Picture (not-so) Perfect

Summer, a time when families are packed into cars or onto airplanes for that elusive escape from everyday life. Whether leaving for a "staycation" near home or traveling across the country, there is much planning that is done, kinks that need to be worked through, before jumping into the car. Some families worry through the planning, where will we stay and for how long; others worry through the budget, how much can we spend and where. While I do spend some time fretting through these details, this year I have a much larger issue to face: how to pose in pictures.

Laugh, it's fine. It seems trivial, but the lack of photogenic-ablity has hounded me for years. Coming from a family that can strike a pose on command, it is infuriating to be the one sibling in snapshots who has eyes closed or an open mouth in every shot.

Is this ability to show yourself as you are on film innate or a result of practice? I have no idea.

But while I should be fretting about activities to keep the kids entertained for 22 hours each way in the van or how to stretch our budgeted dollars for a family of six I will be found, instead, doing the modern-day equivalent of kissing watermelons. Yes, you know and if you don't take a look at any teen's facebook photos for pictures of bathroom mirrors all around the country I will be striking a pose again and again to find that perfect look. A 21st century photo-ninja, with muscles so attuned I will automatically be in position each time a camera is drawn...hope I don't run into any large tourist groups!

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Raising children is a leap of faith: we guide, model, and talk 'til we're blue in the hopes that our efforts will create adults who are happy, compassionate, successful individuals. And more often than not the modeling poses the greatest pitfalls.

Not too long ago Boy joined an organization for kids. It seemed the perfect opportunity for him to socialize and enjoy a sport for which he was quickly developing a passion. Things seemed great until Hubby took him to an event. Suddenly, our eyes were opened to some not so subtle undertones of elitist and racist beliefs the members held. As Hubby told me, if it had just been a couple of the teens using the n-word we could chalk it up to a few bad eggs, but these comments were heard and overlooked by parents again and again. Though it was difficult, we pulled Boy from the group.

As parents we knew we couldn't condone such beliefs by remaining a part of it, and though we could have spoken against it - after all such behavior flies in the face of their mission - but we felt it wasn't our place and would not benefit Boy. So, Hubby searched until he found another club for Boy and I am happy to report it has been a great fit for our family and our values.

It was easy to walk away from that. But, I am struggling, daily, with walking away from another group that has values/rules that are an affront to me. It is my religion.

I am not a lapsed Catholic. I am a disgruntled Catholic.

 Raising three girls in a church that clings to old systems denying women the same rights as men in too many instances is a problem for me. Being a part of a religion in which my children have been told that being gay is a sin - by teachers not clergy, and therefore easy for me to explain away at the time - is an issue. Living in an age of reason, when the Church seems to be reverting further back through history is unacceptable to me. Yet I have not left. WHY?

Because I am a sucker for tradition. I love the ritual and the peace and having the words when my own fail me. I want my children to be a part of that, to have words when everything else seems to be falling apart. There are things I adore about the Catholic Church. Beliefs I hold close in my soul.

But, it may be time for me to move on - to find a church that holds the same values regarding society as I do, values I want my children to have as adults. I have asked the kids to attend a service (is it called a mass at an Episcopal church?) this weekend. It makes me nervous, not that I haven't attended services at other churches, but I haven't been "scouting" them before. Will we have to be rebaptised, recommunioned, and reconfirmed? I don't know. But, for the sake of modeling I think I have to look into it.

On the bright side, since I continue to make mistakes with the "new words" the Catholic Church is using it may be a good time to change...

Little Fluffy Clouds: God's Rorschach Test

In a typical drive to school Youngest can be heard explaining the shapes of clouds from her backseat domain. When she stumbles upon a particularly interesting or surprising form of cumulus the excitement is reflected in her rising pitch and insistence that I crane my neck to catch a fleeting glimpse which I always say I see regardless of my viewing success. 

After these moments I am sometimes struck by the beauty that surrounds us daily. Yet, while I appreciate the beauty and sometimes marvel at Youngest's ability to find an entire farmyard in white balls of fluff, I simply see sky with various levels of accumulated precipitation through my windshield.

Until summer comes. 

It isn't a spontaneous change occurring the moment school/work ends for a long break. No. Instead the ability to create sky images eases slowly into my thoughts until suddenly I look up and spot a cartoon T-Rex looming above my van or catch myself driving toward a happy doll with pigtails and a pet dog. It is then, like today, that I know my brain has finally released the stress of daily lesson plans and test scores to fully embrace the care-free attitude that is summer's hallmark for young and old. 

May we all find time to take God's Rorschach test at least once this summer, and find we are happier for having laid upon the grass and frittered away an hour or two. Happy Summer All!

Life's Happily Ever After

Nervous laughter bubbled up in response to some comment about the need for make-up beyond her standard eyeliner and lip gloss. Hearing herself she wondered at the school-girl sound and the anxiety it betrayed. Fixing her hat in the mirror, for life is too turbulent to begin in a veil, she relented and allowed her sister to swoop goopy mascara across her lashes. She was ready.

At the tender age of 23 she placed her chilled hand into the warmth of her best friend’s touch and promised to love him through good and bad. Forgetting, if only for that moment, that such things as struggles and anger are natural.

As the happy honeymooners reflections morph into middle age with laugh lines and bits of gray she contemplates the use of mascara for a much needed date night. Recalling the naiveté she exhibited once she looks deep into her eyes and wonders at the life they have created. While the joys and fairy tale moments have indeed been wondrous, she smiles knowingly for these things would not have taken place without the disagreements overcome, the anger soothed with caring words, and the committed bond to see through the difficulties to the joys ahead.

Jostled from her momentary reflection by chubby little fingers seeking purchase enough to pull up on her pants she hears her name called from another child wanting a referee or cook or some other need met. Quickly she smears some mascara across her lashes, lifts the little bundle and sets out to settle things at home before she and her love can celebrate the anniversary of the beginning of their greatest adventure.

Happy Anniversary to my best friend, my partner in crime and everything else. Though it is a few days late, I am sure you understand – because well, life just keeps going.

Fathers Day

Here in Sunnyville flexibility is not just an attitude it is a survival mechanism. Hubby has been practicing and perfecting this skill since Teen was first handed to him in the hospital, 17+ years ago. Having begun his parenting journey with little exposure to infants and a gag reflex that went into hyper-drive over anything infant-Teen expelled, he didn't once question his role in the parenting picture. He was in. 100%.

Having this determination to be a great father to each child in our home, he has been forced to embrace flexibility. Whether he is perfecting Teen's rhetoric skills through debating the most vital character in some trilogy, taking Boy out shooting clay pigeons, discussing the latest in stuffed-animal clothing with Youngest, or caring for BabyK he adapts to the situation. 

In no area is this adaptation more overt than in the caring for BabyK. Knowing she would visit with her parents throughout her life and that we are not them, we began by calling ourselves Aunt and Uncle...this would be fine, except she being barely one is not picking it up, probably because everyone else in the house calls us and refers to us as mom and dad. So just recently, in an effort to get her to call us something, we began to refer to ourselves as Mama M-- and Dada B--. Of course she still hasn't uttered those syllables to us though she says dog and cat, it must be the fur

Well that is until this morning. As we were all minus snoozing Teen at breakfast I looked to BabyK and said "Since today is Father's Day, maybe today you could say Dada B--." She paused with her jelly covered biscuit hovering near her chubby cheeks, looked to the end of the table and clear as a bell said, "DaDa." then continued eating, oblivious to the praise poured forth from Boy and Youngest and the surprised and endearing smile from Hubby. A well-deserved title of honor and meaning, if not one of biology. 

Happy Father's Day to my husband and all the other Dada's out there!

System Defined Permanent

After another day of court for Baby K, I was doing the mom thing - albeit I was cutting it close because even though it was clearly marked on the calendar and in my phone and we had talked about it, I still managed to space Youngest's choir performance until 30 minutes prior to - and taking Youngest to her concert yesterday when I asked her this question:

"What does permanent mean? Like permanent markers?"

Youngest: "Oh - well that means they're supposed to stay on forever, but if you just rinse and scrub a lot they come off anyway."

And I thought to myself, "Yep. That is just what it means." Of course we laughed and talked about all the times it has been good that permanent markers aren't really permanent.

So, we were awarded "permanent guardianship" of Baby K. Both of her parents need an indefinite amount of time to complete the tasks the state has set before them in a manner that demonstrates either is in a position to be a full-time parent and caregiver....But what does that mean?

Here in Sunnyville the state doesn't want to keep children in the foster care system, it is costly and unstable. As a result, they opt for permanent guardianship. It isn't adoption. It isn't foster care. It is a static state that can last until the child is 18 or until the parent(s) satisfactorily complete(s) the plan and show(s) stability for a period of time. At this point the parent petitions the court for reunification.

This is the state we have now entered with Baby K. She will still visit with her parents weekly, she will still possibly return to one of them at some point in her future, but for now she is ours...Yes, it is pretty much the same exact place we were before court yesterday with a major difference for us.

We can return to a normal or what passes for normal in Sunnyville life. There will be no more visits from case managers or court-appointed guardians. We will be able to ask the neighbor to watch Baby K without having a full background check done first. We will be able to go on vacation as a family. We will be parents to Baby K in every way we have been, without the constant checking-in with others to have our plans/actions approved. It seems almost inconsequential, but it isn't. It is a return to stasis for our lives...

At lest that is what we fervently hope. Of course there is still a connection to the parents, it is almost like a bizarre divorce triangle. With her mom's visits being supervised by an agency and her dad's visits supervised by us or someone else in the family. But, hey, this is 2012 and families come in all shapes and sizes, so happily Baby K remains a part of ours and we continue to move forward as we always have with hope and love.

Explicit Instruction Needed

Parts of life here in Sunnyville seem to speed by at 100mph, I look around and think wait! How did we get here already? Sometimes I handle the changing needs with grace, and other times - well we seem to muddle through. Teen buying her first car falls into the muddle events.

See, Teen had earned a truck from the neighbors for babysitting last summer. It was a nice truck, but would need some work. As excited as she was to own this vehicle, there was definitely some trepidation about fixing it and making it her own. Consequently, she sold it - for cheap. Then she promptly got a job to earn money for a car. She has been saving her money well, though you don't make much working at the local ice cream shop, and felt she was ready to buy a car - Hubby and I were not so keen.

Daily she brought cars to our attention, and daily we found flaws and issues until it dawned on me that this was a futile exercise. She would buy a car. She would grow-up. It is pointless to attempt to halt the practice. So, I began to help. Then she found it. An old sedan that met all her requirements - cheap and good gas mileage - and she was off. She researched the KBB value, the car, and what to look for when you are buying a used car. We went for the test drive.

Is it old? Yes. Does it run well? Yes. Does the AC work? Yes. Her questions were answered. She drove around accelerating and decelerating quickly with no rhyme or reason to test that it shifted well and even checked the oil and for leaks - she was doing well. Until it was time to settle on a price.

Let me start by saying I am not laughing at Teen (and myself as well), I am laughing with her. Yes, there is a difference. The three of us stand around the car; me, Teen, Seller. I asked a few questions they were answered, Teen stated she wanted the car.

I look to Teen and say, "Well, now is when you decide how much you are will to pay for the car."
"Okay, well, I have $1200 in the bank..." DOH!! Yes, she really said that aloud to the seller...who was asking $1200.
Trying for salvage, I laugh and make a joke before reminding her, "Okay, but consider how much you will have to spend to fix the tail pipe and how much you will have to pay for title and tags..."
"Oh! But you said you would help with those for my birthday."
Yes, I am not kidding, it was like a bad comedy of how not to buy a car!
Thankfully, Seller was a nice guy, who laughed and said "You are supposed to rehearse this stuff you know!"

We all laughed and Teen got the car for $900 - not too bad for her first attempt and the rocky start...
sometimes there is grace, sometimes there is blindly groping in the dark and sometimes it is a bit of both. Plus, now I know, explicit instruction in haggling is needed for my children. Maybe this summer we'll haunt some flea markets...