Tag Archives: Parenting

Working on Post-Pandemic Bodies

If you follow me on FB, you know that I’ve been dragging Hope on a daily walk since this past weekend. I needed to get out of the house and Hope, who generally loathes exercise, is physically the laziest person I’ve ever encountered. I’m just not wired that way, so I must make her move some during the day.

We’ve been walking between 2 and 3 miles a day. Today we are counting as a rest day since we drove down to Hope’s college to retrieve some of her things. I’m anticipating that she will not be returning other than to pack up the rest of her dorm room.

Yesterday we walked halfway across the nearby bridge which would take us to Maryland. We did make it to the middle of the bridge, which is technically DC.

Hope griped just a little so I DJ’d our walk with my Spotify playlist. We were jamming and the few other walkers and bikers noted how much fun we were having!

Enjoy a few of our highlights!

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Yeah, we’re total hams. It’s keeping us sane and progressing towards post-pandemic/summer bodies! Shout out to all the parents who are struggling during the closures with kids 24/7. I know you love them and that you love the family time. I also know that all that together time can be…challenging! Pro-tip: DJ some of your activities. I promise it will be more fun and more productive!


Life in the Bubble

So, there’s this pandemic.

Holy ish, there’s an effing pandemic!

Ok, so as folks know, we are supposed to be social distancing in hopes of preventing the wildfire spread of COVID-19. The virus was first discovered in China, and despite the country putting folks on lock down weeks ago, the leadership of my country just waved it away. Seemingly no one told the folks in charge that every nasty thing in the world can be at your doorstep in a matter of hours.

So here we are. Schools are shuttering. Colleges are closing and some are kicking students off campus. Small business are struggling and the stock market? Dumpster fire. The latest guidance is don’t even be around more than 10 people at a time.

For those of y’all with big immediate families…well, dang!

Hope has been home from college for a little over a week. She will be here at least two more weeks, though my gut tells me that we will only be going back to clean out her dorm. Her classes are moving online; though one is stagecraft (which she got into last year at school), and I dunno how that’s going to transition. Whatever.

I didn’t initially panic shop. I bought a few extra groceries; after all Hope was home. I reasoned well, I have a few rolls of toilet paper and I’ve got a bidet in my bathroom, we’re good.

Then last Friday, Hope grabbed the last roll of toilet paper, and for those of you who have had the blessing of living with a teenage girl, you know that being down to the last roll of TP on a regular, degular day constitutes a household crisis. So, here we are on DAY 1 of social distancing, and I’m in a full scale panic trying to find TP for sale anywhere nearby. (Shout out to the Target app for accurately telling me what each store had in stock!).

The TP run to Target at opening turned into a panic shopping spree.

A few hundred dollars and a few stores later, I had enough food and coffee to last us a week. I had a new French press, some unnecessary makeup and several pints of low cal ice cream. Later that evening I had to resist the urge to do a run to the local wing place for takeout. Then on Saturday, DAY 3 of social distancing, and I panic scoot into DC buy some herbal medicinal products because I don’t know how long this distancing thing will last and I am not emotionally or hormonally equipped to deal with being home-bound long term, never mind any BS fantasies about such I might have previously uttered.

By DAY 4, Hope’s capacity for levels of lazy not yet seen with the human eye had already irritated me such that I declare that we will take a walk everyday of this distancing thing. There was a reaction.

giphy

via Giphy

And then we went walking. I ignored the incessant whining and gnashing of teeth. We walked 3 miles that day. We walked about 2.7 miles yesterday and another 2 today.

There was a brief moment when Hope attempted to bargain about walk length and frequency. I told her that her bargaining position was weak and reasserted that this is a benevolent monarchy with me the head chick in charge. We were walking daily. Length and time dictated by me.

Yappy is delighted to have his pack all together. Positively over the moon. He’s easy. I did panic shop for him as well. I was low on food and well, don’t we all need new toys and extra treats in times such as these?

I’m enjoying my time with Hope. She has matured a little (seriously it’s only a little but it is noticeable); her vocabulary is improving. She was telling me her thoughts on the movie Parasite, and I listened intently as she shared a pretty sophisticated and layered critique of the movie (she thinks its overrated by the way—by both Asian and American movie standards). She’s still as goofy as ever, but she is way cooler to be around these days. Honestly, she’s content to spend some time with me and retreat to her room, her space, her things. Life with her is different now.

Like everyone else, we are in this bubble. We’re kinda away from the world and kinda not. We video chat family daily. I do fret and fuss over my parents, who both have compromised immune systems. I get to turn off the alarms on my phone. I’m still productive. I’m cooking. There’s still laundry, and until this afternoon, I was working from home. For the next week, I’ll be a slug who walks a few miles a day with her daughter. Hardly anyone is out. We walked during what is normally rush hour; we might’ve seen 100 cars while we were out. Not much traffic at all. I’ve been curating my Netflix queue, knowing I’ll probably just rotate through my usual favorite shows on network TV.

In some ways, this time is reminiscent of the first few weeks home with Hope. I was off on family leave to focus on her (and my) adjustment to this family life. We were in the same home, but gosh the tension, the nervous anxiety, the fear that it wasn’t going to work out, the all out fear about everything. It was exciting and terrifying. Yet, it was us and a dog (The Furry One) just like now. Only now, we are calm. We talk and it’s meaningful but mostly boring. We snuggle on the couch and bicker about what to watch on TV. There’s still a dog, a younger pooch with a big personality and a deep affection for his pack of people. It’s something to reflect on those months in light of our current situation. What we have now is what I dreamed that those months back then would be. It was a silly and misinformed dream back then; there’s a lot of work, living, learning and growing that got us here.

The boredom we experience now is what we always dreamed of…to just be a regular family.

That’s cool.

So far, life in the bubble is thought provoking and a bit of a dream—once I got over the momentary panic.

Sending you all lots of positive energy and good handwashing skills.


Unlearning Things

Fall used to be my busiest time of the year, but these days have me gallivanting all over the place all dang year.

And you know what?

It is exhausting!

I haven’t been on this kind of grind in nearly 10 years, and I definitively know that I did not miss this pace. And did I mention I’m 10 years older now? I mean, I’m still fly, but it’s still a whole arse decade!

Anyhoo, I’m launching into a month of travel with a legit vacation wedged in there around week 3. #costarica

Because of this grueling schedule, I’m suffering from some major writer’s block, aka “productivity exhaustion.”

So, all of that to say, I’m using some writer’s prompts to help me keep writing through the layovers.

This post is about the things I had to unlearn on my parenting journey with Hope.

There were a lot of things I had to “unlearn.”

Like a lot.

A lot a lot.

Ok, here are the top 3 things I had to unlearn.

I had to unlearn my existing identity when I became a parent.

When I began my adoption journey, I was single and not even dating, about to be 40, entering my dissertation year, and about 6 months past one of the most serious health crises in my life. Up until those few months prior, I had focused primarily on my career. I enjoyed brunching with friends. I didn’t particularly enjoy dating, but I did enjoy the notion of finding my person. I had been traveling for a number of years, but still not yet to the real adventures I wanted to take on.

Life was good, but of course, something was missing.

Once I was parenting Hope, I learned quickly just how hard the self-sacrifice that parenting required was on one’s identity. Initially, it was like my life shrunk instead of expanded and I had no idea how to handle that.

I’m a contrarian by nature, and seriously sometimes I say no just because. No reason,  no rationale, for no possible reason that could make sense. There are times when saying no is so clearly not in my interest and I cannot stop myself from declining. I’ve been this way since I can remember.

This made sharing my life so stinking hard at first. I wanted Hope here, but having someone in the house after living alone for so long was super hard.

I am an overachiever. I constantly felt like a failure while parenting Hope. Initially it was when I inadvertently triggered her. Or when I felt like I made the wrong decision for her wellbeing. I thought I would make life worse for her.

I had to get to a place of really letting the old me go and rising up as something new. It was hard, but I think I finally got the hang of it. Now I’m realizing that I’m struggling to reintegrate my old identity and elements of what’s on the horizon.

I’m back into work hardcore in ways I wasn’t in recent years. It feels different. I’m reassessing what it means to have a kid in college and what does the next chapter looks like.

I’ll be 50 in a few years, and that’s a big year. I’m not immediately sure what’s on or in that horizon. It’s like I don’t even have a 5-year plan right now. I know I’ll still be working, quite probably at the same organization. I’ll be wondering what’s up with Hope. I don’t know academically or professionally what she might be doing. No idea. I don’t have a plan, but I probably should.

So now I’m learning that I’ve got to recreate myself again, somehow. I thought evolution was more linear, clearly, it’s not.

I had to unlearn my preexisting ideas about parenting.

I have loving parents who worked very hard to raise me and my sisters. I definitely do not always agree with them on many things, but I thought that they were a good parenting model.

The problem was that my parents created 3 overachieving, highly intrinsically motivated, bright, curious, minimally rebellious during the teen years women.

This meant that our standards are absurdly, and as many therapists have told me, sometimes unachievably high. We’ve surrounded ourselves with similar folks. Our friend circles are populated by some super cool, wicked smart and highly successful folks.

Hope came to me performing well in school. She’s bright. I marveled at how she had managed to endure her past and still make such good grades. I thought, “awesome, she’s bright and will continue to slay at school!”

But then the neurocognitive issues really emerged, and depression, anxiety, and PTSD all pushed their way to the front and center stage in her life.

Grades plummeted. Self-esteem plummeted.

I was flummoxed. It took me a while to figure things out, get the proper diagnoses and advocate for her. And yet with each grade…each one, I realized that nothing I was doing was actually resulting in improved academic performance.

Hope felt awful. There were definitely times when I didn’t appreciate her depression around this like I do now.

As for me, I felt disappointed on multiple levels. Why couldn’t I get Hope to do her work and do it well? I felt shame because I run with a crew who shares my love of high standards, so *of course,* they routinely asked how Hope was doing in school. I felt frustrated and low key mad all the time. Why couldn’t I fix this? Why didn’t she try harder?  Doesn’t she know what’s on the line here?

I had to unlearn all the scripts about what achievement looks like in childrearing. More than not, the achievement is raising a child who feels safe and confident. Sure, I tried to provide that for my daughter, but what that looks nothing like what I thought it would.

I knew it would be hard, but I thought it would be easier. Not looking for any credit or criticism; I thought my logical outlook would get me through parenting. Ha!

As I’ve unlearned my preconceived notions of parenting; I’d learned that there is nothing logical about 90% of parenting.

It is all magic though.

I had to unlearn a bunch of stuff I thought I knew about loss.

I realized through parenting Hope, that I needed to recalibrate how I thought about loss. I don’t mean to suggest that there’s a loss Olympics—there isn’t. Folks feel what they feel.

I definitely have had my struggles over the course of these 47 years. But real talk; the losses I’ve endured and the hurts I’ve survived though deeply impactful to me are radically different than what my daughter has experienced.

I thought I new loss and grief. I thought I understood the emotional burden therein. I thought I got it.

I wasn’t even close to getting it.

I’m very privileged when it comes to loss in the grand scheme of things. Meanwhile, Hope can practically tell me dates of those moments in her pre-adoptive life where she felt small, out of control, grief-stricken and more. I didn’t save her from those moments. She lives with those moments daily still.

Getting over and around loss and grief is enormously challenging. Of course, folks do it all the time, but it’s hard work for many of us. I had to realize that I had a lot of impractical mythology around loss. I had to set about to unlearning that stuff and replacing it with knowledge and strategies to help Hope and me work through huge emotional stuff on this journey.

I’m grateful for the notion of “unlearning.” I’m still learning and unlearning stuff. It’s a routine with no end in sight.


More Moments of Delight

  • During my bucket list trip to Athens Hope hugged me as I cried going up the steps into the Acropolis, when we got to Mycenae and when we walked around ancient Corinth.
  • Countless therapeutic breakthroughs.
  • Hope’s first crush on a boy at school. That crush lasted way longer than it should have but gosh at the beginning it was the cutest.
  • That time I took Hope to see Bruno Mars in concert. I would seriously set body parts to see the look on her face when he stepped out on stage the first time. It was a level of joy I had never experienced.
  • The first New Year’s Eve dinner at our preferred restaurant had a waiter who catered to Hope all night. She beamed and had such a great time trying different foods and sipping her “mocktail.”
  • The first time Hope and I had a serious discussion about sex. Everyone seems to fret about talking to their kids about this topic; I remember thinking this is challenging but *we* are doing great. I remain proud of the relationship I have with Hope; it’s led to a comfort level that allows her to ask me anything, anytime, anywhere. And yes, sometimes it *can* be a little awkward, but I wouldn’t trade it.
  • The time we rode rides at Busch Gardens on a band trip. She was sad at first because her classmates dumped her. I’d just had a beer with other parents (yep, we were drankin’!) when Hope asked me to go ride with her. I was green because I had chugged my beer, but I was delighted that hanging out with Mom was the default setting.
  • Seeing Hope in her band uniform for the first time.
  • Seeing Hope in her Air Force JROTC uniform, in her dress uniform and at graduation.
  • Seeing Hope the first time she tried on a formal dress for prom. She was breathtaking. And when she tried on THE dress…I had to pull out my hanky. So very beautiful.
  • Hearing Hope tell me how much fun she’d had at prom and how much her feet hurt from her high heels.
  • When Hope told me where she wanted to go to college.
  • At graduation the moment when Hope saw her birth aunt in the aisle snapping pictures as she descended the stairs to return to her seat. The tears that flowed that day…we were a mess of emotions with lot of chatter about all the events we had to celebrate together in the coming years.
  • Dropping Hope off at college. Packing up the car, driving down, moving her in, and then preparing to drive home. I was so filled with emotion I drove a little ways away and pulled over and cried.
  • The sweet relationship that Hope and my dad have forged over popsicles. He always makes sure there are some in the house for her; if we surprise them he immediately runs to the nearest store to get some.
  • The letters that Hope has written me over the years and how they track the growth in our relationship. I pull them out sometimes and just hold them to my heart.

And yes, there are so, so many more moments of delight in mothering my dear Hope. I hope you’ve enjoyed my recounting and that you will spend some time thinking about the delightful moments you’ve had with your own families.


Moments of Delight, pt. 1

I had a long day today at the office and then headed to the other side of my county to attend an orientation for a local volunteer program. I sped through a few podcasts on the long commute to the orientation and then back to my side of the county an hour later.

I adore podcasts. I listen to them at 1.5 speed so I can run through more content. I listen to politics, history, social justice, comedy, crime, mental health, meditation, religion and story-telling podcasts. You ever need a podcast recommendation, I’m your girl.

I listened to this week’s episode of This American Life which was called The Show of Delights. Gosh I love this episode and it got me to thinking what things in my life have I thought were delightful and how will I pursue delights moving forward.

Now I could go back to still being delighted by the red, white and blue dress I had on at the age of 3. It was the year of the bicentennial and the summer dress had Betsy Ross on it and my hair had patriotic ribbons in it. It *had* to be the 4th of July, I mean really mom? It is one of my earliest memories and I delight in that memory every time it rises to my consciousness.

I could start there, but I’ll avoid boring you and focus on some of the delights I had from the beginning of my adoption journey.

  • November 2012 – when I went to an adoption conference and this agency featured this beautiful Black couple who had adopted an older child talking about their experiences. Adoption is often so White, and I remember being soooo happy to see this couple. I ended up going with that agency, with that program. The mom and I are buds now.
  • The day I dropped the agency application in the mail.
  • The day the agency sent me Hope’s profile. It was the first I had ever received. I opened it and just knew. I don’t know how I knew but I knew.
  • The day Hope and I were actually matched.
  • The moment I saw her the first time in person.
  • The day I graduated from my doctoral program and Hope was there. It was my first Mothers Day weekend.
  • The day we received her passport.
  • This time when we were in Montreal in a little French café and Hope was just adorable.
  • The time I bought unnecessary fudge at an ice cream shop on Martha’s Vineyard and paid the super cute 15 year old boy $5 to casually deliver it to Hope outside. Turns out his dad was working the counter and we both had a great laugh. Since the first visit EVERYDAY on the island, Hope insisted we get our evening cone at THIS shop because the boy was so cute. (Frfr, he was adorable, had me and Sister K wondering if he had an older brother or if his dad was similarly fine and possibly single?)
  • The time Hope participated in a teen summit in a panel talking about social justice with her BLM shirt on.
  • The time Hope was on the program at the Unitarian church we sometimes attend; she was so graceful and confident.
  • The absurdly overpriced dinner at the adorable café we had with Grammy in Switzerland; we laughed and just had fun.
  • The time Hope told the lady at the supermarket that her mom was famous. She had recently googled me for the first time and there was a lot online about the work I do IRL. She was proud and I was so touched that she was.
  • The first time she asked if she could go hang out with some friend from church. I was so happy for her and for me.

Gosh there’s so much more that I’ll have to have a part two!

What has delighted you on your own journey? Do you ever sit and just think about it?


Thoughts on Mortality & Grief

I have reached the age where it is not terribly uncommon that my peers are having strokes, heart attacks, cancer, body part replacement, and major illnesses requiring longer recovery times. I’ve also reached the age where some of us don’t make it; we succumb to our ailments.

Realizing that you are in this phase of life and that it will never subside, nay that it will actually get worse as you age, is a bit disorienting. I still see my friends through the lens of our prime. I see us as young, wandering the streets of Adams Morgan in DC on the weekends, having Jacks and cokes with a giant slice of pizza after the clubs close and before we head home to sleep it off so we can do it again the next night.

I notice our gray hairs; I wave at our children and marvel at how much they’ve grown. We all aren’t as slim as we used to be, but we’re still young at heart and fly in spirit.

Our parents are aging, even if we are in denial about our own aging process. Some of our parents are dying and leaving us behind to ponder what to do without them.

I began thinking about my own mortality right around the age of 30 when a close friend died very suddenly due to a brain aneurysm. He had just moved into a custom built home with his girlfriend. He was dead about 4 days after moving in. I was devastated. We were young. We were finally getting serious about life. Friends were marrying, having kids. I had just bought my own home a couple of years before. The loss left a huge hole in our friend group that was so hard to recover from.

Fast forward nearly 20 years and I am still thinking about mortality. The only difference is that I also think about grief so much more now. I’ve had to learn a lot about grief since becoming Hope’s mother.

I’ve learned that I think about death a lot and what it feels like to lose people you love. I’ve had wrap my head around what Hope’s grief must feel like. I still have my parents, and I think about losing them and how hard that will be. I learned that grief is hella messy. It’s like this Gordian knot of a bunch of different emotions that is so hard to untangle that it’s easier to give up and just wallow in the mess. I’ve read a lot, and I’ve talked to a lot of people as I try to understand how to work through and around grief.

I’ve learned it’s so hard.

I’ve briefly mentioned in other posts that one of my exes died last year. His death was incredibly sad for me, but it wasn’t entirely shocking. His history suggested that without intervention and a major life turn around that he would probably die young, and he did. I still struggle with his death. I harbor feelings about what might have happened if I hadn’t left him a decade ago. Could I have saved him?

I know I couldn’t have, but I still think about it. And I’m still working through it. I’m always a work in progress.

My messy feelings about that loss were compounded this weekend when I learned that Elihu, my more recent ex and love that appeared sporadically in this space, passed way this weekend. I feel like I’ve been in shock for days now. I haven’t dropped a tear; I haven’t heaved. I wish I could cry; I feel like it would help me get through this, but it’s not happened yet.

Instead I feel white hot anger.

And profound sadness.

And confusion.

And more anger.

And more sadness.

And despair.

And guilt.

And I’ve questioned whether he’s really gone.

I’ve run scenarios in my head.

I’ve tried to make sense of it.

I can’t. None of it makes sense.

I know that it is true. I know that it is real. And my heart hurts; my head hurts.

It just hurts so badly.

grief

via Pinterest

I replay the best, most glorious times in my head. I remember the pain of our separation. I remember settling into a distant friendship that I never let bloom into a full friendship because I knew reconciliation might come up and I didn’t want that. I feel regret for that distance even though I know it was probably for the best.

I replay his laugh and his deep baritone voice that spoke beautifully accented English.

And I’m just so sad and mad and a bunch of other feelings that I just can’t even name.

The grief is overwhelming.

I’m reminded of all the friends and acquaintances who have passed away in the last 5 years. The number is impressive for all the wrong reasons, and the number continues to grow. Still being here, still living this life… It makes me so grateful that I’m healthy, but it’s terrifies me that at anytime I could fall victim to my own demise. I am increasingly preoccupied by death.

I would rather be focused on living.

So, I’m trying to get myself together this week. I’ll continue to be kind to myself. I’ve contacted an attorney to update all my estate plans, and I had the morbid conversation with Hope about my final wishes. Doing these things eases the intensity of the feelings. They give me a sense of control when everything seems a little out of control.

The intensity of these feelings will pass. I will continue to experience this phenomenon though…the notification that someone else I know has left this life. I’ll go through this again. I don’t like the notion of getting used to it, but I know that there will be some level of acceptance that comes. Acceptance allows the feelings to wash over me without drowning me. I see that with my parents, and I saw it with my grandparents.

I didn’t anticipate contemplating acceptance of mortality without fear at this point in my life, but here we are.

I’m grateful to my daughter for being so kind to me the last few days. Hope is incredibly empathetic on most days, but I know of all the people in my life that she gets this. She sees my grief. She reminds me that life goes on. She says the things I’ve said to her over the last 6 years. It’s a great comfort to me. It also is confirmation that maybe, just maybe I helped her with her grief.

I’m hopeful that like her, I can somehow integrate this grief in ways that allow me to keep moving forward.

Time will tell.


Eager Anticipation

I’m eagerly anticipating the return of the empty nest.

Don’t get me wrong. It has been wonderful having Hope home for the holidays.  We have had some nice moments of quality time during the last few weeks. It’s been cool.

That said, this is the longest that Hope has been home since the summer, and before that she was in boarding school and would only come home occasionally on the weekends.

She’s not returning for spring semester until next weekend…10 more days.

Now, I feel kind of guilty anticipating Hope going back to school, but the feelings are real.

Hope only came home twice during the semester, during fall and Thanksgiving breaks. Consequently, I got used to my alone time.

I cooked but not nearly as often since I could eat cereal or make a quick cheese toast for an after work bite along with wine, you know for a balanced meal.

I did my laundry and left it in the basket for days.

I picked up groceries on the weekend, and they actually lasted all week!

If I wanted to walk around in my skivvies, I walked around in my skivvies.

The occasional overnight guest? Not a problem.

Yappy and I had a cool routine and I was getting him reacquainted with his crate due to his separation anxiety.

Since Hope has been home, we are constantly running out of food even though occasionally she will not eat a real meal for a day or two. Then she’ll eat *all the food*.

I have to cook nearly every day…like actual meals. #LOL

I feel like I have to finish my laundry so that she feels compelled to finish hers.

It’s impossible to keep orange juice in the house; she drinks it like water.

I can’t walk around half-naked, and there are no guests.

I have to remind her to take her meds.

I have to ask her to walk the dog.

I made her get back to volunteering this week so that she wasn’t watching Asian dramas all day, because the Holy Homeboy’s children have to work in this house. (Yappy’s job is being cute and providing emotional support in the form of too much attachment).

Dishes are everywhere.

Ack!

I adore my daughter; she really is amazing. This first semester of college was really rough academically (like OMG rough) even though she really seemed to do much better socially. She needed this time to recover a bit and just rest. I get it. I support it. But…after a few weeks, I’m kinda ready to get us back to our new normal.

Is this what my parents felt? Did they love when I visited, but also loved when I returned to school? Did they feel kinda guilty about that? Can you really have the three day guest rule when it’s your home?

I never, ever want Hope to feel like this isn’t her home. This. Is. Her. Home.

*Whispers*

But I’ve gotten used to her being at school! I have adjusted and like my life as a empty nester.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot as Hope preps to go back to school. We’re deciding if I’m driving her back or if she will take the train. I’m wondering how this semester will go, will she find her academic groove, will she want to continue? And if she doesn’t, what will our life be like with her back full time? What can I do to prepare myself for that? How did I let myself get so comfortable? And what will my grocery bill look like with this young adult living back in the house?

So many questions swirling….

But in the meantime, I legit am excited about her going back to school and me walking around in my skivvies, eating cereal for dinner over the sink and feeling kinda guilty about how excited I am about it.

via Giphy


Reflecting on a Decade

Ten years ago, I was in a serious relationship that I thought was going to lead to marriage. We were going through a really difficult time because my partner was battling addiction. I can’t remember exactly how we spent that NYE, but I kind of remember the fall out. I remember going to brunch with a friend on New Year’s day. I also remember making a decision that would really change my life that day.

I knew that the relationship was not sustainable, but for reasons I still don’t understand, I didn’t leave then. It would take me another 7 months.

I knew I wanted to go back to school and that 2010 seemed like a good time to do it. As I got closer to making that a reality, I knew that pursuing my EdD, and the heavy lift it represented was my exit strategy for my relationship.

I remember laying in bed and looking at the ceiling and thinking I need a plan.

I made one.

A year later I was in school working hard and I was single.

Four years later I walked with my degree as a new mom; Hope had moved in 4 months prior and we were about a month out from finalization.

Now six years later, Hope is a college freshman.

A lot happened over the last decade. I edited a book. I published some papers. I did a LOT of writing personally and professionally. I saw my career move to another level. I lost weight and gained weight. I went natural. I joined Twitter. I lost a dog; I got a new dog. I traveled to places I dreamed about as a kid. I read many books and listened to countless podcasts. I fell in love and out of love. I fell in lust and refrained from hitting a particular dude with my car (repeatedly). I survived serious health issues. I became an aunty—one who gives great gifts, but also brings her own booze to family gatherings. I started being called Dr. I started being called mom.

And so much more, though so many minor details seem just lost to me.

It was a challenging decade, but change is always hard.

But it’s been so sweet. So many of my dreams came true during this last decade. It’s stunning when I really sit down and consider it.

As I look to the 2020s I think about what I have to look forward too.

I will turn 50 during this decade. Hopefully Hope will finish undergrad and began making moves on her own. I hope to find my person and begin building the next chapter with him.  I hope to love myself unconditionally. I hope to accept myself—the good, bad and ugly. I hope to forgive myself of things I’ve been dragging around since before the last decade. I hope to discover the next things I want to do professionally (which may require some moves). I hope to finally really commit to some getting some of the things on my vision board done—one thing has been on the last 3 and I haven’t done anything towards it. I hope to get answers to some of the biggest mysteries of my life. Most of all, I want to be happy and content.

As of today, the end of the 2010s, I am generally happy…more happy than not happy for sure. I feel like I was able to make the most of the 2010s in ways that count. I am hopeful that I can do that for the 2020s as well.

Happy New Year friends.


Morning Coffee

Hope and I only talk once a week or so via phone or video, usually on the weekends. All other times, we text. It works for us. I feel like it’s reasonable; I don’t want or need to talk to her daily. I don’t assume something is wrong if we don’t talk every day; instead I assume we are both off living our independent lives.

But the two times I’ve seen my daughter this semester, we get that quality time that really connects us and highlights our attachment.

And now Hope is home for Thanksgiving.

Earlier this week Hope texted me asking for some money to take an Uber to catch her bus home. Having just given Hope her allowance 10 days prior I blew a gasket that she had spent it all with no consideration that she needed to get to the bus station. We’ve been dealing with her spending for a few weeks now and I *lost* it. Texting furiously I reamed my daughter for her irresponsibility that she didn’t even have $10 to take an Uber. I sent her an email after checking in with the bank spending analysis. And then I said we would discuss once she got home.

And then she nearly missed the bus, and I lost my ish again.

Seriously, this kid ran my pressure way up this week.

And then she was home, and I tried to still be a bit pissy. Yeah, I did, because I’m so damn petty sometimes. But I picked her up from the station, brought her home, fed her, inspected her skin, assessed her demeanor and just hugged her. My anger melted away.

We still needed to talk, but I told her we would table things until the weekend so we could enjoy our holiday. Over dinner, Hope said grace and prayed that I didn’t rip her a new one when we talked. I tried not to laugh.

And the truce lasted about 12 hours. Over coffee we started our chat about school, money, health, friends, and life.

A_small_cup_of_coffee

via Google Images

We talked about her classes, challenges, depression, anxiety, and money. And we talked about medication compliance and things clicked into place. No meds for a few days, things slip, no meds for a week or more and things slide downhill fast. Not thinking you need your meds creates situations where it’s obvious that you need your meds.

I pointed this out to her, and she nodded her understanding.

I swear I can’t stay mad at her; annoyed and a little pissy, yeah, but all out mad? No. I just can’t. She needs me too much for me to stay mad and withhold love and affection from her.

We have more to discuss this weekend, but we made a lot of progress over coffee this morning.

I also learned my daughter takes her coffee black with a little sweetener and that her anxiety is probably driving her misconception that the dining hall food “makes her sick.”

We picked out some hair cuts for her to consider and I took her for a massive haircut this afternoon. I teased her as she sat in the chair having inches shaved off. I gushed as she rose from the chair; the new look becomes her.

Tomorrow we will call our family—her birth family—down south to catch up, and we will travel to visit our family in VA. She will see her grands, her cousins, and aunties. She will eat, laugh, play and eat some more, and I will watch her and marvel.

But first, we will have a cup of coffee together.

 


Forty-Four Days

I dropped Hope off at a little over 6 weeks ago. We talked once or twice a week on the phone, and over the last few weeks, we texted nearly daily.

Well, 44 days after dropping Hope off at college, I saw her yesterday.

Oh my, did I hug my baby girl.

The waves of love were nearly overwhelming. My chest was a little tight, and I fought back the single Chilly Willy tear as I held Hope to me. I smelled and dug my fingers in her hair. I looked at her skin. I turned her around and over like a baby to check her all over.

She giggled. She swatted my hands. And then she surrendered into my arms and exhaled.

And we stood there for a while.

Hope’s room was tidy! She admitted to cleaning up before I arrived, but it was clear that there was a decent sense of order to begin with. Clothes were hung up in the closet!!! She’s using her calendar. She’s working hard.

She looks good. Her hair is growing; her skin looks clear.

I met her friends. The boy with the blue afro. The girl with the emotional support cat. The girl who bounded down the hall like Tigger to say hello. They call Hope “Grandma” because she always wears a sweater and mother hens folks when they’ve consumed too much of things they have no business consuming (don’t even ask!).

We went shopping for sweaters, cruised Amazon for new sneakers to wear with the step team she tried out for and made last week.

She confessed not leaving campus much. She realizes that her social anxiety isn’t just anxiety but true blue introversion; peopleing can really be exhausting so she hangs with her small gang of friends.

I listened as she shared how much she misses me and Yappy and wants to come home for the weekend, but has real FOMO (fear of missing out) when the gang gets together on the weekends. We agreed she’d come home in a few weeks to go to the dentist, get a medication tune up and cuddle with Yappy on the couch.

She gobbled her favorite pizza at the local joint she frequents across the street from campus, and I showed her that she could walk to the local Family Dollar just a short walk down the hill from school.

We talked. We laughed. We scrolled Instagram together and shared some of our favorite hashtags to follow (mostly dog related).

I found a local diner and took her to brunch and caught her up on all the family stuff going on. Her cousin called while we were out, and I eavesdropped while they chatted business: coursework.

She proudly showed me her notebook where she has her whole college coursework career mapped out. I learned that somehow she’s taking 17 credit hours this semester; more than I would have recommended but she is pushing herself so she can wring everything out of this time.

My daughter is blossoming. She still giggles, but there’s a growing maturity that I can hear in her voice.

Over breakfast, I told her how incredibly proud I am of her and all she’s accomplished. She balked, asking me what and why? I reminded her of the first day we met. I shared how I saw a scared little girl in the body of a 12-year-old. I told her how I marveled at her commitment to survival up to that moment and through to this one. I told her how this year just marked so much change and accomplishment that it’s sometimes overwhelming to consider it all.

The reality is that Hope is in college. She says it’s hard, and it is, but she’s thriving.

I’m so blessed to have been a part of her journey. It’s such an honor to be her mom. I can’t imagine what life would be without her. There have been times when it has been so hard, but to see her thriving is just so beautiful.

This chapter of our journey is so…I’m not sure what the right words are to describe it. What I do know is that Hope has grown tremendously in these 44 days since she’s been away. It foreshadows a crazy transformation that is underway. It’s nothing short of magical to watch and be a part of.

So, Parents’ weekend was amazing. Hope is amazing. We’re amazing. 😊

BTW—Hope wants more questions! She’s serious about wanting the share her experiences as a FFY and an adoptee, so yeah, send questions!


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