Truthy Tuesday, Changes

Another episode in over thinking it.  This week I wanted to analyze how different KidMakes’ childhood is from my own, sociologically and emotionally.

When I think of my own childhood, I remember pain and turmoil and sadness.  I know that’s not all there was, but that’s what stands out in my memories.   My mom had a breakdown when I was 7, which led to a diagnosis of Manic Depression, now commonly referred to as Bi-Polar Disorder.

I remember that day.  She was talking about how we couldn’t go outside to pick my brother up from tennis lessons because the world was going to end, and it was her fault.

I convinced her to get into the car and drive the mile or so to pick him up (not the safest thing, from my adult POV).  He had started walking home and was pissed until he got a look at my face.

Since that day, I have felt the need to protect my mother.  I think that day my childhood ended.

My child will be 7 in a couple of months.  This is bringing up some…stuff…for me.  To manage my anxiety around this, I used this post to show myself how different her life as a child is from how mine was, and in turn how different my life is now compared to my mom’s in 1985.

(Mother’s Day also brings up stuff for me, so there’s that as well…)

Recipie for Making Love

Seven Eight years ago today I vowed to never stop laughing, never stop learning, to look for the good in every situation, to love PapaMakes for the rest of my days and show him how much I love him every time I see him.

Loss

I don’t think anything is easy in life and I don’t think anything ever was. I think it gets more difficult as you get older because you’re facing the end and endings are, as I talk about in my book, unbearable. Loss is tragic. Our lives are basically about facing that tragedy. And I think the sooner we face that we’re going to die, the easier it is to appreciate the moments in life, to enjoy for instance sitting here and looking at the sunlight coming through those curtains. When we realize that our lives will end, we take less for granted. That is what I’ve learned from loss. The whole thing is a fantastic mystery so all we can do is appreciate each moment.

- Diane Keaton, from her interview in the Huffington Post

Lately

The Makes family is dealing with a bit of adversity in the new year. Our downstairs neighbors are quite noisy. Our bedroom is right on top of their living room, and we can hear loud movies, thumping music, slamming doors and laughter.  Often well into the night.

We are working with management to try to get them to quiet down, but after two notices in two weeks, I notice no change. In fact, it seems like they are even louder now.
So we’re going to have to move.
Again.
I did not want my daughter’s childhood to involve moving 4 times before her 7th birthday. I know I’ve read that children need stability, blah blah blah.
Kid Makes is excited to move. She enjoys it! She likes having a new place, and being able to visit the old place.
I must admit, I am also excited about possibly renting a house. With a backyard. And no shared walls with neighbors!
I look forward to planning a kid room that is functional and easy to clean (pipe dream, I know). I am looking forward to doing the same for my ultimate craft room.
And perhaps a kitchen that is bigger than a postage stamp for Papa.
Send us your positive vibes, dear Imaginary Readers.

How’s the new year treating you and yours?

Mistaken

I screwed up at work today, but I’m really happy with how I handled it.  After I discovered my mistake, I took immediate action to amend, then let my boss know so she wouldn’t be taken by surprise when she got to the office.

I feel such relief that I can make a mistake and then take a deep breath and deal with it honestly and without fear of shame or reproach.  It’s a blessing to work with someone who is calm and patient and understanding.

Makes up for a lot of little irritants about my job.  I work with awesome people, and we make a positive difference in the lives of dying people and  their families.

Not too bad.

Do you like your boss/job/field?

Another

One question I always face is, “When do you two plan on having another?” or some variation on this theme.  Not the most appropriate question, but I believe the intent is usually good, so I answer.

Gratitude’s for Suckers

Hello again.  A bit of a break there, hmmm.  A little writer’s block, mixed with some family drama and a dash of vacation road-tripping.  Oh holidays, here you are again.  Yay.

OMG Yes

Reading this article about the ‘Primal Wound‘ I had one of those moments, those ‘holy crap, how did the author peek into my life to research this theory/paper/case study?’ moments.

For love to be freely accepted there must be trust, and despite the love and security our daughter has been given, she has suffered the anxiety of wondering if she would again be rejected. For her this anxiety manifested itself in typical testing-out behavior. At the same time that she tried to provoke the very rejection that she feared, there was a reaction on her part to reject before she was rejected. It seemed that allowing herself to love and be loved was too dangerous; she couldn’t trust that she would not again be abandoned.
- Adoption: The Primal Wound by Nancy Verrier, M.A.

Linkfarm – Adoptee Stories

Quantam Parenting – Hearts in Exile: A Story of Reunion by Marcy Axness, Ph.D.

It would be years yet before I came to the belief that an adoptee approaches the reunion with a birthmother on two levels—the adult searching for missing links, medical information, a face deeply familiar; and the child-in-limbo, who’s waited a lifetime to reach out again, this time not to a crushing void, but to Mommy. Not Mommy who wiped my nose and tucked me in and embarrassed me in front of friends, not the everyday Mommy of everyone’s understanding, not the psychological Mommy of whom clinicians speak. I mean the primal Mommy.

The Mommy whose abrupt absence creates spaces so huge we don’t see them as spaces, but as part of what’s so for us. Part of what is us. A reality so fundamentally different for us than for all of our friends and family as to make us strangers in a strange land, lacking even a cognitive and symbolic context through which to make sense of our alien status.