Archive | August, 2011

complicated.

25 Aug

Being a person is complicated. The times when we think something is figured out, even if just a bit, it all gets harder somehow.{This is how is want life to feel..Atticus, 4 mo}

 

Right now we are attempting, one more time, to figure out what life with Phoenix looks like. How can we all feel well? How can we see life through the lens of hope when things don’t change, and in many ways continue to deteriorate?

The questions are so hard, and don’t have easy answers. And many times I don’t care if the answer is easy or not-I just want one. It is really exhausting attempting to find solutions and even though I don’t really want to go through the online searching, phone calls with specialist, ect.- I know it is something I must do if I want that hope back. I must find some answers.

I have many rants in my head about the adoption system and older children adoption in general, about the states lack of concern for the families in crisis and the lack of resources available for desperate parents, fighting for their family, their child. But the rants don’t do anything, except exhaust.

And truly, there are rants in my head about many more things- about government and taxes and school systems and health care- the rants are there about the annoying neighbor and the obnoxious person on facebook – because it’s life.

It’s messy. And messed up.

And I am trying to make the mess lovely, but sometimes it is really hard.

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growth.

23 Aug

I am one of those people who relishes in freedom. I like deciding what to eat, what to wear, what to watch, read, ect. ect. forever. When I was little I would wait till everyone else answered a question before I would, and then I would say the exact opposite. I would have my own thoughts, danggit- no matter what! I know it drove my mother crazy; I was on one end of the spectrum for sure.

That was why God must have thought it hilarious to give me a daughter who is the exact opposite. I have a daughter- this lovely, sweet, helpful, thoughtful, precious daughter- who struggles with the ability to make a choice. At first it would drive me batty. I would look at her and wonder how can she just stare in space for hours, or just play what other people are playing, or draw what other people are drawing. I wanted to scream {and did a few times}Do your own thing! Like I seriously wouldn’t have cared if it was coloring on the walls- at least it was a thought that came into her head on her own and she acted.

I realize why she did this, why these patterns were hers, and that she truly did not know any other way. She was raised in foster homes and her learned behavior was one that called for a lot of pleasing. And also a lot of fear. Fear in making the wrong choice, thinking the wrong thing, being the wrong person. So yes, it drove me crazy when I would ask her what she wanted for a snack and her response would be deer in the headlights- but the reason behind this made sense. What if she said the wrong snack? What if she chose an apple and I wanted her to have a peach? Would she be rejected? Would she be loved?

We have found ways to try and help her. Give her a few choices and not ask a direct quetion. Example, would you like a peach or an apple for a snack? Do you see how that is a safer question for her? I don’t always remember to be thoughtful. I am a person, I lose my cool. I get frustrated . I fail.

But sometimes I see that this slow-and-steady-one-day-at-a-time-I-think-there-will-be-change-here-soon happens to work. At least sometimes.

Yesterday she walked up to me while I was making dinner. This was our exchange:

Me: What have you been doing?

Her:Oh just outside hula hooping.

Me: Is anyone else out there doing that?

Her: No, I just want to get better at it. Hey, you know how when we moved in and a neighbor brought us brownies? I was wondering if tomorrow I could find a recipe and make some cookies for the person who just moved in 2 houses down.

Me: Someone moved in?

Her: Yeah, she is unloading boxes right now. So can I? It is just her so I thought maybe 8 cookies would be a good amount to take?

Umm. So I know there are moms out there with normal developing children and that ten year olds wanting to make cookies is no big thing. But for the mom out there with a child who has more, um, challenges, this is praise worthy and you know exactly what I am talking about.

1)She initiated the conversation

2)She was doing something outside that she wanted to do and was alone doing it.

3)She came up with the idea for cookies all. on. her. own.

4)She is making the rice crispy treats right now.

5)She read the directions and did not ask for my help ONCE(she is prone to asking a million questions about things she already knows the answer too).

So, yeah.

I am praising this. I am proud of her because I know how hard it is to change our learned way of doing things. It takes time. It takes practice. It is never easy. It involves risk.

But still, it is possible.

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eat ice cream.

19 Aug

There’s gonna be days that make us want to curl up and shut up and shut down.

But we can’t.

‘Cuz when those days are hard, and baby, you know those days are comin’-

The only thing we can control is how we shake our booty,

How big we smile and how furiously we dance and how quickly we eat ice cream.

And girl- you gotta grin.

Otherwise we will get all swallowed up in the big huge world of regret.

So stop.

Right now, stop the fear.

And get a spoon.

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sorting through.

17 Aug

I used to be a scrap-booker. I say used to because it seems like that part of creating and making has been replaced by other important things. I am finding other endeavors  give me more in return for what I give.

{Moses,4}

With that said, I still have  a few projects worth of printed pictures that I really must wrap up before I drastically pare down my scissor and paper supply. I have 1st year scrapbooks for most of my kiddos. Moses, Maisey, Lincoln and Atticus {almost} all have their respective first year of life at home recorded in a traditional scrapbook album. I am still short on two books and it has been a long time coming. I have all the supplies gathered {photos, memorabilia, cards, ect.} and just need to get things glued in place. Easy in theory, it is just a matter of securing the time to get it finished.

{Maisey 2, & Linc 2}

So my new system will be simple Shutterfly books. No special reason why them, I just happened to have a bunch of photos already stored on their site. So this summer I have been printing 8×8 books of life. So far I have 3 printed and in my hands. It feels good. The pictures now have a purpose other than sitting on my hard drive.

{Phoenix 10, Bela, 7, Maisey 1}

I am saying all this to say, well- it feels good to accomplish something. Those photobooks, for me, represent a more organized self, and that feels good after coming from a season where everything felt out of control.

{Maisey,2 & Linc, 2}

And it has been so much fun to click through what seems like endless amounts of pictures, to see my family from several years ago. I am reminded how far we have all come. I like that.

{Lincoln, 1}

I am continuing to pare down, reclaim- it is good for the soul.

ketchup gone wrong.

16 Aug

{FYI this is long.}

You know those awesome plans that we have sometimes?  The ones that we think about, prepare for, get excited over? I had one of those last week.

It all started when I knew my friend Pamela was going to be visiting from out of town and wanted to plan something, you know, FUN! She is a dear friend, who I love very very much, and if I doubted why she wanted to spend vacation time with me before, I really question it now. Unless, of course, she just is looking for some crazy stories to tell back home, because with me and my tribe in tow she will definitely bulk up her cocktail hour conversation.

It could go something like this, when some hot guy saunters over to her at a swanky San Francisco bar:

“Hey hottie, what did you do last week?”

She can answer with any of these-

“I watched in horror as my friend used tweezers to pick at a popped wart of her young child!”

Or “I swept my friends floor and noticed rotting bananas and other various pieces of fruit in each corner crevice of her kitchen!”

Or my favorite, and the one we will be focusing on today, “I took 50 pounds of tomatoes and attempted to make a ketchup that is really more like a tomato-water-sauce-thing!”

Hot, right?!

The people in play were me, Pamela, and Heather. There were also a bunch of miscellaneous children. But they didn’t help can. They mostly ate the packages of fig newtons I threw at them whenever they were within 5 feet of the kitchen area. Heather is my resident canning partner and the one who helped me concoct this plan. She blogged about it here.

So here we go:

Step 1-Take the 50lbs of tomatoes you acquired from Cash N Carry and skin them. That is what we were doing in the picture above. And by we, I mean Pamela. No one else had scalding fingers at the end of the day. The recipe said this would take 60 SECONDS for every 8 tomatoes.

They lied.

It takes approximately 57 MINUTES for every 1 pound. You do the math.

OR don’t do the math, actually, because the figures here are rough.

Okay, moving on.

Step 2:

Get the juice and seeds out.

Out Of Every Single Tomato.

Add in some onions. Process in a food processor.

This step sounds eaasy. And it would be if you were doing one batch (I think). But we weren’t doing one batch. We were doing 5.

Yes, we decided one batch would yield little fruit. We did not figure in the time it would take to do every step FIVE TIMES.

But even if it was just one batch we did not factor in the SUPER HOT TOMATO JUICE THAT SQUIRTS OUT OF A  SUPER HOT TOMATO.

Step 3:

Get bored of tomatoes. Curse the tomatoes. Decide a few dill pickle spears might be good to add to the mix. Spear 20 lbs of cucumbers.

Drink some PW iced coffee, Eat garbanzo bean bagels.

Wonder why we ever decided to hang out with Anya on a hot summer day making ketchup.

WHO MAKES KETCHUP?!

Step 4:

Put spears in quarts. Be happy because pickles are pretty and are quick to make.

Start to wonder how long the pureered tomatoates are going to take to cook. P and I needed to be out of the house by 5, Heather had to take her boys home by then. It was 3 in the afternoon at this point.The recipe says it takes 2 hours to cook down. After that it needs to reduce another hour with cheesecloth filled spices, then jarred and processed. Thats the time for ONE BATCH. Remember how many we are doing? FIVE!

Crap.

Ahhhh! Holy Tomato Puree!!!!!!!!!!

 

Ahhhhhhhh…Precious cucumbers…..Blissssssssss…..

 

Step 5: Put the puree on the stove top and let it sit for a few hours. In  the meantime, process the dills and clean up.

Clean up after canning is very rewardng. Somehow, once the counters are wiped everything seems at peace in the world.

At least usually.

This time however, we loaded Heathers car with all the gear to finish the ketchup at her house. We figured it would cook down a bit more, she would finish the jars off- easy peasy.

Yay For Good Plans!

P and I showered and I promised to make our dinner plans more gratifying then half made ketchup.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fast forward to later that night. On the way home I thought, I should really check on the ketchup, although I KNOW it has been done for ages, lets just check in on Heather and see how our condiment in doing. For friendships sake.

I look at my phone. She texted me at 8:19 panicked!!

Here is our texting conversation. I am green, she is white.

Heaven help us.

{Note that it starts a few days prior as we are price checking tomatoes. We are AWESOME! Ignore typos. I had two Mack&Jacks at dinner.}:

At that point I thought a  phone call might be more appropriate.

We decided that Heather should take the pot off the stove when she went to bed (12am) and her husband could turn it back on the stove when he left for work (5am). Around 1pm the next day Heather FINALLY thought it had reduced enough to jar.

To jar all TWELVE PINTS OF GLORIOUS KETCHUP.

Okay, and do you see this gorgeous photograph of SPICY TOMATO STOCK?! That is a pretty way to say ketchup juice that was left after Heather strained it.

You can use it in all sorts of delicious dishes. Like chili.

Or, okay, all we came up with was chili, but I am sure there are more uses.

Like homemade V-8.

And I know you are desperate to know the cost of this endeavor.

About $2.50 a pint. Not crazy expensive. Although it isn’t organic.

But it really isn’t about the bottom line here people.

WE ARE TALKING ABOUT 27 HOURS WORTH OF PREPARING/COOKING/REDUCING KETCHUP RIDICULOUSNESS.

Pamela cannot wait till she comes back and we make mustard.

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you are lovely.

15 Aug

We forget the simple truths of life so often. So fast.

We forget the parts we once knew, or want to know, but somehow most often forget,

and some place in between your melt downs and let downs, some place that is deep down, promise me  you won’t ever forget this-You Are Lovely.

{A daily reminder; that I may always know this truth.}

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so long baby.

8 Aug

When he was born I fell in love in a whole new way.

And when he turned one he was still the only babe in my arms, still needed me at every turn, at every tear, every smile.

But we all know what happens so soon after the first steps –the steps being taken, well they just keeping going.

Going to new places and new people as this bright world gets bigger.

Just like him.

Bigger. And Brighter.

And as we celebrated his 7th year of life at a Laser Light Show, singing the words to the songs of one of his favorites- Micheal Jackson  {Lady Gaga has a place in his heart as well}, my eyes welled up with tears.

And although some may think it was due to the lyrics of the song Man in the Mirror {Joke!}, it was, in fact, due to the babe boy lying next to me.

Hand wrapped in mine.

Head on my shoulder, letting me breathe in deep as my eyes filled fast.

Wanting to never forget this moment, this time.

Because I know they all say it goes by too fast and oh, how I know that truth.

Happy Birthday Moses. You are grand.

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the point.

7 Aug

We can get so caught up in the little, the fleeting the minuet.

We forget the point, the purpose, the long haul reason we started.

 

With my head of hair I can get  hung up on the stray strands that refuse to work with the program.

I can try to force my way and shake my fists at the Dread God in the sky and wish it was happening faster, prettier, more to my liking.

I can focus on all the parts that are frustrating or boring or not giving me what I want.

Or I can be happy.

And brave.

And mostly, remember to breathe.

To be me.

And remember, it’s just hair.

And in between the life breathing and living and being I can focus on the REAL.

The real things happening right now. The babies being grown and the hearts being formed and the person I am growing into each and everyday.

And the thing is, the great big thing is, hair {and all those little things that make up our whole life} are just one teeny tiny part of the whole.

A part, for sure, but not the point.

Oh, how I desperately don’t want to miss the point.

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dream big.

2 Aug

When I was a little girl I would let all the neighborhood friends borrow my books. I would play librarian and use a stamp and write the date and when the book was due. It would let my sister borrow books and dolls borrow books and probably even the cat.

I always liked books and stories in general. I would start little newspapers and write little plays and keep journals of my days.When asked I always said I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. But somewhere along the way that dream fell aside. I was distracted as a teenager and then I decided what I really wanted was to be on-stage as an actress. I wound up in NYC and then I fell in love and then babies came and then more babies. And then more.

Back in January when things became out of control and more then I could control, I turned to my favorite way of expressing myself. The written word.

I was inspired and began writing stories again.

I flew all the way to Monterey California to a writing conference. I spent 4 days away from real life and spent time with strangers and with people who were so very different from the stay at home moms I generally gravitate to. I listened to published authors share their passion and their heart and I was moved.

Deeply.

You see, I forgot about this part inside of me. And I forgot about my power. My power to do and to go and to dream big because I had become so defeated.

I flew home with my head spinning and ready to create and to not let details hold me back.

I spent the next four months writing every week day for two hours. Some days it happened at 5 am and some days it happened during afternoon naps. Some days it happened when Jeremy knew I had been busy all day and he sent me away during dinner time to get my hours in. But I did it.

And I finished the first draft of my novel. All 217 pages of it.

I did it. I picked up my forgotten dream and decided I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything get in the way of me making it happen.

I am saying all this to say to you, the person reading this who has forgotten about their dreams- Find it.

Find your forgotten dream and try to remember why it was a dream of yours in the first place. Why did it move you at one time? Why did you let it go?

Is that dream, that buried dream, still alive? Can you help it grow?

Reclaiming my dream has been a driving force in my ability to get through the past six months. And it has empowered me to believe in myself, in my abilities in a way I never have before.

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