Her Only Solace Was Action

[h/t to Delenn for inspiring the title]

After the March, we made a vow to ourselves to engage in at least one act of resistance each week. One march, one campaign, one outreach….Well, life happens. Late nights at work happen. Cranky pre-schoolers happen. Exhaustion happens.

Nice excuses, m. How great that you have the option NOT to take to the streets.

I know. I know. What it comes down to is this: engaging in the March was a real anomaly for me. I don’t like crowds; they make me nervous. And public marches, rallies, demonstrations whatever you’d like to call them, are pretty limited in their effectiveness, in my opinion. And that’s even before the body you’re trying to influence discounts them and claims everyone’s been paid.

Still waiting for that check. I know you are too. Especially if you saved up for the flight, the babysitter, the days off work…what an insult.

So here’s where I am now. I’ve been searching for meaningful ways to engage. To use my skills and experience in a way that might re-balance the power dynamic and negate the awfulness that’s been empowered by the Administration.

1.) I signed up for my local chapter of Indivisible – their guide is an excellent grassroots primer, and local groups are mobilizing everywhere. See if there’s one in your neighborhood.

2.) I’m going to a Swing Left event this afternoon to see how we can get a little bit of sanity back in the House in 2018. That feels like a world away, but it will be here before you know it. So action starts now.

Don’t see this as a full on endorsement of the Democratic Party, because it’s not. There’s a shit ton of housecleaning that needs to occur there. But we have to start somewhere. I’m starting at a neighbor’s house at 2 pm this afternoon. Check their website to see where the closest swing district is to you.

Lastly, have you seen this resource: townhallproject.com? It’s beautiful, and no small feat. As someone who used to try to coordinate grassroots advocacy, finding when and where Town Halls are being held is some sort of magic. I want to reach out to the team that put this together and place a big wet kiss on their cheeks (with full consent, of course). Bravo, friends. And thank you.

Town Halls don’t have to be contentious. Like your legislator? Tell them. Appreciate the work they’re doing? Let them know and encourage them to DO MORE. Be MORE vocal. Give them cover for the hard work they’re going to have to do. Give them a reason to resist too.

I’m feeling slightly hopeful this morning. I hope there are some glimmers of hope for you too.

As the Swing Left website says, Don’t Despair. Mobilize.

The Other Shoe

I’m on a plane by myself this morning. Last night I didn’t sleep. Nor did M. Thankfully, D was sawing logs. I hate the idea of not being near them. Of purposefully moving in the opposite direction of them. Even if only for a few days. I used to love solo work trips – the promise of a big bed, an unhurried morning run, a hotel breakfast, even several hours on a plane to work uninterrupted? Why wouldn’t I say yes?

But now I’m shaving flight times as close to meetings as I can get them. Meeting starts at noon? Great. My flight will come in at 11:30 am. Ends at 3? I think I can hit the 5 pm plane home. I’m texting at every transition point and location to assure M I’m fine. That I’m safe. This is crazy. I am a white woman travelling within my own country’s borders. Yet I am acutely aware that something batshit crazy can happen at any minute that might impact my ability to get back to my family.

Yet this is our new reality. One of paranoia, anxiety, and fear that our “president” will trigger some sort of horrible action/reaction while we’re apart that will somehow keep us apart. For a few moments, my anxiety gets replaced by rage. We’ve worked too hard to be a family to let this fucker fuck it up.

There I’ve said it.

You know, it’s been quite a while since I’ve felt like I could break into tears at any given point in a day. On any day. Oh about, 8 or 9 years. (nine???? I and J would be nine????)

Having this man in that seat of power is Grief all over again.  I am actively Grieving. So it feels only right that I return to this space. A space that’s offered me comfort and safety as I try to find a path forward in the past.

The sight or sound, sometimes the very mention of him is a trigger, and I promise I don’t use that word lightly. Anyone who has ever been bullied, lived through a horrible and abusive relationship, had to deal with a narcissist they couldn’t escape – I know you are feeling this too. And I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. For you, and for all of us. I know many of you are grieving too.

So now what?

I keep trying to find the opportunity among the chaos. To be thankful that someone so horrifying to so many has actually been a unifying factor. That someone whose words and actions are so contrary to what I hope to believe most Americans believe is their country finally allows me to wear my politics on my sleeve in a way I have never done before.  I try to find strength in the sheer number of people marching, calling, acting, rising up.

I try to appreciate that this horrible person has compelled me to write again.

But it’s hard to feel empowered when a very limited number of very corrupt men are steering your country toward ruin and have little regard (or understanding) of checks and balances. It’s hard when you have to look at your son who cries when he hears at the Women’s March that Donald Trump is waging a war against women and that we have to fight for what we believe.

“Mommy mommy, we HAVE to go home RIGHT NOW. I don’t want to see Donald Trump! I don’t want him to hurt you. Why does he want to hurt us, mommy, why???”

I don’t know, sweetheart. I really don’t.  But know we will do everything in our power to keep you safe. But to also show you by our actions that we do have to stand up for what we believe is right. That kindness and compassion are the most important things we have as human beings, no matter what that man says or does. That, I promise.

God, D, I am so sorry.

##

If you’re familiar with this space, you know that we went through a pretty substantial life transition recently. I quit my job, got a new one. M left his job and is taking care of D full time and exploring completely new skills (landscaping and gardening? Really? Seriously, he’s pretty amazing). We left the home we assumed we would raise D in. We moved to our nation’s capital (ok, just outside of it). We bought a house. We’ve invested in a community. We’ve made wonderful new friends (hey, old friends, you are wonderful too). After a rocky and uncertain start we finally settled into a pretty wonderful existence. We kept wondering when the other shoe would drop, because that’s who we are.

We never imagined it would be the boot of an aspiring totalitarian. 

The Ring

Ever since the early days of our honeymoon, whenever he entered water, M would clutch his wedding ring. Ball his left hand up in a fist. Contort his fingers in a way that made swimming difficult, snorkeling nearly impossible. He was terrified of losing his ring in the sea, the pool, the ocean, the lake. And I would laugh, and say he was being overly cautious. And that rings don't just slip off fingers into the depths.

 And then last Friday, it did. F me. It did.

 D was under the umbrella, playing in the sand. M was in the water. I was in the surf, attempting to catch baby horseshoe crabs so I could run up and show D since we've been reading this book. It was a perfect, perfect late afternoon at the beach.

 M thought I was ridiculous. So of course I gloated and cheered when I finally got one. He raised his hands to echo my cheer, and then realized his ring was gone.

 Waist-deep. Low tide. I ran out to help but no way any amount of feeling around with toes was going to surface our wedding band. But then D disappeared behind the umbrella and out of my sight line, so given the choice between animate and inanimate object, I chose to go find D, who, for the record, was not nearly as impressed with the horseshoe crab as I wanted him to be.

 M was/is distraught. In his mind, he failed us. Failed me. Losing the ring was tantamount to cheating and how would I ever forgive him. How would he forgive himself? He was inconsolable. To the point where I felt really, really badly about not caring.

 In my mind. It's a ring. Simply a ring. No more. No less. One of many objects that can possibly and most likely be lost. I offered to throw mine into the sea as well. He balked. We'd need mine to find his replacement. Ok. fine. But I just couldn't muster up the kind of sympathy M was needing (I usually can't) and was getting annoyed at his "I knew this would happen"s.

 So I turned to the practical. It's lost. What can be done? I posted on FB and started googling to see if I could find a local metal detector club. I posted on Craigslist. I went up to the police station to file a lost/missing item report in case we needed it for insurance. I removed the FB post bc M said he was embarrassed and ashamed. I deleted the craigslist post after talking with the secretary at the police station, also an avid metal detector user. "Ain't nobody turning anything in; we're all looking for our million dollar ring."

 Well, this is nowhere near a million dollar ring, but M was carrying a weight as if it was. A few days after the loss, he's mellowed a little. Each day seems to make it a little easier for him to stomach. After it happened, I was seriously worried that he'd never want to go to the beach again, but we managed to salvage the weekend. D would see us eying the sand and the surf hoping to catch sight of it and ask us what we were looking for. "More hermit crabs?"

"Horseshoe crabs, D. And no. Daddy lost his ring."

"Oh. I lost my bagel this morning, too."

 Oh D. You sweet, sweet thing. Yes, you did. (it fell in the sand.)

 **

 So tell me, dear readers. What would you do if you lost your wedding band? Are you more of an M or a me here? And how and how soon would you fill that missing and untanned space on your finger?

Better

Week two = better than week one.

I'm getting into the hang of the new office. New people. New personalities. New responsibilities. A lot more responsibility. It's kind of exciting. And I'm feeling like this is doable, and perhaps even long term, if I can put some things into play. 

By some things I mean more flexibility, a greater ability to work remotely - for everyone, not just me. It feels as if that's possible and pretty consistent with the office vibe, but it is only my second week. I don't want to push too hard too fast. And I've already put a number of things on the table for consideration. 

The boys are getting into a routine and damn if m hasn't made life easier for me when I am home. He's inserted some gentle discipline where maybe some had been lacking before. Or maybe mommy is just a full on pushover when it comes to some things. I am in awe of his parenting. 

I've been camping out in hotel rooms two nights a week, and you know what? That's totally ok. More than ok. Hotels have gyms and cable and internet....things I'd have to set up and pay for in a new apartment. Plus, pricelining a hotel + keeping our super cheap place in this other city = still cheaper than any place we would get in new city. So there's that. 

Two good things about a few days away: 1. When I am there, I am there completely (at least this week. Last week I was a basket case. See previous post) I work from morning until I crash at night. I've been trying to connect with new coworkers for dinner and then studying up on docs and work plans when I get to bed. It's time well spent. 2. When I am home, I am home completely. Hugs are amazing. Dinners taste better. And the weekends are bliss. Everything we do together feels great. 

Again, this is all how this is feeling right now. Let's check back in a few weeks, shall we?

Thank you for your encouraging words. Thank you for your emails checking in. Today, it feels like we are in an ok place. 

That Moment When You Start to Second Guess Everything

And start to lose sleep,
And feel like you want to throw up at every moment
And just want to cry and crawl back in bed (even though you can't sleep)

That's happening. Right about now.

First day on the new job is Tuesday (Monday's a holiday). The plan today was to rent a van, load some of our extra stuff from the apartment here, stop at the Ik*a on the way down to get anything else we might need, sign a lease, move me into an apartment a few blocks away from my new office.

Sometime earlier this week the reality of all of that hit me and M. Hard. Hit M so hard he was home sick in bed yesterday. Paralyzed with anxiety. We were banking on some flex from his work that would enable us all to spend as much time together as possible. Work some weekends? Work remotely a day or two? That's not happening. In fact, he's feeling some clear signals that if can't be present, maybe there's someone else that could be.

That means two to three nights a week I will be sleeping in a different place. Alone. Without my boys. I think I'll be ok. But I don't know for how long. D will be fine. I know M will not be. I don't know how sustainable this really is. And I don't know if I'm ready to furnish a new setting in the hopes of them coming to be with me when I don't know when that's going to be.

I'm wondering if I've made a horrible mistake....

Can I even DO this job? Will I like this job? Will I be in the right frame of mind to even try to tackle this job? I have to try, right?

I don't regret leaving the old job. Because it was time. But I have to confess, with all of this up in the air and this feeling in the pit of my stomach, inertia and boredom are starting to look pretty good. 

So we cancelled everything for today. I got a hotel room for the first few nights. And probably will for the next few weeks until I get my head around all of this. If I even can. Not the best frame of mind to start a new role, but there you have it.

Transitioning

Every week should be Last Week.

I've had lunches with old colleagues, had a chance to have completely personal and not work-related conversations with people I really like and respect. Emails and notes keep coming from unexpected places. And my boss is throwing me a happy hour tomorrow. I think people might even show up.

Gosh dudes, sniff, I didn't know you cared.

But amid the love fest, there are some reoccurring themes that I'm trying to process.

My new job comes with a title. One with a C in the front. And when I say it out loud, you can actually see some folks pause, recalculate and look at me in a totally different light. Never mind it is essentially the Exact. Same. Thing that I'm doing and have been doing for the last handful of years. Never mind that I am the exact same person with the exact same skill set that you already know.  In fact, when I met with my Board last week after they heard the news, the Chair actually said, out loud, "Wow, your stock has really risen."

a.) who says that?
b.) what does that tell me about my stock now?

One of the lunches I had this week was with a friend who just transitioned from an executive assistant to an executive. And she sadly affirmed that the exact same thing happened to her. Same person. Same skills. New title. People reassess. I think that's kind of shitty.

The new job is based in a different city than where we are now and will require me to be apart from the boys a few days a week, at least temporarily. We're keeping our place here (because we love it and its cheap) and getting a much smaller place to perch in the new city, which is about 2 hours away. M will get D to and from daycare or grandparents the days I'm away. Primary daycare will be here, for now. We'll decide where we want to spend the weekends as they come. We think we have the logistics sorted out. But of course, we won't know until we try.

I feel like I've given this explanation at least 2 dozen times in the last week. At least. It's what everyone wants to know. But what about D? How will D feel about all this? Have you thought about D?

This week, the state House and Senate are in session and I've spent a good part of my mornings just going up and saying goodbye and thank you to some of my favorites.  Several of the younger (male) members have new babies at home. At home. As in, not here. As in not in the same place they are spending 2-3 days a week in. Weekly.

Why is no one asking them these questions? When one legislator showed me a picture of his 4-month old, I didn't even think to say, "but did you keep him in mind when you were deciding to run for re-election this session? What about the baby? Who's going to take care of the baby" Yet, if I were talking to one of the (sadly, very few) women in the building, I bet they would have been asked that at every single campaign stop.

And every time I go on to explain our moving plan, it gives me an opportunity to question it. To judge myself, in anticipation of the listener judging me. I'm pro-active like that. And I remind myself that kids are amazingly resilient and adaptable. That there are plenty of families who live and work in different places and make it work. That this is all temporary....

All I know is that I have at least 25-30 more years in my career. And I'm done where I am. And I'm excited about where I'm going. And if it works, awesome. And if it doesn't, I've proven to myself that I can make a change. I'm ready for this change.

#Microblog Mondays - What's Home? What's Comfortable?

Have you read this yet? The NY Times Magazine doesn't always get the ALI stuff right, but I thought this was a very thoughtful piece, particularly since its written by an adoptive parent who herself a mom via open domestic adoption and has also adopted internationally.

One quote from an adoptee who's returned to South Korea is really resonating with me: “Korea is home....But it’s not one I’m completely comfortable in.” But she's sticking with it. As are hundreds of other adults from America and Europe who were adopted away from their homeland and have moved back to South Korea to reclaim it as their home.

Strangely enough, one of D's favorite library books deals with this subject (more or less) and comes to the opposite conclusion. He loves this book, loves it. Mostly because fifi, foo foo and ooh la la bear a striking resemblance to his favorite white poodle Sophie. But me, I've got issues. There's just something about it that's really forced, and tries too hard to convince that where you are is exactly where you should be, even if you look and act differently than everyone around you, and that trying out the alternative (your birth family) will only confirm that.

To be fair, the more I read it, and we read it a LOT, I mean, both doggie families do hang out with each other in the park every day after they meet and learn from each other, so I guess that's kind of an open arrangement? But argh, again, forced, and something sitting not quite right. Not all all like Muppets in Space, my favorite muppets movie ever.

Have you read/interpreted ALI plots or subplots in unexpected places lately?

#Microblog Mondays! What's it about? Learn more and read more here.

The Back Story

A few months ago my co-worker and I decided we'd had enough of where we are. Done. Finished. Over it. I've been there 16 years (give or take some sabbaticals); she's been there nearly as long. We've each had opportunities to grow and expand out skills sets and knowledge base, but lately, all of that feels like its come to a screeching halt. It started to feel like we'd be stuck in this rut forever. And neither of us really remember how we got here in the first place.

We decided to get pro-active about it.

We made a plan. We stuck to it. We dedicated time to it. Yelled at each other for slacking. Tidied up resumes and cover letters. Got real about networking. Dreamt a beautiful dream of being able to give notice at the same time, and move on to jobs that we value and that value us and what we can offer.

And we did it! More or less. Within a couple of weeks of each other. We did it! It can be done!

I'm not going to go into much more detail, because then you won't buy our book #kiddingnotkidding. We are totally writing a book.

See what I did there? I just put that in writing, L. Now we're committed.

But here's a takeaway: if you are job searching now and putting yourself out there, please please please let one of your good friends and/or colleagues see your resume and cover letters and edit freely. Because very few of us do a good job at talking about how awesome we really are. We sell ourselves short. You are awesome! You really are! Have someone that knows you help you get that in writing.

This time next month, L and I will both be starting the next chapter in our careers. She'll be working hard to combat sexual and domestic violence (because she is bad ass like that) and I'll be doing what I do now, but on a national level, with a title to match it, and a sane (and very, very cool) boss, and staff! I get staff!

Lots and lots of logistics to still work out. But I know it will all come together. Because this did.

#Microblog Mondays - That. Just. Happened

I quit my job today.

And it feels

f*cking

great.

You Only Need One

Last week, one of my brother's old friends stopped by to visit us and to give us our holiday candle - he's been giving us a Yankee candle each year for Xmas for as long as I can remember. It's tradition. He stayed and talked until way past our bedtimes. He clearly needed to talk.

This is someone who I've known for so long, he is family. It's not uncommon for him to go visit my mom and stay a few days, with or without my brother. He's definitely my favorite of all of my brother's friends. Which is why I'm so sad they don't talk anymore. My brother's version - "he wasn't here when I needed him." His version - "Your brother has to sort some sh*t out and no one can do that but him. Plus, I have my own drama. I don't need more." I get it. Both sides, I get.

Part of J's drama is that his own little brother just had a baby. With a baby mama that J doesn't like or trust. He's angry at his brother. He's wary of the mom. He's worried sick about the baby. I asked him why and he confessed that baby mama actually IS a pretty good baby mama and from what he can see, is doing a nice job raising their son. But J is still concerned that this little one have a stable and positive influence in his life. I told J, that's his role. Be the one. Because it only takes one.

I told J that my theory is we really only need one unconditionally loving and affirming presence in our lives, and if we have that, everything else will sort itself out. For me, it was my grandfather.

My parents loved us. As much as they could. But wow, did they fight. A lot. All the time. Loudly. They loved us; they didn't much care for each other. And that was hard to come home to every day. When my grandfather came to visit, I would jump in his truck and wait for him to take me home with him. And he usually did. Sometimes for days. And we'd have adventures. Up to his cabin that he built himself. Out to the lake to go fishing, or just stare at the water. Over to his friend's house to pick walnuts. Down to the stream to catch spring water as it dripped through the rocks.

My GiGi. He was the one. And I started to tear up telling J. He's gone now, and gosh I miss him. I told J, he needs to be the one. And he nodded.

Tell me, who is your one?

#Microblog Mondays - 3 is a Magic Number

One. Two. Three. A family of three we shall be.

Official beta isn't until tomorrow, but our surrogate is an obsessive pee-on-a-sticker. When I hadn't heard anything last week, a quick email on Friday confirmed my suspicions, and ruined a good chunk of our weekend. Sigh. Last chance. No dice.

During the transfer, M and I were feeling a sense of relief. Whatever happens, we saw this through to the end. We explored every possibility. And now we can move on with our lives. With however many children the fates have fated us to have. It felt good to have closure. To be on our final transfer.

Friday, it didn't feel so good. Just...Final.

M is crushed. I'm more like numb. Denial? Perhaps I'm still waiting for that miracle beta. Perhaps I'm feeling pragmatic. I'm trying to remind myself that I wasn't really sure I wanted to go through this final round in the first place. I'm re-reading passages of Lauren's One and Only to reaffirm that there are distinct privileges and opportunities that being an only affords.

I'm sad there won't be more to love. I'm happy we can focus all we have on D. I'm sad there are mountains of baby clothes eagerly and tenderly saved that we'll now have to give away. I'm happy we can get bolder on our weekend adventures together, without a tiny baby to slow us down. Sad/happy. Happy/sad. Mostly just resigned and getting used to the new reality. A family of three we shall be.

#MicroblogMondays - Eating My Words

This morning, I am feeling like the cruddiest crud of all crud. And conflicted. So conflicted.

Last Thursday, on work trip, my boss and I were "discussing" a person who is very hard to deal with: A big bully of a man who puzzlingly also has a little man complex. A career bureaucrat who seemingly finds pleasure in creating obstacles to good policy and sharing half truths when the truth isn't what he likes. Let me be frank, I think this guy is a jerk and one of the few people I haven't moved past actively disliking on a daily basis.

That same day, he and his wife lost their baby. I just found out this morning.

I have no details other than Loss. I think it was a little girl. She was nearly full term. Due Election Day.

And my heart cries for them. I mean, how can it not?? This is nothing you wish upon even the greatest of enemies. But now here is the quandary - how to reach out? How to get beyond the "god I can't stand you" feelings to get to his wife and to his grief? What do I say? What can I share? How can I write this so he doesn't immediately rip up the card when he sees who its from? (because I am sure the feeling is mutual). I am also sure CVS does not have a card for this occasion.

And of course, I am eating my words. Wishing I never piled on to the awful that this person was in the midst of, right as I was saying, "maybe being a father will make him a nicer person....." oooof.  It's not possible to feel like more of an ass than I do right now.

So many of you are so sage, and have taken hard spiritual journeys through your grief and ended up at a place where I am hoping you have some wise words for me. Help?

Wondering what MicroBlogging is all about? Check it here.

#MicroblogMondays - Lessons Learned

...during a long (and awesome) weekend with sweet D at the beach with "beach meemaw" (aka my mom).

• Meemaw's phone fits in a variety of nooks and crannies never intended for such use. 
• Meemaw has way too many ceramics, sharp edges and breakables at knee-level. She just might have the least kid-friendly dwelling ever. This is not a new phenomenon.  ("Sometimes, I honestly don't know how you made it out alive," says M.) She also has no concept of quiet voices for bedtime. 
• Apparently D's unofficial "girlfriend" at daycare (his best buddy. attached at the hip since day one) really IS referred to as his girlfriend. Because we used that term in conversation with my mom and he piped in with her name immediately. Wait, What? Who's your girlfriend, D? "A.....!!!" Ok then. 
• D is concerningly good at sitting in Time Out. 
• M has a theory that D and meemaw are fast friends because they are close to the same height. Meemaw is not amused. 

Digging the microblog movement? More minis here! 

#MicroblogMondays - Hey...waitaminute....

I keep trying to stock up on Microblog Monday posts. And then realize I have a little more to say. Then a little more. Then before you know it my mini-post is a full-on post. No longer suitable for a micro Monday. Sigh. I guess I just have to hit publish.

Now there are several posts where there were none, and even some drafts that are getting dusted off and revisited. Huh, seems as if there still some life left in this space.

Prett-ty sneea-ky, Mel (as I nod knowingly over my Connect Four tray.)

Four Words for October

The other evening I came home late from work. I sent a text to M to find that him and D were already chilling at the Moo. D was chatting to himself and feeding the moo grass. M was bothered. Distracted. And it didn't seem work-related. Because that's a totally specific look. Dude, what's up? After a bit he finally pointed his eyes towards the corner. Where someone was pan handling. She's 20. Maybe. She's so, so young. Why is she there? How can we help?

Unfortunately, we've gotten pretty used to our intersection hosting a rotating cast of homeless folks asking for a few dollars. But M was right. This was someone we had never seen before. And she was a girl. I'm not even going to say a woman. This was a girl.

On the way home, I stopped and offered her sandwich. She was wary. Like, from where? Like, from my kitchen. I'm going to go make you one if you want it. Her eyes lit up and she said, oh that would be awesome! Then quickly added, if the cops come, I'll be over there with my boyfriend, who was on a bench nearby.

So I went up and packed a lunch, which was super easy to do since I've got supplies for baby D. Sandwich. Granola bars. Apples. Bananas. I figure she'd either open the bag and be like, what is this hippy shit? Or be grateful for some portable food items they could stash in their bags for whatever journey awaits.

I handed her the bag and wished her luck. And I meant it. And by the time I made it back to my door, she and her man had already dug into it.

Back at our place, at the dinner table, M was clearly still bothered. What makes someone leave? What happens in your life that you think the street is better than where you were? 

I don't know the deal with our young temporary neighbors. I can't begin to know their stories. But I know in so many instances, the answer is Abuse. Physical. Sexual. Emotional. Not always, but more times than not. You leave because you aren't safe where you are. You leave because any place is better than there.

At least that's what brings most of the women to the shelter at the YWCA. In fact, I was just talking with some of them earlier in the week.

Every year, the YWCA hosts a First Responders breakfast to honor the police officers, the EMTs, the emergency response teams that go above and beyond their call of duty to get people safe. It's a pretty powerful event. I found myself sitting at a table having a lovely conversation with a woman who ended up being the speaker for the event. I had no idea she was an actual recipient of YWCA services until she took the stage and talked about her long road to recovery after decades of self-medicating and sexual abuse at the hands of a step-father.

Her words are still sitting with me.

So, when M said, I'm not sure we do enough. I had to agree. A sandwich and some food for that young woman was the least we could do. I am home. I am safe. I am safe and loved in my home. So what I am doing to make things better for someone who isn't?

I used to think the fact that I work for a non-profit gave me a free pass from other humanitarian work. It doesn't. That's the shit that pays me. I'm not giving any more than I'm getting back. It's not the same.

October is national domestic violence awareness month.  And you know how I feel about awareness. It's not enough. So here are some activities happening in my 'hood. I bet there are ton happening around you too.  Please feel free to share in the comments.

At the first responders breakfast, we were asked to think of 4 words that would say what WE are doing to end domestic violence. Here were mine:

Listen. Support. Embrace. Empower.

What would your four be?

Potato Po-tah-to

Hash browns for breakfast, french fries for lunch and mashed potatoes for dinner is probably not a meal plan I should replicate often.

But damn. It was good.

And if weren't so lazy I would fry those pierogi in the freezer.

There you have it. Welcome to my world.

**

Since I moved my office to its new location (which, for the most part, I love, because well, I chose it, and I actually have an office. With a desk and windows and such) my mornings begin with a drive through the golden arches for:

2 hash browns and a large black coffee, please.....

It is shocking how easily this bad habit has become routine. I used to ride my dad constantly for his McD habit. Dad! Quit eating that junk! His mornings began with:

2 sausage biscuits and a large black coffee, with ice.....Don't forget the ice! Your coffee's too hot! 

He was such a staple at his local McDs that the cashiers cried when my mom told them why he hadn't been there for weeks. Like, sobbed. They made me cry.

Because this was his thing. And he was their cranky old man who couldn't let a day go by without getting in the car and driving 2 miles to McDonalds to do that thing that he did. Sometimes he would get it to go; other times he would chill inside. Chat. Because - and this is something M and I still marvel about all the time - for as un-charming as my dad could be with the people that, you know, loved him, he could be utterly charming to strangers. And McDonald's cashiers and customers.

So, I can say that my first drive through was nostalgia-driven. Paired with a "free coffee" promotion and the fact that a street light was red and I could actually get to my office faster via the McDonalds lot.

That doesn't mean I had to keep going.

Sigh. But it seems I do. And today was Friday, and I was feeling like I earned a "naughty" lunch, so fries it was. And then I found myself at dinner with my boys and my in laws but wasn't hungry (because. French fries.) So I got mashed potatoes and vegetables for me and D to share. Which, of course, he wanted none of because someone else at the table got sweet potato fries which he devoured. So, mommy had to eat all the mashed potatoes herself.

And they were awesome.

Happy Friday, people.

CTID

No matter how negligent I am about writing, no matter how long I'm away from the site, I can rely on at least 2-3 comments a week on what is probably now one of my most popular posts.  Not because of any riveting content or reveal (although D is adorable there, no?) but because Malaysian spammers hit this post at the end of every Manchester City soccer game.

Somehow, this is comforting to me.

Maybe its the consistency. The regularity. The reminder that the blog is still here and needs maintenance and love. Maybe its the cosmic connection between MCFC and Baby D.

From the Club History: 

2012 City win the League Championship for the first time in 44 years following a thrilling Premier League campaign. A last-gasp Sergio Aguero goal against QPR secures the title in the most dramatic of fashions at a jubilant Etihad Stadium.

That doesn't even begin to describe it. City was down for most of the game against a team being managed by its former coach. M was in tears on the couch. I had already retreated to the balcony to follow via twitter because I cannot bear M like this. I couldn't bear to watch. He has that unique quality that can internalize something so random and make it his. More than his. Make it him.

There is a saying (that I think club management isn't crazy about) - CTID. City 'til I die. No matter how shitty the team was - because they were shitty for most of the 80s and 90s, a true City fan would always stay with them. They love them. They hate them. They understand that when they are counted on to win; they will lose. When they are expected to lose, they just might pull something off. In this particular instance, City was failing, therefore, M was failing. (and therefore, my weekend was about to be ruined. I'm selfish like that.)

All of a sudden I heard a gasp and a shout. Checked the twitter. City had tied the game with less than a minute or two left. They may have even been in extra time. Phew. Ok. Bullet dodged. They wouldn't win but they didn't lose. Holding pattern. Kind of like our life since the twins died.  This is a feeling I know and can manage.

And then.

M met me on the balcony shaking and in tears. Oh fuck, really boys? Did you really fuck this up? No. No they did not. They won. in the most dramatic of fashions. 

City had pulled it off. They won. They won! There was hope in the world.  All is not lost. If they can do it, we can do it too.

It is so rare that I ever know what M is thinking, but in this instance, I was pretty sure I was reading his mind.  If they can do it, we can do it too.

And we did. The next spring, baby D arrived. To more MCFC gear than any baby would ever need.

Fast forward to 2014. City has two league championships under their belts. They are no longer the underdogs. The usual hateration follows them: They buy their players. There's no heart. What happened to the good old days?  CTID means something different. It's not a world-weary acceptance. It's an expectation to win.

**

I think we went into our last cycle expecting to win.

Perfect surrogate. Seamless cycle. Lovely hatching blast. Beautiful weather! What could go wrong?
Sometimes it just does.

You know this. I know this. But I think I forgot.

I forgot how shitty that phone call really is. I forgot what a blur the day becomes while you attempt to maintain normalcy and fake like it doesn't hurt. Like you didn't have expectations. Like you didn't start counting months on your fingers under your desk. Ouch.

I found myself in the odd space of comforting our surrogate. She was heartbroken. For us. Oh honey, this is such a minimal ounce of heartbreak compared to others. It's ok. Shhhhh. It's ok. 

We love her. Have I mentioned how much we love her?

We love her so much that we are going to give this one more go. One more shot at the title. We have just a few more little ones on ice and then this journey will be over. And we will be a family of four. Or more? Or a family of three we will be. And all of that is ok. Because we already have a tremendous, most beautiful, ever cheeky Win.

CTID.

Mornings with Moo

What? Could it be? My moo?

Much as I love our morning cuddles, there are some days that D just doesn't feel the same. Up at 5:30 ish, bottle, and come on, mommy, quit with the hugs I am ready to GO.

A few weeks ago I had the realization that there's nothing that keeps us inside and mandates a wrecked apartment on those endless mornings. Hang on a minute. Two hours to spare before work. Why aren't we outside?? Why am I not running?? Good questions!

So out came the BOB and on went the shoes and away we went. And it was awesome. In two slooooow miles, I remembered all of the reasons early morning runs rock. Misty river views. Sleepy dog walkers. Greedy groundhogs flopping out of the way. D realized that at the end of our route awaited his beloved Moo.  And that understanding made the whole sitting in the stroller listening to mommy wheeze so, so, worth it.

Behold, the Moo. 

This little gem sits along the river, right outside of our apartment. You can see it from the front window. You can catch a glimpse of it walking out the front door. D adores it. By adore, I mean, anytime you are with him and your body is pointing remotely in the direction of the Moo, D will start to plead and point. Mooo? Mooooooo! and is pretty crushed when its clear that's not your ultimate destination.

**

The other day, we were chilling with the Moo after a run and some lady in a bike felt the need to tell us, You know, that's NOT what a real cow looks like. And off she sped, leaving me mouth agape (and obviously still annoyed days later) and D oblivious, because, really, what matters more than the Moo? Of course we know what a real cow looks like. Do YOU, lady, understand my son's love of animals and how many we've tried to get him up close and personal with in his short life? Of course you don't. But you did feel a need to insert your holier than thou judgment-filled oh these poor city kids tinged comment as you smugly cycled to work or wherever you were going. To you, lady, I say, mooooooo. 

**

So, running. I'm attempting to get back track after a long hiatus. A mile here, a jog there, but nothing to prevent my first 2 miles out with D from feeling ugh. Despite that, after a day or two under my belt, I somehow found myself signing up for the next half marathon in my city. A little more than a month away. What? 

I think nostalgia got the best of me. My first (and only) half was ran just days after dad passed away, and done mindfully, with him and I and J guiding my way. It was the most wonderful, focused, meditation I have ever had. And I miss it. And I want it back. So, off we go. Far from  a streak, but I am coming up on a week - 7 consecutive days with at least a mile in the books. And the Moo to cheer me on. 

Look, mom, it's not HARD! Just go!

In Bloom

Calling All Philly Peeps

subtitle: Where I put myself out there way more than I usually do

So, I was really, really, really hoping this post would be the one where I announce my new job and our move to the City of Brotherly Love, which also contains a sisterhood of bloggers and former bloggers, whom I love. Still close to M's parents; closer to mom; way closer to my birth family who are itching to meet D....

Sigh.

I came this close. And didn't get it. And I've been told (because I kind of have an inside scoop) that it was neck and neck until the end....and that the fact that the other candidate lives right there right now and I do not (despite me saying outright, numerous times, that we are ready to pack our bags) was probably the tie-breaker.

Some of that makes me feel a little better. Most of it just stings.

And makes me all the more determined to make a move.

Because the search and interview process, like most things with non-profits,  lasted longer than expected, I had plenty of time to think about what life might be like in Center City, or the Main Line, or Mt. Airy, or Chestnut Hill...I think it would be awesome. So does M. D already has an honorary residence since he spent years in deep freeze there. Our little Han Solo.

Now, I love my little city, I truly do. I hype it any chance we get. You know this. We invite friends over just to show it off.  But you can only grow so much in a city with a population this size. And at the end of the day, even though we've lived around the world, this is the city where M and I both grew up. We went to (rival) high school(s) here. Besides reaching our career ceilings here, as M says, "I just want to drive down a street and not know every single thing that I'm going to see on it."

Yes. That.

And this is where I ask for your help:

If you happen to live in the Philadelphia area, and if you happen to hear of an executive opportunity (wheelhouse: associations, nonprofits, communications, govt relations) can you give me a shout? Of course, I'm looking in all the usual places (LinkedIn, ASAE, Nonprofit Times, all that) but I'd love to have some eyes and ears on the ground.

In the meantime, M and I have both been taking a new approach to our current jobs - "go with your gut, because you might quit tomorrow." I can't speak for M, but I think my work product has actually improved because of this new philosophy. I know my evenings and weekends have. Here's a glimpse of what went down last weekend (this is for you, S!):

Before (I made this! And yes, it is vegan.)

During

After (complete with favorite horsey. Neigh!!)