Mother's Day

Oh, Facebook. How I love you and resent you. I love, love the connections you bring into my life. How else would I know that my high school friend’s neighbor’s sister’s child just started on solid foods? Truly, I do love getting little snapshots of the lives of people who have left an imprint on my life. It’s brought some amazing people back into my circle of regular contact and it’s let me know that other people are alive and in the world. Sometimes that’s really all I want to know about someone. I’m a Fan.

I also resent the fact that I often think of my life in FB statuses. As I’m experiencing something, I kinda want to simmer the experience down to a statement of not more than 2 sentences or so and throw it out there for the universe to see. But some things don’t fit neatly into a FB status, nor should they. That’s how I’m feeling about my Mother’s Day greeting today.

I’ve been meaning to throw something out there to wish a happy Mother’s Day to all the amazing mothers I know, but I keep running into obstacles. This time, they haven’t been the usual 2-year-old-“Mommy carry me!” variety. It is a wonderful thing to have a day to celebrate mothers, but my feelings are complicated. I’d like to simply wish a happy Mother’s Day to all and to all a good night, but other people are on my heart today, too.

SO, here’s my long-winded Mother’s Day greeting to you, Universe.

First of all, I want to wish all you mothers out there a fabulous Mother’s Day and acknowledge how awesome you are. It’s great to have a day to recognize all the things moms do to help the world go ‘round. That should be relished. Period. Mamas deserve every bit of pampering, praise and love they get today! I’m profoundly thankful to my mother for teaching me the power of love through all things. Raising five children is not a neat and tidy process and there was certainly nothing particularly idyllic about our childhoods except that there was never a second of true doubt in my mind about whether or not my parents really loved me. My mother demonstrated love through difficult times and circumstances, reinforced the importance of close ties in a family, and taught me that if you lead with your heart and always choose love, things will go well in the end. They may not go easy or neatly, but when you choose to love, you create ripples of caring that resonate farther than you could ever imagine. Thank you, Mom.

I also am so thankful for my mother-in-law for raising a son who is kind, generous, faithful, and thoughtful. Love you, Lola!

I have had several other “mothers” who have mentored me and taught me how to be a strong, loving woman. I continue to follow in your footsteps and refer to the examples you set before me.

And to my mommy friends/sisters – rock on, girls. Seriously, you are my rocks. You help me navigate the endless questions and doubts that go along with being a mother and (usually) convince me that, no, I am not going to lose my mind/sell my child to the circus/run away to join the circus and that there’s very little in this world that quality time with girlfriends (plus or minus a glass of wine) can’t help. I love you all!!

I also want to say how much I love being a mommy to my sweet daughter. I truly adore her and delight in her. Being her mother has taught me so much about love, growth, joy and on and on. I am such a better person for having this experience. And I love that I get to share this parenting life with my equally awesome hubby.

So, that’s all the “yay us!” thoughts I have today.

Every Mother’s Day and Father’s Day I remember overhearing a conversation between a couple of coworkers about a month or so after my dad passed away. Father’s Day was approaching and they were discussing how they were going to celebrate the day with their fathers. I, on the other hand, felt like someone had punched me in the stomach and I couldn’t breathe as I mentally screamed something along the lines of “How could you be so insensitive to talk about this delicate issue within hearing distance of me??!! Don’t you know what it’s doing to me? That my world is crumbling, my heart is broken and that I’m only putting up a façade of having things together because if I really fell to pieces like I want to, I may never get them back together again?! Hello, salt in the wound!” More or less. Obviously, I don’t still feel quite so outraged that anyone might dare breathe the word “Father” around me, but I do still have such a soft spot in my heart for those who aren’t able to experience Mother’s Day (or Father’s Day) without some sadness.

To you who are missing your mothers today, knowing that even though they are not here, we always carry our mothers with us (for better or worse!), I wish you peace. I pray you will be able to think of your mother warmly, treasure her love, truly know that you still carry her in your heart, and rest in that comfort.

As a friend posted earlier this week, I’m also thinking of the mothers whose arms are empty as they wait for their babies. I’ve known so many people who have struggled with infertility and I imagine today is a very difficult day. When there’s nothing you want more in the whole world than to be a mother… I just hope that you know how much the love you put into the world right now matters. In no way do I mean to take away from current mothers, but I do want to send some love and prayers out to the mothers-in-waiting.

And, finally, for my friends who are mothers to angels… My heart bleeds for you and with you and I pray we all find peace. This Mother’s Day has been a personally complicated emotional roller coaster. We’ve been hoping and waiting for Baby #2 for a long time now and were thrilled earlier this year to find out we were pregnant. And then we weren’t. We lost our little Alex about 2 months ago. The number of friends who have shared that they also have suffered miscarriages or infant loss has overwhelmed me. I can’t help but thinking that on this Mother’s Day, I was supposed to be pregnant. It was supposed to be extra joyous as we looked forward to the fall when our new child would bless our family. And I think it’s funny and presumptuous that I could ever say how things were “supposed” to be. Clearly, I did not understand the plan and I am not in charge. So, I am searching to understand the ways Alex is blessing our family now. I have been so supported, loved, and inspired by such amazing friends and family. As with motherhood, I feel that this experience of loss has opened up a new sisterhood for me and I’m touched by the nurturing and love I’ve experienced as a result. A friend posted this poem and it really touched me. I’m offering it up as a prayer for all you mamas to Glory Babies.

What Makes a Mother

Written by Jennifer Wasik ~ In Memory of Zachery Wasik

I thought of you and closed my eyes

And prayed to God today

I asked "What makes a Mother?"

And I know I heard Him say.

"A Mother has a baby"

This we know is true

"But God can you be a Mother,

When you baby's not with you?"

"You, you can," He replied

With Confidence in His voice

"I give many women babies,

When they leave is not their choice.

Some I send for a lifetime,

And others for the day.

And some I send to feel your womb,

But there's no need to stay."

"I just don't understand this God

I want my baby to be here."

He took a deep breath and cleared His throat,

And then I saw the tear.

"I wish I could show you,

What your child is doing today.

If you could see your child's smile,

With all the other children and say...

'We go to Earth to learn our lessons,

Of love and life and fear.

My Mommy loved me oh so much,

I got to come straight here.

I feel so lucky to have a Mom,

Who had so much love for me.

I learned my lessons very quickly,

My Mommy set me free.

I miss my Mommy oh so much,

But I visit her every day.

When she goes to sleep,

On her pillow's where I lay

I stroke her hair and kiss her cheek,

And whisper in her ear.

Mommy don't be sad today,

I'm your baby and I'm here.'

"So you see my dear sweet ones,

your children are okay.

Your babies are born here in My home,

And this is where they'll stay.

They'll wait for you with Me,

Until your lesson's through.

And on the day that you come home

they'll be at the gates for you.

So now you see what makes a Mother,

It's the feeling in your heart

it's the love you had so much of

Right from the very start.

Though some on earth may not realize you are a Mother

until their time is done,

they'll be up here with Me one day

and know that you are the best one!"

From the Heart

Back before I spent all my days working in our little Kumquat Garden, and even back before I spent my days helping families - especially their little ones - as a counselor, I was a Religious Studies major and Psychology minor at Washington University in St. Louis. "Religious Studies" didn't necessarily mean theology or training for ministry (although many people from the program have gone on to that work). Here's part of the description from the program's page:

In-depth study of religion is concerned with the most fundamental values and the deepest value conflicts of human individuals and communities. In this program, you will explore central questions about the human condition in a critical, but empathetic manner. In addition, since the academic study of religion is intrinsically multicultural and international in nature, majoring in religious studies will inevitably broaden your cultural horizons and increase your knowledge and experience of global human diversity.

Yep. That's about it. And that also sums up a key part of my college experience. Interfaith activities absorbed a huge chunk of my life during my first few years of college and I am so, so thankful for those experiences. I am so thankful for the amazing opportunity I had to spend time in the classroom immersed in the world's great religions and to learn about the beauty and wisdom of each. I am thankful that I was able to return to the residence halls and live those lessons in modern life, as I made friends and had deep conversations with fellow students of different faiths. I will always cherish a memory of sitting in the room of a Muslim friend, who asked me to explain to her the Christian telling of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ. She shared the differences in the Muslim teaching as I shared the Christian one. So much was common and it was fascinating to hear her telling. That is what interfaith study is all about. And I think it makes God happy.

I like to fancy myself a deep thinker and I've had lots and lots of deep thoughts about the debate over the mosque in New York and the potential burning of Korans in Florida. I've been both heartened and disgusted by things I have seen folks post on Facebook. I have wanted to share these thoughts, but I often find that my rigorous academic training from WU has made me hesitant about putting information out there that I don't first thoroughly research, consider valid criticisms, and document references. And believe me, I would LOVE to do that. But, I also have a crazy, precious little toddler running around who wants Mama's full attention at every minute and a foggy mommy-brain that makes me wonder if I will ever think clearly and complete a single thought again. I also am the kind of person who avoids conflict at all costs, kinda hates a debate, and just really does not like to stir the pot. I do think pots need to be stirred and conflict leads to growth, but... ick.

BUT, writing about this stuff is something I am really feeling called to do right now. I would hate for K to look back someday, know I had this rich education and invaluable experience, and wonder where my voice was during all of this. If the people who are educated, respectful, and long for peace don't speak, it leaves space wide open for those filled with hate, fear, and bigotry. I want K to grow up feeling confident that her voice is valuable and convicted that she should enter the fray, be a constructive part of the conversation, stand up for those who are wrongfully accused, and share the values she holds. And I think the only way I can teach her to do this is to suck it up and do it myself.

So, let me put my academic-angst-ridden, mommy-fogged-over brain on the back burner for a moment and speak from the heart. I want to share what I believe. (And I am going to do my best just to share and avoid researching and linking up references to support my beliefs. Lay off, brain!)

I believe that there are multiple paths to God. A very wise woman once said to me that she believes God is like a destination and religion is the sign pointing towards the destination. It is not the destination itself. I agree. Let's be real - we are a beautifully messy, human world filled with all sorts of cultures, traditions and languages. Religion grows out of this as humans struggle to understand the Divine, which we can never fully do because we are human. This means that there are going to be flaws and limitations from the get-go. I do believe that there is a two-way exchange between humans and God, but I think many of the trappings of religions are inherently human. And if we are diverse people, why should we expect that one religion would be appropriate for all? I often think of different religions in the world as worshipping God in different languages. Don't get me wrong... I do adhere to a specific religion, I believe some things to be true. But I think there can be a balance between relativism and "if you're not with us, you're against us" thinking.

I respect Islam. I respect Muslims. I believe that the vast majority of Muslims do not approve of terrorism, suicide bombers, or violence. I am sure many, many Muslims hate the fact that their beautiful, PEACEFUL religion (it really is - study it) is distorted and misrepresented by fanatics, just as I hate to be associated with Terry Jones' version of "Christianity."

Let me share a few quotes from some wise ones - a couple from my own religious tradition...

"If you want peace, work for justice." - Pope Paul VI

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them." - Mother Teresa

"Be the change you wish to see in the world." - Mahatma Ghandi

I know that today is a reminder of a deep and searing pain so many still feel. I am thinking of all the many, many families who continue to miss a loved one so dearly. I am thinking of all the people whose lives were shattered by the events of 9/11/2001. I am thinking of all the military families who have lost loved ones since that day and all of the service members whose lives continue to be challenged with physical, mental and emotional injuries sustained in the years following 9/11. I am thinking of my two little brothers who are in the Army - one currently in Afghanistan, one about to deploy to Iraq - their precious wives and children and the sacrifices families continue to make. I am lifting up my brothers in prayer, asking God to protect their bodies, minds, and hearts during this year of deployments. I am also praying for those whose pain and anger over 9/11 remains so intense.

As a counselor, I have some thoughts about the grief process. I believe that we grieve many things in life, not just the loss of a loved one. We grieve for lost opportunities, lost perceptions of how life is and should be, lost innocence, lost blindness to the violence of religious strife, lost sense of safety, and lost sense of invincibility. Part of grieving is fully experiencing the pain one feels over a loss. Most people also experience intense anger and a desire to blame someone for causing their pain.

I believe that much of the furor over the proposed Islamic Center near Ground Zero is from the still-profound pain of 9/11 and shows how far we still have to go in the grieving process. I have seen people and families be torn apart by fiercely clenching their pain and anger, refusing to let it go. Some people need to feel anger to prevent them from feeling other emotions they may not be able to handle - like helplessness, fear and sadness - and others suffer in hate because they do not know how to let it go. This breaks a heart. Some people believe that they need to hold onto their pain as a way to honor the dead and that if they begin to feel peace and healing, it somehow diminishes the loss. I do not agree. I believe most of our loved ones want us to live lives that are filled with peace, joy, harmony and happiness. Not to sound cliche, but I do think that we can truly honor our dead by living rich, full lives.

I do think we should always remember 9/11 and honor those who were murdered on that day. We should honor those who continue to fight for the best ideals of our country and those who fight for peace and justice. I believe the best way to move through (not "get over" because that ignores the work of grief - we have to "move through" and deal with it if we are to be healed) the pain and hate of 9/11 is to engage with one another, develop true respect for the beliefs and differences people share, and to appreciate that most people truly do want to live in a peaceful world.

My understanding is that the "9/11 Mosque" is an effort to achieve those goals. I read someone's post that the "evil religion of Islam has a history of erecting monuments to celebrate victories" and that this is the true reason to build a mosque near Ground Zero. Really? At first, I, too, thought maybe it would just be better for the community to find another location for their center. But then I read about the developers' desire to help America learn about Islam, to support true Islamic teaching and discredit the radicals who distort Islam into violence, to try to bring about some good and lasting peace from the ashes of this tragedy. If we want to prevent something like 9/11 happening again, then shouldn't we support a house of prayer and center for dialogue? And why does it need to be in Lower Manhattan? Would it matter as much if it were anywhere else? No. Would it have the potential to be the change agent and catalyst for healing and greater understanding of Islam in America if it were anywhere else? Probably not. And isn't the freedom of religion a crucial pillar of America's identity? I think so. And I think that efforts to block the building of this mosque chip away at our identity and give the 9/11 terrorists a true victory.

A last, beautiful thought from Mother Teresa (based on Dr. Kent Keith's Paradoxical Commandments):

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.

What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.

Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

The Long and Very Sad Tale of Connor Kitty Cat

Once upon a time (the year 2000), in a land far, far away (Houston), there was a girl living a kind of lonely life. You see, she was dating a medical student who was doing his clinical rotations. Since this was back in the day, his surgery rotation meant waking up every morning at 3 am to leave for the hospital by 4 in order to drive to the public hospital on the other side of town and make rounds (check and get updates on all the patients) before the residents or attendings. And he was on call a lot. And "call" meant sleeping overnight in the public hospital, working really hard all night, not getting much (if any sleep), working the following day, and then driving home to give his poor girlfriend nightmares after hearing how many times he fell asleep on the highway that day.

Anyway. So, this girl was kinda on her own and wanted some furry companionship. As fate would have it, a friend found a sweet kitten wandering around looking for a home. From the beginning, it was nearly impossible to believe he had been a stray because this cat was an orange ball full of love. The girl tried so hard to be the best kitty mama she could be. Before the kitty came to live with her, she kitten-proofed her apartment and did her best to remove anything that might possibly endanger his sweet well-being. She even stayed home from work the morning he had his first hairball, since she didn't know what was wrong with him and she was so worried. The orange kitty loved the girl so, so, so much. It broke his heart every morning when she left for work and he would throw himself in front of the apartment door to try to keep her from leaving. As soon as she stepped into her hallway at the end of the day, she could hear her kitty crying for her. After a little while, she thought it might help if the orange kitty had a friend to play with during the day. Once again, as fate would have it, a kitten wandered into her life looking for a home. She was named The Pooka. The orange kitty loved his Pooka from the first moment he laid eyes on her. And all was well in the land far, far away.

Time passed and the boy and girl moved their little family of 4 - 2 human, 2 feline - to a new land called Chicago. Much like today, it was a difficult time for the girl to find a job and she spent a few months searching and searching, feeling very doubtful about any skills and her general worth. During this difficult time (when her boyfriend, who was now a surgery intern, was generally MIA and working 120 hour weeks at the hospital), the sweet kitty boy took such good care of her. He was such a snuggle bug who would purr and purr and love nothing more than to spend all of his time cuddled up with the girl. Mind you, not all was blissful. It so happens that the orange kitty cat is a giant cat, but thinks he's a teeny tiny kitten. Mishaps and general mayhem ensued. But above all, the boy and the girl could only shake their heads and marvel at the kitty cat made of love.

The boy and girl married and joked that the orange kitty and The Pooka should be named Best Cat and Kitty of Honor because they were so much a part of the family. Just after their marriage, the girl's father died. It was such a heart-wrenching, spirit-crushing time for her. Although her husband took good care of her and did his best in spite of being a 2nd year surgery resident, he just wasn't around that much. So many times, all she could do was hold tight to her sweet orange purring ball of love and sob into his fur. And the kitty just kept giving love.

The family of four made two more moves to two new cities. Each move was hard in its own way and came with the challenge of not knowing a soul in the area. The girl was always so thankful to be able to rely on the constant, unwavering, purring love of her kitty cats. They really were her babies before she had babies.

Time passed and the family had a (human) baby.

The orange kitty's reaction to the addition was a big topic for concern. He watched carefully as baby items began to fill the family's house, but generally assumed they were all new toys for him.

Not being able to do much else, the family just hoped for the best. At first, he seemed to react relatively well towards the little baby. He was mildly curious about her and didn't seem overly concerned about this funny little thing that was now living in his house.

All seemed to be going well until the end of the Christmas season, when the baby was about 2 months old. After hosting a continuing parade of family members excited to meet the new baby, the mama and daddy were taking down the Christmas tree. They noticed the tree skirt was wet and then... the smell. Apparently the orange kitty was feeling a little more threatened than previously thought, because he had started marking his territory (i.e. urinating on the carpet). It had never, never, ever happened before in the entire nearly 9 years of his life. This continued occasionally over the next year. It was a nuisance and seemed horrible, but looking back, it was relatively manageable.

By the following Christmas, things had taken a turn for the worse. The poor orange kitty apparently felt neglected and unloved because he started marking much more frequently... including in front of all of the daddy's family, who were visiting for the holiday. He was checked and re-checked for medical issues that could cause the behavior, but everything came up fine. It was "just behavioral." The kitty was banned from the basement, which is where all of this had occurred, carpet was replaced in 2 bedrooms, and things were better for a while. And then he started marking in the dining room. Not often, but it happened a couple of times. Medications were tried and thoroughly rejected by the big kitty. More & bigger litter boxes filled the house, but the marking continued. Ultimatums were given and discussions with vets were had. Up to this point, the girl thought the worst case scenario was having to give up her orange kitty for adoption. It just broke her heart to think of sending him off and never seeing him again. After speaking with the vet, she realized that all of her attempts were actually efforts to avoid having him euthanized. This possibility had never ever crossed the girl's mind and she became overwhelmed with guilt and sadness at the thought of killing her sweet kitty cat (who is still full of love - for the girl, anyway - although he clearly is not as happy as when he was the center of the household) because his behavior was out of control.

And another reprieve came. He stopped just long enough to make the girl think that maybe all would be well. Then the human portion of the family went on vacation for 2 weeks. A wonderful neighbor came to check on the kitties every day during their absence, but the big kitty still made his feelings about the absence pungently clear. The humans returned to find that the living room carpet was a pretty disgusting and smelly mess. Cleaning, scrubbing, and disinfecting of carpet and carpet pad followed, but the marking continued. Other ultimatums were issued and remedies desperately tried. More medications were attempted and rejected. The kitty urinated outside the baby's bedroom door while the parents were inside reading her bedtime stories. Arrangements were made to replace the hallway and dining room carpet with wood floors.

Yesterday, the girl pulled up the entire carpet in the dining room, cleaned the carpet pad, scrubbed the underside of the carpet and then shampooed the carpet as usual. The poor baby was stuck watching cartoons in her high chair after waking up from her nap, until the floor was safe for a little girl to come near. The kitty spent the afternoon sunbathing on the deck, which is preferred activity these days. When the big carpet job was finished, the girl let the kitty back inside the house. He immediately walked into the dining room and urinated in the middle of the floor. And the girl cried.

Unfortunately, it looks like there is no fairy tale ending here and that this family will not be living happily ever after.

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In all seriousness, I am just sick over this entire situation and can't even begin to tell you how many tears I've shed. I desperately wish there were some way to communicate to Connor that his behavior is not going to get him what he wants... basically, my undivided attention and kicking the Kumquat out of the house. I looked into putting him up for adoption through the Humane Society, but after going through the forms involved, I'm pretty sure he'd be considered unacceptable and be euthanized.

One thing that makes me so sick about all of this is that he is a GREAT cat... in the right setting. Apparently, our family is no longer that setting. He is still incredibly attached to me, but I just can't give him all the attention he requires. And we only have one kid. What if we have more? (Hold your horses - I'm not pregnant. I just said "what if.") The cats are just going to keep slipping down the priority list. And it seems like that is just not going to work for him. I feel like we're slowly going down the euthanasia road and I just can't even put into words how sick that makes me.

He has his faults (he also scratches furniture and has recently started biting me), but he has so much love to give. He is gorgeous, loves to be brushed, brings his "snake" (teaser toy) to folks to request playtime, purrs like crazy, and is ridiculously cuddly. If you happen to know anyone who 1) loves cats, 2) is looking for one, and 3) has no children and can devote some love and attention to my sweet boy, will you please let me know? It's a long shot, I know, but I figured I can't move forward with anything else until I know I've given this every chance possible.

Or, if you have any miracle cures for sad kitties who just want their old lives back, but can't have them, then please let me know that, too.

Sweet Moments

"To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world."
- Heather Darling-Cortes

Tonight, I spent about an hour rocking my sleepy toddler-wannabe, wondering how a year could have flown by so quickly, but changed my world so completely. After our park debacle, DKG had to stop by his office, so K & I tagged along. As we drove past the hospital where we attended endless childbirth-preparation classes and Baby K finally was born, it struck me that we may have been making the same drive this day last year, but under very different circumstances. There would not have been four different kinds of snacks, cookie crumbs, 1 crusty bear & 2 drinks in my purse; nor would there be 1 hat and 1 loose baby shoe in DKG's pocket. My car would have been much, much cleaner and I would have been much, much heavier. I also would not have been listening to a song called "A Pirate Says 'Arrr!'" and laughing at a little girl who now does not say any words, but will inform you that the sound a pirate makes is indeed "Arrr!" Later, as we looked out a window in DKG's office building, I pointed out the beautiful Fall colors to K and told her the view from that window was almost the exact same as the one we had the day she was born. I told her how I laid in a bed and looked at the brilliant gold, orange, red and green trees and drank in how they twinkled in the bright sunshine and stood out against the blue sky. And how I looked at those changing leaves and thought about the dramatic change my life was about to take. I thought about how much my baby girl has changed in these past 11 months and how conflicted I feel when I look at her. It is such a beautiful age... she is part baby, part toddler. I just want to hold her and rock her and keep her as my little baby forever, but it is also so thrilling to see all of the new things she learns and does every day. She signed "coat" today. I didn't know she knew that one. And she took 9 steps while we were waiting for DKG. And she crawled up into my arms and rested her head on my chest just like when she was so tiny and new.

This morning, we played. That's it. I didn't clean up the kitchen after breakfast. I didn't make the bed or do the laundry. Or shower. We just played. We read books, danced, took big-girl steps, blew raspberries, shared giggles, counted toes, tickled feet, flew around the room, had mad crawling races, climbed through bridges and tunnels and then took a nap. Someone asked me today what I've been doing to stay busy. I smiled and looked at my sweet daughter. "Oh, not much."

It is an overwhelming gift to be able to be the person she looks to when she's upset or to be able to make her so happy just by walking into the room. I love this age. She is still my sweet baby, but she is able to share herself with us, too. I can love on her all I want and she loves me right back. I think that is what makes me the most wistful right now. I know our relationship will continually grow and change... hopefully it will develop and deepen in positive ways, which is what should happen. We should all grow. But right now is so beautiful. There is no eye-rolling, no baggage, no disappointments, no unmet expectations, no true regrets. There is just love. Pure, true love.

That Little Something Special

I know I have mentioned my moms group now and then, but my friend, Mandy, wrote a beautiful post about the group that I really wanted to share.

She totally hits the nail on the head. I have to say that I was nervous about moving to a new state - where we didn't know a soul & our closest family was nearly 5 hours away - when I was 7 months pregnant with our first child. I knew it would be important for me to get out there and try to develop some kind of support system before the baby arrived. I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined that I would find such an amazingly warm, caring and supportive group of mommies who would welcome me with open arms before I was even in the state. Or that women I hadn't even met yet would bring meals to me after the baby was born. Or that I would be such a more confident mother knowing that I could draw on the wisdom of these other women. Or that I could feel such a strong sense of community after only a few months when it took years to feel a sliver of that in other places. Or that I would feel so much caring and wonder and pride in watching other people's children grow and learn new things. Or that I would be able to share my precious daughter with other people (not biologically related to us) who would delight in her quirks, development and spiky hair like I do. Or that I would be continually amazed by how very blessed I feel knowing that my baby girl has the chance to grow up with so many loving mamas looking out for her and caring for her... and for me.

I truly am so thankful to have these amazing women in my life!

Remembering 9/11

It was one of those moments when you automatically knew you would always remember the day it happened and what you were doing when you heard. The Challenger Disaster was the first experience I'd had with this in my life (we were in Sr. John's 3rd grade class listening to the launch on the radio... yep, I'm that old!), but we all knew right away that this was huge. Here are my memories of that day...

I was working in Admissions at the University of Texas Medical School at Houston. Over the summer, we'd had a tropical storm, which flooded caused a "high water incident" in Texas Medical Center and destroyed the Admissions Office. After several moves, we took up residence in a cubbyhole office in the Department of Internal Medicine. That's where I was when my co-worker's boyfriend called and said that "something bad was happening" and we should find a TV. We did find one down the hall and got there just in time to see the first tower collapse.

I returned to my office and called my mom, who hadn't heard anything yet. My youngest brother was in the 82nd Airborne Division & they were on field alert status, which means they had to be ready to ship out within 24 hours (or something like that - sorry if I have that wrong, Kev!). My mom was immediately panicking saying, "He's gone, he's gone. They've already gone, I'm sure." It seems funny now - 2 deployments later - that the idea of his deploying was so terrifying. But it was.

By the afternoon, all of the "non-essential" (basically non-medical) people in the Medical Center were being sent home. Probably because no one was really interested in working anyway. I remember riding the bus home & seeing all of the emergency vehicles stationed in the Med Center... just in case.

DKG (who was home because he'd had a bad needle stick the day before and had to get HIV testing & preemptive HIV meds) and I watched the news in my apartment in Houston for the rest of the day. There was lots of concern in the news about whether or not Houston would be attacked, as I'm sure there was everywhere else. They were worried about the oil refineries being terrorist targets and there were people evacuating the city. The shock, fear and grief was overwhelming. I remember thinking that nothing would ever be the same, that some previously unacknowledged sense of safety and security was gone forever.

There's a passage from Rilla of Ingleside (one of the Anne of Green Gables novels) I thought of immediately...

In March of the year of grace 1918 there was one week into which must have crowded more of searing human agony than any seven days had ever held before in the history of the world. And in that week there was one day when all of humanity seemed nailed to the cross; on that day the whole planet must have been agroan with universal convulsion; everywhere the hearts of men were failing them for fear.

What were you doing on September 11, 2001?

Meta Blogging (or Blogging about Blogging)

I've been doing some Fall cleaning today! All of a sudden, the 90's are gone and the weather has turned much cooler. The big kids are all back in school and the neighborhood is much quieter during the day. When the seasons change (I know, I know... Fall doesn't officially end for a few more weeks. I'm talking about the cultural seasons. The cultural Summer is over. *Sniff*) I always feel the need to clean things out, change up some colors, rearrange the furniture, etc., etc. So, I've spent a lot of today doing the same in my virtual world. As you may have noticed. :) Among other things, I've been thinking about privacy & security lately. Maybe it has something to do with the continuous discussions regarding privacy on Facebook and this article DKG read on our recent trip. A few months ago, I'd decided it would be best to keep our last name & the Kumquat's first name off the blog. Initially, I'd considered keeping my name & hubby's name off as well, but couldn't think of any sort of clever nickname and eventually just gave up the effort. I'm revisiting the whole privacy thing and have decided to go ahead and take our names off, too. I still haven't come up with any clever nicknames for us that I love, so whatever. In thinking about our Baby Kumquat, I was reflecting on how hubby & I care for her, support her and encourage her growth. That is what this blog is all about, after all. So that makes us gardeners of a sort. Kumquat Gardeners to be exact. I've decided I'll just call us Mama KG & Daddy KG (or DKG for short).

So that's that! And while I'm meta-blogging...
When I started this blog (over 2 years & 120-something posts ago!), it truly was just intended to be an efficient way to keep in touch with family & the friends we were leaving behind when we left Chicago. (And maybe to give me something to do as I looked for a job.) That is still the primary intention, but it's become much more of a hobby than I'd ever imagined. Truly, I thought it would just save me a few emails because I could write any big news here and not worry about who I forgot to email. I do love to write, though, and it's been fun to get back to it a bit. I also always find that the best way for me to sort through my thoughts is to write about them. For some reason (laziness, primarily) the whole journaling thing never worked out well for me. I'd be awesome in spurts, but could never make it a real habit. Blogging has worked out better mostly because I convince myself that there are people out there eager to read a new post. (And I know there are! You family members don't have a choice but to be eager readers! Bwah-ha-ha...) So that keeps me coming back. In turn, I have discovered something I didn't know about myself before I started this. I have a high need for virtual affirmation. :) I ♥ your comments. I check for them obsessively often. I know I have gotten a bit lazy (that comes up often!) about commenting on others' blogs and I'm going to make a more concerted effort to actually type in the comments that are in my head. I hope that if you have comments floating around in your head, then you'll share them as well. No pressure, but I just wanted to let you know that I drink them up. I send pics of Baby K to my family members VERY often and I sometimes wonder if that gets annoying. Do they ever think, "OK, OK, I've got it. Your kid's cute. I know," when they get the 18th pic of the week? My sweet SIL recently reassured me that she doesn't and she's always happy to see the pics. So that's my intention: should you ever think about commenting, I just want you to know that I will savor it.

Enough housekeeping! I actually have 3 new posts in the works, so hopefully I'll give you lots of commenting potential this week. ;)