family – Page 34

Trepidation and unwanted houseguests…

Published on December 22, 2014 by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments

The flu hit my family like a truck this week, and I say my family because by some absolute miracle, I’ve been spared. I know, I know, there is still time. Plus, thanks to the 15-year-old who coughs without covering her mouth and doesn’t really subscribe to the belief of washing her hands, the odds may not be in my favor. Even so, I’ve made it through the last 4 days completely unscathed while they have been (for the most part) miserable.

Even with this unwanted houseguest, it managed to be a pretty alright weekend. Laundry was done, (a weekend activity here, tragically, because my husband travels for work often enough that the routine is a necessity) work was accomplished, research was completed, gifts were wrapped, errands were run, stew was made and I miraculously made it to the movies TWICE. On a healthy weekend that stuff doesn’t happen!

Chw said he felt so much better Saturday evening and wanted to go on a date. I did not believe him, but skeptically went along. Our date consisted of a dinner where he was called away on business (which was pretty important so I don’t fault him), a sweater exchange for me at the mall (don’t we scream romance at this point?) and going to see the movie Wild. If you’ve been reading here for any length of time you will know how absolutely devout I am about Oscar buzz films so I was going to see this one with or without him, but he wanted to see it (a rarity) so it worked out. It was gritty, raw and really opened up good dialogue which played into the ongoing conversation all week, since our New York road trip. All in all, it was a nice evening except for the fact that I could tell as each half hour passed, my husband was fading more and more. I asked him if he wanted to “call it a night”, and finally after the movie, he did. He came home, dropped and slept until noon on Sunday, waking only to talk periodically about the severe ache in his chest.

He claims he feels much better today. I’ll never believe him again… Ha!

There are so many changes ahead for us in 2015, I can’t help but think of them and what lay ahead for me personally. I enter the new year in just a few days time with trepidation. Yes, I know it’s just another day really. Like a new month, or a new week… But it really is something more too. I think of 2014 and how generally hard it has been. Not just for me, but for virtually everyone I know. I can’t think of a single person I know and point out “they’ve had the most amazing year!” Except Taylor Swift, she seems to be having a pretty great year, but then again I don’t really know her. And that’s not to say good things haven’t happened, because they absolutely have. The year has been sprinkled with good things, and I’m so grateful. I guess I’m striving to be optimistic that 2015 might give us a bit of a break. Maybe I’m naive.

But maybe it’s never naive to hope…

At any rate, I’m wishing you and yours a beautiful and happy Christmas, full of more quality and stress free togetherness and less stuff.

Pam won my The Good Lie giveaway! Thanks, Pam, enjoy!

And, if you haven’t subscribed yet, episode 4 of our podcast is up!

Finally…

Published on December 10, 2014December 10, 2014 by Mae @ Rainydayinmay4 Comments

I know a very beautiful woman who, while she is a mother to two, has also opened up her life to be a surrogate for someone else. As someone whose womb tragically failed me, the very idea of this is foreign, magical and exotically lovely. I know many would balk at a wife and mother doing this for another, even a stranger, but I have to question: could there be any greater ministry?

Of course there are already born motherless children, and so many homeless and hungry… But every day I grow more and more in my absolution that not everyone is cut out for adoption. It’s the whole had I known perspective.

Several years ago a very amazing woman, (a different woman) offered to be a surrogate for us. She too was a wife and a mother. (I feel it is important to share those details because there is this stereotype with surrogates that displays a very different type of woman.) This surrogacy never came to fruition because we all lived in a state which didn’t allow surrogacy and there wasn’t really a way around that. It was a nice five minute dream, but one we realized quickly was very expensive and beyond anything we could ever really touch.

The path of infertility is a dark and isolating one. You never realize how many pregnant women there are, until you’ve had a miscarriage. You never realize how many babies are everywhere, until your arms and heart ache every second of the day for your own baby. When it becomes profoundly obvious to you that a woman’s body was designed to bear a child, and yours cannot, there is no worse feeling in the world. It is more painful than rejection and far more humiliating than any failure… And this is the heart to which so many women come to adoption. They come to adoption, full of hope and expectation. They allow that word to touch their dreams.

Finally…

Adoption in and of itself is a word that builds hope. In the general population it stirs a positive emotion.

For so many, many, many children, it is a dream. There are so many children (just in America. I’m just talking our foster care system right now, though I know it goes far beyond that.) Who fall asleep dreaming of a family to Finally come and love them. The one thing the barren mother, broken by her inability to be a woman, and the abandoned child, simply broken, have in common is their dream of that same beautiful word…

In the mind, adoption makes so much sense. Pair the childless mother with the motherless child. Each desperately, achingly wants what they do not have and viola! Finally!

In truth though, life is messier than that. This isn’t some meet cute motion picture. Adoption is hard. It can be (but maybe not always, I hope) ugly. It can be worse than anything you imagine. The world full of babies and women who can be women, the way they were made to be, are always the first to judge when an adoption does not work out and the parents admit defeat and give up. They do not try to empathize with how completely hellish the interior of this journey can be for everyone. Sometimes that is the best course of action, and sometimes it isn’t. Before I was an adoptive mother, I certainly didn’t understand. Now I do. It’s hard to wrap one’s head around though… How can someone abandon a child who has already been so abandoned? But nothing is ever that simple.

My beautiful, bright adopted daughter hates me. She can get over it sometimes, for a day or two, and when that happens life is glorious. We really enjoy each others company and have a lot of fun. It’s beautiful and my husband and I will remark about how maybe we are actually sort of close… because, the truth is, I think she loves me too. The best she knows how, anyway. The hatred trumps love though. And as awful as it sounds, through so much work, and help we’ve learned (though she has trouble seeing this) it isn’t personal and it isn’t about me. It’s about her, though she directs it at me. I didn’t do anything to earn her vindictiveness or cruelty, but I’ve been receiving it for years. It’s a very isolating place to be, and I’m pretty empty anymore.

Some weeks ago, in a rare moment of candidness I asked her why she feels she hates me so consumingly and her answer shocked me to my core. I expected some “because you hold me responsible for my actions” nonsense (we get that thrown in our face a lot, because she’s a kid and that makes sense!) Defiantly she glared at me and with absolute disgust in her voice she spit out “Because you adopted me.”

Startled I questioned, “Me personally? You wish someone else had adopted you?”

And she scoffed like I was stupid. “No, I don’t want other parents. I just think adoption is an evil thing and no child should ever have to go through it.” She proceeded to rant about how some kids are products of horrible divorces, or have major disabilities. Despite having an early, pre-childhood of major abuses, she views adoption as her life’s affliction and the thing she’d one day over come.

Another Finally I guess. Finally, a reason, though it makes no sense and hurts my heart and makes me so confused… And feeling so isolated and alone here on my island.

I’m noticing a lot lately that the world is full of three types of people. One- the person who loves and is willing to give so much of themselves, even if it doesn’t make sense to their observers. Two- the people who judge the surrogates and givers of the world. These are the same ones likely condemning the broken, for being broken. There is a lack of empathy, replaced my their need for opinion. And Three- The ones who act the supportive and empathetic part, but are unavailable and their support empty.

Seeing this makes me know who I want to be, for sure. Even if I’m only half a woman…

The art of looking…

Published on November 25, 2014November 25, 2014 by Mae @ Rainydayinmay1 Comment

A few snowflakes dance on the outer side of my office window.

I sit here watching them waltz, kiss a bit and then chase each other down to the ground… It is snowing in such a way that it isn’t really snowing at all. Gen had hoped for a snow day because, honestly, she has (finally) reached that point in adolescence where she wants to fake sick and miss school. Since it took her becoming a Sophomore for this to happen, I began to question if it ever would. Tragically, (for her) the green grass outside and blustery seven flakes, in the late morning, do not constitute inclement weather. Not so tragic for me, I guess. I sit here thinking about the state of life. How sad things fill our news feeds every day, but when then are big unfathomable things that happen here on our own American soil they feel so much bigger.

Life feels heavy.

Days before Thanksgiving, the state of it all feels bleak. Dark.

And then I see commercials or ads for Black Friday sales and mention of how we need or want this, that and something else. More, more, more… I’m so sad because, you guys, we just don’t get it. Maybe for a window of time you get it, or I get it, but we as a people do not register that the way to make the dark a little brighter is simply to shed a little kindness and share some love. On a radio show this morning someone commented that this “Ferguson stuff is putting a damper on my Thanksgiving.” What? No, this person does not live anywhere near Missouri. Talk about missing the point of Thanksgiving in the first place.

While I typed my last blog post, 34 days ago, I’m sure I glanced up to see leaves dance outside of my window the very same way these snowflakes have been. There is something both beautiful and a touch magical about these dancing seasonal fragments of nature. My soul needs the wonder of their whimsy amidst the blackness clouding my phone, Facebook, twitter and internet feeds.

It took me looking up, from the bad though, to see this good. That’s how it is. Sometimes, we have to look up. Sometimes, we have to seek out the beautiful moments, but they are there.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, but this year everything in me wants to hate it because everything I love about it is not present. I miss home, I miss my family and friends. Scrolling through photos of my nieces and nephews, my heart-felt homesick pangs like none I’ve had before. I have china and service ware for holidays that I doubt will ever be used again and I am the shallow sort of person who sheds real, hot, heartbreaking tears over this realization. All of that being said though, (and I’m not complaining, I’m just being real…) I’m looking a little bit harder these days and I am finding things to be thankful for…

Things beyond the:

– my amazing husband

– my wonderful kids

– my adorable, faithful canine companions

things like,

– a warm place to sleep, even if it’s only a temporary solution.

– clean water to drink, that does not carry disease.

– one really lovely weekend. We had a nice date, Chw and i, and we had a really fun family day. This was preceded and followed by home stress that neither of us have any energy or resources to deal with, anymore, but the weekend was divine.

– ridiculous conversations with my awesomely witted friends.

– Rudolph Christmas stamps. I’m not sending out Christmas cards this year (for the first year ever) but those stamps are amazing.

– the rains that came and took the snow (for now) away.

– sore muscles.

– friends who keep me accountable.

– cozy pajamas and flannel sheets.

– a thermometer that reads in the ear.

– tea, iced or warm.

Thanksgiving, the day, is in a few days. It’s Thanksgiving for Americans living in Boise, Detroit, Tampa and Ferguson. People have buried loved ones this week, or will prepare to. Thanksgiving is a spirit we need to embrace, to make the most of our moments, our people and our breaths… This is what I mean when I say Happy Thanksgiving.

The randomness of absence…

Published on October 21, 2014 by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments

I know, I know, it has been FOREVER since I blogged. In a few ways my husband could be held responsible for that, but I’ll get to that on another day. (and no, it won’t be a “trash your husband post”, you should know me better than that!)

Really though, I think the real culprit behind my lack of consistent blogging (and oh, so many other things) is 2014 itself. I don’t know about you, but this has been one nightmare of a year. As I reflect back over these past 10 months, I can’t find one salvageable one and I fear if I dug deeper, the weeks would play out the same. I hate to grimly nutshell it like that, but there it is. This isn’t really a whine about the year post either. Perhaps it’s an I don’t know what kind of post this actually is– sort of post.

As I’m sitting at my desk, in my chair, writing these nonsense words, fingers clickety-clacking on the keys before me- my eyes look to the grey blanket gloom filled sky outside my small office window and I can’t help but find it fitting. Trying to find words to say what I want to say here without being morose, and seeing this typical Michigan-sad sky already speaking them for me. I wish you could see it. The most delightful part about really, it is that I’m sitting here typing at all. For the past four weeks, I couldn’t have done that. Even now, I don’t think I could do it for long, but I’m sitting here, posture well, and that’s something. Late September I had surgery and while I knew the recovery could take months, and would be difficult, what I did not know was the that recovery would often feel like death, I would have numerous complications and this recovery would be one of the hardest things that I may go through physically.

My fifteen year old, she texts me about 147 times a day. Yesterday was sort of nice because she got her phone taken away and so she didn’t text me at all, but then she decided to be a little bit nicer and more helpful, (see: surgery, recovery, etc. I need help. A LOT of it, sometimes.) and she got her phone back. While I’m sure you’re thinking Awe, it’s so sweet she texts you so much, it’s not so simple. Her phone is restricted and she can currently ONLY text/call her parents. This was a result of major cell phone abuse and some really poor choices. She’s been given phone rules, and goals and told it will take a long time to earn trust back. One of those rules is no texting during class. (see: 147 times a day. and no, these aren’t to check on me. This happened since the first day of school. My most common text to her is “aren’t you in class?” Oye…)

We are buying a house. Well, let me refrain. We are hoping to buy a house. We, like half the country, lost a home (and most of our savings/money) in 2007. We were hurt/jaded and swore we’d never buy again. In June of this year, we decided to take a few steps towards buying a home. Our timeline for such an endeavor was Late fall of 2015/early spring of 2016. We were moving along well and feeling really good about our plan. This lasted roughly a month. Things began to look really grim (long term) regarding my mom’s health. She’s a few thousand miles away, and honestly she has a modest income. We can’t afford to put her in assisted living. Realistically if she continues to live alone, she is at risk for many things and it’s just not a good option any longer. I’m her only daughter and so after a hospital scare we had the conversation where we realized it was time to talk about bringing her here to the Midwest’s version of the Arctic tundra to live with us. I did not think she would be in favor, but she was and immediately began getting rid of things for her impending move east. The problem though, is that we currently rent a three story brown stone. The main floor is on the second story and the full bath and bedrooms are on the third. My mom is on a walker on a rare good day and does require a wheelchair. (someday soon, permanently.) We found the perfect house, and lost the perfect house. Found a lot of lemons, got really discouraged, and then came upon a doable option. It requires some tweaking, and isn’t the most ideal for her, but what is out there really wasn’t meeting those needs unless we stumbled upon a trunk load of cash for renovations and repairs… It’s all been beyond stressful, and this mortgage process is enough to make me want to stick kindergarden safety scissors through my eyeballs. Things are certainly different since the mortgage restructuring. Everyday it’s “everything is great, you’re good to go”, then swinging over to “nope, I’m sorry, miscalculation! No mortgage for you!” and back. Our landlords decided to put the brownstone on the market, thus making us officially homeless should this mortgage thing fall through officially, (which it seems to do every Tuesday, Thursday and every other weekend plus holidays.)

One beautiful thing happened since I last blogged… My older daughter married a really great guy. It was a beautiful wedding and we are so proud of her! (she also had unexpected issues arise that confirm other than her wedding, 2014 is a total Jerk…) Second to that would be my bestie from Boise came out for a few days last week. It was awesomely wonderful and depressing because then she left again and I was reminded that I am certainly NOT in favor of living across the country.

Another semi lovely thing happened. I received a $50 Pottery Barn gift card. I am forbidden from buying anything for the house (of course, due to my mortgage induced whiplash I understand why.) I chose to buy Christmas ornaments as they’ll look beautiful no matter where we live. In hindsight, that may have been a mistake. I’m hoping, if it all goes south, we find a box to live in big enough for at least a Charlie Brown tree…

Dawning…

Published on September 9, 2014 by Mae @ Rainydayinmay3 Comments

Last week my youngest became a Sophomore in high school. Next week, my oldest daughter will be a bride. In each of their lives (and as a mom, for me as well) these are defining moments, yet somehow I sit here wondering what is next for me… I have all of these goals, that haven’t really changed much, over the years. My life has. Time has. Timing has. Things around me have changed, like headlights on a late night busy highway, speeding through… These goals, hopes, plans and dreams remain. Unattained, unstepped towards, Un…

And suddenly I am forced to self reflect and of course I come to the conclusion that this simply will not do…

It seems like the majority of themes in books about 30-40 somethings is that marriages and families fall apart because the characters stopped. They stopped seeing each other, stopping feeling seen by others, or stopped caring about something, stopped pursuing something, stopped something. In my own life, it does feel like the majority of my milestones happened long ago, and suddenly I live vicariously through the milestones of my kids. That can’t be right, can it? I mean, surely? Is that at the heart of why marriages fail, affairs happen, careers tank, etc? Is it because people just needed something that was theirs? Some milestone to mark an age and tether them to a time period and bring them back to their own lives a little? Because, to me this sounds partly insane and partly 100% sound.

All of that to say, I’m not doing any of those things, but as I consider the fact that it has been a really, really long time since anything in my life happened that was for me, I got to wondering what happens when someone else feels the same. And I don’t mean that all whiny, like “What about me??? Why don’t I ever get to do anything???” I mean, as adults who are married and parents, we lose ourselves a little. (or sometimes, a lot.) When you throw into the mix special needs parenting, it’s even tougher. Actually, this brings to mind the movie Catfish. Have you seen it? If you have, then maybe you realize I just illustrated my own question with a cinematic answer…

Maybe, as people, we are wired to hit a panic switch (which often screws up our whole lives) whenever we start to feel irrelevant, but we ignore the warning signs for so long. Like, while I would love for my husband to always remember to place me on a pedestal and to think that spending time with me is the absolute best and greatest thing on the planet, this isn’t realistic and it’s kind of unfair of me to expect for him to be the source of my fulfillment. Just as I know personally that those Hallmark penned cards which say the best Mother’s Day things feel lovely to read, the adoration spewed my way won’t always look like that. Sometimes it will resembled adoration or love and the majority of the time it may be joy sucking. No one ever promised easy and it’s not on my kids to be my reason to wake up and keep living. Choosing to actively love them is a great way to live, but they don’t deserve the responsibility of my fulfillment. They can never win with that. My life, my goal achievements, my successes, my __________________, those are on me. Yours are on you. We all own our own. So often we place blame, blame on our spouses, kids, parents, gardener… (Maybe not the gardener.)

I’m questioning if the greatest tragedy in my life might be that of this fog of distraction I slip into. The one where meal plans and household chores consume me. Within the safety of those confines I have a purpose and I am needed. For the twelve seconds that my home is clean and looking magazine spread worthy, I feel satisfaction. Within that frame of mind though, there is no love. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying my husband or family don’t love me. I’m saying they can never love me enough to make up for the fact that as long as I hide there, without taking personal risks, making personal strides and attempting personal growth (and failing, because we learn when we fail,) I will likely grow a little sadder. Maybe sad is the wrong word. Maybe more accurately, I will become less and less me.