ears eyes nose [tail]

(Or, as Jaden is saying today, “Daddy day”)

My (recently retired!) mother-in-law came to our house to stay for a week starting last Sunday.  I have decided that life is much better with grandma around.  I’ve asked her to move in, but I don’t think she is quite ready.  I’ll keep working on her. 

Tomorrow morning I am leaving for 4 days.  Alone.  This will be the longest I’ve been away from Jaden.  It kind of terrifies me, but thrills me at the same time.  Saying good-night to him at bed time tonight was a little more than hard.  It is funny, right?  This is a trip I want to take.  I will see people I want to see.  I will be getting a desired break from my job that often leaves me daydreaming about an hour or two alone.  Yet, as I closed the door to Jaden’s bedroom tonight and heard him sweetly say “mommy” on my way out, the tears just started to fall.

I am positive we will both be fine.  I guess that really isn’t the point of the heartache.

On a more uplifting note, my mother-in-law, Jaden and I hit up some garage sales this morning.  We scored some books, a dolly (Sonya Lee from the Little People), a MON TRUH (monster truck), a truck t-shirt, and an old-school Little People parking garage (this was only 50 cents and definitely the bargain of the day).  I think we spent a total of $4.  Nice. 

The pictures tell the story of the love Jaden has for his grandma and his new toys.  I am so happy they will have the next few days together.  I am also happy to venture off on my own.  However, I won’t lie.  I can’t wait to hear “mommy” out of my sweet boy’s mouth again soon.

In respect to using this blog primarily to archive family history, I am obligated to write out some of Jaden’s latest party tricks that make me smile regardless of circumstance.

• We recently purchased My Daddy is a Pretzel.  This books goes through some basic yoga poses for kids and adults.  After reading it once, almost without fail, Jaden has gone into “tree” pose on demand.  It.is.outstanding.  He falls over 80% of the time.  Awesome. Today he did it in his car seat.

• I have been working on teaching Jaden to say “Obama”.  You know, out of respect for our president and all…  Definitely not to antagonize a certain family member.  Definitely not.  At first he would respond with “Omama”.  Now it has morphed into “Oh Mommy”. Funny.

• Over a week ago my father-in-law sent us an email with this photo attached:

Now every single time we see grandpa’s picture, talk to him on Skype, or simply mention his name in conversation Jaden says, “pa, tank truck”.  He knows that this tank truck is for him and he knows grandpa has it. 

• Jaden has this friend, E, who came over for dinner the other night and cracked Jaden up for about 5 minutes with a “joke”.  The joke is to pretend to see something, say “giant pickle!” in a surprised voice, and then belly laugh.  Jaden can’t say “giant pickle”, but that hasn’t stopped him from telling the joke ~30 times each day.  He simply says “jah” when he gets to that part.  There is a great background to the giant pickle story, but that is E’s mom’s story to share.

• Jaden has LOTS of scrapes on various body parts these days.  He knows that at one time these scabs caused him pain.  When he is starting to get tired and surly, he will find his scrapes and start to fake cry as he says “boo-boo”.  Sometimes he produces actual tears.

I think that is enough for now.   Please feel free to share the way your life is enhanced by cute.  I adore stories like these.

You can have the last of my favorite ice cream and then wipe your sticky fingers on my clothes.  You can wake me up at all hours of the night and know I will rock with you to calm your fears.  You can fall off chairs and bump your head and know that the first thing I’ll do is clear your mouth of the cereal that is threatening to choke you.  And then I’ll hold you tight until you can take normal breaths again with no tears. 

You can go to the highest point of every play structure, and I will cheer on your bravery though my heart may start racing with fear.  You can hit at me with your little hands when you don’t want to have a time-out or have your diaper changed.  You can cry angry tears when I tell you “no” to hitting.  Your lip can quiver when you realize that daddy is already at work when you wake up, and you can jump for joy when you hear his car pull in the driveway at night.

You can respond with the sign language for love when I tell you I love you each night, and you can follow your sign by saying “daddy” and “truck”.  You can start making friends, and walk away from me a little more often.  You can always come back to me.  Always. 

Because while you didn’t grow inside me, you have grown inside me.  And since the day I first saw your sweet little face, I said “yes”.

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This week I am connecting with other bloggers through “Five for Ten” at Momalom.com.  Click on the icon in the sidebar for details on how to join.  Today’s topic was “yes”.

As soon as I saw Momalom’s topic for this two-day posting spree, I knew what I had to write about.  I also felt immediately guilty and pretty embarrassed.  If I am going to be completely honest during the Five-for-Ten extravaganza, then I cannot hide the first thing that was ever equated with lust in this little brain of mine.

George Michael.

I am waiting for your giggles (or all out belly laugh) to end.  Believe me, I know how silly it sounds for a thirty-something woman to be writing about an 80’s singer who does not share her sexual orientation.  But, it is true.  I have lusted (still lust?) after this man.  His poster was on my bedroom wall from 8th grade until my sophomore year at college.  I memorized every one of his songs. My subconscious may have led me to chose to play the saxophone in band because of the solo in Careless Whisper.  I watched the Faith and I Want Your Sex videos more times than I care to recall.  I’m pretty sure the latter is how “monogamy” became part of my vocabulary. Don’t get the wrong idea, I was only 11 years old at the time of the release.  I simply thought it was a pretty cool word that he wrote with lipstick on a beautiful woman’s leg so I looked it up in a dictionary.  MTV ruled in the 80s. 

So that is it.  I lusted (lust?) after George Michael, and I am fully prepared to suffer the consequences in light of this public declaration.

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This week I am connecting with other bloggers through “Five for Ten” at Momalom.com.  Click on the icon in the sidebar for details on how to join.  Today’s topic was “lust”.

What I saw first were his eyes.  And then I thought, “wow, he is tall.”  And then I lost my breath just a little bit.

Ten years ago my husband, who was my pen-pal at the time, told me to meet him on the first floor of the Mall of America.  I was just weeks back in the U.S. after my stint in Japan.  He had just flown in from California to cover a colleague’s job for two months.  We had decided to have dinner.  Neither of us had ever been to the Mall before.  The first floor sounded reasonable.  After all, I had seen one picture of him before.  When he was skydiving.

I walked right into him.  And I knew it was him.  I looked into his eyes and said, “Dustin?”.  I was wearing a black dress and heels.  He was in an Old Navy t-shirt and jeans.  He had a cold.  And a girlfriend.  None of it mattered.

We had known one another via email for over a year.  His uncle had been my student-teaching mentor in college.  This uncle introduced Dustin and I over hotmail thinking we had some things in common.  Every few weeks for that year we exchanged emails. We found out the regular information:

“What kind of music do you like?”

And the not so regular:

“What is in your refrigerator right now?”  (His answer:  Orange juice and Heineken.  Bachelor much?)

It was easy.  And interesting.  We became virtual friends, which is all we both thought it ever would be.  When we found out we would be arriving in the same city within days of one another, we decided to meet face-to-face.  That is when he wrote to me, “Meet me on the first floor of the mall.”  There was no doubt that we would find each other.

And we did.  And we fell in love.  And we got married.  And now it is ten years later.  And those eyes, those deep-set blue eyes with flecks of white diamonds throughout, still take my breath away.

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This week I am connecting with other bloggers through “Five for Ten” at Momalom.com.  Click on the icon in the sidebar for details on how to join.  Today’s topic was “memory”.

For those of you visiting through “Five for Ten“, thank you.  And, some background:  I spent two years teaching English as a foreign language in a Japanese public high school.  I did this just after receiving my college degree.  When I arrived in Japan I spoke no Japanese and had only been on an airplane one other time in my life.  I had never seen the Pacific Ocean.  And I ended up living in a rural town in northern Japan with only one other native English speaker.  Naïve doesn’t even begin to describe me at the time.  But, without these circumstances, the following relationship would not be.

*******

My dad bought me a computer just before I left for Japan.  It was a Mac.  Wildly expensive.  And it was to be my lifeline to my family and friends while I was living abroad. 

When I got to my new hometown in rural Japan, I needed someone to hook my computer up to the Internet.  This was long before the days of high speed connections.  I simply needed help hooking up the telephone line correctly.  But no one spoke English.  And, NO one used Macs in Japan.  And my Mac didn’t speak Japanese.  It was a problem.

One man, Kenshi-sensei, stood up to the challenge.  He invited me to his home.  His wife served me Häagen-Daz ice cream and watermelon on beautiful pottery accompanied by green tea.  We had no interpreter.  He somehow understood what I needed, and he made sure I had an Internet connection in my apartment.  I immediately knew he was some sort of miracle worker.

For the next two years this man took me hiking, kayaking, sightseeing and camping.  He had me to his house for dinner with his family.  He always checked to make sure I was doing okay when we were at school.  He studied English, and would come up to my desk in the teacher’s workroom to try out his new phrases.  He listened patiently and with forgiveness as my Japanese began to develop.  He is one of the nicest people whom I have ever been graced to meet. 

*****

Camping in Japan was quite an endeavor when I went with Kenshi’s family.  With my ex-patriot friends, camping trips were pretty simple.  A few packs of Cup Noodle, a tent, some water and a few bars of chocolate were all the provisions that were truly necessary.  We usually had a general idea as to where to find a trail head, and we hoped for the best.

Kenshi’s family took the term “car-camping” to a whole new level.  Tents were nothing short of palaces.  The campgrounds we went to were equipped with toilets that had heated seats.  We had more food for one meal than I was used to preparing for an entire week.  There were planned hikes with distances carefully mapped out.  We took routes home from the weekends that specifically went past hot spas to help our muscles recover.  It was fantastic. 

On one such trip, Kenshi’s extended family was present.  I was there, as was my best friend in the world at the time — a woman doing the same job as me in a town forty-five minutes from mine.   We were finishing up dinner one night on this trip and a very large bottle of sake began to make its way around the campfire.  Kenshi and I were able to communicate a little more effectively when our tongues were loosened by sake.  Both of our second languages began to flow more freely with each sip from the communal bottle.  On that night, Kenshi looked up at the sky and said, “Look, there is Venus.”

This story is exponentially more funny in a very juvenile way if you know that the sound for b/p/v is all the same in Japanese…basically a “p” sound.

He went on to say, “In Japan, it is Venus.  In America, it is Venus.  In England (where my friend was from), it is Venus.  It is all the same Venus.”

Oh how I appreciated that world view when my parents and family and friends seemed eons away at times.

*****

Kenshi came to the U.S. to visit me in the year following my return.  My parents and I showed him the sights and sounds of the Midwest.  He vowed to eat steak every night he was in America.  He succeeded.

*****

So, happiness?  For me, more often than not, is found in relationships.  Sure I love a beach vacation or a scenic hike or time spent in solitude.  But when push comes to shove, I swing my legs out of bed each morning because of the relationships I will encounter that day with those I love.  And for two years, Kenshi, and many others like him, gave me that push to give myself to others.  Because, although it is sometimes terrifying to trust in relationships, what I have received throughout my life has brought me happiness that makes me often think that my cup runneth over.

Two weeks ago an email came through from our adoption agency.  I have been in somewhat of a tailspin ever since.

We have been in the process of our second adoption since September of last year.  We expect a referral sometime in the fall of this year.  That expectation remains.  When we accept a referral we will become parents-on-paper.  And after our experience with Jaden, I can say with all honesty that we will be unequivocally in love with our child.  With Jaden we waited just over two months from the moment our paperwork was accepted to the moment when we got on an airplane to meet him.  This wait has steadily increased since then to four months, to six months and, as we just found out, now to eleven months.  Jaden was eight months old when we first held him.  In all likelihood our next child will be over sixteen months old.  And we will have known her for eleven months.  On paper only.

I do not know how to do this.  My brain tells me I will wait as long as I need to wait to welcome our next child into our home.  My heart, however, hurts more than it has in years.  My heart does not know how to get through a wait that seemingly has no parameters.

I cannot fix this.  I cannot change this.  And, right now, I cannot understand this.  

My instinct is to make another plan:  to go back to work, to change my environment, to do something to make things feel like I am in control again.  But, another part of me just wants to shut down for a while. 

My life will go on.  Our next child’s life will too.  And, with a lot of bravery on both sides, we will someday intersect.  At that point, I won’t let go.  But, right now, I think I need to for a little bit.

Over the next ten days I am connecting with other bloggers through “Five for Ten” at Momalom.com.  Click on the icon in the sidebar for details on how to join.  Today’s topic was “courage”.

The Walk MS event that my family attended was this past weekend.  Our team, “Team Naked Axon”, raised over $3000 for MS research.   There is a lump in my throat as I write this because with each dollar we raised, and with each family member who walked with us, I felt like we were making Teresa stronger.  Words escape me when it comes to expressing appreciation for such generous support.  Thank goodness my sister excels in this arena.  Here is an excerpt from a thank-you note she wrote to one donor.  The message is universal to all who donate their time and resources to help create a world free of MS.

I’m writing to express my gratitude for your donation to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. Thank you very much for your generosity.

I’m going to relate what seems like a rambling story, but bear with me. Years ago, a woman lived at the Senior Home in my hometown. She was the first person I ever knew with multiple sclerosis. She was paralyzed from the waist down, and had many medical issues related to her condition. She was also my favorite person to visit there. While I was waiting for Mom to be done with work, or later, when I worked as a nurses’ aide and had finished my shift, she was my favorite person to visit. She loved to talk and to listen, and had a perspective on life that I appreciated, even at a young age. She helped teach me to crochet when I was little. And when I was older, she helped me learn how to place a Foley catheter, from her personal experience. She was a beautiful and patient woman. And I was always a little confused if she would cry, which she did from time to time. She cried because of painful leg cramps, or because of her dependence on others for the most embarrassing of bodily functions, or just because. I just knew she was a wonderful person. I didn’t understand the source of her tears.

I understand a little now. I know I will understand more as my disease progresses. But I also know that her prognosis today would have been much better than it was 30 years ago. I know there are medicines now that would help control her pain, and that would help delay (if not entirely prevent) her paralysis. I know this because I take some of those medications now, and in the past nine months, all of my brain and spinal cord lesions have disappeared. My last MRI was normal. It will not always be that way, I know, but it is that way now because of the medications available to me.

Those medications have come about through years of expensive research. And there is more ground-breaking research occurring now; this year there will be two life-changing medications released to help people with MS. More are in the works. And contributions like yours help sustain the research that makes life with MS easier.

I will never, ever forget your generosity.

I have all of these worries.  I think a lot of them are first-time parent worries, but maybe they are just parent worries.  Or perhaps they are just worries.

I worry about Jaden hurting himself.  I worry about him not eating enough.  I worry about his need for an enormous circle of personal space around most adults.  I worry about his speech development.

We went to Jaden’s two-year-appointment his week.  He was weighed, measured, poked, prodded, and interviewed.  The whole time I just wanted the doctor to tell me Jaden was progressing as he should.

I don’t like that I think this way.  When I discussed it with my sister (in reference to his speech development) her response was:  “does it matter?”. 

That stopped me short.   Of course not.  Will I love him less if he has a speech problem or any other sort of physical or development issues?  Of course not. 

This little being is who he is.  And that entire being is who I love with my entire being.