For 40

I was at the hair dresser with my daughter on Friday. Kai was getting a trim as was I. Kai was talking about my surprise b-day bash and staying at a hotel. Anyhow, I talked about the wonderful event my husband planned for me for my 40th and heard this... "You look great for 40!"

I've said that very sentence when I was in my 20's. But, now that I actually AM 40 it wasn't quite the compliment I too had thought it to be. It's like saying, "you don't look near what you actually are." Because, when it ain't all about looks but about health and mortality that sentence is not exactly a healing balm.

I was jokingly going to say, "you look really old for your 20's. you are in your 20's right?" but decided that I should probably at least act mature with someone who has scissors so close to my head and so close to my daughter's head.

For 40

"You look great for 40!" That's what the hairdresser said to me after I talked about the bash my sweetie planned for my birthday.

I've said that very sentence when I was in my 20's. But, now that I actually AM 40 it wasn't quite the compliment I had thought it to be. It's like saying, "you don't look near what you actually are." Because, when it ain't all about looks but about health and mortality that sentence is not exactly a healing balm.

I was jokingly going to say, "you look really old for your 20's" but decided that I should act mature with someone who has scissors so close to my head. Especially now that I'm 40.

Survivor Crap and 40

Well, I was talking to a friend today saying, "I've done it. I've started reading survivor blogs."

"Merry Freakin Christmas," she said, "Huh?"

"Yup."

Long before I decided to be a parent I thought long and hard about my abilities in this area. I was nervous and afraid. I had not been parented well. My parents were teens when they had children and not the responsible type of teens either. When my father walked he only took the booze with him.

Well, I've done lots of "work" on myself over the years. Lots! And I'm grateful for EVERY bit of it now that I am a parent. And I was warned, that parenting could and might be triggering. Parenting can bring up, remind, push buttons and it has done so at times. Mercifully though, I've found parenting more rewarding, meaningful and satisfying than I anticipated. And, to my delight, I didn't s-ck as much as I thought I would.

However, it's hard work! At four, my daughter wants and deserves a good deal of affection and attention, wants to play baby by sitting on my lap for an hour when she wakes, wants to be held and hugged, and that's just her being a kid on a pretty regular day. Kids, little growing beings, need care, attention and awareness. Even their moods don't make sense to them and giving words to moods and feelings and showing ways to express anger that don't involve breaking a toe by kicking a really hard inanimate object... it's all stuff that doesn't necessarily come naturally...

I I spent a good deal of time making sure I could be financially self-sufficient, could live alone, drive at night, face my fears and while I didn't to enjoy having fears I wasn't going to let them stop me from doing business trips or whatever I figured I "should" be able to do had I had a relatively normal life.

And yet, here's me, at 40, grieving because, and I do know this already, but I REALLY REALLY REALLY KNOW IT - my mother, though incredible in many areas, is not particularly well-suited to mothering me. I do not have a father. My former in-laws have passed away. It makes me sad that we don't have more of a traditional family. And also guilty because i DO HAVE so much and so many blessings! I have a spouse, a family of my own that I cherish, a cute little house that we can afford, creative work, the ability to stay home and the knowledge that I can return to work. More important, I have empathy and compassion, I love and care about others and I'm a person who can be relied on.

And I have had, in and out of my family, people who have mothered and nurtured me and helped me grow into the type of person I have become.

I know my mother is who she is for all of her limits and her faults. And she has solid and good traits too. She has done many wonderful things in her life, things that make me feel proud of her. How can I accept, and really accept who she is and who she isn't without feeling like I'm neglecting my own deepest self. I get that she did the best she could with what she had. I also get that it was not near enough and many parts of my life have been difficult (some times more than others) as a result.

Sometimes I feel 100% survivor who happens to have these other parts in my life. Other times I box up all the healing books and can't even find them because I haven't looked at them in so long.

Today, the books are out and I'm ready survivor blogs. Argh... Argh... Argh... Merry F'n Christmas...

I just saw Eve Ensler talking about her new book on t.v. She talked about being a survivor of childhood trauma and about how now, at 52, she's living her life with open insercurity. She was talking about how in childhood we crave security and safety often in the houses of people who abuse. She says, now, as a culture our desire to be safe and secure is making us give away and fight less hard for freedoms.

One woman asked about how to prevent burn-out when helping and fixing and dealing with all these world ills. She said, "I'm not equipped to fix/heal others. But I can be with them." She talked about how surviving violence cracked her open. She can feel and be with and understand suffering even the kind she hasn't experienced personally - she can share and feel it and listen. She said, most people don't need to be fixed or healed they just need to be able to share, be in community and to share their stories.

Someone asked when she is most happy. And again she had a look as if to say, "I don't really do happiness." She talked about wanting to be present, in her body, having her experiences and that in general she's happy but it's not the happy she might have thought. I just turned 40 and am beginning to really get a sense of these concepts in new ways. Very inspiring and encouraging to hear her and sad to learn more about what is happening all voer the world.

I love how she combines, without apology, her personal and political work. It's ALL important, related and critical.

For more about her and her work... here's a link.
http://www.vday.org/contents/vday/aboutvday/eveensler

Projection

What does having a child born and abandoned in China and having a huge box leftover in your living room have to do with each other? On the face of it, nothing. Yet, when my daughter wants to play house in her box, sitting it on the couch and then sitting inside of it herself - i can't help but wonder about her first few days... cliches and realities about babies left in baskets and boxes for strangers to find are not "stories' as in fiction but life stories for some.

So, her fun living room play takes me away to a moment in her earliest life that I will never know. It's fine, a voluntary trip I can take and come back from, in my mind. But, as someone who has never met my own biological father, I wonder about the future young woman who is now my little girl and the things and moments and times her mind or heart or spirit will flee for a moment and attach itself to something innocent, a box, and I ache a little.

How to prepare for those moments which she may not even voice or express but which might catch her for a moment the way I was caught today, but deeper... no answers. Too many no answers in parenting...

She said today, I am only going to love you and Daddy. I said, "We love you too but I hope you meet lots of people you will love." She said, "I'm only going to love people who love me." There's was some sadness and some wisdom in those words.

Thankful

I am grateful that I'm learning to sit with ALL feelings more and not only the pleasant ones

I am grateful for my friendships

I'm grateful to have seen a white owl

I'm grateful to have witnessed my daughter hiking at "Blueberry Hills"

And her health and spirit.

And my health.

And worshipping nature while having public restrooms nearby

I'm grateful for trying to be in the moment

To be almost done x-mas shopping so I can sip hot cider and go on car rides looking for lights.

I'm grateful my S's stress and work schedule is easing up

I'm grateful I have felt full enough to give him TLC

I'm grateful he's grateful

I'm grateful to have so many wonderful people in my life and my writer's group and in my neighborhood

And the recent election results

For my daughter's wide network of friends born in many different parts of the world

I'm grateful we have enough

I'm grateful for Ohana - our own family

I'm grateful that my daughter's birthfamily for many reasons

I'm grateful I am loved by people who can say I love you

I'm grateful that my daughter's laugh is the contagious kind

I'm grateful for the wind that blows through my hair

I'm grateful for the way the waves show me how the same damn ocean is never the same damn ocean

I'm grateful for S's inherent nature of optimism

I'm grateful I can be the rock of the family and not just the thing needing to be steadied

I'm grateful that childhood only felt like an eternity and wasn't

I'm grateful for the ride in the car on Monday when my daughter asked, "What do you love most about your Mama?"

I'm grateful my daughter now likes pre-school

I'm grateful for the gift of words to put feelings, experiences and life in a new perspective

I'm grateful for a practice of writing and a shared community of writers

I'm grateful that this morning my girl said, "Daddy, do you want some Mama?" and he said "Hubba Hubba" to me while Kai asked, "Mama do you want some Dada?"

I'm grateful for laughing that makes you snort your coffee OUT of your nose

I'm glad that i get to at least ten of my twelve cousins on Thanksgiving

I'm thankful for Aunt W's apple-yam sweet yummy dessert like dish that I dive into live an Olympian heading for the water

I'm grateful for T's cuddly belly and R's belly laugh

I'm grateful for collaging and my partner in creative crime

I'm grateful for creativity and the creator of all things - whatever form she feels like taking

This Bites!

Six mos. ago a little skinny older kitty followed me up and down the stairs as I took the grocery bags in. Once we were inside, my daughter looked at the cat from the glass door and said, "I've waited my whole life for a cat." She was three.

I put out some milk. I put out a blanket. I called my neighbor who has five cats. The cat was so friendly and affectionate. The cat was maybe someone's lost kitty.

So, for a few nights, kitty slept on the porch. Then it got a little colder. So, we brought him in our basement. Then, into our house. Then to the vet. If, after a month, no one claimed her we could make her part of our family.

During that first one month my daughter was torn. She'd say things like, "If J doesn't have a family, that means no one loves her." This is where having a child who had been abandoned by her biological family makes a comment like that one a heartbreaker.

What I wanted to say was, "Who the hell would just let the cat loose? who would abandon it? muffled. Judgements are not so huge now that I know it's impossible to fully know about anyone's situation.

He was so affectionate and loving and patient. Sure, he did a little nipping around the ankles, was more of a biter than a scratcher but that seemed like kitten behavior. He needed more play time, more exercise and to be trained. Nips turned to bites that broken skin. K seemed to treat him like a stuffed animal and he stuck up for himself but that seemed reasonable. His chest and entire being purred. He loved to be held, to be pet and even seemed to enjoy being brushed. My neighbor with the cats marveled at his personality.

He grew bigger and bigger. His bites seemed more frequent. He would jump on my daughter as she dressed, biting her neck or her head, and his bites looked like they were skin surface, more breaking skin a little than deep down bites. My daughter loves him and is afraid of him.

It's been progressive and gradual and at the same time I can't say that he ever didn't bite. He did bite but he was smaller and the bites didn't seem dangerous or scary, just playful and annoying. But every step to train, re-direction with toys, spray bottles when his eyes were clear that he was going to bounce, a low voice - it all seemed ot make the biting worse. He bites and then bites some more. Today, I have no less than seven bites. Two on my leg, bruising and breaking skin though I was wearig pants. Two or three on each arm and a deeper one on my hand that looks like nothing but hurts the most, makes the muscle in my left hand (but not so bad I can't type).

J has a dr's appt. today. I have a doctor's appt. today. Something like 50% plus of cat bites get infected. Maybe he's in pain. Maybe he was an outdoor cat? Maybe he was stray or feral but had been neutered by a cat-friendly organization? I just don't know.

We love him but we are afraid of him. After last night's multiple bites I put him in the basement. I can't leave the cat and K alone. I don't trust the cat and K is afraid of him. I'm afraid of him. Not always. I know when I can pick him up. I can read the sign when he's gonna attack but I can't do anything in that moment when I see he's going to bite to stop him, get a bottle, use a tone, throw a toy - his eyes are locked on and he's going to bite.

So, I go to learn some today - get an opinion on how serious this is, what can and can't be done and do some soul-searching. I've not had meat since I was 14. That's 26 years. I haven't wanted to kill animals. I don't wear leather. I don't eat fish. And yet, I do not want a pet in the house that I feel is a danger - that I KNOW must be in the basement when my daughter wants to wander or has a play date. Crap. Crap. Crap.

When we first got this cat my husband said, "We have this cat for life. K can never see us as the kind of people who could ever not keep a pet. We can never give her the message in any way that we don't take care of our family."

Crap. Crap. Crap. I want to say, "But he's a cat and she's a child." But I know he's not wondering what I think but what our daughter will feel, doubt or wonder. Crap. Crap. Crap. We'll figure it out. One day at a time. Did I mention - CRAP! CRAP! CRAP!

on a lighter note, my daughter and her friend are playing Mama and they both want to be the mama. They both just turned four and are reading to each other, page by page. Well, by reading I mean looking at the pictures and telling stories. Precious. No matter what your age it's good to have friends who get you and are in your tribe. At four, some kids want to read under the covers curled up with a good Dora and some stuffed animals... some kids want to color the walls and do gymnastics on furniture. The laughs of two girls wanting to be reading mama's is heart warming...

How Much Do I Miss Co-Dependency?

I woke up feeling sad and missing co-dependency. In the old days, the early days of my relationship, I'd wake up feeling oogy and one or two things would happen.

1)I would make it my partner's job to make me feel better. What could he do to make me happy? What ideas did he have that could fix me, heal me or at least distract me? Could he perk me up or escort me to the bookstore? Could he dive into the pool of my healing and keep me company? Could he stay there as long as I needed? Could it be him who could tell me when to swim, float or get the hell out of the pool?

Yeah, those were the good old days. My moods weren't my own. I was generous. We shared them. My mood was a food dye coloring our time together. So what if I wasn't the least bit lonely... or healthy...I miss it.

2)The other scenario for a bad post-traumatically stressed out kind of day was to wake up sad or oogy and quickly shift into pissed off. Pissed off at him. If he would just do/be/say/realize whatever, I would feel/be/seem "better" - this mindset would usually create a fight. The fight would end with me in tears. The tears would make me feel better. Then I'd want to go do something fun like maybe see a movie since I felt so much better. Funny, him feeling trampled by my "stuff" made him feel lousy. But it took me a while (and him too) to realize we were in a pattern.

So today, forgetting how I would make him feel bad, I had to ask, "Why is co-dependency unhealthy? I need to be reminded because I'm really missing it." What I was missing most was the part where I picked a fight, cried and felt better - fast. It was so much faster than journaling or meditating or sitting with my feelings.

He laughed. He smiled.

"No, you really have to remind me why that's not a viable option anymore because I'm REALLY missing the effectiveness of that path."

"Because it's not healthy, mature or adult," he said.

"Well you don't have to be nasty about it," I said knowing I should have asked someone else not the person who had lived with my less than evolved self for a long time.

"Oh yeah," I said, "The whole how I impacted other people, the not spilling my crap on others, the figuring it out for myself and being mature. Yeah. Yeah. The being considerate, responsible, etc. etc."

"You got it," he said.

"Damn. Damn. Damn," I thought, "So if I need support you can't just intuit it and figure it out?" But at least I didn't say that part. It's just hard to be an adult now and then. I feel better AFTER I cry but the feeling that I need a cry isn't something I usually welcome. I'm learning. I'm learning.

So, for today, it's confessions of a co-dependent. If I didn't care about hurting the feelings of others I'd go right back to picking fights, shutting people out and making them come seek me out. But no. No. Who knew self-awareness and healing and maturity would be so complicated?

Dear co-dependency, you are missed and when I let you go I had no idea how important you were to me. I now have more understanding for addicts who can talk almost romantically about the booze or smokes or whatever they once enjoyed - before they caused so much damage...

It's a drag sometimes to be self-aware enough to know what not to do but not so healed there's a super efficient plan B.

Confession

"I have to tell you something." That's how I started our meal. I was sitting across the table from my husband while eating a warm piece of bread. Our daughter was playing with dough.

"You might not like it," I said.

"I'm going to watch the Country Music Awards. I might even buy a Carrie Underwood CD. I'm almost 40. I even like the God songs."

"You can do whatever you want," he said which was cute as we both already know that much.

"But will you think less of me?" is the question.

"No, no..." he lied. "Some of it can be good."

Oh sure, I tried to spin it and explain how it's like poetry and it's dramatic and packs a punch in a short amount of time. I said it's like reading the paper or watching a soap opera - high drama, clear words and strong emotion. O.k., so maybe I only reat the obits. But still... I love a good story and I'm gonna be 40 and I'm not going to hide it any longer.

I think our relationship can survive this. I love a man who watches grown men in helmets bash heads, jump all over each other and do funny dances in the end zone for catching a football. I don't say anything when he stands two inches in front of the t.v. pacing and chewing his nails to nothing over these total overpaid strangers. Nope. It's a live and let live house.

"You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em..." I'm not saying sorry, changing the station or denying what I did on Monday night when the CMA show was on.

I'll Teach You Asian

"I'll teach you about Asian," my four-year old daughter said. "You can teach me about..."

"Being Caucasian?" I asked as we were talking ethnicity and race.

She had noticed an Asian baby in a store and said, "Her hair is like mine. She looks like me."

"She's Asian."

Conversations just come up in the car, on walks and no matter how many discussions we have had, she understands ethnicity, race, hers and ours, at her own pace. Today, she was excited about the new words, happy to be something called Asian. Interestingly, at only four even though we are her parents she sees herself as expert on this thing called Asian because it is something she is and we are not. She sees us as expert on Caucasian because it's something we are that she is not. Of course, at four, she is expert on most anything. However, it's more than that.

What is undeniable about transacial adoption is that we are a race that our daughter is not. She is viewed as a minority in our culture. We, her parents, are not. We can read about what her experiene might be like, talk to my relatives and others who share her race, learn about her birth culture and as importantly, being an Asian-American - but we will never share our daughter's experiences or know how she feels.

How do we best equip her, prepare her, educate her about racism and also instill pride about her race? I would be lying if I said I can answer all of those questions.

I'm Back and I've Got Issues

I was at a bookstore in the middle of the day yesterday. Significant other in the form of spouse sat across from me. This sitting at a bookstore for hours on end was something we did regularly before being parents. And, yesterday was the first time we did it again in three years. It was so fun to be together, alone, awake and able to have conversations.

My daughter doesn't seem to mind being an only child. However, she likes it best when only Mommy or only Daddy is home. Otherwise we talk to each other and that's so "boring" for her. Yikes! How do we go from attachment parenting to helping her realize it's actually a good thing for the parents to be attached to each other as well?

Anyhow, I was looking at lots of titles and deciding whether or not I'd buy them. I grabbed Motherless Mothers by Hope Edelman (sp?) because even though I have a mother who is alive I don't have a mother I see more than once a month who is in my life in a day to day way. My mother was a teen when she had kids and is now working full-time. Though we're closer than we've ever been we're not "drop by or drive by" close. Visits are pre-arranged and require a road trip and an invitation. And, since my mother had three kids by her 22nd birthday, she wasn't doing a style of parenting other than the "best I can" version. So, I don't go to her for advice or counsel or relief.

What type of mother do I want to be - to my pre-schooler and then to the girl-young adult and woman she turns into? In this book there was a quote by Anna Freud which read, "A mother's job is to be there to be left." It was in a chapter about pre-school. It made me sad. I love and admire and am proud of my daughter's growing independence and with it there's a feeling of missing her. I see her greet the world and develop a relationship with it that is quite her own. Home, her home base, keeps growing.

We've lived a month this week and there's too much to post but I realized I do want to ponder again, regularly and in community, about writing, parenting, being a constant seeker spiritually and being an adult constantly recovering from the impact of trauma popping up here and there. Another significant section in Edleman's book was about how unresolved grief, on the part of a mother, impacted her mothering and of course her child/ren. So, apparently grief work is important if not pleasant - not just for those who grieve but for those being parented by them!