Me and My Boy: Nine Rounds with the Driveway

So I haven’t had the pleasure of firing up the snow blower in several years. I mostly make sure I am feverishly working on some other indoor project when it’s time to shovel. Or I have a baby and nurse that baby right through winter so I always have a reason to stay comfortably sedentary on the couch. (Currently that baby is done nursing but she is a 19-month-old holy terror that needs to be watched AT ALL TIMES. And I am happy to be the one to do it during shoveling time.)

But yes, another smack of this never-ending blast of winter hit the Midwest and left Ice diverted on a plane from Nashville to Dubuque. Dubuque is not O’Hare. O’Hare is where his car was parked. He was supposed to get home the same day. Not 4 or 5 in the morning the next day by driving himself and several others heading in the same direction in a rental car.

When the situation was discovered it was a momentary realization…”Oh, crap. Me and my boy have to tackle this ourselves.”

Being the domestic Goddess I am, I had been busy all afternoon. I knew it was snowing like crazy but had no real knowledge of how much had hit the ground til the garage door went up. God bless Techno for heading out there first despite five minutes of pre-teen grumbling, over-exaggerated sighs and protests. Meanwhile I searched for my warmest socks and my serious snow-shoveling boots.

Techno got one shovel in the snow. One. This wasn’t happening.

I tried to reach Ice for directions on how to fire up the beast of a snow blower we have. It’s got some serious horsepower and kind of scares me a little. He didn’t answer.

We had to figure this out ourselves. Remembering that I had been in charge of this detestable job one other time when he was out-of-town and written down the highlights I searched the junk drawer for this nugget of gold. BINGO! I hit pay dirt.

Techno and I stood in the garage reading, double-checking and doing. We got that baby humming like a Maserati and then clicked the choke one too many times to the left and it died. So close.

We tried again and this time got it working. We were excited. And Techno had just come off his Dad’s Snow Blower Training Academy recently so he knew how to operate it.

The city’s street plow was just barreling through when we finally made it out. So I had a fresh mound of ice chunks and snow that stood at least three to four feet tall at the edge of the driveway to play with. Good times.

Techno carefully navigated the driveway and threw that snow. I huffed and puffed at my chosen station like I was Richard Simmons Sweatin’ to the Oldies. Turns out there is catharsis in showing that driveway whose boss. I haven’t seen the pavement on the driveway for weeks. And once I saw a glimpse of that wet brown concrete it was like a sign that there IS life after winter and I was in a HUGE hurry to get there.

The feeling of accomplishment while working with Techno and tackling this task we both were feeling ill-equipped to handle was pure joy. I was so proud of him for not only following but remembering his Dad’s instructions and being such an enormous help. An hour later we were victorious.

Bring it on. No really, just stop.

“Ready to Let Go of the Steering Wheel”

I’m ready, ready for the laughing gas
I’m ready, I’m ready for what’s next
I’m ready to duck, I’m ready to dive
I’m ready to say ‘I’m glad to be alive’
I’m ready for the push
In the cool of the night
In the warmth of the breeze
I’ll be crawling around
On my hands and knees

Zoo Station
Zoo Station

I’m ready, ready for the gridlock
I’m ready for what’s next
I’m ready for the shuffle, ready for the deal
Ready to let go of the steering wheel
I’m ready for the crush…

Achtung Baby U2 Album Cover

Driving down the freeway on an errand with my 11-year old son Techno, iPod blaring Zoo Station*, I was sharing with him the finer points of one of my favorite bands of all-time, U2 .

As with most music lovers you can hear a song and immediately place yourself in that moment when you first heard it or when you enjoyed it most. In my case, 18 years old, just heading off to a big college, experiencing freedom that I had never had before and loving every second. Listening to this album (yes we used to call them albums not CD’s!) in a bar or a dorm room having no knowledge that it would strike me on the freeway more than twenty years later, just one lyric, and bring tears to my eyes and a flutter in my heart. Beside my son no less. Okay, get a grip, girl and take it down a notch!

For months Ice and I have been going through the arduous process to become licensed to foster and ultimately adopt a child. To us a boy whose name we don’t know with a face we can’t place. A boy who is looking for a forever family that just might be smack in the middle of ours.

In and of itself this concept is almost unbelievable to me. Wait, not almost, it IS. For those that know me and just watched me go through a spectrum of craziness even I did not know I was capable of it would appear kind of unbelievable to them as well I could imagine.

It started with 11-11-11, or as I like to call it “Freaky Friday”, the date I found out at age just-shy-of-39 that I was pregnant with my third baby, Little Bee. A wonderful, magical blessing for SURE. Age difference between her two older siblings: eight and ten years. Idea that this was the plan for me at this stage in my life: NOT.A.CLUE.

Me and my Shadow

Little Bee is now 19-months old. Without a doubt she is one of the single BEST adventures that life has taken me on. Okay, so maybe God does know what he is doing. If I wasn’t sure before, mine eyes have been opened and the light is blinding!

Ice and I had contemplated fostering a child before. He had successfully mentored two brothers through Big Brothers/Big Sisters for well over a decade. He worked in a building where an agency that places children into foster homes had office space. Being in commercial construction his company did work for this agency when they needed construction services. But for me I do not think it was anything more than something really amazing to imagine. I didn’t really think we would actually DO it.

Little Bee came along and it kind of sealed the deal for me. Fostering a child would most definitely not happen now. My world was turned upside down (in the most amazing way) with the arrival of this gorgeous little person. It just didn’t feel right then.

Time marched on. Routines were established (or at least feeding and bathing her, not necessarily me!) And life resumed its ebb and flow. The idea hung low in my brain, like a fog. Lingering. Or like a whisper in my ear.

Then one day I was standing in line waiting to enter a dance performance for my nine-year-old daughter, Twinkle Toes and another whisper demanded to be heard.

The people standing in front of me had a four-month-old baby in their arms. His name was Jake. Through a brief conversation I found out that he would be leaving them soon – to be adopted. Realization washed over me. They were foster parents. This was their ONE HUNDRED and TWELFTH BABY. Speechless.

I immediately texted Ice and shared that the whisper was getting louder. We needed to talk.

That was nine months ago, odd. Nine months. We are now almost finished with the four-month process to be certified to receive placement of a child. We are looking for a boy between the ages of three and seven years.

It’s taken me awhile to collect and sort out my thoughts to write about this newest adventure. It is stressful and anxiety-ridden in its own way. There have been moments where I really have questioned if I can handle this. And I am positive there will be more moments. Not a reason not to do it. Especially after feeling somehow led to do it. But still. Life is sure to change again in a big way and in ways I can’t even imagine as of yet. But what I learned from my experience with Little Bee that I could have ONLY learned after she blessed our lives…

Alright, alright, alright, alright, alright
It’s alright… it’s alright… it’s alright… It’s alright

Hey baby… hey baby… hey baby… hey baby…
It’s alright, it’s alright*

This is what I am choosing to remind myself day after day. And even when I forget to let go of the wheel, there are amazing people around me that remind me as well.

View out my kitchen window last week

Stay tuned…there will most surely be more to come!

*Excerpt of Lyrics from Zoo Station by U2,1991

I’ve Got a Feeling

Years ago on a beautiful sunny last-days-of-summer-morning Techno was riding his bike with training wheels and Twinkle Toes was in a stroller, just a little babe. Standing by the roadside with a cell phone to my ear, cars rushing by on a very busy downtown street I was panicking while canceling credit cards and checking my bank balance. Ice was on his way to assist in whatever way he could. I was devastated and embarrassed. I had ignored my own intuition and suffered the consequences.

Just an hour earlier I had unloaded my car with the intention of enjoying a stroll with my kiddos by the lakefront. While locking up the car and stupidly putting my purse in the trunk I noticed a couple strolling by. To put it mildly, they looked like they might have seen harder times than I. Briefly looking in their direction and giving pause for just a millisecond I went about my business unloading the kids, the baby gear, the diaper bag – the usual.

The kids and I had our walk, where I nearly lost my brave little boy testing the waters and going waaaay too far ahead on his training wheels. We arrived at the end of the paved path and set out to cross the grass and head over to the car. From afar I could see the passenger-side window appeared to be smashed in with glass spilling everywhere.

Panic set in. Heart beat raced. Quickened pace. Did this really just happen to me? And with my little children in tow?

I approached the car and realized all too late I should have heeded my earlier gut feeling. My radar went up just a little bit after seeing that couple. It can’t be explained. Something just didn’t feel right. Hindsight 20/20 and all that… I should have just left for another parking spot in a different location. Or just left. Period.

A good Samaritan on a bike stopped to help and confirmed my suspicions that I had in fact seen the couple who stole my purse and forcibly damaged my car. They had been casing the cars with a wad of keys in their hand he shared. He had noticed them while on his bike ride and put two and two together as to what had happened to us. He said he wished he would have done more.

In the aftermath of that HUGE inconvenience, the sentimental loss (irreplaceable family photos in my wallet), the privacy violation – and seriously, a brand new purse! – I promised myself that I would make a real effort to listen to those whispers in my ear and that feeling in my gut in the future.

Times when one of the kids will be sick and I’m thinking “Another doctor bill?” there seems to be that pull towards when it’s just time to bite the bullet and get it checked out. Pneumonia, strep and a mono diagnoses later have proven again and again that sometimes Mama knows best.

Women do have a knack for being intuitive. Amid all the noise, peer pressure, distractions, stress and sheer exhaustion there is a hidden talent I am convinced we possess. It’s knowing when to listen that takes the finesse.

Here’s to the woman who knows when it’s time to move on from a relationship she has outgrown or goes back to school to better her professional options. Or the woman who takes a step to protect her child when others might think it too bold or crazy. Or the woman who takes the leap of faith towards a dream she has been fearful to advance. Or the woman who finally makes the appointment for that mammogram or colonoscopy despite her reservations.

Day in and day out intuition makes the world go ’round – believe it.

2013, Thank you for the Lessons

This photo is a picture of Little Bee after she reaches in to the plant in the foyer for the 327th time to grab some dirt. Usually she makes sure to leave her mark by dropping something in there like a random toy or her sippy cup. She always makes sure to taste the dirt as well. And then begrudgingly Mom swoops in with the broom…

It got me thinking, at what age do we learn from our mistakes? At what age do we decide to try something different?

Every time I happen to notice her approach that plant I say “No.” VERY firmly.

Every time she doesn’t listen I say it LOUDER.

Then I start walking towards her and invariably she looks at me, then smiles and does it anyways.

It’s only through trial and error, mistakes and reflection that we learn. She is too young for the latter. Mmmmm… therein lies the difference.

I am no fan of New Years’ Resolutions. Near about five years ago I decided they just weren’t for me. Pressure myself into something I would abandon in two weeks? Gear up for a new habit that was way out of my comfort zone and thus why it was never a habit of mine to begin with? Or the scheduling of it all – whatever it is that now needs to have a time slot? Makes me exhausted.

BUT, I will take my cues from Little Bee and make 2014 the year of the conscious effort to stop “playing in the dirt.”

2013 was an amazing year on so many levels. Lots to reflect on. Lots to sort through and learn from.

It would be so great if the same broken record that plays in my head about any number of things would stop. Whether it is the harshness with which I judge myself sometimes. Or the myriad of assumptions I make about what other people’s intentions may be. Or the lack of attention I give my kids sometimes when I am distracted by the most unimportant of things.

It would be great if I could shed those bad habits and free myself from the bad energy they bring.

Instead of worrying about Little Bee’s dirt, I can be my own broom! It’s in my power to do so.

Happy New Year.

Lost: Camera, Watch and Husband

Everyone has their thing. Their quirk, oddity, crazy-inducer…whatever you want to call it. Just ONE of mine is losing things. I literally go ape. Just ask my husband the time my wallet sprouted legs last October.

So what is a girl to do when it happens three times in one day? Grow up, I say.

Last Sunday started with the realization that my camera was lost the night before. Traveling downtown in the city in a group with my brother, sister-in-law, niece, nephew, cousin and my brood of three got a little distracting at times. I remember taking candid shots at a new park my kids and I had never tried. The lighting was perfect, Techno, Twinkle and Little Bee were loving it and we were having so much fun…What did I do with it?

Out of nowhere some grown-up voice says “J., you JUST put in a new memory card two days ago. Big deal. So you lost two days’ worth of shots. And you hate your camera anyway. Whoo hoo! Time to get a new one finally!” Who IS this person?

As this is unfolding and plans are already being made to race to Best Buy sometime this week, I lose my husband. Ice was in a softball tournament this weekend. His self-described “favorite weekend of the year”. We had a family birthday party to attend. It started at 1:30. It’s nearing that time with no word on the outcome of his last game. The game was at 11 in the morning. What is taking so long? No call. It’s his brother’s party. Are we driving together? Or separate? Is he coming home first? Should I just leave with the kids? What if something happened to him? What if he got hit in the head with a softball?

I got in touch with my sister-in-law and no one had heard from him at the party. Okay kids, time to get in the car and go find Daddy. We can handle this.

As we get in the car, it dawns on me one last place I have not scoured for the lost camera. I open the center console. Bingo! Camera found.

By this time we are more than slightly late for the party. Ice’s phone was dialed no less than five times. No answer. A little anxiety is creeping in. We are halfway to the ball diamond and the phone rings. Ice is probably wondering why all the stalking. He informs me he had a game at one o’clock too. I was not privy to this information. Relief…and mild frustration. But overwhelmingly the relief wins out and I am just too over it to be the nagging wife. Camera found. Husband found. Let the party begin.

After the party was over and we had all returned home I started organizing some household items. The mood struck me and I thought why not? I was making some headway and then noticed a favorite watch of mine was missing. Really? Now this is just too much for my lost-o-meter to register in one day. Did it travel to California in June to be left behind at one of the many hotels we stayed at? Is there a chance it was stolen? It only sits in this one spot when not worn. Calm down, girl. It is after all replaceable if need be.

Resolve sets in. This will just not do. My archive of purses in the back of the closet must be delved into. My vacation purse is the beacon I am pinning my hopes to. Unzipping it slowly I peer inside. Hallelujah! There lies my sweet reward. What was I thinking? When did I just leave this semi-precious bauble to be thrown in the back of the closet? Oh but the dangers of multi-tasking and motherhood. Who knows what was occurring at the moment I made THAT choice?

Taking a step back and surveying the day brought a tiny sense of satisfaction. Though my blood-pressure spiked more than a few times on Sunday, I was pleased with the calmer sense that seemed to overcome me than in similar situations in the past. With age comes wisdom it’s been said. I certainly don’t claim to have much of that but something is going on that this trifecta of loss I experienced didn’t send me on a one-way shuttle to crazy town this time. Now that’s growing.

The 8 Things My One-Year-Old Has Taught Me

A year ago today I was in the hospital and had just had my third child. Time has surpassed breakneck speed and we are now set on warp. Being the kind of woman who loves to wax philosophical, I could not help but take several moments today to reflect on what a huge fork in the road my life has taken since that beautiful day and what this amazing little creature has taught me.

1. Make friends with the unexpected. The curves in the road up ahead are there. Just be sure you hug the road and don’t drive off the cliff!

2. A shower before 3pm is so overrated. Little Bee and I cram a lot of snuggling, messes, errands and important discoveries into our day. Some days a shower just doesn’t fit into the plan -no excuses, no shame.

3. The theory that the older one gets, the less sleep they need is true. I CAN exist on less sleep than I needed when Techno and Twinkle were babies.

4. Learning how to thrive amongst the chaos is imperative. Despite best efforts there will be many unaccomplished things when my head hits the pillow. THEN I didn’t accept that and I ran myself into the ground. NOW I just do (most days). And it is okay.

5. Wake up with a smile. Always. That little person in the crib will have the brightest one ready for me and I can’t let her down.

6. Put on my oxygen mask first. Taking time each day to just breathe and take care of myself always results in a better situation for all involved.

7. When I think I have nothing left in the tank, just keep giving. It comes back.

8. Given a choice, pick the yoga pants.

Happy Birthday and Happy Dreams, Baby Girl…

Cherry Pit Spitting and the Limbo

After packing suitcases for two days, 16 hours in the car, numerous poopy diapers, a couple of classic Chicago traffic jams, stuffing everything but the kitchen sink into the back of my car and listening to too many ear worm children’s CD’s it has been confirmed yet again – my family is so much fun.

It was with great anticipation that we took our first long road trip with Little Bee this past weekend. The mission: to celebrate my aunt’s retirement from teaching.

The most enjoyable part of the party was sitting down with her and witnessing the expression on her face as she reminisced about her career. Who has a job for 49-1/2 years anymore? Amazing. Her interview consisted of talking with one person one day and being told soon after, “Which class would you like fourth or fifth grade?” She chose fourth grade for 20 years and then just for good measure she taught third graders for another 29-1/2 years. Nowadays she said you must go though approximately 10-11 interviews, the last being with the district superintendent. Oh, and the applicants for her city’s available teaching positions currently number in the THOUSANDS. Just in the nick of time Auntie…just in the nick of time.

The party was complete with the requisite backyard barbecue party games my family likes to play. Usually we get musical chairs and the back-breaking fave the limbo going. This tradition dates back at least 25-30 years. But this time around the new game on the block was cherry pit spitting. Hysterical fun. Whether you are 70 or 7, you are kind of curious about how far you can spit that pit. Top it off with homemade cookie and ice cream sandwiches and s’mores over the fire pit, now you are speaking my language.

My aunt wistfully shared that if she was reincarnated she would choose the same career.

I feel the same way about my family. I wouldn’t change a thing. Pits and all.

Bring on the Bubble Wrap

It is coming back to me now, not in a drip or a trickle but a deluge. Every day is a new adventure in protecting Bee from herself.

Yesterday we had a plastic part of unknown origin that neither Techno or Twinkle would claim ownership of. I did the sweep and found it in her mouth. There were two pairs of flip flops being offered delightfully as a snack by my dear friend’s children at the softball game. She just loved munching on those! And the lilacs were so very interesting and tasty to her.

Last week the Lego piece in her mouth was cause for an immediate run downstairs to find the gate to cordon off Techno’s room from her future “digs”.

Today was the coup de gras. While blow drying my hair she was begrudgingly situated in the play yard in the bathroom grabbing at her toys. I looked over to see she had grabbed the cord on my curling iron, yanked it into her play area and the iron fell to rest on her arm! I couldn’t react fast enough to snatch it off of her and find out with the greatest relief that I had not yet turned it on.

After this latest near-miss it really gave me pause. How DO so many people make it past a year?? It is all I can do to keep her contained. Her curiosity and clever maneuvers are not unique. Every Mom has her tales of “can-you-believe-it’s?” and “You’ll-never-guess-what-Johnny-did’s!”. But when you are witnessing it unfold on a daily basis it’s hard to believe there will ever be a time when you can look away for a minute, let alone an hour.

And yet, it’s been so long and Techno and Twinkle are so much bigger than Bee that I know it will come faster than I can bear. If I am smart I will polish up my disaster aversion tactics. My patience meter will be set to high. And I should really consider stock in bubble wrap.

Leap of Faith

I am sitting on the precipice of a huge waterslide. The view down is obscured by the fact that the drop on the slide is so steep that you can’t even see where the slide ends. The water is rushing by. The people behind me are waiting to take their turn. The water slide operator (who has this job??) is smiling at my fear. And my husband is egging me on. We are in the Bahamas at the Atlantis resort on a MUCH anticpated vacation for the two of us.

I can’t do it. I thought I was brave enough. I was all puffed up and ready to go. No problem…Seriously?!

Okay breathe. You got this. Afterall, this slide is called the Leap of Faith. And it was the ONE thing you swore you would check off on this trip. So what is happening? You are finally here. THIS is the moment. You are frozen in fear.

Like the woman training for her first marathon with doubts about the experience. Will she finish last? Will she injure herself in some way? Or the friend on the precipice of a divorce from an abusive relationship. Can she take that first scary step? How will her children cope? Is she doing the right thing?

These forks in the road occur all the time in daily life. For each woman who faces them there is the inevitable moment of feeling all alone. When the urge to turn back, stop in your tracks or take your ball and go home is just too strong.

What makes that moment pass? I asked myself that question recently when talking a friend through a scary, anxiety-filled event coming up. And for some reason I flashed back to this moment on the slide and how it felt. How I felt was so similar to what my friend was experiencing- anxious, scared and pondering “what will happen on the other side?”

Well what happened was I could not wait to go up to the top and ride down again!

Aren’t so many moments in life like this? You take a deep breath, calm yourself and take a Leap of Faith. I hope she can’t wait to do it again.

Forty and Fearless

Forty and fearless? I’m not so sure about that. But I sure would like to TRY…why not? Having been welcomed to “the club” by many family and friends this past Friday maybe it is time to keep with this theme and shake my life up a little bit.

I have already been pregnant at 39 with my third child -a surprise blessing. THAT was terrifying. If you would have told me a couple years ago I would be celebrating my 40th birthday with a glass of red wine in my right hand and a cooing, smiling 8 month-old on my left hip I would have been sure to laugh loud – and long. Not me. But wait for it…it IS me.

How amazing that I am doing this all over again. We call her Little Bee. She is full of personality, very vocal and has a smile that goes on for days. She hates sitting in her car seat, sucks on her socks and can jump her way to sleep. My
husband adores her. My older son and daughter are a great help with her. I am smitten.

Life has changed drastically. I am a work-at-home Mom who rarely has time to work my business anymore. I do not have a presence in my older children’s schools anymore. Field trips go on without me. My time spent in stores is touch and go depending on her mood. And to be honest many days it just seems like more work to go out and manage in the cold than to stay home and be comfortable. It can be isolating and lonely.

How do I forge a fearless path? A good start is finding new experiences that we both can share. I admit I have been a little overwhelmed finding a new routine this winter. I am still settling in to my groove with this new little person, let alone the implications of what being an older Mom will mean for me. Do I see myself chumming around with the 27-year-olds at pre-school? It is hard to get my arms around that. Do I feel like sitting through story time at the library again? I’m not sure. Play dough, puzzles, dress-up and the alphabet? Will the Mama mojo really come back?

It was surreal hearing the opening strains of “Come and play, everything’s A-Ok…” Yet Sesame Street still captivates my two older children. And it is so fun remembering when it was first new to them.

As time passes, me and Little Bee will find our way together. What is old may be new again. Or we inevitably will discover our own new way of doing things. As each day melts quickly in to the next, I have a feeling there won’t be time for fear. Too many dishes, piles of laundry, dance recitals, basketball games,
picnics, bike rides, bedtime stories, kisses, hugs and meals to plan.

I’ve dreamed about writing again since my son was just a few months old. He is now almost 11. It nearly freaks me out to post this piece after so many years of my thoughts never actually making it to paper. You know, too busy being a Mom and all. But hey, it’s a new world. I am 40 and fearless now.