I can not believe the amount of emails I've received from my Green Gorilla post a few days ago. I'm sitting here seriously puzzled at how the Green Gorilla peeps are letting all of the potential sales fly out the window. Hello? Green Gorilla Peeps? I will so totally sell your stuff on my blog. Just, you know, have your people call my people. Who am I kidding? I don't have people. Anyway, speaking of flying out the window, the little birdie set is so totally my favorite.
And I have been looking around online for similar fabrics in response to several emails and a comment left in the original Green Gorilla post and I have found a couple that I wanted to let ya'll in on.
This first one is from Sew, Mama, Sew! It's so cute that it makes my head want to just explode. You see, something you all may not know about me is that I have a tendency to find something adorable, like the aforementioned starling fabric, and I love it so much that I want to decorate everything in my whole house with it. Curtains for the kids room? Sure! Recover the chair cushions in their room? Sure! Make throw pillows? Sure! Recover my couches in the living room? Sure! Thank god I can't sew.
Wouldn't you just love to have throw pillows EVERYWHERE with all of those different fabrics? Ok, I've totally just proven that you can spend a whole afternoon looking at fabrics online and not mopping your floor. I would love to see any project's ya'll do to go with your Green Gorilla bedding because I really want to make a roman shade for the bedroom I will be putting the bedding in.
This is my second book on adoption and it varies so much from the first one I read. As authors or writers or whatever, we often want to convey how events shaped our writing techniques or stories or lives as writers. What we too often forget is that the people reading those stories, even sometimes our fellow writers, don't really want to read about that process as much as they want to read the story. That's why they've gotten the book in the first place. Betty Jean Lifton is doing an awful lot of that in this book. And while I don't mind it too much, I am finding it to be a little annoying because I want to read the story for what it is and less for how it would come to effect her as an author. Currently, I am a little more than mid-way through the book and I am enjoying it. The story is a memoir about the author herself who was told she was adopted when she was seven. "I was seven when I was told I was adopted. It was during the Depression years and my adoptive parents, having lost a comfortable way of life in Cincinnati, Ohio, were struggling to put it all together again in a one-bedroom apartment on Chicago's South Side. They who were used to the comforts of a large house, now slept on a bed that folded into the living room wall, while I, their only child, slept in the bedroom. The shades of that room are drawn. I have scarlet fever, a dread disease in those days before penicillin. There is a quarantine notice on the door of the apartment warning the public not to enter for three weeks. I lie there burning with fever, but I am a docile, uncomplaining child. I make no demands. Although I do not understand it then, this period is a kind of transition from the past and a preparation for the future. I will not rise from this bed the same person."
I have to admit I feel like I am gaining great insight into the ways that being adopted has influenced her life and the way she feels about herself as a person and how confusing it was as a child to know you are tied to something else but not know what that something else is. But at the same time, my situation will be different in that adoptions are open now and the little girl I get will know who her parents are, she will always have that information. It won't be like finding out when you are seven years old that your parents aren't your biological parents. I need to start looking for books that are a little more like my situation I guess.
The thing I am enjoying the most about this book is that the author and her husband are frequently going to Japan. Japan is so important to her and she is constantly telling stories about the people there, their myths and legends and the way she feels like Japan is her mother. I look forward more to the stories about Japan than anything else.
The other day while I was at Wal-mart, I took a shortcut through bedding on my way to fabric and even though I was in a super hurry and on the phone with SnowElf, I still managed to notice this bedding set on an endcap and fell in love. The little pink birdies? Too freaking cute.
I am currently shopping for bunk beds and new bedding for when I set up the room my brother currently lives in to accommodate Triniti and our new girl we should be having placed with us soon. So when I saw the above set, my first thought was that I was a little bummed there was only the one "girl" set and then next to the birdies was this more "boy" set:
On my way out of the store, I stopped and snapped the picture of the birdie bedding so I could send it to SnowElf so she wouldn't think I was a complete loon. (Not sure if that helped because I am pretty sure she and probably 99.9% of my friends are certain I am a complete and total loon.) When I got home I tried to look them up online but no luck... I couldn't find anything. Of course, it probably didn't help that I was searching "Gorilla bedding" since I couldn't see the "Green" part from my camera phone shot. So when I was at Wal-mart yesterday, I ran back by to get another look and this time got the entire name ;) Yay me! Upon some searching today, I found a press release that said, "CHF Industries this market unveiled a new organic bedding line for kids and teens called Green Gorilla.... Cotton used is 100% organic, certified by SKAL, and created with low-impact dyestuffs, she said. Designs feature animals, butterflies, sports, florals and '50s graphic themes....Eco-friendly packaging has a smaller carbon footprint, and the insert is made from recycled materials." Yay for organic! And yay for low-impact dyestuffs. Dyestuffs is a cool word. And super yay for recycled inserts!!
I found the two designs below and the animal design above on their website but not my little birdie bedding (which is why I had to subject you to my awful grainy two megapixel camera phone shot of it). I did some googling as well as searching on some sites that they had listed in their where to buy it section, but to no avail. Which is unfortunate really. They have this very nice product that no one has managed to start selling online yet? Oh well, their loss. New marketing department anyone? Anyway, I just wanted to show it to ya'll because I am absolutely in love with Green Gorilla Bedding.
Last night I was in the kitchen with Amanda after softball practice and she stepped on my bare foot with her cleats. Upon my outcry of pain and obscenities, she wrapped me in a hug and said, "Awww, Mom, I'm soooo sorry! You know I loooooove you, more than annnnything in the whole wooooorlld." She looked up at me after putting in this little show and saw me raising an eyebrow. "More than anything huh?" She nodded enthusiastically. "More than chocolate?" She stepped back and said, "hmmmm, ok almost as much as chocolate.... babies.... and.... meat." I was all, "oh, wow, I'm fourth on your completely random list huh??" And she was all, "chocolate, babies, meat and boys." Emilee, having overheard this whole conversation ran over and hugged me and said, "Aw Mom, it's okay. My list is: you, math and then boys." I raised my eyebrow at her too, knowing she isn't even really boy crazy yet. "Boys?" She laughed and said, "ok, you, math, chocolate and then boys."
Ok, so I am trying to get my mom into this new business venture I thought up (details forthcoming) and while I was searching for a good site for some "modern" fabrics, I came across this necklace that I LOVE. And I was thinking about ordering it and then I realized that I wouldn't want to order it with only three birds since I will have a fourth bird soon. So I am going to wait and order it when I know who that fourth bird is :) Isn't it so super pretty? Check out everything at Figs & Ginger.
When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
Hello, I asked [other teacher] to send me your email address, I hope you don't mind. I wanted to thank you, for several things. The first is for taking the time to teach our class. I know how much time ya'll invest in these classes and the kids that these classes eventually help and I wanted to you to know how much I appreciate it. The second is for being the first person in our classroom to say the words "single parent". That first night that we were all there and I was looking around that room at the various couples and well it was a little unnerving. I was thinking to myself, what am I doing here? These people will all think I'm crazy. And when you stood up and did your introduction, it eased a lot of that for me. I know I'm a great mother and that my girls absolutely have happy and wonderful lives but sometimes I know people just see the "single" part of our being single parents and don't see the wonderful parts. I don't know if you remember or not, but at the end of that first class you told us that since most of us were looking at older, school aged children and with our end result being adoption, that we could just adopt. That there were a bunch of children out there already just waiting to be adopted. That night on my drive home I called my friend in Wisconsin and talked to her the whole way home, both about whether or not I had lost my mind as well as the possibility of adopting a child. I was overwrought with emotions and didn't know what any of them meant or what I was actually feeling about all of this. But the next morning, I woke up and it was all gone and I just knew in my heart what I was going to do. At our next class I changed my application to adoption only. This of course came as quite a shock the people who were already shocked at my initial decision to foster. And you know all I could say to them was I just feel that I am meant to be doing this. I can't explain it. I just know that there is already this little girl out there and she is already going through all of these horrible things and she is meant to be with us. She is meant to be my daughter and my daughters' sister. It's all already in motion. I took your advice and went and bought a couple of books written by adopted children. I finished the first one today. It's called Hope's Boy, written by Andrew Bridge. I'm sure you've read it but if you haven't, you should. I couldn't put it down after I picked it up on Monday. Anyway, I didn't mean for this to get so long, I just wanted to thank you for being our teacher and for sharing your experience with us.
"Mrs. Karen Ross was the incontestable commander of an English Department seething with rebels. Principal Phelpson hated her, and rumor had it that he had called her a name during a heated meeting that would have gotten any one of us expelled. She was in her mid-forties and commuted into the San Fernando Valley from Malibu every school day. WE gossiped that she was married to a wealthy stockbroker and had a daughter who went to a private boarding school in Switzerland. Her teaching job was not something that she needed but rather an irritating hobby. She regularly threatened to quit, simply not show up at school the next day, though all of us knew that she never would do it. She was the only high school teacher whom I ever approached for help. She was tough. She was not an angel or a savior, parent or confidante. Had she offered to be one, I would have rejected it. Those promises had been made and broken, and now it was too late for more. She and I never discussed foster care, the Leonards, or my mother. When I did badly on a paper or answered a question poorly in class, she was deadly honest but kind. She was the first to teach me that I could disappoint someone without losing her. Finally, there were the little reminders of Hope that I looked for in nearly everyone. The two of them looked nothing alike. Mrs. Ross was tall and blonde. Hope was petite and dark. Yet both women snapped out retorts that left their opponents sputtering. Both challenged the world. Both seemed braver that I could ever be. When she strolled into class on our first day of twelfth grade, Mrs. Ross had promised that we would - as we had in earlier English classes - read books and poems, only this time a little better. Some of what she taught appealed to me by accident. When we read As I lay Dying, she never knew that the story of a mother who had died and the son who could still hear crying in the night would mean so much to a shy boy sitting at the edge of her class. When we read Catch-22, she never knew that the same boy had already understood that heroes may not be as pure as we like, that they may not act or appear as we expect. She taught me poetry, especially her favorite poem about a pitiful and proper middle-aged man named J. Alfred Prufrock, who imagined himself lingering on the floor of the sea, listening to the distant songs of mermaids who sang to others but refused to sing to him. Mrs. Ross never told us what to do with our lives, in high school or beyond. Instead, she warned about old and frightened Prufrock, a man who had wasted his life in silence, too frightened to challenge the world, too timid to demand his place in it. Mrs. Ross never denied that life could be horribly unfair. Occasionally she even implied that she thought it would be for some of us. She merely claimed that unfairness need not be the end of it. She believed that words mattered, that they could persuade, that now and again they could make us better than what our nature might have us be. Fair or not, life could still be something important, something meaningful. On the last day that I saw her, she handed me a note, quoting from the poem that she loved. Reminding me that the future could hold more than empty silence, she wrote that the mermaids who had never sung to Mr. Prufrock would someday sing to me. I believed her."
How can I blog with all this American Idol going on?
I watched American Idol the year that Jordan Sparks won out over the adorable Blake Lewis who I was in love with and voted for like a gazillion times during the season. And then I had to stop because American Idol takes up a lot of TV time and I try not to get sucked into new shows that take up a lot of TV time because I have to do things like feed my kids and bathe and go to work - all of which are interupted by the hundred hours of recorded television that my DVR will store. But Emilee, my darling daughter, wanted to watch this season of AI and she wants to watch it with me. So now, twice a week, I am sucked into the world of singing and voting and judging and ruining my daughter's pristine idea of what her mother is like by saying that the only reason the blind guy is there is because he's blind. What? So, because I watch it and because I vote and because I have no social life to speak of, I am going to share with you who I think is going to win this year. Adam Lambert
I dig him and I didn't even so much mind his crazy Ring of Fire last night. Of course, I think he will get his money's worth from Lil Rounds and the chic with the super dark red hair and Danny, but I think he's in it for the win.
What do ya'll think? Are you watching? Voting? Tell me! ;)
Like your feelings and the seasons Everything can change Life's Chamelion without reason Gives and takes away We are drifters, all together In a world of castaways Undercurrents overcome us Or were swept out with the waves
Take me away, my world is drowning me Now that I know myself I finally see
The ever changing tide Has turned around again Takes me for a ride To the ocean's end Carry on Carry on Carry on
It ain't easy being lonesome In these unforgiving days We find lifeboats, call them lovers And its sad to see them stray We are hopeless, then we are hopefull But all we really know Like your feelings and the seasons everything must go
Take me away my world is drowning me Now that I know myself I finally see
The ever changing tide Has turned around again Takes me for a ride Back to the ocean's end Carry on Carry on Carry on
Noone really know theres no predicting our way out All we have is right now It flows through you feel it now
The ever changing tide Has turned around again Takes me for a ride to the ocean's end My innocence is crying never have ya been Im at the oceans side Feeling it again
The ever changing tide (the everchanging tide) Has turned around again (has turned around again) Takes me for a ride To the ocean's end Carry on Carry on Carry on
“And even if you found yourself in some prison, whose walls let in none of the world's sounds - wouldn't you still have your childhood, that jewel beyond all price, that treasure house of memories? Turn your attentions to it.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
If I had answered the questions at school, if I had told the truth and been as honest as my heart had wanted, what words would have come from me? Where would I have started? Everything would have begun with Mom.
She grew up on the eastern plains of Colorado, where the final stretch of the Midwest meets the Rocky Mountains. From a dusty bungalow outside Colorado Springs, she knew Pikes Peak, the summit named for Zebulon Pike—the white man who, after seeing it, tried to climb it and failed, then tried again and got lost. Nearly a century later, Katherine Lee Bates, an English teacher from Wellesley College, took a carriage to the top, announced that she had found the Gate of Heaven, and wrote “America the Beautiful” on her way back into town.
My mother’s family came from the “dry land” farms in the shadow of the peak, where survival depended on grudging rain and stubborn wits. The high point of my family’s wealth came when my mother’s grandfather acquired a withered plot, which he passed down to her mother, Katherine Reese. The first woman in family memory to have something more than herself to bring to a marriage, Katherine chose a man who was a generation older than she and who had been gassed as a young soldier in the First World War. He widowed her with their two children: my mother, who had just reached her sixth birthday, and her brother, who was still working toward his third. The local child welfare agency suggested a children’s home. In desperation, Katherine married a second man, who shortly thereafter sold Katherine’s patch of dirt for promised oil royalties. When the payments never arrived, Katherine’s second husband abandoned the family. Katherine had chosen poorly—twice—in a life that offered few accommodations for mistakes. Her daughter and son went in and out of children’s homes while she did her best to keep them for as much of their childhoods as she could.
When my mother, Hope, was sixteen years old, she met Wade—a twenty-one-year-old outsider stationed at one of the several military bases nearby. In Katherine’s words, Wade was an angry man who loved my mother selfishly. Against Katherine’s wishes, my mother dated Wade for nearly a year. She left school in the middle of tenth grade. Then, in a final act of defiance, she married Wade in the town clerk’s office a week after her seventeenth birthday.
Following his discharge, Wade convinced my mother to see what they could of the world in a Chevrolet station wagon. They left Colorado, traveling for months on a grand tour of America’s dust bowl. When they were in Missouri, they called Katherine to announce my arrival, describing me as a blond baby boy who looked more like him than her. They did what they pleased and stayed where they wanted, paying first with the savings that Katherine gave them, then with bad checks. Outside Bakersfield, California, they were arrested for bank fraud. Barely in their twenties, they were sentenced to state prison. I was not quite four years old when I was sent to live with my grandmother, who had moved to Chicago.
Like Katherine before her, Hope had chosen badly. After her release from prison, with me safe in Chicago, my mother settled in Los Angeles, refused to return to my father, and demanded a divorce. On a bench in a public park, Wade agreed to the breakup, but on his terms. If my mother insisted on retrieving me from Katherine, Wade promised a meager monthly stipend for child support. He refused to pay alimony of any kind. There were no assets to divide. Wade declared that their agreement would remain a private one, without the intervention or enforcement authority of a court. If his young wife refused his offer, if she asked for more, if she went to a judge, Wade reminded her that, with or without legal permission, a little boy would never be hard to steal.
From her own mother, my mother knew how easily a woman could lose a child. She accepted Wade’s deal, and in return, he abandoned any claim to me. She kept the boy she loved from the man she despised. Yet even with Wade gone, my mother’s fear of losing me always lingered. “You have to be ready,” she warned. “Someday, someone may come to take you.”
The thing about adoption is that it is different than having your own kid. When you have your own kid, you go through all The Stuff. The conception and relationship with their other parent, the pregnancy and birth... and then you might feel like your not qualified or don't know what the hell you are doing but you fucking earned it and that "Mamma Bear" comes out and says, "this is my kid, back off." You can second guess yourself in private or with your friends and maybe even your family, but to the rest of the world? You're the best mother in the world and they can just kiss your ass. Why? Because you know two fundamental things: 1. No one in the whole world, the entire Universe, knows that kid the way you do. You know everything about them. What they think is funny, what words they don't pronounce right, what size shoes they wear, what they were scared of when they were three, where they lost their first tooth, how they like their eggs, what their belly laugh sounds like. That's your kid. 2. No one in the whole world, the entire Universe, loves that kids as much as you do. Period. But right now, I don't feel like I've earned it yet. It's just as scary as it was when I was having any of my girls. Of course, it's scary for different reasons. I'm scared because this person, they don't know me. They haven't known me since before they knew themselves. I don't know how they like their eggs yet. I look at the fact that I must be growing up more. I bought a house right? But I'm still unsure when I punish Trin if my method is the best one for helping her grow up with Asperger's. Or I look at the fact that I bought freaking spring form pans at the store today because I need them and surely only grownups or bakers need spring form pans but then Amanda rolls her eyes at me tonight because I basically tell her she's being a bitch to Emilee and I wonder how much I know about taking care of an almost thirteen year old. Every time I think I know what I'm doing, The Universe slaps me in the face with a nice little reminder that really, I'm still learning. So, do you ever really know? Do you ever make a choice about yourself or your kids or even kids that aren't biologically yours without second guessing it? And does the second guessing become even more frequent when it's a whole new person? One I haven't known forever?
On March 10th, 2007 my grandmother passed away. I was so very sad to have her no longer be in my life but I knew she was ready to go and I had so much time to say goodbye to her that while her passing made me sad, I was at peace with it. I love my grandmother and I think of her often and fondly. Those days that I was in Dallas while we all sat with her and held her hand and told her it was ok to leave and then after she had passed, while we sat together and reminisced and spent time as a family, I spent a lot of time thinking. I wanted to consider how I felt about her being gone, about how I missed Veronique, about how death made me feel about The Universe and myself and the future and my kids. I needed to reflect. And because it was quiet and I could think there, I spent that time outside. And everywhere, there were these beautiful trees.
I was in love with them. They were beautiful, regal, innocently and purely white and the thing that I will always associate with my grandmother passing. And not in a melancholy way but in a fond way.
When we got back from Dallas, I looked them up online and found that they were Bradford Pear trees. So I ordered some seeds online and tried to grow a couple. My attempt was a failed one, but I vowed that once I had a house where I could grow them in my yard, I would.
It's funny how that works. How I would fall in love with the same tree twice and it looked so different both times. I think that sometimes people pop in and say hello to you and maybe you don't even realize it.
Yesterday after Triniti and I dropped "The Sisters" off at softball practice, we were driving home and she asked the same question she's asked me like a hundred times in the last few weeks: "Mamma, will we be able to get my new sister while I am still six?" She likes to gauge time based on her age. Since her birthday is only a couple of months away, I had to explain to her that she would probably already be seven when it happened. She doesn't like that because, similar to becoming seven, waiting in line and walking home from school, it takes forever. We talked some more about it and the more Trin talked, the more I realized that her little innocent mind hadn't realized that this little girl wouldn't be just like her. Or just like her friends. She wasn't going to arrive here all happy and ready to play. "Trin, can you tell me what kind of heart you have?" "A happy heart." "That's right. And your new sister, when she gets here, she is going to have a very sad heart." "Why?" "Well, think about all of the things that make your heart happy. You have a Mommy and Daddy who love you so very much and The Sisters and Yai-Yai and Doh-Doh and Aunt Ruthie... and all of your friends and Chica and Lila and Tucker? And your friends at school. You have a home with a yard you can play in all day long. You have toys and dresses. But most of all, can you tell me how many people love you?" "A LOT!" "Yup, a LOT of people love you. But your new sister? She doesn't have a Mommy or Daddy or a Doh-Doh or Yai-Yai or any puppy dogs or friends. She is all alone and she's scared and her heart is very sad." "Mamma, I think I'm going to cry." "Awww, baby, don't cry. But you gotta know that when she gets here, she isn't going to be happy. She's going to be scared. She's going to be scared that we won't want her too. And she's going to be scared because she's going to be in a new house with all new people and she won't know any of us. Wouldn't you be scared too?" "Yeah, I would be really scared." She thought about all of this until we pulled into the yard and then I asked her, "So, what do you think the hardest thing will be about having your new sister?" "I think it will be making heart happy again." "Yeah, me too." "Wait! I think the hardest part will be getting her juice, I'm not a very good pourer."
Good morning ya'll! I am in a ridiculously fabulous mood. Thanks for asking :) I ran five miles yesterday. Five. Miles. Yeah.
And then, I took my red face to my final Adoption class where we had a wonderfully in depth discussion with a representative from T.A.R.E. who answered so many questions I had about the adoption process. You know, these people who work for groups like T.A.R.E. and DFPS and CPS, while they catch a lot of flack, they are truly amazing people. They've devoted their lives to these children and every day, they are out there acting as advocates to them. It's such a heart wrenching and truly under appreciated career and I can definitely say, learning all I've learned recently, how much I appreciate them and the work they are out there doing.
At the end of the class, he handed out a sheet with statistics on it and I wanted to share some of them with ya'll to give you an idea of how much these people are dealing with. At the end of January 2009, there were 15,519 children in foster care in the state of Texas. That is 15,519 children who are not living at home, who are living in a volunteer's home or group home. Just in Texas.
In the twenty-eight counties considered to be the San Antonio Region, there were 1,092 adoptions from September 2007 through August 2008 (fiscal year). Of those 590 were adoptions by relatives and 502 by non-relatives. Which means 502 people just like me completed the same course I am completing and decided to take on someone else's child and make them their own. That's more than a thousand children just in the San Antonio Region who wouldn't have had homes - who would still be in foster care waiting and hoping for someone to love them.
Of children with adoption as their plan at the end of December 2008, these were the demographics for the San Antonio Region: 1% are 12 months or younger (usually with a disability since babies are easily adoptable) 7% are 1-2 years of age 17% are 3-6 years of age 26% are 7-10 years of age 30% are 11-14 years of age 19% are 15 and older
57% are male 43% are female
14% are African-America 14% are White (non Hispanic) 65% are White (Hispanic) The remaining 7% are Multi-racial, Asian, American Indian or of unknown heritage.
And probably the most amazing stat to me was that: More than 78% of all children waiting for adoption in our region are part of a sibling group of two or more children.
The more I learn about all of this, the more compelled I feel to do something. These are children, not puppies. They are people. And no one wants them. Can you look at your own children and imagine that? There is a little girl on the T.A.R.E. website who reminds me of Trin so much. She is a few years older than her and autistic and she looks like Trin. And when I see this beautiful little girl's picture remain on the site every week because no one wants to adopt her, it breaks my heart. That could be my daughter if circumstances were different. That could be Triniti's picture up there every week with no one wanting to take on her "issues" because they just want a "normal" little girl. I'd encourage you, if you are considering having kids or even thinking after having readeverything that I have been writing about all of this about the possibility of adopting, look in to it more. And don't think you are disqualified because of _______ . You probably aren't. The dude teaching my class is a single guy who has adopted two teenaged boys. And teenagers make up 49% of children in care, they are the hardest to get adopted. Did you notice when I stated the stats that it said "Of children with adoption as their plan..." That's because some of these kids, mostly the teens, have given up. They have decided to remain in care and take their chances when they are eighteen. Can you imagine being eighteen and being on your own with no one to ask for help. These kids have no choice but to succeed because no one will help them if they don't. I know I'm going on and on about this but as ya'll know, when I initially got into this, my plan was just foster. Provide a safe place for these displaced kids to call home until they were reunified with their birth families. And after getting all of this information, my plans have changed and I have went from deciding to temporarily take care of a child or two to adding another child to my family. And it's great. I feel great about it. I told SnowElf last night that I feel like I'm pregnant right now. The classes were a conception period and now, we're in the gestation period. It's scary and wonderful at the same time. So where do we go from here? I have my home inspection's set up for the 13th of next week. Look at me all shooting the finger to Friday the 13th. I'm so not accepting any bad luck right now, I am only accepting the good. And then from there, we have our home study where a psychologist comes and spends the whole day with us and observes how our family works together and gets along. This should happen in May-July. After our home study is complete, we are ready to adopt. That is when we start being matched with prospective children that match the criteria that we are looking for. Our criteria is female, age 5-8 - we will consider siblings female/female or female/male in that age range but we are really just wanting one child. I would love to be able to take a half a dozen, but I just can't. Once they find a good match, I get a call with a little information and then I meet with my worker to review the file of the child. If I am interested, we set up a few meetings. There are anywhere from three to six meetings, usually involving an overnight visit or a weekend visit so we can all get to know each other before the placement will actually take place. Once the placement occurs, you have a six month period before consummation of the adoption can take place. And if everything goes well, six months later you can officially adopt. That's pretty much it in a nutshell. If you are just stopping by here for the first time, don't hesitate to shoot me an email with any questions. I get email asking questions about everything from Jone's Fractures to scorpions, I don't mind the questions.
This tree, it's messing with me. All I want to know is it's name and yet every time I see it, it smiles coyly and stays unnamed. I've watched it grow through two full seasons and I am madly in love with it, but will it be mine? No, it just stands there, all gorgeous, and it won't tell me it's name. It's a Goo Goo Dolls tree.
The child is an acrobat And he walks upon the wire Knowing well that he might fall Still he climbs up higher
If he should slip He will surely die And his body will break and his soul will fly Into the night where the spirits scream He will leave this world and become a dream
My father was a sailor And he lived upon the water Knowing well that he might drown He sailed beyond the harbor
If he should fall He will surely die And his body will sink and his soul will fly Into the night where the spirits scream He will leave this world and become a dream He will leave this world and become a dream
Nothing will change X4 Time goes by and nothing will Nothing will X3
My love she is my saving grace She holds me through the winter Knowing well that I will leave Still she holds me closer
And if my heart should break Well I will surely die And my blood will flow and my soul will fly Into the night where the spirits scream I will leave this world and become a dream I will leave this world and become a dream
Jonathan Tyler & The Northern Lights - She Wears a Smile
She wears a smile on her face and it's more than I can take, yeah Done up like Marilyn Monroe She says, "Darlin don't you know?" She's got these secrets that she hides and I can see it in her eyes She's going crazy inside My love, you're breaking my heart You're breaking my heart My love, don't make it so hard Don't make it so hard, Oh
I took your pictures off the wall Stopped waitin' for your call I finally thought of what I'd say But there aint no difference it would make, No Cuz you got these secrets that you hide, I can see it in your eyes You're going crazy inside My love, you're breaking my heart You're breaking my heart My love, don't make it so hard Don't make it so hard, Oh
Don't it always go to show in time You never ever really know what's right People run for all their lives and never find you can't control your heart and soul She's livin' in your mind She's livin' in your mind You're breaking me down, breaking me down, breaking me down, breakin me down...
A couple of you have emailed and asked me what pushed me over the edge. First of all there is my past experience with Mr. I and while it is vastly different, it has it's similarities that cannot be overlooked. Then there was something that Fairy said to me last night, she said that she likes to have friends who are like her, who have similar morals and values and that she couldn't be just friends with him because she couldn't respect his choices. I have friends like The Bachelor whom I love with all my heart and who chooses to live his life in a way that I don't but you know what? He's flipping honest about it. He lives his life OUT LOUD. He doesn't have to go home and keep it all to himself. He chooses to be the person he is every day and isn't afraid to share that person in it's entirety with the world. I'd like to think that I live that way and that I choose to have friends who also live that way. We might not always make great choices but goddamnit, we admit it. And we try to learn from it. We might sometimes repeat the mistake, but again WE ADMIT IT. I'm not ashamed of who I am. And I don't want to be.
He called me yesterday and we spoke for about thirty minutes discussing the three options I mentioned in my last post. He very convincingly told me that he didn't want anything to do with number two. And that if I were even thinking for one second that was possible, to let him know and he was out. And that if I needed him to be a dickhead or whatever consider it accomplished because he didn't want to contribute to my living like that. Which then led us into number three where I voiced my concerns about him having a family. This is where it gets stickier. According to him, he and his wife have, and I quote "a don't ask, don't tell" kind of relationship and that as long as he "doesn't bring anything home" and his social life, as it were, doesn't "interfere with his wife's professional or social circles" and visa versa, then all is well in their "happily married" world. I CAN'T EVEN COMPREHEND THAT. Like, I heard it, I repeated it to no less than three people, I thought about it, I just now typed it out and REREAD IT and I still CAN'T COMPREHEND IT. That is happily married? You're okay with that kind of relationship? Yes. Yes he is. Well cool, less for me.
He asked me if I had any idea how long I was going to need to think about this and I told him, truthfully that I had only had about twenty four hours since he told me he was married and I was going to need some more time seeing as how I have never been in this situation before. But then, last night, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had just had a CONVERSATION ABOUT AN AFFAIR. One in which he had relinquished any and all responsibility for my emotional well-being by saying if I were going to want for more that he didn't want anything to do with it. Because yeah, maybe we had both said there wouldn't be anything physical but that was kind of how this whole thing started. You can't tell me you are the freaking poster child for fidelity and you kiss random chics in random towns on random nights away from your "don't ask, don't tell" wife and then you "just want to be friends." And pal, if you do just want to be friends? You should have started it that way. [*an aside - OMG, The Trews just started singing A Man of Two Minds on my stereo. Fucking brilliant.] You know, I wasn't entirely forthcoming myself but I am available for relationships. I am unattached. So here is the eventual outcome options: 1. Wasting my fucking time. 2. An affair. 3. Torture. Not good choices. So, I made my choice last night. And as soon as it clicked into my head, I wanted to text him and be done with it. But I didn't because I wanted to make sure I was sure. And this morning, I was. And I am. I don't want to be that girl. And you know what? I may be single for a very long time to come but I will take that over the torture or the hiding in the shadows, over being ashamed of myself.
1. Delete him. 2. Try and be friends but secretly want more. 3. Actually be friends.
There was a bunch of if's and an's and but's and turmoil and ridiculousness and grasping and rationalizing and it's done. I've just texted him that it will have to be one and that I'm sorry I can't do more. He texted me back that he had fun and have a nice life.
Now the forgetting part starts. I'm going to start working him off at the gym today. But more importantly, I'm going to be fine.
I wish he had called me on a Thursday so I could spend the weekend in bed. That's all I really want to do, crawl into my bed and sleep for a while. Forget the whole thing ever happened. Am I being all uber dramatic? Perhaps. He called again today. He still wants to be friends. But only if I am not going to be secretly hoping for more. Because I am so that girl, that girl who secretly hopes for more. Remember Mr. I? There was more than a year, more than two? I can't remember. But there was a significant amount of time that went by where I secretly and not so secretly hoped for more. I couldn't help it. It's how I am. Or was. You know what isn't fair? I am honest and open and ready to give that to someone and when I meet these "someones", they don't want it. He deleted me from facebook. Said he wasn't comfortable knowing all of you knew everything and that he wondered every time I posted a status update as to whether it was about him or not.
I can't do it. I know it but I can't bring myself to tell him. I can't bring myself to tell me yet. But I know it. I know I would secretly hope for more. I know I would read into things not meant to be read in to. I know I would. And because I know all of this, I know it isn't safe for me to "just be friends". The Possibility Box was already opened and it's too damn hard to get everything back in there and recap it.
Let me preface this with letting you know that Saturday was the sexual abuse edition of my Foster/Adopt classes. There is no where in the world that you would rather NOT be on a Saturday than spending eight hours hearing stories about little kids being abused. You're split equally between nausea and tears. It will kick your ass. Luckily we got out of class early and after a quick run by Wal-Mart to grab a few things, I went home. Amanda and Emilee were both at sleepovers, so I hung out with Trin and then tried to decide if I wanted to call him. I decided I didn't. It was a mixture of reasons, one of which being that I had just went through sexual abuse day and I kind of just wanted to go to bed. Sunday I got up and started getting stuff done around the house. I haven't been home much with all of the classes I've been taking and, trust me, you can tell. My home inspections are on the 13th, so I have a little time but a lot of work. Plus I now have to put off my flooring until after my inspections since I can't be mid project when they come. So, I was doing my room. We had a bean bag chair explosion there last week and those little puff-balls that go into a bean bag chair? Those effing things were EVERYWHERE in my room. It took me over an hour just to hunt them all down with the vacuum cleaner. I enjoy cleaning when I have something on my mind because nothing allows your brain the room for consideration more than the sound of a vacuum cleaner. And I have a lot to think about. Not just this huge decision of adoption but also the fact that I am taking Triniti to New York to see her dad in May. I also have that Noah and my mom are leaving - Noah permanently and my mother, most likely temporarily and my sister called me on Saturday and asked if she could come and stay for a few months while she gets caught up on everything. Add to that the fact that I've been in Day-dreamy Land about the boy from last weekend. Having not actually had a conversation with him since then, I have been really chomping at the bit to talk to him and I decided that since we couldn't seem to sync up that I would just text him and get his email address so I could email him. So, I sent him a text at 11:49a that said, "Hi, hope your (I SPELLED you're WRONG!!!) having a good weekend :) I was wondering if you could send me your email address?" He texted me back at 2:59p, it said, "I'm tired... But that's not unusual. " And then I sat down and started working on the email that explains to him that I (a) have kids and (b) dig him. I'm like half way through it when my phone rings and it's him. So I answer it and he asks how I am and I tell him I was just working on an email to him and he asks if he'll have to wait to read the email or if I'm going to just tell him what it says, I say I'll just tell him. He says ok and that he has something he needs to tell me too. I offer to go first since I'm wanting to do it before I chicken out. I dive in, explain to him that when we met and under the circumstances that we met, I didn't tell him about the girls which is pretty much the most important thing about me. He says ok but doesn't sound even remotely surprised which I mention, he says it doesn't bother him because he also has kids but that he also has something else he needs to tell me. I didn't need him to. Before he could even say it I said, "Oh my god, you're married." He says yeah, happily married. Then he apologizes for not having told me while I am reeling. I had no idea. Jesus I had no idea. I felt like I was slowing down to look at accident. He says he wants to explain why he didn't tell me. That he often goes out with his friend Marty and frequently plays "wing-man" for him, much as Fairy and I were doing that same night. But he says he usually just talks to the chic for a few minutes and then she wanders off to find someone else to talk to and he waits for Marty to finish talking to whomever he is hitting on. Then he validates everything that I felt for the whole effing week that I thought there was some kind of possibility that I had met someone - he says he's never connected with any one the way he connected with me. That he intended to go back to Houston and basically forget the whole thing had ever happened but hasn't been able to. And that he wants to be VERY clear that he doesn't want to have a physical relationship with me, he isn't looking for an affair, but is hoping that we can figure out some way to be friends. I told him honestly that there was no way for me to make that kind of decision right now. That I would really have to think about it. Because I am feeling an insane amount of stuff some of which is guilt for his wife. That she is unaware that Saturday night even happened and that if I were her, I wouldn't want my fucking husband being friends with someone he had connected with, spent the night with and kissed. I told him that and he said that if it made me feel better he would tell her everything and get her blessing so to speak. I tell him I need to think about it. Can I even do that? Can I even be friends with someone who I feel like this about? I don't know. Can I just forget someone I feel like this about? Again, I don't know. What I do know is that I will not be in a physical relationship with a married man. I will not be an affair, I will not have an affair, I will not. I'm sorry it is taking me so long to get this up, I wanted to write it all up last night and post it but I just couldn't do it. I still have this knot in my stomach. I woke up like a hundred times last night and just feel like shit. It'll pass, but for now I feel like shit.
Also, I had a dream last night about alligators. There was more than that but when I woke up this morning, that was the thing that stuck with me: alligators... Since alligators and crocodiles are associated with water, and since water is often symbolic of the emotions, when these reptiles appear in your dreams they may be symbols of profound, potent emotions. They can mean your emotions have reached a dangerous level--you may be feeling like they will 'swallow' you whole. Your emotions may be reaching a point where they are becoming wild, and you feel you, like the alligator in the Florida lakes signs, may snap at any given moment. And then, to top it all off. About thirty minutes ago, I look up and TB is standing at my office door looking utterly and ridiculously adorable and he proceeds to stand in the doorway of my office for the next fifteen minutes chatting with me about how I am, asking about the girls, talking kid-sports and looking RIDICULOUSLY ADORABLE. Stop it Universe. Stop it right now.
In a way, I need a change From this burnout scene Another time, another town Another everything But it's always back to you
Stumble out, in the night From the pouring rain Made the block, sat and thought There's more I need It's always back to you
But I'm good without ya Yeah, I'm good without you Yeah, yeah, yeah
How many times can I break till I shatter? Over the line can't define what I'm after I always turn the car around Give me a break let me make my own pattern All that it takes is some time but I'm shattered I always turn the car around
I had no idea that the night Would take so damn long Took it out, on the street While the rain still falls Push me back to you
But I'm good without ya Yeah, I'm good without you Yeah, yeah, yeah
How many times can I break till I shatter? Over the line can't define what I'm after I always turn the car around Give me a break let me make my own pattern All that it takes is some time but I'm shattered I always turn the car around
Give it up, give it up, baby Give it up, give it up, now Now
How many times can I break till I shatter? Over the line can't define what I'm after I always turn the car around All that I feel is the realness I'm faking Taking my time but it's time that I'm wasting Always turn the car around
How many times can I break till I shatter? Over the line can't define what I'm after I always turn the car around
Don't wanna turn that car around I gotta turn this thing around
Who: katehopeeden Where: San Antonio, Texas
Yeah, so I am all that you see here.
I am friendly and kind, crazy and bitchy, playful and flirty...
sometimes I am funny but mostly I just write the first thing that comes to mind and then stop when it ends.
I love life and I am lucky to be living the one that I am.
Want to know more? Click here!
"The most wasted day is one in which we have not laughed"
"Life moves pretty fast, if you donâ€™t stop and look around once in a while you might miss it."
"Guys are like stars, there's a million of them out there but only one of them can make your dreams come true."
"Don't spend your life with someone you can live with, spend it with someone you can't live without."
"Reach for the moon, even if you miss you will still land among the stars"
These are a work in progress.
They are in the right order, but more will fill in the blank spaces in time as I write them.
"I just got done reading the history lessons on your blog (yes, I've been lurking on your blog).
All the respect I had for you...has increased, like, tenfold.
I don't think I could have done it.
To go through what you have and not only still be able to discuss it with such wit and poise,
but also to raise those three gorgeous girls. You are truly an inspiration.
You are honestly one of the strongest people I have ever known, either online or IRL.
Thank you so much." -Stef