What Happens in Vegas…

…gets blogged about!

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We’ve been planning this trip for months. Ten days after the last tax return was filed, we headed out (super early, I might add) to Vegas with my friend Mari and her husband. The last time I had been to Vegas, I was 14 and playing in an AAU basketball tournament, so the experience was a little less than…debaucherous (to say the least. I ended up with heat exhaustion for the water park and barfed the last two days of the trip). 

At any rate, we landed in Vegas, dropped our bags off at the hotel, and headed out on the town. It was 10 am, and we were STARVING! So we headed out to the Fremont district, where we got some breakfast and spent our time playing nickel slots at Mermaids. 

Because Mari and her husband have visited Vegas enough, they have their favorite cocktail waitress, Ling Ling, and boy did she not disappoint! I won a few good payouts on my own (to the tune of $14), but Ling Ling found me a machine that someone had abandoned with a whopping $16.50 on it to claim! Woo hoo!

 

After a few hours of nickel slots, we headed out to the Tropicana to see my buddy Adam Ray headline at the Laugh Factory. He and I went to elementary and middle school together, and he’s now blowing up (starring in movies like The Heat with Sandra Bullock), and he got us into his show for free! It was fun to ‘shoot the shit’ with him after his show, before he went to his next set. We then stumbled into our hotel around 12:30 pm, and I realized that parenting has made me the perfect candidate for Vegas…able to function off a little sleep and still manage to have fun! 

 

On Saturday we had breakfast buffet at the Bellagio, and wandered the strip for awhile, which made me angsty and sweaty. We headed back out to Fremont district to see my college roomie Marie! I love introducing my friends to my friends, and so we had a lovely evening drinking and eating and then finished the night off with some dancing at an old school arcade. All around amazing getaway, that I hope to repeat again in the future!

 

On Being a Half-Anonymous Blogger Who Writes About Real Events

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”
-Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

I chose to be an anonymous blogger in an attempt at destroying my tendency to self-censor. Blogging is the modern equivalent to my scribbled teenage journals (of which I have an entired box filled), and I’ve been using this medium in various capacities since the early 2000’s. There was Live Journal in college, and Myspace blogs that I relied on heavily while travelling in India, and the Blogger account that I tried when focusing on art and poetry. All of those accounts were ME accounts, with varying levels of privacy.

And so, when I decided to start a parenting blog, I wanted to have some sort of anonymity in the great online world. Not only for professional sake, but also for the semi-privacy of Potamus. Because he will grow up in a world of social media, and these pictures of him will likely be seen, but I am telling MY story here, not his. So here I am, anonymously blogging, though I recognize that it is not, in fact, anonymous.

Because unlike scribbled journals, and my teenage self, I long desperately for my medium to convey my feelings within a community, which requires them to be read. And while I’ve connected anons who’ve transitioned to IRL online friends (shoutout to you Momaste!), I also have this hunger to be known by those I see in flesh and blood. So I’ve shared a link to my writing, in an attempt to connect. To bridge the online world of my mind and the fleshy world of my life.  But writing my truth, my experience, from my own perspective, is difficult for some people to read. My raw honesty about experiences has caused defensiveness or confusion in friends and family.

And yet I am compelled to write or explode from all the feelings. For while I don’t get paid to do it, I am a writer. I think about writing. I love sentence structure and the meditative quality that happens when I feel with my fingers translating those feelings into words that appear on my screen.

I would like to believe that I am telling MY story, and not anyone else’s. That of course there is room for two sides, or more sides, and the world will welcome the individual perspectives and stories. I tell MY side, MY feelings, and, at the end of the day, has no bearing on whether the others invovled are good or bad people or shouldn’t have made certain choices. It is simply my account of my life through my senses.

It’s why I like Anne Lamott so much. She writes brilliantly funny memoirs about her fucked up life as a recovering alcoholic with a screwed up family. Her truthiness shines through even though the rawness makes me (and I’m sure those she writes about) uncomfortable. I need to write my truth, my experience, my life, from MY perspective. And if it hits you in the gut, makes you uncomfortable, then start writing from your own perspective. And maybe our writings will interesect someday.

“We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little. But we do. We have so much we want to say and figure out…

Your anger and damage and grief are the way to the truth.”
-Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

Finding Friendships as an Adult

Taking the boys to Caspar Babypants. Potamus is like 4 months old here…

For awhile I assumed that my ‘best years’ (as far as the ease of friendship-making) was behind me. College was this time, where I’d meet someone in a class, or at a coffee shop, or in an extra-curricular activity and BAM we’d be instant besties. We’d do things together day and night, since we had all the time in the world. And very many of these relationships are the ones that I still revisit, like Laura in Albuquerque and Ruth in Oregon. But as an adult, it’s been different…we have so very little time to meet people, and then even less time to hang out on a regular basis. So friendships form over longer periods of time, and with many, they drop off because of time constraints before ever making it to that bestie level, ya know?

A few years ago, probably 5 or so, I was introduced to Mari through my sister-in-law. They had gone to junior high youth group together. I was initially intimidated, because hello have you seen how gorgeous she is? And cool. We weren’t instantly friends, but as the years progressed, and we hung out more in the friend group, we realized how much we have in common (though at first glance it appears we have zero in common).

And then I had a kid.

Suddenly I was thrust into the world of motherhood, and working motherhood, something Mari was doing beautifully. And we hung out more and more. And then she had another kid, on Potamus’ birthday, and now we finish each other’s sentences. It’s to the text-the-same-thing-at-the-same-time level of strange connection. Boof jokes that I text her like I’m a teenage girl, and maybe that’s true, because it’s been a long time since I’ve had the in-person type connection with someone. A friend I can tell anything to, without fear of being judged. A friend to be vulnerable with in person, as I have other that are a phone call away.

Like last night, as I was crying into my red wine, she came by to cheer me up. And seeing her 4 year old and Potamus playing like friends, while we sat and commiserated on the couch, was the most touching moment ever. But it didn’t happen overnight. And it didn’t happen with someone expected. And that’s what making friendships as an adult is about. Putting in the time, pushing past insecurities and following through on making those plans that you want, even though you’re afraid to make.

And unlimited texting packages don’t hurt, either, especially if you have both have phone anxiety.

 

 

It all changes in a blink of an eye

Last week my afternoon students were immature and disrespectful to put it mildly. It’s a challenge with any group of ‘at-risk-youth,’ (aka high school dropouts ranging from students who were homeschooled since the womb and former felons) to create a community and break old habits. It’s even more of a challenge when five of your students all attended the same previous alternative school AFTER all attending the same high school (and getting kicked out).

Recipe for disaster.

Or, like today: recipe for amazingness.

I’m not sure if I passed their hazing test, but they all seemed surprised when I let them out early. They stood outside the door and talked about ‘ballin” and I was able to heckle one young man who clearly wasn’t dressed to play a game of pickup basketball. It’s about connecting, and somehow my GIANT white-girl-former-basektball-playerness was enough to hang with them for a minute. And one dude even said that he learned something about himself today, which is a miracle all around.

Sure they’re chatty, and sometimes off topic, and I wanted to poke my eyeballs out last week, but it can all change in a minute.

Like, how, at 12:50 today, my friend’s mom died.

Yesterday she was alive. And today she died. And my friend went from having a sick mom, ciorrosis of the liver, given 5 months to live (which was changed to 5 days in the span of less than a week), to not having a mom…planning a funeral…all the emotions attached to the death of a parent.

Two extremes. In the blink of an eye.

If we could go back, would we?

we wore stripes to match, clearly we discussed this ahead of time 😉

There’s something lovely about making re-connections in person. After 5 years, my college bestie Laura made it back up to the PacNW and was able to carve out two lovely chunks of time to spend with me. It was wonderful. Our relationship has ebbed and flowed over the past few years, with many life altering situations happening on either end and a phone anxiety getting in the way of keeping each other informed regularly. There was a time when I wondered if we would ever consider each other friends again, but then, we started talking. And while it was somewhat awkward at first, we re-connected…and she came to visit her family, which only solidified our friendship further.

We’re both older, less inclined to gallavanting willy nilly through parks or staying up super late talking in the back of her pickup truck. There were early nights and lots of cups of coffee. And she got to meet Potamus, which was so delightful. What I enjoy about her friendship is that while we picked up where we left off, we were able to fondly recall some of those really good times in college, but we didn’t live in nostalgia land.

Nostalgia land is what I notice with Boof, when we get together with some of his friends and all they do is talk about highschool/college/camp/whatever memory they have from each other. Nostalgia is fun to glance at, but not a fun place to live. The wisftful sadness of wishing to go back to an easier time doesn’t work. It’s like driving, you can glance in the rearview mirror, but you’re sure to get in an accident if you only look in the rearview mirror (unless you’re backing up, heh!). So it was nice to acknowledge the past, but to build our relationship in the here & now.

And when I dropped her off at the airport, I surprised myself with my vulnerable side, and teared up. I was able to express that I had missed her and hoped that we would keep in touch more often. Because I love this girl, ya know? She’s one of the besties that I want to keep in my life. But I love my life, and so, if I could go back…to the ease and quiet of college…I know that I wouldn’t.

My wedding day

Would you go back to an easier time (college/high school/childhood)?

Adoption & Siblings

Do you have siblings in your adoptive family? Were they also adopted or not? What was your relationship like in regards to adoption? If you are in reunion, did you find siblings as part of your search? How you been affected by your sibling relationships? If you searched and found siblings, and had adoptive siblings, what has that been like? If you don’t have siblings, have you found any benefits to being an only child?

Yes, I have siblings, both biological and adopted. Our relationships are complicated.

My little half-sisters are biologically related to me, but there is such a generation gap that they function more like my nieces that I see a few times a year. My half-brother and sister on my biological mom’s side are the same age as my adoptive siblings, but it’s weird trying to get to know people that age who are family and yet not family.

They grew up a different religion, socieo-economic class and in a different area, so there is a  huge cultural difference that is hard to overcome.

My adoptive brother is most recently in my life in a close-way because we both have kids, though we would not really be friends outside of that, because of such a difference in philosophies on work, religion, politics, etc. We relate on a familial level because we are both, now, parents, but I sometimes find it hard to talk with him about much else.

I am probably closest to my adoptive sister.

Though, this weekend I did something dumb. Something super passive-aggressive and un-becoming of an almost-30-year old.

I unfriended her on facebook.

Sigh.

Yeah, I am that kind of person.

In my mind I have all sorts of justifications for it, but mostly I was hurt, and have been hurt, not as much by her actions, but by the actions of her live-in-boyfriend-almost-fiance.

It as triggered by a sequence of photos from their trip to see her biological family in Oregon. I wonder if my reaction would have been as strong if it hadn’t been a vacation there, though I am not inherently jealous of her other family. It was that he was in the pictures with her. And from previous conversations with her, I know that he “just loves them. It’s so easy with them. They don’t judge him, and it’s just relaxed, rather than when he’s around mom & dad he feels judged and they’re always asking them questions.”

So, in my head, I am annoyed because once again it seems like she is in a relationship with a selfish jerk who expects her to spend time with his family, and he can make time to travel 4 hours to Oregon, but can’t come to my parents house in the same town as them, or visit Seattle when my sister does…like…for Potamus’ baptism or say, this Thanksgiving. But he can make time to train to be a cage-fighter (un, he’s 32) and visit her other family in Oregon.

Major butt-hurt right here.

And I blame my sister because she has done this over-and-over-and-over with different guys. So I’m frustrated with her because she keeps choosing guys that treat her family like poop. But I’m also frustrated that he doesn’t love her enough to make an effort with us.

Wanting to change my relationships with my siblings is a challenge. Mutual adult relationships are difficult, and I often find it easier to hang out with friends because we have some of those mutual beliefs, interests, shared grown-up experiences together, that aren’t accompanied by the baggage of family.

KidsQuest: A Museum Review

If you’re looking for something FREE to do on a rainy Seattle day, then I definitely suggest KidsQuest Museum in the Factoria Mall. Granted, in order for it to be free, you’ll need a friend with a membership who is willing to sacrifice a guest pass to take you! HA! BUT, if you are looking for something relatively CHEAP to do in the area, then, at eight bucks for adults (and kiddos under 1 are free), this is definitely your place! In fact, the yearly membership is something whopping like $80, so it might even be worth it for our family to shell out that kind of dough, cause even if we went 1 time a month, it would pay for itself in less than a year!

I’m dubbing it a “Little Science Center,” as an ode to THE Seattle Science Center that I grew up loving. What makes KidsQuest amazing, though, is that there is a section that is specifically designed for the under 3 crowd, While this doesn’t limit your access to the rest of the area (with supervision of course!) it does allow for our little pumpkins to explore the world around them (ie crawling, toddling unsteadily) without fear of being bulldozed by some 17 year old on a cell phone or even a pack of 7 year olds squirrelling around. I felt great about sitting back for a few moments, catching up with my college pal (who was there with her daughter who’s 1 month older than Potamus), and keeping an eye on the Potamus as he explored. Today’s adventure included shaking several rattles, rolling a blow-up beach ball all around the room (up the stairs and down the wheelchair ramp), staring at the fishtank, and trying to share his toys with other young fellas.

After the tots (okay, the mamas) were thoroughly worn out, we walked around the other parts of the museum that have a more sciency feel to them. There were sensory stations with sand, water stations where you could watch ping pong balls flow down a river (that you could change by adding different logs to the river flow), and various other stations that were occupied by interested kiddos. I loved it, and will DEFINITELY be bringing Potamus back…even if I have to pay for myself this time!

How are YOU a badass?

I was reading this article The Day Female Longboarders Taught me how to be a Badass on Huffington Post, and it hit me in the gut. You see, I have badass women friends that I admire and frankly…am pretty effing jealous of. Melissa Sher starts out saying:

I’ve wanted to be a badass for as long as I can remember. But the closest I ever came was in college, when I got my belly button pierced. Sadly, I had to remove the belly ring after only one day because it got infected. Three pregnancies later, my scar has stretched so that it now looks like a small, upside-down question mark, as if asking me, “What were you thinking?”

I giggled at this, thinking about my impulsive moments in college where I got my tongue AND nose pierced on the same day, and how utterly “cool” I felt with that. I mean, it’s not anyone who would just finish a rafting trip with some new friends, strike up a conversation about tongue rings and realize that you BOTH had wanted a tongue piercing, and then hop in the car and head down to the local tattoo shop to get it done…especially not after I had been there that morning getting my sparkly nose-stud.

This idea of being a badass woman is one that I’ve thought about for awhile. I have goals people…GOALS, though most of the time that goal is to get up off the couch (stop blogging Monk-Monk, get out, enjoy life!) and do something really badass, like changing a poopy diaper. These friends that I’m jealous of include:
1) my bestie from college who married a rock-climber and they’ve adopted 2 australian shepards that they’ve found out on the trails (on 2 separate occasions). They travel around on weekends (and he, for work) bouldering and hiking and camping in the back of their truck. She is a badass. She can climb rocks upside down and the muscles on her arms are toned to a ridiculous point. Best part is, in pictures she looks so incredibly happy.
2) my current bestie who recently double-dutched on her wedding day IN HER WEDDING DRESS, because she loves being a part of her jump-rope group so much. She does Hood-to-Coast and her honeymoon wasn’t to the typical tropical places..no, they road-tripped through Banff, Canada.

3) my good friend from school is a Crossfit maniac, when parachuting last summer and is training to be in a Tough Mudder competition (think 12 miles run full of full-blown team obstacle course!). She’s currently on her way to Croatia with her husband to vacation around, which just seems so badas.. not Paris or London, but Croatia (I mean, who has even HEARD of Croatia 😉 ).

A few examples of women in my life that I admire. Like the women in the article, I long to do thrilling adrenaline rushing things. I sometimes feel like I chose such a safe life…marriage to a man, home-owner, middleish class, one dog, one kid, etc. Sometimes I wish I were brave enough to get on a long-board and go 40 mph down a long winding hill.

Then there’s part of me who laughs at my comparisons to my friends. That part of me that remembers moving to India solo and escaping kidnapping by my taxi driver in the middle of the night, the part of me that remembers being Avatar in the Solstice Parade naked bike-ride, or the part of me that remembers calling up a stranger saying, “I was adopted in 1982 and I have reason to believe that you are my father.”

All of those things make me badass.

Changing poopy diapers makes me badass, too…but in a totally different way…right?

Though this drive to be physically badass…through long-boarding or yoga or running in obstacle courses, keeps calling to me…and yet…I still am not quite to getting my goals into practice.

Tell me…in what ways are YOU badass? And how did you get to where you are?

Long hours

Today was my longest day away from Potamus, and I managed to survive! Yesterday was shitty, but I was wrapped in love from my friends and family and woke up today ready to have a calm centeredness to my life. My mantra in this line of work is…”they are in crisis, I am not in crisis.” Sometimes its hard to remember that!

Boof was sweet and sent me this picture while he was out on a walk with the little boy. It made me smile and helped me feel better while I was trying to pump discreetly in the car (and failing miserably might add). We were separated for about 6 hours and I surprisingly felt darn good when I was out. I really like this work…the hours are what makes it terribly hard.

In other news…Potamus is 4 months old tomorrow!

Road trip

Babies are clearly more flexible and resilient than their mamas. Boof and I took Potamus across the state this weekend to meet his great-grandma before she succumbs to Alzheimers completely. I was worried and stressed in the weeks leading up to the trip, as I actually love going places but actually hate the process of travelling…and with a breastfeeding baby I had no idea how long it would take or how I would adjust to sleeping with Potamus in a new place. I should realize that traveling is always worse in my mind and that we would be just fine if I could simply relax and enjoy myself. Potamus slept most of the trip and was a great sleeper at our friends house. We co-slept using a blanket in a coffee box from Costco to make our situation safer. Reminds me of my parents who used to have me sleep in a dresser drawer when they would visit relatives when I was a baby. Way easier than bringing a pack n play at this point!