I’ve been waiting on myself to begin. I knew it was time to get back to this and I knew it was time for a shift. I shut down the old blog, bought a new name, and created a new site. A new chapter. But how to begin, Becca, how to start. The pressure. Y’all are like,...
My mom died on April 1, just a little over two weeks ago. I don’t know which cliché to use – does it feel like yesterday or years? Both, I guess. My mom was a young 74 and did all the healthy things – the exercising, the kale, the vitamins, the check-ups. I look like...
Well, it had to come. Some of you readers have been with me for a while now. You’ve read these random blogs and followed along on Facebook as Jax came home from China, was diagnosed with all the things, and proceeded to grow up into a teenage boy. He’s gone from...
So we’re homeschooling over here. It’s going really well, I’d say. We have great people, Jax’s anxiety is at an all-time low, he’s happy, he’s inquisitive, and importantly, he’s learning things that are relevant to his 14 year-old-life and skills he’ll use for his...
I have sucked as a parent lately. Truth. 'Tis the season for holiday lights and wrapping paper and for mom to be a stressed out asshole. That should be a Christmas carol. “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the waaayyyyy. My mom’s annoyed at everyone, please bring...
Dear Jax,It's Gotcha Day, little dude. We adopted you eleven years ago today. I love this day, but this year's celebration is bittersweet. Your grandmother died on Friday night. Your dad's mom, Grandma Mary. This year's Gotcha Day will be a little less inflatable...
Johnny made it to his Army base on Monday. Other moms are messaging me tips to survive boot camp, linking me to Facebook groups, introducing me to people who can show me the ropes. It's lovely, but I’m in a different sort of situation. “Hi Martha with your...
A day or two ago, Jax had an appointment with a psychiatrist. Jax has never met this man before, but I have, and I like him a lot. He regurgitates mountains of stuff from memory, has a Harvard degree, and is smart, smart, smart. All good stuff when you’re a mom...
Johnny, I've been down at the Capitol this past week fighting for a bill that would expedite the adoption of older kids. I'm pretty invested in it because you and I went through this. We had nine months to make your adoption happen, and had I not already had a giant...
And I quote: "And after fourteen years of foster care, Johnny was getting all As and Bs in school, happily helping around the house, had checking and savings accounts, and looking for his first job - all within just a few months of being adopted into a family. "...
I've spent the last few days outlining an open letter to the person who hurt Jax. A real doozy of a piece, cleverly called "Dear Person Who Hurt My Child." I was going to write and publish it this morning, throw it all out there and let the internet lovelies react to...
The adult who hurt my son will not be charged. I'm a lawyer. I get it. There are no witnesses, no physical evidence, and Jax ...well, Jax isn't the best witness. At 13, Jax still believes that Noelle the Naughty Elf stole my car keys and tried to take my...
I am a Helicopter Mom. No shame here, no self-deprecating humor, there is really no other option for this child tornado of mine. Maybe helicopter isn't the right word, I think I'm more like the car with the flashing lights that travels behind the Wide Load truck on...
I was coming out of an Ace Hardware the other day - feeling super handy, I might add - and on the way to my car, I saw a woman standing by a table raising money. It was a legit 100-gazillion degrees in Phoenix and I was entirely prepared to do the polite smile...
I was sick this week. Throwing up throughout the night, curled up in fetal position at the base of the toilet, not sure how clean the bath mat is, I do not even care, I will never eat blue cheese in a salad again, SICK. Being sick as an adult is lousy. Being sick as a...
Dear Johnny, I know this isn't where you thought you would be at age 17. Still in the foster system, a day pass on your birthday, preparing to be shuffled around again, and then again and again. I know. As a child, you must have thought ahead to 17 and pictured your...
Last week, a family asked about adopting my foster son, Johnny. A family. Adoption. This was a big deal for a sixteen year old foster kid who moved in with me last month because he had nowhere else to go and had every intention of aging out of the system as an orphan....
I had a moment recently. My son, Jax, and I had been in the car running errands for a few hours. I was singing along to the Beatles channel when Jax said, "Mom, I'm hungry." Well, yeah, breakfast was a hurried cup of yogurt three hours ago so that's reasonable....
A teenage boy is coming to live with me. Today. In eight hours, I will be an official foster parent. It's been only a few months, but I have notes upon notes about my short experience so far with this child welfare system of ours. I can't wrap my head around how we...
Last week, I was in my favorite place in the world with my 15-person family. Every few years, we head to a ranch in the mountains of Colorado. We've been going here since I was a little girl, and there is truly no place I would rather be. I told my clients I was out,...
I volunteered to go to an education meeting last week with a foster kid. This kid was in high school and not too interested in me at first. I didn't blame him, I'd never met him before and this was a child who lives in a constantly-changing world with...
It was late-September of 2008 when we brought my son home from China, just two months before December and our sparkly, over-the-top, American-style Christmas season. My little boy had no idea what Christmas was. He had no idea who Santa was. Hell,...
This time of year, man. It’s stressful and chaotic and my annual intention of providing a Pinterest-perfect Christmas lasts about a day and a half until I decide that F-bombs will definitely help me assemble the gingerbread house. Ahhh, December. This year, the...
Jax’s eighth Gotcha Day is coming up. “Gotcha Day” is the anniversary of Jax’s adoption from China. It’s the day Jax became our son, and like good adoptive parents, we celebrate. Jax gets a few presents, we decorate, we eat pizza and cake, we participate in general...
I was at a Ross the other day. I love Ross. There is one by my son's school, and on the days I don't feel like laptopping at Starbucks, I walk around in their exceptional summer air conditioning while having riveting conversations with myself about my need for their...
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I went to a Scrapbooking Convention yesterday. A 9am – 8pm scrapbooking extravaganza called the “Arizona Scrappin’ Jubilee” in a banquet room at the downtown Sheraton. Please picture my personal comfort zone as the city of Phoenix. This event would then be somewhere near Las Cruces, New Mexico. Still in the southwest, but not a place I have much interest in going to – especially alone.
I woke up early, and went to our outside storage (otherwise known as “Where Good Things Go To Die”). Nestled between the pinball machine we left in the rain, javelina heads, bolts of fabric and bankers boxes containing who knows what, I found a plastic bag of scrapbooking stuff I bought in 2005 to make a wedding album. The wedding album never happened, but eight years later, here I am committed to making a scrapbook of our trip to China. So I dump all this scrappy stuff into a burlap basket and off I go.
Realization #1 that I was In Over My Head: the valet line was overflowing with minivans driven by women with wheely suitcases. I have a burlap basket. My burlap basket and I self-parked because that valet line made me panic.
Everyone Else.
Me.
Realization #2 that I was In Over My Head: I rode in the elevator with three women who had on matching, blingy scrapping t-shirts.Their hair was done, they had wheely suitcases, they carried Very Bradley quilted bags. Women like this don’t usually love me. I was in a black sweatshirt that said “Ninja” on the front and “F U Cancer” cancer on the back, my extensioned hair was still wet, and I honestly don’t remember if I washed my face. And I’m carrying a burlap basket.
Realization #3 that I was In Over My Head: I found my group, and while they started on their professional-looking projects, I unpacked my burlap basket. And realized I had NO IDEA what any of this stuff was for. I have empty book pages and random papers and mini plastic circles with tiny razors and ribbon and flowers and tweezers and a few things I could not identify at all. If I’d had to guess at what these tools were, I would have said I was a scrapbooking dental hygenist.
At about 10:30am, after an hour and a half of pretending to do something, I decided to pay someone to do my child’s scrapbook. I scoped the room, and decided on the woman who made owls out of a paper lunch bag. And just as I was about to cash in and check out, it dawned on me that I was having a good time. The ladies in my group were really fun and helpful, Celeste (the consultant who roped me into this) is a 10 on the Delightful Scale, and I really wanted to do this for Jax. And apparently, I am a master at paper tearing. Who knew.
So I stayed. Like we learned (kinda sorta) in Season 2 of Lena Dunham’s GIRLS (not watching? start.), outside your comfort zone is where the magic happens. Of course, Girls was referring to a cocaine-fueled evening of NYC clubbing in a mesh shirt while being stalked by a junkie…and I went scrapbooking. But you get the point.
Becca
The pages looks awesome! You are way more creative and crafty than you think you are!
I might be addicted.
Good! Come over and craft with me
I think you found your calling! You go with your scrap booking self!! =)
Lisa, when I start collecting dolls, l’ll call you!