Mom's, you failed me!

No one tells you how hard it is to have a child. 

They all smile, rub your pregnant belly, ask about names, the nursery, and whether you have seen the new adorable Trumpette socks.  They describe the rite of passage as exclusively joyous, and imply that only those who join the breeder club will be validated as a person.  They tell you wonderful motherhood stories and promise to babysit. . . and then like the Republican party, they all disappear as soon as the baby is born.

Since you fathers at least offer up some great used outdoor gear on Craigslist, my beef is not with you, instead it is with you; my mother brethren.

I thought we were friends, but if we were, you would have shared things and saved me a lot of heartache.  So, since my peers have failed me, I will let you mothers-to-be in on a few secrets to save you from yourselves;

1.     You will mourn the loss of your former self and have several meltdowns.  Don’t worry, you are just having an identity crisis that all mothers go through but rarely discuss. 

2.     You and your husband will fight over ridiculous things because you are unaware that you are both going through #1.  When he leaves for numerous days to go skiing or hiking without you and your newborn; don’t get mad, enjoy this time.  When he returns you will have two babies on your hands for awhile until he finally gets it.

3.     Cancel your Comcast to reduce the stories of how you might ruin your child’s life, and refuse the temptation to subscribe to the motherhood magazines so you won’t feel bad when you find out that you are no June Clever.  Use your own common sense when you have questions, and if you have none, join mammasource.com where you can safely ask all kinds of smart and silly questions safely.

4.     Forgive yourself when after a few snowy, or rainy weeks stuck at home you end up at mall on the waffle or cereal bowl or your local McDonald’s playground even though you swore that you would never go there.

5.     Buy a Chariot or multi-faceted stroller on craigslist or the quarterly REI garage sale so you can strap your kids in and all still enjoy the outdoors any season.  Staying active will remind you that you love your family and can still have a semblance of your old life.

6.     Be sure to hold on to some of your non-mother friends to ensure you will not turn into an annoying incessant story-telling mom.   Poop and milestone baby stories only go so far even if you think your tales are exceptionally charming.

7.     During the unplanned family vacations when you are home sick with mysterious ailments, make sure you have access to youtube for endless family entertainment, and a few balls to teach your children to fetch so you can still interact with them, but don't have to get off the couch.

8.     It is okay if you only like your own children, some in your family, and your best friends children.  Don’t feel bad about it.

9.     As a parent, your relationship with fear and guilt will take on a whole new level and never return to what it once was no matter how old you and your children are, or where your life takes you.

10.  Being a parent will be more challenging, frustrating, rewarding and amazing than you can ever imagine, and in the end, you will wonder why you did not do it sooner.

Now I know that some think it is taboo to speak about these things, but I feel that I am providing a service to reduce the number of road-raging moms out there. 

Of course I am ridiculously crazy about my son and know that who I was before him pales in comparison to who I am now because of him. . .but a gal’s got to be able to vent now and then when her life changes from a successful entrepreneur, traveler, and award winning writer (even if some of that is in her own mind) to a glorified pooper scooper, unpaid nurse, with little to no social life, and whose cutest outfits have all become barf cloths and accidental paint rags.

Checking in to the Funny Farm

Ok, admit it, how many of you have at a time or two thought you were losing your mind? How many have wanted to be Christian Slater in Pump Up the Volume, stirring things up, or felt an affinity with Dudley Moore’s character in Crazy People, or Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest? ….

I will admit to all of the above, as well as very VIVID daydreams that all end in securing my place in one of the scenarios mentioned above where I could hide out, write, create, and set up a social experiment.

I would produce my own underground cable show (even wrote a few scripts for the show) commenting about the underpinnings of our society interviewing Dick Greggory and George Carlin types and my brethren in the hospital and others on the fringes of society who believe that they stay true to themselves and make unbiased opinions about the state of our mental and social evolution and profoundly deconstruct the world in which we live.

To lighten it up, I could work on the novel in my head a la “Confederacy of Dunces” that would create a new generation between the Boomers and X ers … call it Gen WTF (since no one I know relates or feels that they belong to either ‘marketing created group’) and comment on the state of affairs around the world through a different lens.

I could also write the book that tries to reach me each time my pen hits the page a la “The Devil Wears Prada” about my time in Hollywood working on the set and behind the scenes for some interesting characters. (Did I mention the one actor who asked us to add ‘rotating his silk boxers’ to our daily to do list?)

Or most importantly to me, finally tackle the story of my adoption, reunion with my birth family and the reunification and integration process that tries to bridge the gap between my two families and the two people who exist inside of me.

But then I think, “Man, would I ever get out of the funny farm?” When the time came, would I WANT to leave? Would working on those projects, and delving deep into all of that subject matter cause me to embrace the outside world again with open arms- as a child that needs a hug after being reprimanded, or an old friend that needs my love after I have tried to shed some light on her shortcomings or would it make me appreciate my new friends in the funny farm and see that they are more sane than the ones on the outside? Would the world appreciate my attempts and observations and welcome me back into her arms or burn me at the stake as it does to so many others even today?

Obviously you know the answer to most of these questions, or I would be writing to you from the Oregon State Hospital.

Calgon and Chocolate ain't 'taking me away'

I finally have 7 days off and plane tickets to visit family in Hawaii...

But none of that matters since Isaac and I got the flu and Leo has bronchitis. I feel so blessed that we all got these ailments just before we were supposed to leave.

Lord, please do not strike me down for sayin so, but...

How bad does the universe suck sometimes?

Living this “everything happens for a reason” life sometimes drives me to think about drinking more.  (If only I liked liquor more)

Now instead of frolicking on the beach and drinking girlie drinks with my ma, we are all inside going batty, playing nice, but likely on the verge of thinking about killing each other any time now.

Our usual waxing and weaning conversations about the world, politics, life, poetry, are sitting on the book shelf vying for our attention, sadly, we have no interest in them either.

What else could I do in the 5 ½ days that remain that would chase my disappointment away?

Write the screenplay or book that has been in my head? (it seems like I have heard a few artists and writers say they wrote their masterpiece in a few days once it was ready to be ‘born’) Re-organize the house (no too boring), Finish the two books I started-- some light reading ---Jimmy Carter’s book – Palestine not Apartheid, and Eat Pray Love that I picked up for balance. (I can do that anytime)

Potty train my son? (Not sure he really has any interest, but the thought of no more diaper changing is actually an interesting one), get in a car and drive somewhere with no plan- (doubtful my husband would be as into that as I would), Start the artists way or the psychic pathway? (Been there, done that)…

It is nice to contemplate these things almost like a new years resolution, and in fact one or a combo of a few might make the discontent in my gut scurry away…

If only I could get off the couch to start any of them.

I have a stalker

 Thankfully he is not dangerous, but he is a stalker none the less.

Now I know everyone says that I should enjoy my son wanting to spend every second with me and that I will be sad when he does not want to be with me anymore...

but in my heart I know that they say that because they have AMNESIA and do not remember not being able to pee or poop alone. 

You know it is bad when your son figures out how to open a locked door or bangs at the door the entire time you are hoping for a private moment.  Thank goodness I caught myself yesterday before screaming, "JUST LET ME POOP!" or I can only imagine where and when that might be repeated.

There are the mornings-- sneaking past his room, praying that he will not wake up so I can at least shower by myself..

or the evenings, laying down on the couch hoping that he will play a little on his own and instead realizing that my job as a jungle gym kicks in at that moment, whether I have the flu or not.

As cute as the terrible two's can be, and OH they DO have a great deal of entertainment value for sure, having a constant whiny shadow who I have to distract and sprint for the daycare door before he knows who has left him, or teach him fetch games just to have him leave my side for 10 seconds...can drive anyone to become a little unstable.

Of course now that he is back in school today, I miss my little stalker and feel somewhat flattered that at least someone finds me that irresistible.

Mommy Dearest

I woke up my son today before I left for work, and asked him if he minded if I celebrate and embarrass him by writing about what a little genius and devil he is on mama's new blog. He looked at me, smiled and clapped his hands several times, and although he is only 15 months and speaks four words, I know he understood and this was his way of giving me permission.  I went back into my room, lifted the covers from my husbands head, and asked him if he minded me sharing some of his personal stories -knowing that he would agree to anything to have the covers back, that he likely would not remember the conversation, but maybe somewhere in the back of his mind, he would recollect giving me the OK. (FYI my husband gets mad ANY TIME that he finds out that I tell ANYONE ANYTHING personal, so this should be fun.)

With that thought lingering, and considering the other characters in my movie, and what I might be sharing in the name of my own cathartic needs, it became clear that I must change the names and places to protect the guilty and myself from any lawsuits or the possibility that I might alienate and piss off everyone I love.

It is because of this fear that I have made so many excuses over the years to not write any stories about my life, but I can no longer oblige those concerns since they played a big part in leading me down the road to craziness on numerous occasions, and causing me to lapse into an unhappy caricature of myself.

As an early birthday present to myself, I have decided to start this blog to restore some sanity to my life, to share stories, and keep in touch with my family and friends and let them know what goes on in my exciting life in a small mountain town the likes of which could easily have a story about someone building a tank, and destroying half of the town, or electing a mayor who was once proudly a stripper.  Ahhh, the wild west, the new frontier mixed with rednecks and yuppies bitching about each other on a daily basis. 

There is always something exciting going on, and if there is not, I can chime in on this insane world of ours, motherhood, the joys and tribulations of living as an adopted child post reunion, and the fact that because of me and my over extended adoptive, biological, nuclear and blended family, my son will have to learn how to say Granny, Babushka, Nonnie, Nana and Bubbe, and I am sure each is gunning to be the first name he utters.  No pressure, son. 

Or I could write about my former life working in Hollywood as an assistant to the stars, producer or for my bio mom, surrounded by talented and ridiculous folks.  I could mention my time studying with spiritual teachers and masters, and reading and traveling around to find the meaning of life.  Oh, and did I mention that my adopted mom is fighting and beating cancer, my mother-in-law came to this country with my husband as a teenager without any knowledge of the English language or job skills to give him a better life, and depending on what day you ask her, she is pretty happy with her son and her choice. 

I could write about my family drama, and the joy and challenges of finding biological sisters and women who feel like my sisters, who helped me to realize how wonderful it is to have wonderful women in your life- they help you to uncover the ugly and glorious parts of yourself and try to make sure that you have a sense of humor about it along the way.

If I am truly honest, however, I am starting the blog to save on therapy bills that I cannot afford, and give myself an excuse to take time to write every day.  As someone who works full time, and spends every other moment with her 15 mo and 43 year old children and the family Golden Retrievier, grocery shopping, doing chores, and driving or flying 2 hours when the grandparents moan about being "deprived of their grandson", there is no greater gift that I can give myself, or my friends and family, so that their daughter, sista, friend, wifey, and mama will not be a raving lunatic anymore.