A big, crowded couch

Well, folks, it looks like I just wasn't cut out for the NaBloPoMo. Missed a few posts in there. I'm not too broken up about it, to be honest. It's grant season, and my Superwoman cape is at the cleaners. Life goes on.

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Twenty years ago, we met a couple, Joyce and Mike, who have become very close and wonderful friends. Their marriage is a bit unconventional: She is divorced once and 10 years his senior. It's a very strong marriage, however, and it's one that I admire.

Before they were married, they took the unusual step of seeing a marriage counselor for several sessions. At the time I had met them, I thought this was, frankly, weird. Why on earth would anyone spend a bunch of time pre-hashing a bunch of yet-to-be-acquired baggage, when they were in that “lovey-dovey-let’s-get-married” phase of this relationship? It just seemed like asking for trouble that just wasn’t there yet. Paying a toll for a bridge that might never be crossed

In retrospect, their strategy was brilliant. They’ve just celebrated their 25^th anniversary, and really, the road here hasn’t been easy. But laying that foundation – learning what was in-bounds and what was out-of-bounds in arguments, learning how best to be supportive when times were tough, establishing the communication – has helped them come through the good times and the bad with flying colors.

With this in mind, we started family therapy on Tuesday. The kids were a bit puzzled by this, but not so much as you might think. There was the question of, “Well, but we’re not even officially a family yet. How can we be screwed up already?” To which I answered with a look that said, “Do you even have to ask that question?”

I was particularly concerned about Daisy seeing this as her “fault”. I explained to her that, yes; we were doing this because she was joining our family on a permanent basis. However, the motivation for this was not because of any shortcoming on her – or anyone’s – part.

Disclaimer: it's not all peaches and cream, however; to be completely candid, these first few months have been marked by a lot more conflict that I imaged when we started down this road.

We are doing this because we each have spent the last 15 years living very different lives. Our experiences are different. Our expectations are different. Our communication styles are different. And now we’re talking about bringing us all together, forever. It’s not too different from being in an arranged marriage. Arranged marriages can be loveless, or even violent. It’s not always like that – some arranged marriages are very happy. But the unhappily-ever-after story is common enough to give us all pause. So we’re spending some time with our version of the marriage counselor now.

I was really encouraged by Tuesday’s session. Our therapist is pragmatic, yet upbeat. She tells it like it is. Her first question was to ask each of us what the best and worst things were about our family. Interestingly, we all were pretty well-aligned about both the best and the worst. So we have a common set of expectations to start from.

I’m really looking forward to seeing where this journey takes us

Crash...meet burn

Oh the shame! I missed two days in a row.

OK, I'm not ashamed. I was crushed with these grants. But they're done now, so that's behind me.

But I'm fried now. I'll have more to say tomorrow...

Drowning

Zoiks.

So sometimes, despite best efforts, you just can't control even the things that you think you can control.

I have these three really big grants that must be submitted next week. And despite weeks of preparation and prodding, they're both running late. I'm working on my second night of late-night writing.

I have to find a way to get these people under control. No matter how prepared I am, I can't stand on others and make them complete their assignments in a timely fashion. So the result is that I'm perpetually pulling these grants together at the last minute. It's exhausting.

I get a lot of compliments from my colleagues: "Boy, if you weren't here, we would be sunk!" "Wow! As long as we needs to raise funds, you have job security!" "Thank God you're not the type to spazz over these things!"

But to tell you the truth, I'd rather not be revered quite so much by my colleagues and get to have dinner at home on nights like this.

Next time I come up for air, somebody get me a cup of coffee, will ya?

I got nothin'

No existential crises. No victories. No defeats. No new linoleum.

I was neither praised nor shat upon today. I did not discover the cure for cancer, the secret to teleportation, or the crabby patty recipe. I did not go swimming in the deep end of the pool. Had I not shown up today, i think only my dogs would have missed me.

It was just a day.

Hopefully, tomorrow will provide us more fodder.

Normalcy.

Daisy Mae has been here for about five months now. We have been through the Honeymoon period, where everyone made 24/7 happy noises. We went through the first post-honeymoon period, where we had lots of slamming doors and books thrown at walls, and she called me everything but a Child of God. Plenty of tears were shed by all four of us.

We have each, in turn, threatened to throw in the towel.

"You'll never be my mother!"

"I want to call her my daughter, but not if it means destroying my family."

"This wasn't the sister I wanted. She hates me!"

"I hate it here. It's like like living in a prison."

"I can't do this. It's too hard. We're never going to be a real family."

It was scary, for awhile. I found myself thinking of that old curse: "Be careful what you wish for. You might just get it."

The last few weeks, though, we've started to achieve some normalcy. The girls fight, but it's about normal sister things, like who gets the front seat and who is touching what in whose room. Chores are getting done. Homework is getting done. Dinners are completed without anyone bursting into tears, chairs being knocked over, food thrown in the sink or stereos blasting from far corners of the house. We're back to evenings spent with a movie on the couch, discussions of hair colors and shoes, planning for spring sports, dinner at Subway on the way to the dojo.

It's like normal life.

I think we can do this.

There, but for the grace of God...

I was over at the Drug Mart this evening, picking up all the last minute, "Mom, I need this for school this week!" stuff, when I saw a notice on the board.

Taken, from my car, in this parking lot Thursday around 7:20: My laptop case, containing a Dell laptop, all my school binders, my wallet, my house keys, my insurance card, my kids' birth certificates, their school pictures from this year. Please; you can keep the laptop and the money, if that's what you want, but I cannot replace these other things and they are no use to you. Please. I need them back. I'm a struggling single mom. Cut me a little slack, will you?

Then, a name and a phone number.

When I gave birth to my daughter, K, I had a terrible time with post-partum depression. It took me by surprise, really. I'm not the depressive type. However, hormones can do some seriously crazy stuff sometimes. I remember my OB, Jeff, (a good friend and still a close colleague) said something that has stuck with me ever since.

"At least you're not alone. Can you imagine if you were single and having to go through this? Christ, I get girls come through here and I see them...I know when they leave the hospital, they have that look in their eyes, like, 'Oh my God, how am I going to do this?' And I worry about them; I really do. I have nothing but admiration for single mothers."

I remember at the time, I thought Jeff wasn't really being all that helpful for me. But PPD is short-lived in those of us who are lucky, and the lesson has given me perspective I wouldn't have had otherwise. Part of that still resonates with Jeff's words, especially tonight.

Gayle. Her name was Gayle. I sort of want to call the number and just get her address and send her some money. Just to help. I wonder if she'd accept it from me or if she'd think it was a scam of some sort. In any event, I'm feeling lucky as hell this evening. My life could have been different. I could have made one different choice or could have met a few different people, and I could be raising my kids in a crappy little apartment over by the Drug Mart, and I could be alone and struggling and being robbed of the few things I have. I could be leaving desperate notes on the bulletin board.

There but for the grace of God, go I.

I'm going to say a little prayer for Gayle this evening.

Ouch

Today was a beautiful day here on the North Coast. Mid-60's sunny, breezy. Fabulous. Started the day with a 4 mile hike. Then, we finished the rest of the yard work -- leaves up, beds cleaned out, screens finally repaired from the destruction wrought by Buddy, the stray dog we took in last month.

It's great to have everything put away, but every muscle in my body hurts. Every one of them. Even my arches hurt.

But I did pull myself together long enough to make an awesome white shrimp and artichoke pizza for dinner. I'd post a picture, but it's gone already. You'll just have to used your imaginations.

w00t!!

They opened a sushi place next to the Drug Mart, five minutes from the house.

And it's pretty good.

Yep, we're pretty darned thrilled over here.

Tales of Tough Love from the Dojo

I *heart* my daughters’ karate teachers.

They are a husband and wife team – the dojo is perhaps a 10-minute drive from the house. The girls take karate on Tuesday and Thursday nights; S will be back at it on Monday and Wednesday as soon as he takes care of a couple of medical things, and I take kick-boxing on Monday and Wednesday night. We spend a lot of time at the dojo, and have gotten to know the directors (Senseis) very well. They both are in their mid-30’s and both are black belts: he a 6^th degree; she a 2^nd degree. They have about a dozen black belt students who help out with classes and techniques.

These people are so focused on the overall health (physical, emotional, school/grades, home and family) of their students that I just want to hug them both most days. It is like a big family there, with the more experienced students teaching and encouraging the less experienced students, a mandate to teach and learn each day, an unequivocal attention to discipline and respect and a focus on self-assurance. I wouldn’t call it “tough love” but rather “firm love”.

The Bug, who has ever been a sensitive old soul, walked into the dojo frightened of being yelled at and disciplined. Last night, she took 4 dozen falls, and got up each and every time. She performed her kata (a dance-like set of compulsory movements for each level) with strength and determination. She did 40 push-ups. On her knuckles. Her Sensei instructed her to teach her sister (Daisy Mae) the new kata, and instructed Daisy to accept her teaching with gratitude and humility. He routinely will send 7 and 8-year-old green belts (intermediate students) to “teach lessons” to teen-aged white belts who have shown too much attitude and not enough humility, as a reminder that toughness comes from the inside, and that our teachers can be found everywhere.

And Mrs Sensei kicks my butt twice a week in the mommy class.

This is a good thing.

Lots of stuff banging around in my head today.

I am deeply disappointed in the voters of Ohio. That's all I'll say about it.

My father got positive confirmation yesterday that he has multiple myeloma. I'm cautiously optimistic -- they've caught it as early as humanly possible and the treatments are nothing like they were even five years ago. His prognosis is excellent, even if the next several months will be very hard for him.

This means, of course, that I have to tell my sister. It'll be interesting to see if she just refuses to call me back or if she does as she did when my mom broke her leg -- call long enough to ascertain that he isn't dead, then not speak to anyone again. My dad is hoping to hear from his youngest daughter. Not looking forward to telling him, "Well, I called and told her..."

Daisy Mae has walking pneumonia. I swear, this child has the constitution of a fruit fly. We have her on antibiotics, however, so she should be OK by Monday.

As I once again got to take the big dogs out on leash today, only to have them encounter a herd of deer in the back yard, I began to understand why old people keep pocket dogs.

It's going down to 29 degrees tonight. The furnace won't be fixed until tomorrow. Brr.