The Runaway Mothers Club--Epilogue

Two years ago I wrote a post about a dear friend who was my inspiration for a "runaway mother's club." That precious friend, Kim Walton, no longer needs to run away. Yesterday she left us for another place. Huntington's Disease won't have Kim to kick around anymore. I am happy she is released--but there is a whole in my heart. I will miss her terribly.

I will not say Rest in Peace to someone who so longed to move again. Instead I say, "Kim, walk, and run and play and do a back handspring in peace! And be you again--the whole, amazing you." I love you.

The Second Week of January, 2012

As far as I'm concerned, this week can just be erased from the history books.

3 different situations with 3 different kids = 1 no good, very bad week.

Parenting is agony sometimes. We went to see We Bought A Zoo tonight and I could hardly handle it--cried hard through much of it. That is, when I wasn't outside with the baby.

Ah, gees. Tomorrow is another day, and another week. Thank goodness.

Sent from my iPhone

Reflecting on our Second Year

A couple of nights ago I was looking back through my journal entries of the past couple of years. It hit me that, unlike what I would have expected, the second year of our adoption was much harder than the first. In fact, I think that's probably why I blogged so much less. The first was plenty hard, as you all know. But it was a different hard, and somehow one that was easier talk about and in many ways easier to bear. It was a hard full of giardia, poop samples, medical frustrations, language frustrations, legendary tantrums, and constant adjustment. But I felt like a superhuman mom-archaeologist on the dig of a lifetime, who just had to keep pushing through to discover something wonderful.

This second year, it was like I was still on the same dig, swollen with bug bites, tired, slogging through mud, mud and more mud, and still not reaching the buried treasure. And I was no longer high on the excitement of my big dig. I needed results to keep my going--and I wasn't getting them. Last year the hard wasn't about intestinal bugs. The hard was feeling frustrated all the time--losing patience, losing hope some days, and losing my cool a lot. It was about feeling like a bad mom--feeling guilty all the time--and wondering why the good feelings weren't coming along to balance out the bad as fast as they needed to.

This is something hard to talk about, or blog about. It's something, frankly, that most people don't want to hear about. They don't want to believe it.

But now that we've begun year three, I'm optimistic. I feel like we're close to discovering the good stuff. It's just hard to hang in there for so long. But we are hanging in, and we will keep hanging in.

Look at Me, So You Can Feel Better About Your Post-Holiday Self

I think it's safe to say my house is as messy tonight as it's ever been in its entire life--or at least in it's entire life under my jurisdiction. These are the rooms I see ranking an absolute 10 on the disaster scale: KITCHEN, FAMILY ROOM, MY BEDROOM, LAUNDRY ROOM, and HALL. The rest may only rank as messy, but if those key rooms are that bad who can cheer themselves up about the rest, right? Having lived in many apartments in my life, I call the kitchen, family room, and my bedroom "the apartment." I've learned that if the apartment--where I spend the bulk of my time--is messy, I feel pretty bummed about the whole house. SOOOO, do you think I spent the day cleaning my house? NOPE! Steve and I spent the last day of the holiday cleaning out the shop on our back patio. Why? Because that's what we do. Projects. Too Many Projects!

BUT,

Tomorrow I'll have everything I need: kids back in school, a new book to listen to from the audible.com account I got for Christmas, and I am off to the races. I am a cleaning machine! I will clean, the whole world will look brighter, and I might even let you in this time if you ring my doorbell.

So please take this opportunity to feel better about yourself by comparing you to me: today you were a better housekeeper than Emily. I know, they say not to compare yourself to others to build yourself up--but I'm giving you my permission to step on me on your way up the ladder to self-contentment. But just this once, please. :)

I got this note from Saffron yesterday, after she walked in the cement left to dry by tilers prepping our kitchen floor. She had ignored the sign on the door. The note was accompanied by $22.

One Week in 2007

"Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow." ~macbeth
Happy 4th Birthday, Charles.

The Molecules that Make up Eternity...

This is the kind of moment for which I posted those photos the other day. I looked up from the dishes, out the kitchen window, to see Jasper on the grass with the baby. I knew I had to pause, and drink it in. I saw the bookends of a decade of effort to build a family, and all the craziness disappeared for a moment. I felt peaceful. I felt grateful.

"What?? You expect me to deal with these six crazy people? I can hardly get a word in edgewise!"

C Rex

He Ain't Heavy. He's My Brother.

Eleven Years Isn't So Vast

Cheating

I'm having an affair.

Today, in the middle of the workday, my partner and I arrived in separate cars at our secret destination.

In-n-Out Burger.

That's right. My husband and I met at In-n-Out Burger in the middle of the day to cheat on our children. We had cheeseburgers, and fries, and shared a strawberry milkshake.

With each other--and no one else. No bites, no sips, no messes, no interruptions, and absolutely no leftovers taken home to share.

Not one morsel.

Yes, my husband and I are cheating on our children, and we're loving it.

Emily Mabey Swensen iPhone

Nobody Knows: the Untold Story of Black Mormons

If you have the documentary channel, make sure you catch "Nobody Knows: the Untold Story of Black Mormons," being rebroadcast September 25th.

It is really excellent--an honest telling of the story of the race issue in the LDS church as told by faithful black Mormons. It doesn't shy away from the hard truth of the past, but also does it with respect for the faith from those who live it, and with solid facts.

I don't get up on my soapbox very often. But for the sake of my three beautiful children who are growing up both black and Mormon, I hope people both inside and outside the LDS church watch this and put to rest all the myths--those about race and those about the church.

Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Little Blog Gone?

Greetings from planet . . . hmm. I can't even think of a funny planet name right now. That's how creative my once-writerly brain has become. Has anyone been wondering why I don't blog anymore? I'VE been wondering why I don't blog anymore. It's as if I used to think in Bloggish, and now I don't.


Here are a few classic Saffron quotes I forgot to post months ago--it's almost sad to have the girls' English get so good we can't enjoy as many of these moments any more.

"Mom, my room is cute I dead!" Translation: My room is so cute I could die.

"I'm going to save my money for laffy taffy for my birthday." Does she really think she must save up for her birthday to get a 25 cent Laffy Taffy? No. Laffy Taffy = walkie talkie.

"When is turkey turkey?" Translation: Trick-or-treating

"Ruby went to get the iron man." Translation: blow dryer

Once I sent her to tell Steve to get a razor blade. Knowing it was hard, I even practiced it with her several times first. A few minutes later I turned to see him bringing me a box of Raisin Bran. Saffron thinks these moments are hilarious.

"Mom, did you say put this in the freez, or freezer?" Translation: fridge or freezer


Saffron is an excellent soccer player, and is playing on the highest level team for her age group. I went to the first practice with her and quietly tried to translate several of the coaches words for her on a drink break. After that I thought, forget it. She'll figure it out, or he'll figure out that he can't haphazardly interchange words like "halfback" and "midfielder" and think she'll know she's going to the same position. In fact, it was only after the first few games she mentioned to me that she wished the girls wouldn't "choose" her so she could play the whole game. When substitutions came in, she thought they got to choose whom to replace. She must have thought the coach just told her who to go in for because she couldn't choose fast enough. Who knows how many other things are lost in translation and we don't even know it.

Doesn't matter much, though--she's still been game MVP the last two games in a row. I taught her the word "aggressive" and told her it has to be said with a big roar on the "ggr" part, and with fingers up next to your face like claws. She laughs in embarrassment when I yell it that way from the sidelines, but she definitely gets the meaning. She has no problem being aggressive. She even heard a mom yelling from the other team's side "That girl is mean!" I told her she wasn't doing anything wrong, just playing fierce. Once she knew she wasn't in trouble, she was pretty proud of that moment. We like to say that she's playing her Ethiopian ancestors proud. She tells me she's not as good as Little Brother. He must be quite the soccer star, then. I only wish I could see him play.

The Hug Place

Saffron went many years without a hug.

Tonight she had a rough evening. When she gets in trouble of any kind, she struggles to forgive herself and move on. After we talked through it we had a hug.

As we hugged she said, "When I'm in your hug I feel like I'm in a special place. When I don't get a goodnight hug I can't fall asleep for a very long time."

I think of how quickly Cyrus stops crying if I pick him up and hug him tight to my chest.

And I think of what my friend Brittney said through her tears. She recently volunteered at a third-world orphanage. Volunteers in the baby wing were forbidden to pick up the babies and hug them. They were only allowed to stroke them in their cribs. Brittney said she'd never experienced anything so excruciating as looking into the eyes of a crying baby whose eyes begged you to hold her, and not being able to do it. The agony of this memory was so clear on Brittney's face that I cried just watching her retell it.

The Hug Place must be wired into us physiologically and spiritually. I guess it makes sense that in Saffron's mind it's a place--something to be inside of, and somewhere to feel safe.

Hilarious! The New "Who's on First"

This 2-minute piece featured today as part of a rerun of This American Life is one of the most hilarious things I've heard in a long time. Take a minute to listen--come on . . . you need a good laugh.

It's an excerpt from the show Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind, by the Chicago theater group The Neofuturists.

Cut and paste the link below (blogger's not in the mood to make it clickable), then go to minute 24:30:

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/241/20-acts-in-60-minutes

We Love You, Mommie Dearest

Yesterday Steve got back from a ten-day trip to Japan where he was volunteering in the rebuilding effort. This overlapped with me and the kids joining my family at the ranch in Wyoming, so we were actually apart for two weeks. This separation culminated in one of the most uplifting periods of Steve's life (because of Japan, stupid--not because he had a break from me and the kids. Wait. Right? I mean, I am right about that. . . . I think.) Anyway, as I was saying, uplifting for him, not so much for me. I've been alone plenty and Steve works a lot of hours anyway so I'm used to captaining the ship. But this was some'um else. First, no one should ever leave me alone with my children at the end of the summer when I've already had them under foot for two months. It's not safe. I'm no Andrea Yeates, but I'm also no Emily Swensen anymore. No, that pretty awesome mom has been replaced by Mommie Dearest (see above).

So, the timing wasn't great. Then, throw in a major car accident the first day of the two weeks (and the resulting rental car/insurance headaches!), a sprinkler disaster, two remodeled rooms with their contents still not put away, two huge shipments for the shipping business, a family vacation with the necessary hours of whine-driving, a two-day soccer tournament 45 minutes away, several child-meltdowns, the hottest weather of the summer, and one 35th birthday with no husband, and you have the implosion of one formerly sane mother. I think Steve and I should start the kids' therapy fund now.

Any old way, yesterday Steve got home and it was all happy day. Today, we had no phone or internet. Refusing to deal with ONE MORE THING!!!!!, I did nothing about it but just wait till Steve got home late to deal with it. At approximately 11:45 pm, he got around to investigating and calling the phone company. Turns out, if you haven't paid your phone bill in months, they TURN OFF YOUR PHONE! Um...whoops. At least we were able to pay the back balance--there were many times in our marriage we would have been up a crick.

So, the moral of the story is, don't get to thinkin yer jist a leetle crazy the past couple weeks ciz yer husband's been gone. Naw--really YOU E BEEN INSANE FOR MONTHS!!!!

Wahoo

It's official. Thirty-five today. What do I wish for? Hmm....my own Alice from The Brady Bunch.

Little King Rex

Happy four-month birthday, Cyrus. At 11.5 lbs and 23.5 inches, you're barely even on the size charts, but you downed bananas and even started to hold your bottle a bit today. When it comes to tongue and finger dexterity, you are a pro--clearly finding a way to carve out your own talents in the family despite being the youngest and smallest. What a blessing! Thank you for joining our family. Thank you, Birthmom.

P.S. To all of you who commented on my last post--thank you thank you. Honestly, I had no idea that many people were still aware, or that your encouragement would mean so much to me. Someday I'll say more about what we've been through. But for now, know that things are getting better.

xox
Em

Tell Your Husband You Weren't Wasting Time Reading a Blog--You Were Helping A Friend

Remember how I sometimes used to lament my insecurities about blogging? I wondered what the purpose was of it all, even as I continued to post? Well back then I was wondering what the purpose was for my readers, and worrying I was wasting their time. But recently I've realized what the benefit was for me.

We've had a really difficult few weeks, during which I found myself at one point in a small room with a doctor and social worker, there to discuss a child. They focused their attention on me for a moment, and observed that it seemed I was truly venting to absolutely no one about the emotional stress I was carrying. They were pretty adamant that I make this a higher priority in my life. I got thinking about my blog--what an outlet it used to be for me, and how much comfort I took from the support I got from my readers. I stopped blogging regularly for two reasons: the time it took, and the ever unsettling question of whether I was breaching my childrens' privacy. I didn't realize the benefit I'd be giving up.

So thank you!!, anyone who may still be out there, for reading, and supporting. I needed that.