Thursday, October 19, 2006
yes please.
a post of substance coming soon, but until then i'll leave you with my newest favorite Natalie Dee comic...
Friday, September 15, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
ruminating.
My thoughts are so disorganized right now, that a linear post of substance may be out of reach tonight.
....It's funny, I used to have a livejournal (still do, though I never write there anymore) that I wrote all my deep innermost thoughts (ie: memes! and day-to-day chatter with friends), but LJ has gotten too incestuous for me to feel comfortable writing. Now I have this space, set up to join the ranks of the mommy bloggers and adoption bloggers, and another blog-esque space I set up to chronicle my food/weight related journey. Neither feel like a place to post "I'm feeling 'effing lonely" though, you know?
But, well, I am. Feeling lonely, that is. So I guess I'll try to get it out here.
It's late, and I'm enjoying my usual baby-and-wife-are-all-tucked-in-and-snoring post bedtime bliss. No one wants me to fold laundry. Or to 'help' me fold laundry. No one is snotting all over yet another of my clean shirts. My body is my own again, to remain unclimbed on, and unbitten/pinched/prodded/pulled for at least another 8 hours. It's heaven.
But tonight I'm out of sorts... restless I guess. Craving connection. Uh, lonely.
Last week I went and finally found myself a good therapist. I've been meaning to for a while now, mostly to help me navigate my unhealthy relationship to food. After locking myself in my office most of Friday morning, I finally reached someone who took my ins., had both a personal and professional understanding of food issues, and wasn't a hippy-esque middle class white woman who in her late 40's renamed herself some equivalent of "LiLo", began appropriating Native cultures and became a therapist. My standards are set pretty high people.
I met with her Monday morning and I am in deep like. :) However, I'm left with an unsettled feeling, which is probably common when you unearth all of your back-burnered issues and expose them to public inspection and discussion. Bah. The session went great though, and I kept my shit together until I started talking about the struggle in raising a child to have a good relationship with food when you just don't. That's when I lost it. Box of tissues: 1. Erin: 0.
The mommy bloggosphere has been abuzz lately with discussions of the physicality of a mother's love. I've learned a lot from these posts and wish I was half as able to eloquently discuss the breadth and depth of my love for James. And it is a physical, sensual love. There are nights when I'm holding him as he's sleeping where I can't stop tucking a curl behind his ear or become unable to resist pressing my cheek to his. His laugh delights me in a way I can't find words for. And when I stop to consider the immensely scary responsibility I have to help him navigate his way to becoming a healthy and happy adult, well. Shit. There are just so many ways to fail. And the idea of my baby ever being in pain, especially in pain because of me somehow, is unthinkable. Tortuous.
Which brings me to this: At 19 months, James still isn't talking. Well, he's vocalizing (constantly) but not in many recognizable words/nouns. Like every mother with a child who's delayed in some developmental area, every other child you know or hear about who's the same age or younger is always lightyears ahead of where your child is. Other 19 month olds are carrying on full conversations with their parents while James is mooing, and only on command.
He's been evaluated, and the nice speech therapist assured us that This. Is. Not. Our. Fault. and that James cognitive development is Just. Fine. and that he's just delayed in the area of expressive speech, but damn. Damn. I keep thinking: Is our home not a "Language Rich Environment"? Did we rely too heavily on baby sign (He won't speak the words he knows signs for... and he knows a bunch of signs.) ? Could we have done something different?
And while my rational self knows that this is just who James is, and that he'll be talking at the level of his peers eventually (we're on the waiting list for speech therapy too), I still feel like an official bad mother. And I'd give anything to hear what I'm sure he's wanting to tell me. To finally know what some of the signs he's created on his own are supposed to mean. I want to talk with my boy. :(
It'd sure cure the 'lonlies' I have tonight.
....It's funny, I used to have a livejournal (still do, though I never write there anymore) that I wrote all my deep innermost thoughts (ie: memes! and day-to-day chatter with friends), but LJ has gotten too incestuous for me to feel comfortable writing. Now I have this space, set up to join the ranks of the mommy bloggers and adoption bloggers, and another blog-esque space I set up to chronicle my food/weight related journey. Neither feel like a place to post "I'm feeling 'effing lonely" though, you know?
But, well, I am. Feeling lonely, that is. So I guess I'll try to get it out here.
It's late, and I'm enjoying my usual baby-and-wife-are-all-tucked-in-and-snoring post bedtime bliss. No one wants me to fold laundry. Or to 'help' me fold laundry. No one is snotting all over yet another of my clean shirts. My body is my own again, to remain unclimbed on, and unbitten/pinched/prodded/pulled for at least another 8 hours. It's heaven.
But tonight I'm out of sorts... restless I guess. Craving connection. Uh, lonely.
Last week I went and finally found myself a good therapist. I've been meaning to for a while now, mostly to help me navigate my unhealthy relationship to food. After locking myself in my office most of Friday morning, I finally reached someone who took my ins., had both a personal and professional understanding of food issues, and wasn't a hippy-esque middle class white woman who in her late 40's renamed herself some equivalent of "LiLo", began appropriating Native cultures and became a therapist. My standards are set pretty high people.
I met with her Monday morning and I am in deep like. :) However, I'm left with an unsettled feeling, which is probably common when you unearth all of your back-burnered issues and expose them to public inspection and discussion. Bah. The session went great though, and I kept my shit together until I started talking about the struggle in raising a child to have a good relationship with food when you just don't. That's when I lost it. Box of tissues: 1. Erin: 0.
The mommy bloggosphere has been abuzz lately with discussions of the physicality of a mother's love. I've learned a lot from these posts and wish I was half as able to eloquently discuss the breadth and depth of my love for James. And it is a physical, sensual love. There are nights when I'm holding him as he's sleeping where I can't stop tucking a curl behind his ear or become unable to resist pressing my cheek to his. His laugh delights me in a way I can't find words for. And when I stop to consider the immensely scary responsibility I have to help him navigate his way to becoming a healthy and happy adult, well. Shit. There are just so many ways to fail. And the idea of my baby ever being in pain, especially in pain because of me somehow, is unthinkable. Tortuous.
Which brings me to this: At 19 months, James still isn't talking. Well, he's vocalizing (constantly) but not in many recognizable words/nouns. Like every mother with a child who's delayed in some developmental area, every other child you know or hear about who's the same age or younger is always lightyears ahead of where your child is. Other 19 month olds are carrying on full conversations with their parents while James is mooing, and only on command.
He's been evaluated, and the nice speech therapist assured us that This. Is. Not. Our. Fault. and that James cognitive development is Just. Fine. and that he's just delayed in the area of expressive speech, but damn. Damn. I keep thinking: Is our home not a "Language Rich Environment"? Did we rely too heavily on baby sign (He won't speak the words he knows signs for... and he knows a bunch of signs.) ? Could we have done something different?
And while my rational self knows that this is just who James is, and that he'll be talking at the level of his peers eventually (we're on the waiting list for speech therapy too), I still feel like an official bad mother. And I'd give anything to hear what I'm sure he's wanting to tell me. To finally know what some of the signs he's created on his own are supposed to mean. I want to talk with my boy. :(
It'd sure cure the 'lonlies' I have tonight.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
two pics...
James' newest love: obsessive teeth brushing. 
Getting ready for a bike ride. Grossly cute. Gross.Thursday, August 24, 2006
Also,
Q: Is it sad when you start to post about your issues with being avoidant but then stop because when you look at it all out there in black and white it starts to feel/look scary so you erase it, thereby exhibiting your avoidance issues all over again?
A: yes.
(also, also: can you tell who has to create Jeopardy! questions for her workplace's annual fall retreat today?)
A: yes.
(also, also: can you tell who has to create Jeopardy! questions for her workplace's annual fall retreat today?)
oh myspace.
seriously, if you are looking to find a long-lost someone under the age of 30, save your energy and just go to myspace. i did.
long ago in my living-wit-my-parents-going-to-highschool days I used to babysit a little girl, J and eventually her two younger sisters (twins) K and A. J will be 20 (?!?!) this September and I haven't talked with her or her family since in years -- at least eight. When I think of J, I picture the pretty, athletic, easygoing GIRL she was... listening to the spice girls, swimming in her pool... playing basketball.
These girls lived kitty-corner from my parents house and were my first venture into babysitting. I started watching J when she was just under 3. I was 12. I was over there ALL the time... four nights a week sometimes. All day in the summers and on vacations. They were an intergral part of my life. The last time I really spent any time with J she was twelve. Her sisters were 8.
And it was completely my fault that I lost touch with them. ...J's parents are good people. Very Catholic good people. And when I finally figured out that I was queer (at 21) I was terrified of coming out to them. I harbored a significant amount of internalized homophobia and thought that if I told them they wouldn't let me know the girls. So, stupidly, I chose to distance myself from the family before they could cut me off. I regret this immensely. I miss my girls, especially my J, who functioned as a little sister to me.
So anyway, yesterday I found J's myspace account. She's brilliant -- going into her second year of college, skydiving, dating a cute boy she's serious about... basically finding out who she in in that late teens/early twenties way. She's not that little girl anymore... but from what I read I admire who she is and who she's becoming. I wrote her and she was thrilled to hear from me. :)
And today when I looked at her 'bulletins' section she took time to re-post a widely-cirulated email top 10 on hypocrisy in arguments against gay marriage. I almost cried.
long ago in my living-wit-my-parents-going-to-highschool days I used to babysit a little girl, J and eventually her two younger sisters (twins) K and A. J will be 20 (?!?!) this September and I haven't talked with her or her family since in years -- at least eight. When I think of J, I picture the pretty, athletic, easygoing GIRL she was... listening to the spice girls, swimming in her pool... playing basketball.
These girls lived kitty-corner from my parents house and were my first venture into babysitting. I started watching J when she was just under 3. I was 12. I was over there ALL the time... four nights a week sometimes. All day in the summers and on vacations. They were an intergral part of my life. The last time I really spent any time with J she was twelve. Her sisters were 8.
And it was completely my fault that I lost touch with them. ...J's parents are good people. Very Catholic good people. And when I finally figured out that I was queer (at 21) I was terrified of coming out to them. I harbored a significant amount of internalized homophobia and thought that if I told them they wouldn't let me know the girls. So, stupidly, I chose to distance myself from the family before they could cut me off. I regret this immensely. I miss my girls, especially my J, who functioned as a little sister to me.
So anyway, yesterday I found J's myspace account. She's brilliant -- going into her second year of college, skydiving, dating a cute boy she's serious about... basically finding out who she in in that late teens/early twenties way. She's not that little girl anymore... but from what I read I admire who she is and who she's becoming. I wrote her and she was thrilled to hear from me. :)
And today when I looked at her 'bulletins' section she took time to re-post a widely-cirulated email top 10 on hypocrisy in arguments against gay marriage. I almost cried.
Monday, July 31, 2006
my imaginary friends in the internet....
Well! There is such great news happening in my corner of the internet! Yay!
Oh... and I thought of this poem when NOvary found out her daughter Maya's Chinese name means 'morning star', but I think it's appropriate for those still waiting for their kiddos too....
Morning Poem, Mary Oliver
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches ---
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted ---
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
........
On a completely separate topic... and while I'm playing with links...
For those with consumerist tendencies who love to buy handmade.... check out etsy.com. The deliciousness will consume you.
Oh... and I thought of this poem when NOvary found out her daughter Maya's Chinese name means 'morning star', but I think it's appropriate for those still waiting for their kiddos too....
Morning Poem, Mary Oliver
Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches ---
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted ---
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
........
On a completely separate topic... and while I'm playing with links...
For those with consumerist tendencies who love to buy handmade.... check out etsy.com. The deliciousness will consume you.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
oh and...
for those of you smarties in bloggerland....
Why, WHY is my links area on the right pushed way down to the bottom? I think it's because of the size of my pics, but is there a way to make it fixed in place at the top? Also, is there a way to get the text in my posts (on the left) to not start at the very edge of the screen?
Help a technodolt out..... please.
Why, WHY is my links area on the right pushed way down to the bottom? I think it's because of the size of my pics, but is there a way to make it fixed in place at the top? Also, is there a way to get the text in my posts (on the left) to not start at the very edge of the screen?
Help a technodolt out..... please.
i am way linear.
See, I need to post more regular updates, because when I wait forever between posts I have way too much stuff I want to talk about when I finally *do* sit down at the computer and then I can't effectively organize my thoughts.
Which is bad when you're a linear person.
So, kids, it's yet another list.
1. "Just adopt." The internets in all their glory have deconstructed JA better than I'll ever be able to, so here's my tiny addendum and then I'll leave it alone. Witnessing a former boss struggle with IF for over 9 years (three of which I witnessed day-to-heartbreaking-day) gave me more of an education in how to be sensitive to IF issues then I ever would have dreampt possible. The idea of cavalierly throwing out "Why don't you just adopt?" to her as she painfully endured failed cycle after failed cycle was (and is) beyond my comprehension. I truly don't get how anyone could be as thoughtless as to frame adoption as an option this way. Truly.
Do I think adoption is as valid of a family building mechanism as birthing? Duh. Of course. I'm a adoption-as-a-first-choicer. And I appreciate the intent behind *some* people's JA attitude... whe it's meant in the "Wow, I hate to see you in so much pain and I don't know what to say to be helpful... what about adoption? Could that work for you?" way. The intentions then are well meaning, even if the delivery falls short of being remotely helpful.
And I have to admit.... being an adoptive parent, my default for family building is adoption. Adoption brought me James, and I can't imagine parenting any other child. Adoption also brought me into knowing S. and a host of other wonderful people and exposed me to ideas and insight that I never would have had otherwise. And while adoption is complicated sometimes... particularly the more you try to really understand other triad member's experiences... I can't help but want to slip the web address to PACT or something to everyone I know struggling with babymaking. And yes... I do refrain... because I realize that IF journeys and adoption journeys are different... and that adoption isn't (and shouldn't be) a solution to IF.
Still though... when I think of all the amazing people I know in the baby-making world... people who would really *get* the complexities that adoption brings... who would be ethical and respectful Aparents... it's all I can do not to gift them with the gay toaster equivalent of adoption initiation.
2. Terminology... You know what.. I don't care if this pegs me as a PC liberal (dude, cause I AM one) but terminology matters. If S. prefered a term other than 'birthmother' I'd use it. Hands down. Natural mom, first mom, original mom.... plain ol' 'mom' (gasp!) none of these terms in any way diminishes my role as James' momma. James knows who I am. Even when he likes my mother more than me. (oh Nanas of the world... you have it so good.) I think one of the BEST gifts we can give our children as adoptive parents is being secure in our roles and actively working on checking our defensiveness and entitlement.
I've written before about the woman (prospective adoptive Guatemama, well-off, two bio kids) in my adoption classes who absolutely refused to refer to the bio mom of her soon-to-be-daughter as a mother in any form. Her terminology preference: Birthlady. If that doesn't smack of being incredibly threatened, I don't know what does. I feel for her daughter too -- how much pressure she's going to feel to support her mom.. to not "make waves"... to not long for contact or birth history.
I've heard somewhere (I think Dr. Phil? LOL. *Ducking*) that kids shouldn't come into this world with jobs. Kids shouldn't be born (or adopted) into a family to save a marriage, or to help a parent get their shit together, or to solve IF or to bolster a parent who is insecure in their role as mom or dad. Our children will live most of their lives as adults... forming and reforming connections with all sorts of other adults.. and if we want them to be close with us and to value us as their parents, we need to be open and respectful of the other connections (to mentors, teachers, spouses, birthfamilies, friends, etc) they're going to make.
And while we're on terminology.... for the last bloody time: if you're an adoptive parent and you have spoken with a woman who is considering you as the parents to her child... that woman is an expectant mother or 'mother'. She is not a potential anything. She DEFINITELY isn't a birthmother. ....I'm really not saying this to be snarky or nitpicky... and I vividly remember how flipping exciting it was to learn that we may be parents... but squishing down the entitlement factor in a pre-birth match is IMO completely necessary for your own sanity. Before that woman gives birth, remakes her decision and terminates her parental rights... you, lovely and wonderful prospective adoptive parents that you are, are just an option. That baby, simply by where he/she is exisiting in time and space (aka: another woman's uterus) is just not your baby yet. He/she may become your baby (and good freaking luck not getting invested in that) but the experiences and journey of an expectant mom facing a crisis pregnancy just really, really isn't about you.
The hardest words for me to hear just after James was born came from our lawyer: "She hasn't signed yet. Don't get too excited." And I was pissed at her raining all over our happy lovely parade... but she was right. Had S. chosen to parent (which is as legitimate of a choice as adoption) I would have been devastated, but at least I would have had some self preservation skills from actively working on framing this experience as being S's, and not mine.
Annnyway.
3. Meh. It's the end of the workday people. My brain is mush. I'll leave you with cute James pics....
hanging out at the local kiddie pool/fountain.... so handsome
delicious craft paint. mmmmm.
Which is bad when you're a linear person.
So, kids, it's yet another list.
1. "Just adopt." The internets in all their glory have deconstructed JA better than I'll ever be able to, so here's my tiny addendum and then I'll leave it alone. Witnessing a former boss struggle with IF for over 9 years (three of which I witnessed day-to-heartbreaking-day) gave me more of an education in how to be sensitive to IF issues then I ever would have dreampt possible. The idea of cavalierly throwing out "Why don't you just adopt?" to her as she painfully endured failed cycle after failed cycle was (and is) beyond my comprehension. I truly don't get how anyone could be as thoughtless as to frame adoption as an option this way. Truly.
Do I think adoption is as valid of a family building mechanism as birthing? Duh. Of course. I'm a adoption-as-a-first-choicer. And I appreciate the intent behind *some* people's JA attitude... whe it's meant in the "Wow, I hate to see you in so much pain and I don't know what to say to be helpful... what about adoption? Could that work for you?" way. The intentions then are well meaning, even if the delivery falls short of being remotely helpful.
And I have to admit.... being an adoptive parent, my default for family building is adoption. Adoption brought me James, and I can't imagine parenting any other child. Adoption also brought me into knowing S. and a host of other wonderful people and exposed me to ideas and insight that I never would have had otherwise. And while adoption is complicated sometimes... particularly the more you try to really understand other triad member's experiences... I can't help but want to slip the web address to PACT or something to everyone I know struggling with babymaking. And yes... I do refrain... because I realize that IF journeys and adoption journeys are different... and that adoption isn't (and shouldn't be) a solution to IF.
Still though... when I think of all the amazing people I know in the baby-making world... people who would really *get* the complexities that adoption brings... who would be ethical and respectful Aparents... it's all I can do not to gift them with the gay toaster equivalent of adoption initiation.
2. Terminology... You know what.. I don't care if this pegs me as a PC liberal (dude, cause I AM one) but terminology matters. If S. prefered a term other than 'birthmother' I'd use it. Hands down. Natural mom, first mom, original mom.... plain ol' 'mom' (gasp!) none of these terms in any way diminishes my role as James' momma. James knows who I am. Even when he likes my mother more than me. (oh Nanas of the world... you have it so good.) I think one of the BEST gifts we can give our children as adoptive parents is being secure in our roles and actively working on checking our defensiveness and entitlement.
I've written before about the woman (prospective adoptive Guatemama, well-off, two bio kids) in my adoption classes who absolutely refused to refer to the bio mom of her soon-to-be-daughter as a mother in any form. Her terminology preference: Birthlady. If that doesn't smack of being incredibly threatened, I don't know what does. I feel for her daughter too -- how much pressure she's going to feel to support her mom.. to not "make waves"... to not long for contact or birth history.
I've heard somewhere (I think Dr. Phil? LOL. *Ducking*) that kids shouldn't come into this world with jobs. Kids shouldn't be born (or adopted) into a family to save a marriage, or to help a parent get their shit together, or to solve IF or to bolster a parent who is insecure in their role as mom or dad. Our children will live most of their lives as adults... forming and reforming connections with all sorts of other adults.. and if we want them to be close with us and to value us as their parents, we need to be open and respectful of the other connections (to mentors, teachers, spouses, birthfamilies, friends, etc) they're going to make.
And while we're on terminology.... for the last bloody time: if you're an adoptive parent and you have spoken with a woman who is considering you as the parents to her child... that woman is an expectant mother or 'mother'. She is not a potential anything. She DEFINITELY isn't a birthmother. ....I'm really not saying this to be snarky or nitpicky... and I vividly remember how flipping exciting it was to learn that we may be parents... but squishing down the entitlement factor in a pre-birth match is IMO completely necessary for your own sanity. Before that woman gives birth, remakes her decision and terminates her parental rights... you, lovely and wonderful prospective adoptive parents that you are, are just an option. That baby, simply by where he/she is exisiting in time and space (aka: another woman's uterus) is just not your baby yet. He/she may become your baby (and good freaking luck not getting invested in that) but the experiences and journey of an expectant mom facing a crisis pregnancy just really, really isn't about you.
The hardest words for me to hear just after James was born came from our lawyer: "She hasn't signed yet. Don't get too excited." And I was pissed at her raining all over our happy lovely parade... but she was right. Had S. chosen to parent (which is as legitimate of a choice as adoption) I would have been devastated, but at least I would have had some self preservation skills from actively working on framing this experience as being S's, and not mine.
Annnyway.
3. Meh. It's the end of the workday people. My brain is mush. I'll leave you with cute James pics....
hanging out at the local kiddie pool/fountain.... so handsome
delicious craft paint. mmmmm.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
something of substance...
Alright, sleep is eluding me, so I figured I'd actually create a post with something other than pictures. :)
I'm having a lovely holiday/vacation/birthday/adoption day anniversary weekend... complete with a trip to camp, (my family's camp, about four hours north of Ptld) a mini outlet trip to Kittery for cheap books and kids clothes ogling, and tomorrow: a romp to the beach and the annual fireworks at the Eastern Prom.
We started out the weekend with a mini scare -- J randomly hit a deer on the highway (or rather, the deer hit her) on Thursday on her way home from a late night of working, causing our car to need over 2K in body work. She's amazingly lucky that she wasn't hurt. Thank God for insurance and a relatively low deductible. :
We spent Friday morning hashing out the repair and ins. logistics and got our agent to agree to pay for us to rent a car so we could continue with our camp plans... we ended up with a fabulous Mazda 5... SO fun and roomy compared to our little sedan and the roominess would come in quite handy a bit later...
Anyway, we picked up friends A and K and left for camp Friday night. We spent Saturday and Sunday swimming, boating, window shopping, exploring, eating yummy food and playing endless rounds of board games. Dear Jesus I love summer...
Got home late last night, slept for six seconds and then we were off again this morning to spend more quality time together and with my parents.
Ooooo... and my excitement over our rental's spaciousness?? Well, I transported home the best birthday gift ever... J bought me my first big piece of art: a gorgeous, six foot long painting created by a local artist (and friend of my artsy Nana) Elizabeth Ostrander... I believe she called it "Maria of the Roses". I am in love:
the whole piece...
close up...
Ok, bedtime. xoxo
I'm having a lovely holiday/vacation/birthday/adoption day anniversary weekend... complete with a trip to camp, (my family's camp, about four hours north of Ptld) a mini outlet trip to Kittery for cheap books and kids clothes ogling, and tomorrow: a romp to the beach and the annual fireworks at the Eastern Prom.
We started out the weekend with a mini scare -- J randomly hit a deer on the highway (or rather, the deer hit her) on Thursday on her way home from a late night of working, causing our car to need over 2K in body work. She's amazingly lucky that she wasn't hurt. Thank God for insurance and a relatively low deductible. :
We spent Friday morning hashing out the repair and ins. logistics and got our agent to agree to pay for us to rent a car so we could continue with our camp plans... we ended up with a fabulous Mazda 5... SO fun and roomy compared to our little sedan and the roominess would come in quite handy a bit later...
Anyway, we picked up friends A and K and left for camp Friday night. We spent Saturday and Sunday swimming, boating, window shopping, exploring, eating yummy food and playing endless rounds of board games. Dear Jesus I love summer...
Got home late last night, slept for six seconds and then we were off again this morning to spend more quality time together and with my parents.
Ooooo... and my excitement over our rental's spaciousness?? Well, I transported home the best birthday gift ever... J bought me my first big piece of art: a gorgeous, six foot long painting created by a local artist (and friend of my artsy Nana) Elizabeth Ostrander... I believe she called it "Maria of the Roses". I am in love:
the whole piece...
close up...
Ok, bedtime. xoxo
Monday, July 03, 2006
oh baby....
Showcasing my newest 'niece' (in the chosen-family way)..... Rosie. Born to one of my closest friends, S.
Yay!
Yay!
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
House envy...
Yep. That's what I'm having lately.... that and yard envy. :(
J and I sold our house last fall, as we were facing a bumpy time financially and were very, very house poor. Paying for James' adoption and living off a significantly reduced income (in order for us to stay home with James for a while) made it nearly impossible to consider not selling. So, we did.
And now we're sad. We like where we live now (it's just as big as our house and it's a nice place, plus we have wonderful friends for landlords) but it just isn't our *home* the way our house on Dennett was. Lately it seems everyone is house hunting or gearing up to do be new homeowners and, while I'm happy for them, I'm over here hosting the year's best pity party, with a guestlist of 1. Boo.
We're in no shape to buy a house right now: our credit is in serious recovery from the fall and we'd have toturn to bankrobbery creatively finance a downpayment to even consider our own place.
Blah.
/piss and moan
J and I sold our house last fall, as we were facing a bumpy time financially and were very, very house poor. Paying for James' adoption and living off a significantly reduced income (in order for us to stay home with James for a while) made it nearly impossible to consider not selling. So, we did.
And now we're sad. We like where we live now (it's just as big as our house and it's a nice place, plus we have wonderful friends for landlords) but it just isn't our *home* the way our house on Dennett was. Lately it seems everyone is house hunting or gearing up to do be new homeowners and, while I'm happy for them, I'm over here hosting the year's best pity party, with a guestlist of 1. Boo.
We're in no shape to buy a house right now: our credit is in serious recovery from the fall and we'd have to
Blah.
/piss and moan
Sunday, June 18, 2006
it's that time of year....
Happy Pride, everyone. :)
This post is picture heavy, but I wanted to share a few pictures of my chosen family.... all of these were taken yesterday (6/17) at our local Pride event, and later -- at a free outdoor Lori McKenna concert. :)
Taken from the parade....this flag was seriously enormous.
Here's James, J, Uncle Xander and Lucy, hanging at the festival post-paradey goodness...
And here's a close up of the fabulous Miss Lucy, resplendent in her summer dress and in love with her feet...
Ok, not sure what's happening with James' outfit here, but he's pictured with his Tante/Godmother Holly...
We were a pretty big kid contingent for Pride... here we all are picnicing...
Our newest friend Mattea, a-freaking-dorable in her Pride bling and yogurt face...
All of this left Jamesy a very tired boy...
And the nap was important 'cause we only stopped at home briefly to check on the pup and then headed straight to Freeport for the free Lori show (fabulous!)...
Here Uncle Stephen (James' Godfather and our housemate) snuggles his nephew...
My child, lover of climbing, with his Uncle Barrett...
And the final pic (my favorite) James with Lori's band behind him... not to mention the *great* sky!!
One last thing -- here's a link to a video of James dancing to Lori... *grin*
http://www.onetruemedia.com/shared?p=98de5088aeee476844f0d&skin_id=0&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url
Needless to say, we had a blast. I found myself having those weepy "I-love-mykid-and-family-and-life" moments over and over again. Just a really *good*day. :)
This post is picture heavy, but I wanted to share a few pictures of my chosen family.... all of these were taken yesterday (6/17) at our local Pride event, and later -- at a free outdoor Lori McKenna concert. :)
Taken from the parade....this flag was seriously enormous.
Here's James, J, Uncle Xander and Lucy, hanging at the festival post-paradey goodness...
And here's a close up of the fabulous Miss Lucy, resplendent in her summer dress and in love with her feet...
Ok, not sure what's happening with James' outfit here, but he's pictured with his Tante/Godmother Holly...
We were a pretty big kid contingent for Pride... here we all are picnicing...
Our newest friend Mattea, a-freaking-dorable in her Pride bling and yogurt face...
All of this left Jamesy a very tired boy...
And the nap was important 'cause we only stopped at home briefly to check on the pup and then headed straight to Freeport for the free Lori show (fabulous!)...
Here Uncle Stephen (James' Godfather and our housemate) snuggles his nephew...
My child, lover of climbing, with his Uncle Barrett...
And the final pic (my favorite) James with Lori's band behind him... not to mention the *great* sky!!
One last thing -- here's a link to a video of James dancing to Lori... *grin*
http://www.onetruemedia.com/shared?p=98de5088aeee476844f0d&skin_id=0&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url
Needless to say, we had a blast. I found myself having those weepy "I-love-mykid-and-family-and-life" moments over and over again. Just a really *good*day. :)
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Nana...
My nana turns 77 a week from Friday. She sent me a postcard last week to ask if I'd make up her favorite olives -- big green ones with garlic cream cheese stuffed in the hole -- but upon talking with her yesterday she recanted...
The chemo's making her too sick to eat much of anything. :(
* * *
Nana was diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer in February -- the day after James' first birthday, actually. She's been on an agressive chemo treatment since March: three days on, 11 off until at least Christmas. We've been told that with chemo she stands an excellent chance of beating cancer... but the chemo itself has obviously been a horrible process.
We visited Nana yesterday for the first time in three weeks. JJames had been vaxxed in mid May and the Dr. recommended staying away from anyone whose immune system had been compromised till the vaccines worked their way through. Anyway, it's only been three weeks, but Nana looks so much older now. :(
At one point she sent me upstairs to get a shopping bag of donated children's books she'd been gathering for James and it hit me pretty hard that I had become something more akin to a visitor lately -- I stay in the public spaces of my Nana's home when I visit, and rarely ever make it upstairs to the bedrooms, office or old art room.
It hurt my heart a bit -- to realize time is marching forward and there's nothing I can do about it. I touched the new wallpaper in what used to be my Grammy's room -- the old light blue flocked wallpaper has been replaced by something more contempory-country-casual. I picked up a picture of my nana at 55 or 60... when she was still sporting a red tint to her white hair. I creaked down the hall to peek into my Papa's office... still familiar with the built in double beds and the pine beadboard panneling. I used to invite friends to sleep overs on those two twin beds.
*sigh*
I just love that house, I love its occupants... and I just really don't want to be a visitor any more.
The chemo's making her too sick to eat much of anything. :(
* * *
Nana was diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer in February -- the day after James' first birthday, actually. She's been on an agressive chemo treatment since March: three days on, 11 off until at least Christmas. We've been told that with chemo she stands an excellent chance of beating cancer... but the chemo itself has obviously been a horrible process.
We visited Nana yesterday for the first time in three weeks. JJames had been vaxxed in mid May and the Dr. recommended staying away from anyone whose immune system had been compromised till the vaccines worked their way through. Anyway, it's only been three weeks, but Nana looks so much older now. :(
At one point she sent me upstairs to get a shopping bag of donated children's books she'd been gathering for James and it hit me pretty hard that I had become something more akin to a visitor lately -- I stay in the public spaces of my Nana's home when I visit, and rarely ever make it upstairs to the bedrooms, office or old art room.
It hurt my heart a bit -- to realize time is marching forward and there's nothing I can do about it. I touched the new wallpaper in what used to be my Grammy's room -- the old light blue flocked wallpaper has been replaced by something more contempory-country-casual. I picked up a picture of my nana at 55 or 60... when she was still sporting a red tint to her white hair. I creaked down the hall to peek into my Papa's office... still familiar with the built in double beds and the pine beadboard panneling. I used to invite friends to sleep overs on those two twin beds.
*sigh*
I just love that house, I love its occupants... and I just really don't want to be a visitor any more.
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