Hello April. Like Marcel, this blog is in it’s fourth year. That’s fun. It celebrated it’s birthday on February 1st, completely unnoticed by me. A few days ago I had the opportunity to talk about my blog in a little informational with a friend of friend who was considering her own forays into this self publishing internet world. I was remembering my first post, a reprint of a story I had successfully published in a newsletter for single mothers choosing parenthood through adoption, or reproductive assisted methods. I was telling her how it felt to have my first unknown reader leave a comment (euphoric) and what it feels like today when too many days have passed between posts (painful, constricting). Most of all, I shared how writing this blog allowed and continues to allow me to make connections as a parent, a parent in the hue, an adoptive parent, and as a writer, that not blogging would never have afforded me.
Every time I post, I feel that I am re-opening a sacred portal that travels to shared hearts and minds across the ether for a brief moment of palpable connection. A connection I crave, celebrate, and cherish.
Shrek and I did not hold hands on the beach washed in romantic rays of loving soleil gazing into the deep blues of each others eyes while on vacation last week. In fact it felt quite the opposite on a few occasions. We travel really well together actually. We do logistics beautifully. Days unfolded with a sweet balance of what the boys would like, what I needed, and what Shrek wanted to do too. When I was grieving deeply after walking across the city to my godfather’s old apartment-to be absolutely certain he really had died four years ago and wasn’t going to suddenly emerge somehow-Shrek held me as I sobbed. My dear friend Sam, her children, her parents and everyone else who met him, all fell madly and easily in love with him and with the idea of us–all four of us. Continue reading “Shadow selves, relationship woes, and the power of four”→
The workshop that I presented; “I can talk about race in the classroom” was by all accounts a big success today. The post workshop reflections were 95% positive–which says as much about the audience as the presenter really. The educators were open, willing, and very present! I was prepared, passionate, and speaking from a place of truth. That is always a great combination. I’ll try to write more about the experience, and the work, when time allows. But the suitcases are trumping the keyboard here. Continue reading “On workshops, suitcases, and holding on”→
I am in a relationship with an amazingly generous, gentle, funny, socially conscious, caring, reliable and goofy man. He is pictured above. He wore that mask to meet me on a playground and be able to hug me in public. I said I wouldn’t hug in front of my students. I was being weird. He was being funny.OK, so the mask might seem weird to you. To me it was magic. It was about meeting somewhere in the middle, and laughing along the way. Continue reading “Mama C and the Boys +1. Single mama dating found her Shrek (in a pink boa)”→
There is a whole lot of wintery love happening over in Mama C ville. We love snow days. We love pancakes with lots of maple syrup. We love making music. We love each other. We’re in a sweet place. It’s moments like these in all their rare splendor that I am most inclined to ask–so what is working? What am I doing differently? Or more of? Or less of? How do I keep it going?
I owe a lot of this moment to an interaction I had recently with my dear friend Samantha that helped me to have a rather significant breakthrough in my relational life: Being critical is so easy. Loving someone with an open heart-in spite of them being human, full of faults & so imperfect for us-that is the real work of life. The real opening and realization of mature love. Not easy. So worth it. And the true nature in all of us.
For any number of reasons that quote allowed me to experience this dramatic shift in my relational practice recently. It is practice isn’t it? Periods of gentle ease and balance were almost always being followed by extreme periods dominated by a hyper critical voice that kept going into dissect mode. Nothing was good enough for me, the apparent Queen of the World. Once in this mode, it is VERY hard for me to interrupt it on my own. The way the other person tilts their head can send me. Yes, it’s that bad.
This is a practice I don’t fall into with my friends. Why is it my fall back in relationship I wonder. (No, I am not asking for analysis here. My therapist is paid for that thanks.) I am just doing what I do best–sharing with you the process. Somehow that little quote gave me permission to step WAY BACK and STOP. To believe in the divine kindness and caring in front of me, and embrace it, tilted head and all. Talk about a shift.
Another ah-ha for me was the extent that I am also hyper critical with my kids in certain scenarios-like when I think their behavior is somehow a reflection of me? Maybe I’m reaching here–but when I just look at their behavior as a reflection of who they are–I find I have 50,000 times more patience. She also reminded me how true this is about how we are with ourselves. That seems like another blog post entirely!
Did you like how I just jumped right over the relationship paragraph and went right back into parenting? Slick huh? Is Mama C dating? How long has that been going on? Who? What about the kids? How does that all factor in? All great questions, that I have no intention of addressing here at this time. (Was the emphasis on the here, or the at this time in that sentence?) Stay tuned. That’s all I choose to say right now. OK, I will tell you that I did not have to dig my car out of the driveway the other morning, and my kids were off tubing so that I could have uninterrupted time to write this post, and then go run some errands and work out. Beginning to see why some of you partnered folks seem to have a little more time on your hands to blog on occasion?
My workshop-I can talk about race (in the classroom)-was postponed until next month–due to snow. I was so disappointed. But apparently the universe wanted more time to get the word out on this one? As if 75 folks wasn’t enough! I was feeling so pumped up and ready for it too. (That’ll teach me to be on top of things! ) Then last night, I was contacted by a national organization, and asked if I would present the workshop in March to members in Maine. Apparently word travels fast. I woke up this morning thinking it might be time to begin a new blog. One devoted to my professional work on it’s own?
The all encompassing end of year post boils down to this: what were the good, not so good, or well informed, hasty choices I made this year. I spend so much time saying these words; “is that a good choice, or a not so good choice…” that I’ve come to see my entire world through this lens.
Best choice I made around my children: to reveal as much truth as I was able to around Marcel’s story. Where I held fear, tension, and constant guard around “the story” is now a cleaned out room in my conscience. Marcel shows a picture of his donor, Tree, to everyone he thinks of. His story is back where it belongs, in the world. Ease.
Most conflicted choice I finally had to stop making: To date. I managed it, or we managed it for about three months. Then my ability to balance the good and hard work of being in relationship became too much for me to manage well. The joy was tremendous. The amount of time I spent torn between being present enough for me, the kids, and the relationship simultaneously became the deal breaker. That I never wrote about it here, should tell you just how hard it was for me to integrate the “dating me” into the larger picture. Do I believe it is important to pursue that part of me? Absolutely. Do I believe I am ready to do that now? Um. Can’t say. Continue reading “Choices 2010: the good, the bad and the huh-gly?”→
One of my besties is getting married very soon. Here’s a preview of the ring bearer’s attire. If you want to know what is really going through my head about being the only single mother at the wedding hop on over to MomsofHue and wallow with me for a spell. Then leave some wise words about how you handle your own moments of self indulgent sorrow. I am moving through it by the way. I write to move. So don’t worry.
I have a blind date today. My first of the season. We’re meeting on a bench in town. He is bringing the iced coffee drink, I am bringing the mild anticipation. We have twenty minutes. Leave ’em wanting more, or be able to flee when you have all the data you need! He’s got a smile that goes on for days and claims a touch of the poet. He’s also thirteen years my senior. We’ll see. I don’t know if I’ll be a sip and tell kind of woman or not! Depends how much I like him!