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orlando.

7 Mar

Last week I boarded a jet plane and took a flight across the country to meet 89 complete strangers.

 

Since my word of the year is Brave I think doing this one thing just about covered me for the remaining months. Yes, I was scared. Yes, I was nervous. But, Yes- I did it.

And thank goodness I did. And though everyone says this weekend will change your life, change doesn’t come easy to me. Growing up as an ARMY brat one would think I mastered it a few decades ago- but here I am. Nearly 30 years old and still as scared as ever of the term: change.

But one thing I did have going for me was the fact I was going to be in a house with Christine Moers. Which, in attachment parenting circles, is pretty dang awesome. So that helped. Also, the 3 in-flight beverages contributed my relaxed sense of self as a stranger picked me up in her mini van and took me out to dinner. And stranger is a term never to be used again with the lovely Wendy Taylor. I mean, we cried in a hot tub for a good hour over our sense of loss in life. And once you cry those ugly tears, well, we sealed the deal on our sisterhood.

A few days in I found myself in the bathroom crying and stopping and splashing cold water and telling myself to get a grip and crying again and trying to breathe. And as I tried to pinpoint my mini personal crisis, I realized that these 90 women have all been brought together because of heart ache and heart break and that is powerful. I was being undone as I began to truly grasp the truth in ‘You Are Not Alone.’ Once that truth sank in deep to my soul I let the flood banks loose.

And yes, the majority of that happened as the tears rolled down during a sing-a-long sesh with the ladies in my villa. And yes, I cried through Shania Twain and Tiffany songs.

But lest you think the weekend was a full fledged sob fest, I am not painting an accurate picture. The weekend was also full of smiles, the kind that happen when the hot tub is going and the neighbors do a little drop off of champagne for the trauma mamas.

The kind of smile that happens when you see past the pain in a woman’s heart and see her glow as you get the privilege to learn she is so much more then that.

The kind of smile that happens when you know you are loved by a group of women after only four days of being in one another’s lives.

The kind of smile that happens when you are apart of something real, something true, something Magic.

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bela’s birthday

24 Feb

Isabela turned 11 this week. It seems so impossible when I think about the little girl I met 4 years ago, and how now she is this young lady. It is beautiful and tear inducing and ridiculous because life. goes. to. fast. dangit.

This year Isabela decided to forgo a party and asked to go out on a date with Dad and Mom to The Melting Pot! This girl has taste.

Going out with her for a whole day was a very special thing. I know we take our kids out for dates, but it is always one parent /one child. To have both of us spend a day with just one child was something we will defiantly remember for a long time (and the way we are planning to celebrate birthdays for the next year!). A special thanks to Gram and Gramps!

We started the day by going to an independent theater and seeing The Secret World of Arriety. 4 Stars! It was so sweet and precious and beautiful and one we will own.

Then we headed to Toys R Us for the birthday gift! Isabela has been riding the same bike for 4 years and had outgrown it. She was pretty zero-ed in on an old school Cruiser style, and it had to have a basket- which I think are just to cool. So she found one made for her (it says Maui Miss on the side and that is her DREAM vacation!)

Then we made our way to  The Melting Pot! We soaked up the experience and were there for 2 1/2 hours eating every morsel of cheese and chocolate in the pot. It was so fun and so special. And just like any 11 year old should be on their birthday, she became a little sugar high silly. Well, it may have been the 4 strawberry lemonades she drank as well!

{my favorite photo of Bela this year, in Eastern Wa}

I just want to say, here, publicly, how incredible proud I am of my Isabela. We have struggles, we have hard days and things that trigger big emotions. But the thing I want everyone to know about my daughter is that she is working so hard everyday to overcome obstacles that are easier for other children her age. She is a survivor and a fighter and some days her strength amazes me. It is so hard to trust others when you have a wounded heart, it is so hard to be vulnerable when your brain tells you to be scared. But Bela is working through it with a generous spirit, a hilarious sense of humor and the prettiest smile, well, anywhere.

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that crazy lady v.2.0

1 Feb

This week:

-The bridge by my house has been under construction for the past 9 months. It is the easiest and most direct route. There is now a new bridge, {yay for not driving on a thousand year old scary metal grate!} but boo because those dang finishing touches are taking for-everrrrrrrr. Yes, #firstworld problems. But still when the guys with the stop sign and cones are out it can add an unexpected 10 minutes each way to my school drop off routine. And then, sometimes, they just close the bridge altogether for the day.

So Jerbear says to me, “FYI the bridge is closed tomorrow.”

I say, “Oh that is so good to know!” He is smart and helpful like that. You know, he reads the newspaper?

And then the next morning I drive all the way down to the bridge, see that it is closed, and have to go around to the alternate route.

Then after I drop off the kids I drive all the way back down there again.

And then I repeat the whole thing 7 hours later when I pick them up.

That is FOUR TIMES I DROVE TO THE CLOSED BRIDGE IN ONE DAY. Yes. I am a crazy lady.

- Speaking of driving kids to school, the only, only reason we get out the door in time{ish} everyday is because at 8:50 on 92.5 {the kinda radio station you have to turn off every other song} the game ‘WIN BROOK’S BUCKS’ is on. And my entire goal in life is to beat her at her own Trivia game. On the mornings that I do, I am like the king of the world people. On the mornings I don’t I come home and eat 15 donuts and spoonfuls of the lemon curd I canned. That would also explain these extra 10 pounds. It is ALL BROOKS FAULT.

-We have the ugliest kitchen floor. Pretty much, the ugliest on the planet. So Jerbear was like, I wonder what is under the gross floor. I was like, you should pull it up and we can find out. So he did.

This is while the coffee was brewing. At 8 am. We do not waste any time in this house. It’s like, hey we have an extra 6 minutes, lets pull up the kitchen floor! Ok, so, we did one little section, were both totally sweating, heaving, near death. So we said. Yeah, we don’t have a dumpster or anything so we should really think this through a bit more before we continue.  So we drank our coffee and played Dominion {we are so one step away from Magic the Gathering, people. Yes, you should be concerned}

So I left the house and caught a ferry and played in Seattle and ate yummy things and missed a ferry and got home at 11:45 PM.  I went in the kitchen and saw that there was no floor. Like, at all.

It is all in the garage now.

See how ugly it was?

-I am super into eyeliner right now. And I thought, after I got all dressed and shower yesterday, because I was leaving the house to see grown up’s at PTA meetings that I should take this opportunity to show you how much my life has changed since I became a grown up who wears eyeliner.

So I decided to take a picture of it. And then I proceeded to take about 402 photos on my eye phone. And then I became I crazy lady trying to take a decent picture of her eyeliner without squinting toward or laughing because it is REALLY hard to take a picture of your OWN eyeliner. You know, the taking a picture with your eyes shut part? Oh my. If I lost my iPhone right now and someone found it and discovered the 402 pictures of my I would die. {note to self: delete them ASAP!!!}

So here are a few. Because really, after you take 402 pictures of yourself you are already completely narcissistic and you might as well post them on your personal blog for the universe to see. Or at least my 6 blog followers:


 

 

——>THAT CRAZY LADY

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know your audience.

27 Jan

This week someone told me:

“I wonder who your audience is. I know it isn’t me.”

Wow. Okay. I could take it all personal or I could be Brave.

And laugh.

Because really, there is so much truth {for all of us} in those words.

We can spend our time talking or writing or texting or emailing or tweeting or singing or dancing or drawing or whatever other form of communication you can think of to people who just aren’t going to get it.

Ever.

And that is okay.

I am not doing whatever it is that I am doing for everyone to GET.

The most important thing to remember when you are Living Life, whether it is in the kitchen or in the office or in front of a computer screen or in front of a canvas or in front of a washing machine or a friends couch or the Starbucks drive thru-

KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE.

Who is this for?

What is this for?

Who is supposed to benefit here?

Is my audience getting something out of this show?

{and remember the show could be the making of pb&j or trying on shoes at the department store or  handing a bill to the cashier at the goodwill or saying hello husband when he walks in the door or you at the PTA meeting or telling your child ‘go to time out’ for the 18th time this hour}

Now, think about it, how are you engaging with your audience?

Are they responding?

Are they responding in the way you were hoping?

I am not saying be something besides your authentic self- but think about the work you are doing, creating. Is it reflecting your values, your point?

For me, regarding this little comment, it was about a piece of writing. One I am proud of. One I believe has power to the audience it was designed for.

Not everyone is my audience though.

Ever, really. In this situation my audience {for the writing piece} would be 16 year old girls. The person giving me feedback was a 50 year old man.

Know your audience. See things through their eyes, their hearts.

And do your very best for them.

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christmas.

28 Dec

Somehow Christmas happened here with no pictures of my own, save 1. And it was blurry. And yet somehow, that is perfect.

Last summer I read the book The 100 Thing Challenge and one portion that stood out too me was regarding the use of cameras for every. possible. moment. How with the minutes we spend snapping or clicking or Instagraming we aren’t Fully Present. Not in the moment with our families, and how that isn’t a good thing.

This Christmas I was more present then I usually am and somehow I am not missing all the images to post here and on fb. Instead I have still frames in my mind, and know that my brother {with his fancy-schamncy lens} may very well forward me a few memorable shots of the day.

The rest will live in the recesses of my memories; happily.

It was a good day  days. It still is. Right now roller blades are on in the basement, dad is sleeping on the futon, and me- I am contemplating an afternoon whisky spiked eggnog with a slice of Butterscotch Pie.

Jeremy and I sat down this morning with paper in hands making lists. One for TODAY, one for THIS WEEK and one for THIS YEAR. 

Todays list included items such as play Zelda {him}, visit places on the internet {me}, play 5 games of Dominion Intrigue {us}.

This Year’s list was packed a bigger punch and I will share some with you soon. For now, though, I am enjoying being restful and lazy and wearing a perma-grin and my new PPP pants {my husband rocks!}. This involves continuing to make sandwiches with the ham my in-laws sent {best. gift. ever.} and say yes when the kids ask if they can do any of the following: watch  a movie, eat their gingerbread houses, drink sparking cider, draw henna on someone, paint pictures, eat a 5 gallon tub of carmel corn.

We are in a good place, this little household. I hope you are choosing to be too.

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christmas&adoption&loss

15 Dec

The cards have been trickling in the past few weeks. The families are all smiling, so sweet. I have been hanging them on the bulletin board in the kitchen, the central room of our home. As we walk past the photos we mention how much so and so has grown or how our hearts miss a particular family. I love the cards, the letters.

But it is hard for me also, this year at least. And maybe it won’t always be like this. Maybe one day my family will be intact once again. Maybe one day our family will have that smiling picture. I will probably be tempted to send framed 8×10′s to all y’all, just so you know, if that day comes. But right now, this December, that day seems very far off.

Yesterday I was standing in the mail center at the local strip mall. Five kids were surrounding me, laughing at the dog someone had on a leash, everyone asking again what we were sending, what was enclosed in each of the wrapped packages in the large bag I was carrying. Gifts, for your brother, I’d say listing the book title and the board game, the wrapped boxes from grandma and grandpa I was sending as well.

My heart was saying, Gifts, for my child. My son.

At the checkout the woman comments on how my hands are full, counting each head and saying, Five! Oh, my!

And my heart is saying, Not five, there are six- but knowing the questions that follow are always hard so I smile instead, happy the long line moved quickly.

I spoke with a woman at P’s school a few days ago. I wanted to know how many boys would be on campus for Christmas, what the day would be like for the boys staying there.

What it would be like for my boy.

I remember my first Christmas with him. How I worked so hard to make it special, to give back those pieces of childhood he never had. Never did I think a few years later he would once again be spending Christmas with strangers, with people being paid to take care of him. With people who are not his forever family. It is doubly hard since we finalized our adoption on December 26th. When the date was made for the 26th (after rescheduling due to snow) we thought it was the perfect time of year for our family to be official. But of course three years ago we never thought it would be spent apart. So now, it feels like a double punch, you know?

I walk past the cards hanging again in the kitchen, trying to push past my own sadness, instead finding thanks for the peace we now have in the home.

Finding thanks for the safe place P is.

Finding thanks for the strangers who are able to care for him in ways I cannot as his mother.

But these feelings, they are lonely ones. Not everyone has a child removed form their home this time of year for reasons that are bigger then them.

But many families do. Many parent’s and siblings are looking towards a Christmas that is missing people that are loved members of their families.

Maybe you know a family who’s child is in a rehabilitation center or a mental health hospital. Maybe you know a family who has faced an adoption disruption and this is the first Christmas since it has happened.

Love on them. Ask to send letters to their child, a Christmas card, a box of home made fudge. Or send an email to them saying ‘I hear you, I love you, you are not alone in this.’

This is such a beautiful time of year. I do not mean to ‘damper’ it. No, I have lights strung and five kiddos who are here ready to frost more cookies and wrap more gifts. And how full my heart is for those things. I just write this to say, in some small way, that the people who are not with us are not forgotten. They are loved deeply and fully and one day- one sweet day, I will get another family picture.

xoxo, anya

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no vs. yes.

7 Dec

{post-cookie-decorating juice box treat this morning}

I was watching an episode of Modern Family last night. There was a big fight going on in the family. On one side of the family were the dream quelchers- the nay sayers.The other side held the dreamers, the just go for it-ers, the YES-ers.  I had to laugh. I want to be the dreamer. I really do. I want to be the person who says, ‘That is possible, I believe in you, you are gonna make history!”  

But most days I’m not. Most days go more like this:

‘That is going to take to much time and you will be late.’

‘I don’t think that is a good idea, do you?’

‘You will just make a mess and be mad that you have to clean it.’

‘There is not enough time.’

‘I don’t think you are old enough.’

‘It’s to cold.’

‘It’s to hot.’

‘You will never finish all of that.’

I don’t think I am a pessimistic person. I don’t think any one would describe me in that way. Yet I know I chose, more often then I want to admit, to be a dream killer.

I AM A KILLER PEOPLE.

Crap. Why is it a prime time sit com that pointed this out to me? Seriously people, shouldn’t it come from exploring nature with my children, meditating in a quiet way, or perhaps being inspired by the people around me? No, it was channel 4.

Having a little tribe of kids isn’t a good excuse. You can be a hope-giver with a bunch of kids.

I can’t really think of a good reason to be a killer. Can you?

Like, even my above cited examples could all be spoken in a more positive and helpful way. For example:

‘It is quite cold. Why don’t we bundle you up so you can explore the yard?’

‘If you don’t finish that portion you served up so well we can always save it for later.’

‘I will be happy to give you sponges and soap to clean up when you finish.”

Hmm. Sounds nice. Like, as in a Nice Person. As in someone you would want to be around. And I actually want my children to want to be around me. Crazy, right?!

Okay. Goals for the Day:  Say Yes. Be Nice. Help Make Dreams Come True.

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book contest.

29 Nov

Hello Lovelies.

I entereda little children’s book contest and need ‘Likes’ to win. Help a sister out and click on over!

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happy or happier or happiest?

28 Nov

Over Thanksgiving weekend one of the conversations that came up was around the idea of people being Happier depending on the place they reside. And is it a good thing or a bad thing to have your happiness change depending on your location? It is a pretty heated topic I realized, as people passionately argued different sides of the same coin over bread pudding and coffee and leftover pie.

I know which camp I fall in. I am an expert google-r of vacation homes and price line tickets and air b&b dreams. I wish we could always pick up and go, not be constrained by a home or a job or student loans. I wish we had the freedom to just Go and see what happens. Not everyone identifies with this. To some people having a simple home in the midst of acreage, a few chickens and a cow fills them up. That is beautiful. That gives them peace.

But me? I get antsy. I like to move. We have been in this home for 2 years. Two years people!? We are walking on record-breaking territory here folks, for our little tribe at least. And how does it feel, this sense of permanence?

Claustrophobic. Confining. Redundant.

There are some other words too, like Consistent or Known that are less negative. But the truth is still the same. As hard as change is, as hard as it is on me- I still crave it. Maybe change was engrained in me as an ARMY brat and the moves that happened against my will {I vividly remember riding in the mini van as we trekked from Washington to San Francisco for what as an 18 month move. As a 12-year-old the Celine Dion tape in my cassette player was on auto repeat as the tears streamed down my face}. So yes, change can be hard, but it also feels so very good.

So is it wrong for those feelings, those longings for different locations to surface? Does it mean we are un-happy-un-content-un-at-peace? I don’t think so. Yes, if circumstances are hard it is going to be a lot harder if you dwell on the have-not’s. But the circumstances might be more bearable if you are dwelling in them in say, Tahiti, instead of say, the North Pole. No?

I saw a movie yesterday, The Descendant’s. It takes place in Hawaii and the story follows a man as his wife is dying.  He says death is still death regardless of living in paradise.

Maybe so, George Clooney, but still- isn’t the hard stuff better when we feel happy with what we are, where we are, who we are? And can’t that all be better depending on the place we are standing?

My sister and I are always rolling around the idea of Portland, Oregon. We love it there. It is our family’s Spring Break stomping grounds. We always wish it was more, longer, lasting. But would that city be different then this city, that coffee better then this coffee, that park better then this park? Maybe no- but maybe Yes. Would you be happy there? Where would you be happier?

And what does it take to get you to happiest? And is it okay to want to go there, be there, dwell there?

I think so. The question is, are you brave enough to find out?

Brave enough to change, change something that is happening now to get you to happiest. Because none of us are there yet.

And maybe it isn’t a cross continent move {don’t leave me sis!}, but maybe it is.

Maybe it is a simple change. Like stop going to the playgroup with your kids that is full of toxic women. Go to the playground instead.

Maybe it is unplugging from technology for two hours everyday and instead paint or write in your journal or read a book, because those things make you full and Facebook makes you empty.

Maybe it is packing up all that crap you have lying over. under. every. where . and getting it out of your home. And then seeing your space though a new lens.

But maybe it is bigger. grander. more.

Maybe it is moving to Tahiti and remembering Your Life Is Happening Now. Maybe that is your dream, and I guarantee Dreams Fulfilled= Happiest. 

{the photographs are from a Spring Break trip to Portland a few years ago.}

thanksgiving recap.

26 Nov

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It was as fun as it looks. I can’t believe how very lucky I am.

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