of art from Princess Jasmine, Princess Ariel and Baby Brother:

No more sad and angry - just smiling faces

Lost in the Sauce

Recently, Big Brother went to visit his dad in south Florida.

I've been thinking a lot since then about all the fun Big Brother and I had while he was growing up. Sometimes, I wish we could go back to those days.

Mom and Evan, 2004

Now, it is me, him, and three other, sticky, noisy, messy little people who take up most of my time and attention. I know that there are many days when what Big Brother needs gets lost in the sauce.

Mom and Evan, 2013

I don't have a time machine, but I'm going to try to make time to do something fun just with Big Brother. After all, even big grown-up twenty year olds still need to know their mom is there for them.

My life is a mess. Literally.

When I say that foster parenting is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, I don't say it lightly. Oddly enough, though, it isn't the Big Feelings, the constant appointments, or even all the hoops that CPS makes me jump through that gets to me. Over the past twenty months I have found ways to deal with, or at least accept, all those things.

No, the thing that thing that gets under my skin the most is the mess.

My life used to look like this:

Now, it looks like this:

Call me neurotic, but there is something about the constant landscape of toys, legos, books, papers, shoes, crayons and other kid detritus strewn everywhere--and I do mean everywhere--that gets my dander up.

It takes daily effort to keep this . . . .

From looking like this . . .

Baby Brother's favorite movie of all time is the Cat in the Hat, which involves something called "The Mother of all Messes." I've got one of those. If only I had Thing One and Thing Two with a magical vacuum that sucks it all up, too.

While the mess is driving me nuts, the truth is I've intentionally let the house go. It was the only way to carve out enough time for things like going to the pool, taking walks, playing in the park and going out for ice cream.

Someday, I hope my life will return to a more ordered state, one where, when I put a thing down, I know it will stay where I put it until I pick it up again. Until then, I'm just trying to make it through the mess, one day at a time.

Melting the Ice

I spent all day today trying to melt a little more ICE, and by "ice" I don't mean frozen water.

Not that long ago I sat in the visiting room at an ICE detention center in Newark, New Jersey. While I waited for the person I was there to visit to be sent for, I couldn't help but look at the other families in the room. In some cases husbands and wives were both detained and were having their once-a-week visit with each other.

There were a lot of tears in that room.

I saw one family that still haunts me, two parents visiting their teenaged son. When they brought him out, after all the hugging hello, he sat down across from his mom. She took his hand and held it, stroking it. Every now and then she reached out and caressed his cheek. I didn't have to know them to know their story. He was her baby, and he was about to be sent back, alone, to a country he might not even remember.

As I looked around the room it was not lost on me that we were the one family in the room that was laughing and smiling. That is because we were the one family in the room that had any real hope.

As an immigrant rights activist I've seen a lot of horrible things happen to people and fought a lot of battles. This is the toughest one so far, though, because children's lives hang in the balance. All the time spent in hospitals and court rooms fighting for justice on behalf of adults pales in comparison to the heartache of having to tell a devastated five year old that her papi isn't coming back because he was deported - and then have to try to explain to her what that means.

There was a window of a couple of hours today when things looked dire. I thought this is it, we're about to be rolled over by the unthinking, unfeeling avalanche that is ICE. The crisis was averted, but it left me drained mentally and emotionally.

Hard as today was, I know we're still the lucky ones.

I want all of the other families going through this to be lucky, too. I don't want even one more kindergartener to have to cry for a deported parent.

NOT ONE MORE


El Hielo Lyrics

Eva using a rag to wipe clean the table
Cautiously making everything shines like a pearl
When the boss gets home, she hopes there’ll be no complaints
Accusing her of being illegal

Jose tends to the yard, they look like Disneyland
He drives an old truck without a license
It doesn’t matter if he was a taxi driver in his home country
That doesn’t count for Uncle Sam

Chorus:
ICE is on the loose out on the streets
You never know when your number’s up
Cry, Children cry when they get out
They cry when mom’s not coming to pick them up
Some of us stay here
Others stay there
That happens for going out to find work.

Martha arrived as a child and dreams of studying
But it’s hard for her without papers
Those who were born here get the laurels
But she never gives up her fight

Chorus:
ICE is on the loose out on the streets
You never know when your number’s up
Cry, Children cry when they get out
They cry when mom’s not coming to pick them up
Some of us stay here
Others stay there
That happens for going out to find work.

Happy Fathers (and Mothers) Day!

You know you're a dad/grandpa when . . .

Happy Fathers Day, Dad!

Thanks for all the times you let some daughter or granddaughter "do" your hair (or your makeup) and for (mostly) having a sense of humor about it.

Thanks for not getting bent out of shape when a certain grandson used a ball of string to turn your office into a giant spider web that took hours to unravel again, or when he hid that rubber snake under your pillow.

While I'm at it let me offer apologies for that time when a certain daughter hit your car in the driveway, when the other daughter drove through your garage door, and for when their brother drove over your fence.

While I'm at it, I'd like to wish a happy belated Mothers Day to my mom, too, because I didn't get to see her on the occasion itself (I spent the day taking the kids to see their mom out of town).

I'd like to say thank you, Mom, for all the times you baked cookies for us, for the casseroles you've sent us and for driving Mom's Taxi for all those years.

Sorry about that time I convinced you to bring our cat to kindergarden for show and tell and you ended up having to chase her across the athletic fields after she escaped.

The list of things around the house we collectively broke, destroyed or defaced over the years is too long to go into, but sorry for all that, too.

Here's wishing you both a happy Fathers/Mothers day and many more moments of kid mischief and fun in the years to come.

Happy Birthday to my Dad

Our family has a lot of birthdays in March. My dad and my aunt were this past week and my Big Brother, my sister and Baby Brother are all in a row next week. Today, being the Saturday in the middle, we're all going to cram ourselves into the minivan (or as many as will fit, anyway) and journey to my aunt's house for a family celebration.

Big Brother is going to be turning twenty, a fact that just boggles my mind. It seems, literally, like just a few days ago he was that cute little newborn cooing up at me in his crib. With Big Brother officially leaving his teens behind and planting both feet on the shores of adulthood I'm watching in wonder at the man emerging from my boy. More and more I'm seeing signs that the man he has patterned himself after is his Grandpa, my dad. Big Brother loves his father, no doubt about that, but his Grandpa is the man he looks up to and admires most. Grandpa is the one who has spent time with him, talked to him about right and wrong, always believed in him and encouraged him to walk the walk, not just talk the talk.

My dad has a million stories about youthful misadventures, most of which just happen to come slipping out around the edges of some other conversation. Big Brother does the same thing. My dad takes the longest shortcuts known to man. Big Brother inherited that trait, too; He never drives in a straight line if he can find a twisty turny way to go instead. My dad can swear like a sailor (which, in fact, he once was), but never, not ever, did he do it at home with his family. Home and family were sacred and to be respected. I see big brother doing the same, reading his friends the riot act before he'll let them in the house. Some friends, who he knows might not be respectful, he won't allow to come in at all.

My dad is a family man, through and through. As a teenager I have to admit, I thought of him as a bit of a tyrant. My friends always said "your dad is so strict!" because on weekends he had us all weeding, painting, digging, hammering, vacuuming - always doing something around the house that took up a lot of time and energy. He was utterly impervious to eyerolling and teenage consternation. We got frequent lectures about "not hanging out on the street corner," not that we really knew what he was talking about. If he thought we were straying from the straight and narrow we would get up in the morning to find he'd left us long manifestos on the dinning room table, letting us know what we were doing wrong and what we needed to do better (He once wrote one on the back of my homework, which my teacher graded along with my assignment). But now I find myself being the same kind of tyrant. I've got my kids doing chores every weekend, even the toddler, and I drive Big Brother crazy stalking him, as he calls it, and insisting that he be in the house at a reasonable hour on week nights. I've even been known to leave the occasional manifesto in Big Brother's room.

Being a bit of a tyrant can be a good thing, I now realize. Just last night, Big Brother was telling me the sad story of one of his high school friends who has been in and out of legal trouble. "He didn't have anybody to stand up for him, like I did. All these parents these days, they all want to be their kids friends, that is their problem. I don't need you to be my friend, I need you to be my mom. I just wish more kids had that." As usual, Big Brother hit the nail on the head and it made me realized that I learned how to do that for him because somebody else did it for me. Yes, my dad was a little bit of a tyrant back in the day, but he never left us hanging when we got ourselves into something over our heads. He was there for us, he put the family first, and now all three of us kids are paying it forward, being benevolent dictators to our own offspring.

My dad has a very creative mind and a lot of imagination. Although he was an elevator mechanic by trade, he always had other ideas for businesses he wanted to start, and he always had at least one percolating on the side. Brooklyn born and bred, my dad decided he and my mom should move to the country and live a whole new way (it was the 70s, everyone was doing it). When the contractor they hired to build their house bailed on them, my dad picked up where they left off and taught himself to build houses by building ours. That was the first of many alternative careers my dad picked up along the way. My dad was always teaching himself how to do something new, listening to tapes or reading how-to books, everything from lock smithing to landscaping to selling real estate to painting pictures.

Not all of these ventures panned out as expected, and the recession in the seventies didn't help any, either. I remember, vividly, one Christmas during said recession when whatever business venture my dad was involved in had gone south on him and his partner. It was not a good time, and like so many others then we barely had a pot to piss in, pardon the expression. But dad's business partner was even worse off and didn't even have the proverbial chamber pot. My dad made sure that his little boy had a Christmas tree that year and presents under it, even though he was already struggling to do the same for us. I never forgot that and I've tried to emulate it ever since.

Today, as we are going to celebrate my dad's 75th birthday I can only hope that he knows how much his grandson and I both look up to him, admire him and have always both tried our best to live up to the values he modeled to us: hard work, family first, follow your dreams and live with integrity.

Happy birthday dad. We love you.