Roots

Had several interesting conversations last night in my quest to talk to people I trust about what to do. When I pray for guidance, God has this uncanny way of being really obvious with me - I mentioned in passing to a friend that I was not sure what to do and that I was considering taking a job somewhere else that would pay better and give us a new start. She looked stricken - and she said - you'd better really think about that - your kids have roots here, they like it here and it would be a shame to move them again. Well, it was not really a solicited comment, but I think she summed it up for me. The consensus was that we stay where we have been planted.

It was no accident that we ended up here - I just happened to be home the week they were interviewing for the job I have. I had to come home for the funeral of a friend, and the day before I left, they called asking if they could fly me in for an interview. Then my folks found a house with less than 48 hours before we were going to head back to Indiana. No accidents there. We are friends again with a family I went to high school with - we are only an hour away from 4 of my aunts and uncles and less than that to get to my folks and one of my best friends. There have been a lot of great memories here over the last three years.

Most importantly, I have promises to keep -I promised Jerra she would finish out her schooling here, Joshua has become so well liked and well adjusted at the school, it would be a shame to move him, and Jacob has regular visitation with his dad and teachers who really like him. I also promised my dad - not an out loud promise, but the unspoken kind - that I would keep the kids accessible and let him be a good grandpa. They get to go to the lake house, they get to see my folks and most importantly, they have established ties here and it feels like home.

When I moved out to Arizona, it started as a nagging sense that something was missing. It took me six months from the inception of the idea to actually move. It was the best thing I have ever done for our family - and we have some very dear friends because of that decision. I have prayed over this all weekend because I want to be sure that if the opportunity is pushing me to move and start a new life that I don't miss it. Even the person I thought would be a proponent of that idea, didn't encourage me to do it, so here I stay. I miss him and it is difficult knowing that during the school year trips to see one another will be few and far between.

I want to build something, establishing a foundation for what can be. I will have to do some of the planning for my new garden on my own, though I would prefer to do it in tandem. So now comes the hard part - tilling up the soil to see what is underneath and what I can plant there. Then finding the perfect spot to plant my roots and move my garden in.

Building Blocks

Over the last six months, I have watched my life change dramatically. The dream I had has vaporized, my big plans for an organic farm, working from home and playing with the kids all summer, taking the eggs and vegetables to the farmer's market - all vanished as though they never existed. It was like someone came through and knocked my Lego castle all over the floor - and now I can't find the directions so I have to start over from scratch.
Yesterday I was listening to a preacher from Atlanta, of all places. He was talking about how God blesses people who are willing to believe that He is the purveyor of miracles. He restores dreams and when He restores, He doesn't play around. For people who have lost opportunity, God will provide another, better opportunity if we have faith. For those who have missed out on riches, another chance to earn the money and be proud of earning it may come along. He described how his wife couldn't bear children and said that if she had been closed off and didn't have faith that God would restore her dream, they might have missed out on adopting their kids. Then he talked about people who hang on - even though a marriage is over - to the hope of restoration. When the moment comes that it is time to release it to God, we open ourselves to a new dream.
That really hit home. Things are in a state of flux - with big decisions about how to divide up the land and houses and what to do about my folks place - rent or sell. How much money do I ask for, do I buy another place or just find somewhere to rent? And then there is the question of work. I don't want to plan another move but all of a sudden I have gotten a couple of leads on jobs that could mean a $20,000 raise. That extra money couldn't hurt with a daughter in college. One of these would bring me closer to a person I want to spend more time with - the other further. Either way, it would mean a move to new surroundings for the kids and I don't think they are ready. And what if the decision is made that staying here is better for the kids - right now I think so - but it seems that they are so much happier when he is around. And there is the question of what we are building now. The statement has been made that there has not been enough time, but I am not sure I want to trivialize things by ignoring the signs I so plainly see. I want to rebuild my life, alone or in concert, with the kids and my farm, so I have some tough choices to make.
The whole thing begs some very difficult and cagey questions - what am I building, what do I want my life to look like - is it anything like what he wants his to look like - am I building it alone ( I don't think so) and if not should we have conversations about the direction we are taking - risking exposure - or do we continue making choices separately without really talking to one another -risking misunderstanding, or worse, going in opposing directions. Building requires a commitment to build - nothing more - but a willingness to step up to the plate and be honest and allow for input. Constrictive criticism and a clear vision of what you are building is important. This is touchy territory for me and I am struggling - but building requires some sweat equity and I am willing. I am not sure what kind of commitment I will be able to give, my wounds are still pretty fresh - but I know I can commit to the desire to be together as long as he is willing - to be together in the same zip code as often as we can manage it. To be open to hope. I want to lay the foundation for something wonderful, to believe that God will restore my dreams in a way so beautiful, I wouldn't have dared dream it could be true. Time will tell how it all turns out, but in the meantime, I want to come up with a blueprint and start rebuilding my nest. Decisions need to be made by morning, and the prayers for guidance start now.

Swirls on the ceiling

When I am stressed, I work - manically I think, but I work. If things are not going well, my house is clean, my garden is recently weeded, and little projects are all done. For the last couple of months, I have been working myself most of the time like a borrowed dog.

Last night, in addition to working my full time job, adopting puppies and knocking out a sink full of dishes, I had to re-spackle the ceiling in the bathroom. The ceiling was showing signs of the inattention one sees in a house that has been rented and not loved for some time. The house we are staying in will probably not be ours after all the legal stuff is final. Josh asked why I would even want to do anything to that house - why paint and fix pipes and caulk the tub. Seemed futile to him.

Making a house into a home for your family is really important. So what if we stay there two weeks or two years, I want the house to look good for them - to feel like a place they can come to rest and be themselves. There is often a load or two of laundry to be folded or dishes in the sink - but overall, the house is put together. Pictures are hung and comfort things are placed where we can see them. New paint gives the place a clean feel - the caulk prevented more water damage and made the tub look cleaner, the KILZ on the bathroom ceiling and walls took care of a mildew problem someone should have addressed years ago, and the pipe in the basement has been draining water from the tub and the washing machine into the basement for Lord only knows how long. Needs to be fixed, so I fix it.

I don't really care who benefits from it later - I want the kids to be able to benefit from it now. Don't think I have to worry about Better Homes and Gardens stopping by to take pictures. For now, we are blooming where we are planted - even if it is borrowed soil.

Addicted to Mothering

I have an addiction. I am addicted to watching things grow - babies, flowers, ducklings, froglets, and most of all puppies. I have to grow things - it is a healthier outlet than mothering cruel men. It is in growing things and vesting time in the lives of others that I have received more than I have given - a change of heart, a way-to-soft-crying-at-commercials kind of heart that I wouldn't trade even when it hurts.

At one time in Arizona we had 16 dog/puppies. Most of them were rescues, little souls we found while driving in Gallup or Chinle. Others found their way into my yard and just stayed. We got pretty good at worming and giving shots, so the vet bills were at a minimum unless there was a serious problem. And we lost a couple rescue pups to distemper and parvo - when the disease took them before they got to our house. Most of the puppies stayed until they got fat and glossy - then they found a new home, a couple went to Durango to a no-kill facility, but mostly, they found homes.

The past couple of months have really been about restoration for the kids and I. Getting back into a normal rhythm, feeling safe, relaxing into a state where we can be loving and not defensive. I think Jerra is struggling the most, particularly because she protests so much about being fine. She approached me yesterday with $50 of her own money and asked if she could get a puppy from the Humane Society. She has been going every day after school to the Humane Society - something we have done forever, just to look at the animals and snuggle up to the puppies. But we haven't done it over the last two years because of the Ogre.

We just got a puppy in May, she is wonderful but she is much more interested in tormenting our other dogs than loving on the kids. I agreed to go with her and look. Jerra has learned that the right look will melt me pretty quickly, but I walked in and the puppy she originally picked out didn't steal my heart. I thought I was home free. Unfortunately, there was a momma with two puppies left - she is a dalmation cross with lots of freckles who ended up at the Humane Society because she ate the neighbor's goats. The pups are beautiful - two little girls with soft white fur, one with black dots and dapples, the other with chocolate spots and dapples, making her look like a Springer spaniel. Jerra and I were holding them - never a good idea - and the fateful moment came. The Director came out and said it would be a shame to separate them, and that we could take them both. So we did.

This morning I awoke to a wee beesom chewing on my toes - then promptly peeing in my bed.

Was it worth it? Am I a push over? Yes. When it comes to little creatures and giving the kids something to love safely, I am all over it. The three kids curled up on the couch last night, babies in arms. Josh was on all fours having the pups chase him around and Jacob even climbed in bed with me this morning just to curl up with the puppies. Dogs have unconditional love - if you are having a bad day, if you lose your job, if you need a shower - they love you anyway. Jerra sounded more like herself last night - let the destruction of all my shoes begin!

What Just Happened?

Took the kids to Atlanta this weekend. It was one thing that I was in love with him - quite another that all three kids had such a great time that they didn't want to leave. From the moment we pulled into the parking lot - following him to the hotel, the kids were entranced. Each of the kids sees a part of themselves in him. He held the doors, carried my bags, brought cokes for the kids, called to check our progress on the road, led me around town with at least one kid in the Jeep, held my hand when no one was looking, tolerated splashing boys in the pool, let me spend time with Chris, Mel and Matthew again, and played with the kids, and even left to go home at 2 in the morning, so that the kids wouldn't be freaked out by him being there when they woke up. Over and over again he was kind to me - and kind to them, melting all of those barriers we have built up over the years.

A part of me is concerned that I may have made a mistake - what if he changes his mind - or decides there is no way to bridge the distance between where our lives are - what if the implied promises are not clear or we are not making the same ones - what if he never falls in love with me and this intense "thing" is all the more there ever is? That part of me is concerned, I don't want to do anything to hurt the kids ever again - and they really loved being with him - talked about it for about six hours in the car, laughing at things that were said, talking about how great it was being with him, and talking about the places we went. The most odd part of the discussion on the way home is how it seems so comfortable being with him - even though there are dozens of reasons why we shouldn't be ready, why we shouldn't be comfortable. It is too soon -he is too young - he is too far away - we all got hurt so badly last time - he isn't Catholic - he isn't even sure if he is in love with me - or if he will ever be. And none of that matters.

From that list, the conversation switched to how many things the kids want to do with him when he comes to see us. They had enough places to show him that it would take a year. There are assumptions being made about where this could go - of course there are- they want him to be around all the time. The two of us haven't even talked about any of that - seems like it is too soon - but who decides what is too soon and what is waiting too long? I had two votes to move - in spite of the humidity and the heat in Atlanta. I cannot remember a weekend that was more fun - though the wedding weekend in Albq was pretty great. There were no complaints about the drive - which was nine and a half hours - something that usually garners at least a little whining.

While I am happy from the wonderful weekend we had together, my heart is heavy with the realization that we are not going to get too many weekends all together - especially with the 600-mile distance. It was like having my family all together for the first time ever and having to leave someone behind -- it was just wrong. This morning there is the pervasive feeling that something is just not right - that someone is missing.

My mind just keeps repeating - what just happened? How did I get here - well I already know about the divine intervention part - God has been really busy healing up the wounds my kids have suffered. But is it possible that I finally found the person I have been waiting for - and what in the world was he doing in Atlanta - I didn't look there - geez, I wasn't looking at all. And what am I supposed to do about the fact that he is 600 miles away? I can't be in the same room without being able to touch him - being several states away is killing me. Never needed anyone like this. And today I am sad, and happy, and anxious and a little sleepy from the long drive. Reminds me of something he said - I wish I could just wake up like the character in Family Man, with my life already in progress and him there beside me.

This is a test – this is only a test…

In my mind I can hear the warning signals that interrupt radio shows the first Saturday of every month when they test the tornado system.  For the past two months, we have spent time talking about kids and about our lives, but we haven’t had them around yet. Granted, the weekend we met included the children, but they were preoccupied and we didn’t all do things together as a group.

They were hurting – mostly because the Ogre made it very clear that they were an inconvenience.  What I failed to see was that even though he kept talking about how much he loved me (which was all just verbage) he made it clear to the kids that he did not love them.  His innuendo was that they caused the problems in the marriage – truth is, he never showed up in the first place, so no marriage ever existed. Ironically, as I was looking some divorce rights up on the Internet, I discovered I had grounds to annul the marriage legally – to make it as though it never existed – sounded good to me.

There is nothing more painful than to be dependent upon someone who sees you as a burden – Harry Potter and the Dursleys comes to mind.  To spend even a week with someone like that is tough, but my kids have gone through it for almost two years.  Had I seen this, it would have stopped long ago, but the Ogre is talented in deception, so I chalked a lot up to growing pains for a blended family.  Big oops there.

Most of the time in childhood is a critical time.  As the mom, I have been deeply concerned that the kids would be scarred because they have not seen what a healthy relationship looks like.  Last time I dated before this, Josh was 5 and Jerra was only 9.  That is a long time. We have spent a lot of weekends running away – to the lake, to the movies, to Indy – just anywhere that the kids and I could be a family without the Ogre.  At least through all of this they knew that I loved them – because I show up.

Then you came along.  Jake liked you right off – I still think it was the flamingo shirt – but he is a pretty good judge of character. I couldn’t get Jerra to move, she liked you too. It is amazing to me that the kids are even open to the idea of seeing you. I was afraid maybe they were damaged for life.   I think it is because you are like me in that you listen to them when they want to talk to you on the phone. My good friends do that, it helps the kids feel valued.

So this week was the true testament to the healing that has gone on in my house.  Jerra got on the phone and asked if we could come see you.  Didn’t check with me first, just got on and asked. No way was I going to turn down the chance, but I wasn’t sure if the boys would buy into coming to see you. Josh didn’t even hesitate.  Neither did Jacob – though he did ask that the PS2 be available for the drive.

It is amazing that their hearts are still open, that they are willing to like you, and willing to give you a chance even though their recent experience with my love life was INCREDIBLY BAD.  This weekend is a test for all of us – or maybe just a testament to what happens if you keep the faith.

Three kids, single man, 600 miles, a pool, a museum, humidity and farm animals – sounds like the formula for either a great weekend or a horror film.

Peking Duck and Babies - Part 1

Almost a year and a half ago, we went out for Chinese food and then had to stop by the farm store on the way home for a tractor part.  When we walked through the door - there was this wondrous cheeping sound coming from the black troughs near the door.  When we looked inside, Jerra and I fell in love.  There were so many little ducklings - a tub of yellow ones, a tub of yellow and black ones and then four tubs of multi-colored chicks.  We spent several moments and then hatched a plan to take them home.  We have 5 acres, we could use the ducks to help eat the grubs in the lawn and keep down the bugs in my garden.  It is a great selling point, but really wasn't the reason for the ducks.  They were adorable, and the sweet little pink beaks just begged to be taken home.  After some eye-lash batting and carefully placed requests, we took three home in a box.  It was great - they followed us everywhere.

Unfortunately, as they got bigger, they needed more and more attention.  This came at a very inopportune time for the family as our new addition was deciding a wife and kids was not what he bargained for - so some of the joy was sucked right out of the house each time he complained about the noise from the precious little ones.  Finally, at his insistence, the ducks were put in a pen outside.  The first night, a fox came in and took the female away.  I was demolished - and determined to replace her - so I did a little research.

The males I had are Rouens - they look like wild mallard ducks, but don't fly more than a couple of feet. I called a couple of hatcheries to ask about getting baby girl ducks.  One woman was hesitant to give me any babies because she was afraid the males I had would be sex crazed - what an image, sex-crazed ducks.  Weird. The female Rouens are pretty good egg layers, but Indian Runners are the most prolific - so if I was going to go into business, I needed some girls who were prolific.  If you are allergic to chicken eggs, the duck eggs are a good substitute.  I found some online for sale upwards of $40 for a dozen and a half.  These ducks would be "free range" because I feed them corn, but the majority of their diet is the alfalfa and wild grasses and bugs that live in the yard.  I don't use pesticides...So a thought occurred to me.  I talked to the local health food store and they were interested in buying duck eggs provided I could verify they were organically raised.  No problem there.   They were also interested in any excess from my garden - which in the rich soil from the flood plane, is always producing in excess.

Coming soon - part two, Ducks in a Box

How I feel with Apologies to James Joyce

What is it about you that entrances me? The sweet smell of your skin, the taste of that small hollow at the base of your throat – I can just see it peeking out from your collar in the pictures from the wedding - beckoning me to come and play again. All around this spiritual love I have for you there is also a wild craving for every inch of your body, for the feel of you in my hands, for knowledge of every secret part, for understanding how each inch of you reacts when you are happy, when you are tired, when you are comforted. My body remembers you, at a primal level that is more about feeling safe than recently satisfied when I am with you. I have to laugh, when you worry that I might forget how you feel – I am more worried that I can’t stop remembering.

But is it really just the physicallity of you that has captured me, with tethers that have allowed me free movement? Physical needs alone would feel familiar. I know how to handle infatuation - the condition of lonely deception that encourages people to pair even though it is not real. I know how to feel when it is just about sex, but this is much more intimate. I feel both intrigued and vulnerable – like I have rolled onto my back in submission, exposing my jugular vein to you. Even in talking about corporal intimacies, there is a deeper connection that makes it sacred rather than profane. Things I would never discuss over the phone have flowed from me as repeatedly I choose to say what I really think, sometimes surprising myself.

It is your thoughts that make me hunger for more. If I could never touch you again, I would still need to hear your voice. The things you feel passionately about, the machinations that hold your interest, the verbal sparring and quick wit that make me come back for more. I have a thousand excuses not to believe this is real, and who would blame either of us since we have already endured so much. None of those excuses stops me from wanting to talk to you hours on end just to see what you might say. Exploring what you think since I cannot explore how you feel. I close my eyes most of the time, just basking in the sound of your words on my ears. And they touch me when you cannot, my body warm with thoughts of laying in your arms, breathing you in. I love that as the night wears on, I can hear the change in the cadence and tone of your voice as you look at the time and realize I am up way too late. Your words become softer, the sound deeper, like a song I recognize but can’t quite remember.

Enough

I want to be enough
For years I have not been
Good enough
Pretty enough
Thin enough
Proper enough

I have not been the vision
Of the daughter my mother
Thought she was getting
That hot July day
When they picked me up
And brought me home

Sweltering in the heat,
Laying on her lap
I have the odd memory
Of the aqua carpet in the car
As I rode to my new home
My real home, real parents

I have come to accept
That I will never be short
That I am not often quiet
That my hips are broad
That my hands are big
That proper doesn’t fit for me

Being proper and meeting
The expectations of others
Feels like trying to breathe
Through Saran wrap
Hot, sticky, suffocating
Not making anyone happier

I need the mud on bare feet
The garden in my hands
Flowers in my yard
Fruit trees blooming and
Birthing the juicy bits
That make up a life really lived

I need a houseful of people
Laughter, arguing, joy
In the day to day battles
Of a family of unique people
Making a difference one day
Making a mess another

I need to be enough for you
I need to be the best thing
That ever happened to you
Instead of a substitute
Filling up the lonely places
I need to be what you were looking for
But didn’t know you needed

I Used to Be That Girl

I sorted through pictures
Intending to put my life
In order before you
To allow you to see the
Brilliant blue of Jacob’s eyes
The charming curls in Joshua’s hair
And the disarming smile
Jerra has had since her first days

As I sorted, I realized how much
I have changed over this time.
I saw pictures at 18, when my body
Was young, and my waist was small
But my instinct was weak
And I allowed myself to be manipulated
Basing what I felt on the opinions of others

Looking back now, I see the dress size
And I know that outer beauty did not bring
Me the happiness I needed
Having men watch me walk, undressing me
Never knowing if it was the figure
Or the person that kept them coming back
And not knowing just fed the demons
Hungry for more destruction

When I had Jerra, I realized there was a reason
That my hands are big, and my hips are broad
Able to work long hours caring
For a house and a baby and a garden
Able to balance her little body on my hip
While cleaning up and cooking dinner
Reaching the top shelves alone
When there was no one else to help me

I moved, and moved again
Lost a job, lost a husband and still
There was a little soul to care for
My body was able to subsist on very little
Saving the money to keep her fed
And dressed and in daycare so I could
Build a better life for her- living on peanut butter

Then Joshua came, and my hips grew broader
My body was tired and now there were two
But strength of bone comes in handy
Balancing two babies who need comfort
And my lap was sufficient to read to both
As Joshua nestled his ringlets
Into my chubby arms, saying he loved them.

Jacob’s coming wracked my body
The stretch marks on my belly bearing
Eternal testament to his ten and a half pound body
The skin is pearly now, but I see the marks
Fondly and remember his blue eyes and dark hair
Shoulders the size of Montana,
On the day he came quietly, trying to breathe

Do I miss the figure of the girl in those pictures?
Only when I think I would like to be
That shape for my love, a comely girl again
But then my heart would be lacking -
I would have missed out on nursing babies
Late into the night, watching the little mouth
Go slack with satiety and sleep

And I know I would not be the same soul
Without the trauma to my body that
Comes only with nourishing another life
Loving another person so much that
You give your own body, your sleep, your time
Your food, your money, and all your energy
My body is not as I’d like, but it is well with my soul

If I had been a small woman, how much
More difficult the task of parenting alone?
My muscles have enabled me to move, lift
To put in the piers every summer
And till the garden under every fall
To carry 50 pounds of dog food
Or a sleepy 90 pound child

I used to be that girl, and inside
Somewhere is the same beauty I see in
The pictures.  But now I look at my kids and
See it, instead of gazing at myself
For what is a better reflection of the
Mother than the charm and beauty of herChildren, gathered up in her arms.