"The thing is, Bob, it's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care."

I have a nasty case of work depression. Outside of work, I'm perfectly happy. For the most part. On the weekends I'm freaking manic. I love everything about my weekends (except going to the grocery store). But during the week, I am crabby and morose and unmotivated. I have plenty to do but am not challenged. So I have these fantasies about going back to school, which I know is total craziness, as I cannot even manage to keep groceries in the house (see above) or keep the laundry clean; how do I think I'm going to have time to take classes, write papers and -- eek! -- possibly even a dissertation?  But my brain is craving some kind of intellectual stimulation, 'cause I ain't gettin' it at work.

Basically, I am here for the paycheck and the time off. I get very little out of my actual work. I suppose that's how it is for most people, but I really wanted to be someone who loved her work, who was excited by it, who did something with her talents and interests. Yes, I get to write, and that's good. But it's not about anything I'm interested in. And then there's the added "bonus" of secretarial work, which I'm sure I've bitched about in this space before.

It feels a little late to make a career change, with or without going back to school. Plus, I'm not even positive about what I'd change to. I have thought that maybe I need a life coach. But I don't think one would be able to tell me anything I don't already know (set goals! make time lines!). Or maybe I need to get serious about yoga again. To have something to look forward to, to ease my agitation, to become better at being in the moment.  I have tried, really I have, but have only been able to make it to one class and that was a month ago. There always seems to be something else going on in the evenings (no, not just TV) that prevents me from getting to class. And yoga alone in your bedroom is just not the same.

Anyway, I really, really wanted to pull a Peter Gibbons today ("I'm not gonna go."). But it's only Wednesday, and I would have to come in tomorrow because I'm training someone, and Friday nearly everyone will be out so it will be a good day to be here. So, I got up and got ready for work, put on some extra jewelry and my favorite shoes and perfume (hey, sometimes it helps), stopped at Starbucks and blasted Madonna and U2 in the car, all in an effort to motivate myself to be a good little worker today. I know I should be grateful to have a job; I know plenty of people who are still unemployed after two or three years. And I am grateful. I'm just bored.

Now that my kitchen has been painted and I have a new roof, I need something else to get excited about. The return of Mad Men on Sunday will do nicely.

Summertime

Remember when you were a kid and summer just dragged on forever? That's how it felt to me at the time (by the end of July I'd be so looking forward to school starting; I know -- big nerd). Now I look back and think how blissfully slow the time went and wishing that were still the case. Waking up in the morning with the windows open (we didn't have air conditioning), deciding what to do for the day while eating a bowl of cereal in front of the TV... I took tennis lessons and played softball and went to camp for two weeks, but the biggest chunk of my time in the summer was totally unscheduled -- and usually spent either on my bike or in my grandparents' pool.  Mostly in the pool.  I only had to be home for dinner at 5:00 and then could go back out again until the street lights came on.

Ah, small town life in the '70s.

Now, summer goes by faster than any other time of the year. During July and part of August we are either out of town or have guests nearly every weekend.  I am off work next week to work on some home improvement projects and that will likely not be enough time to get everything finished that I want to. Before I know it, it'll be football season.

I am doing a better job of enjoying the summer as an adult, now that we have a bigger garden to tend to, and a pool membership, and a three-year-old who loves to be outside. But it still goes by way too fast.

What Fresh Hell Is This?

Blogging two days in a row, wow, look at me! Anywhoo, I stumbled across yet another quote that I can totally relate with:

"I hate writing; I love having written." -- Dorothy Parker

Ah, yes, Dot, I agree completely.  And speaking of Ms. Parker, I was remembering that I read all of her short stories a few years back.  Could not get enough of her writing.  While she is best known for her witty quotes, her stories are more bittersweet than witty, as one writer smarter than I put it.  So true. I am really not a fan of short stories in general, but enjoyed hers quite a bit.

Although Dorothy suffered from what, by now, are your typical writerly afflictions (miserable childhood, multiple marriages, alcoholism, suicide attempts), I still admire her and her work. I do love her quotes. Here are a few of my favorites:

I like to have a martini,
two at the very most;
three, I'm under the table,
four I'm under my host.

If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.

You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.

That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment.

This wasn't just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it.

If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy.

Normal Day

From the blog of Tara Whitney, genius photographer and the kind of mom/artist/person I'd love to be, is this quote:

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return." -- Mary Jean Iron

It's good for me to remember that one day, disaster will strike. Not to dwell on it or even try to prepare for it, but because I should treasure the "normal day" -- the endless days which I generally slog through with a bad attitude, hatred for my commute and certain aspects of my job, too much sugar and caffeine, and not enough items crossed off my to-do list.

It's hard for me to always feel good about these normal days and all they entail. But I will try.

No, I said "TIPS!"

After a long hiatus, I'm back to share this nugget of wisdom: do not schedule your mammogram during PMS week. You're welcome.

I Type, Therefore I Am...A Secretary

My boss bought me chocolates for Administrative Professionals Day (because clearly, writer = secretary). Who knew that being undervalued could be so yummy?

Menopause at 41?

Gray hair, schmay hair -- I think I just had a hot flash at lunch. Oy.

Keepin' It Real

The scene: my bedroom, 8:30 pm, with Lauren. I am getting ready to remove my shirt and put on my pajamas.

L: Mommy, I want to see your big things.
Me: [in a matter of fact tone, in an effort to promote a positive body image] Do you remember what they’re called?
L: No.
Me: Breasts.
L: Oh. [pause] When I grow up, I’m going to have some of those instead of [gestures to her own chest] these little things.

Interview with Luna

I am participating in the Open Adoption Bloggers Interveiw Project, and had the pleasure of interviewing Luna of Life From Here: Musings from the Edge. She also interviewed me, and you can find that here.

So, here are luna's very thoughtful answers to my questions. Enjoy!

1. What’s been the best (or most surprising/delightful/inspiring) part about blogging about your journey to parenthood?

When I started blogging, I was in the midst of treatment for infertility and adoption was not really an option. Treatment was a dead end, and I had lost all hope of becoming a mama. I was grieving. Soon it became clear that adoption was our best potential path to parenthood. A new door opened, and we took our first steps on this new path of our journey.

Throughout the transition from hopeless to hopeful, I was so moved by the support I found in the blogosphere. This space gave me solace. It was catharsis. It was affirmation and therapy. I had no idea it would become my lifeline to others who understood, who offered compassion and not pity. Some had been there, some were right there with me. At a time when I felt so isolated and alone, blogging provided a critical outlet and connection. It helped open my eyes to other possibilities. I was inspired by those who had walked before me, and I felt supported even by those just passing through.

I've also been delighted to hear about the impact my story has had on others. Several readers have said that mine was one of few stories that had evolved right before their eyes. Truly the story unfolding in "real life" was reflected in my writing. I hadn't really thought that my path could help light another's some day. But maybe it will.

Looking back, I can trace the evolution of my journey to parenthood through my blog. I love that at least part of my story has been captured here in these pages. From devastation to joy, it's all there.

2. How did you view open adoption when you first began considering adoption as a way to build your family? (Did you know much about it, did the thought of an open adoption scare you or were you always positive about open adoption?)

Too often I think prospective adoptive parents enter into open adoption from a place of fear rather than love.

I did a lot of self educating about open adoption before I had the opportunity to live it. I read books, articles and blogs from all perspectives in the triad. I spoke with birth parents and adoptive families. I listened to the stories of adoptees. I sought out professionals specializing in open adoption to learn more.

Early on, I thought open adoption simply meant the expectant parents chose the family and maintained minimal contact after placement. I thought it was more for birth parents than the adoptee. When we first considered adoption to build our family -- before exploring treatment as an option -- I was concerned about (what I perceived as) "competition" with other waiting families who had so much to offer. We didn't have a huge home or fancy cars. I was afraid we'd be "waiting" for years. Later I realized it wasn't a competition at all, since different things will appeal to different people and each "match" is so unique.

When we began learning more, it became clear why we would want an open adoption for our child. Eventually I overcame the common fear that I wouldn't feel like the baby's "mother," because while I would not give birth, I would be parenting this child. While our baby would have two mothers to love him/her, openness did not mean "co-parenting." I realized that both the birth mother and I would have critical and distinct roles in our child's life. Then the concept of openness made perfect sense. It also eliminated any need to feel "threatened" by my child's relationship with his/her birth mother. I would be able to offer our child so much, but I could not provide that connection to her heritage. I would welcome the person into our family who could provide that for our child.

I wanted information about our child's family of origin to be accessible I didn't want to have to say "I don't know." I didn't want secrets or shame. My hope was to provide access when questions arose. I wanted to help our child integrate his/her stories to feel whole, to feel loved. I felt my job was to ensure every possibility for a relationship, or at the very least a connection. At best, we would broaden the circle of people to love this child. Soon I realized that I feared a closed adoption far more than I ever feared openness.

I had one outstanding fear before we met K, Baby J's birth mom. I knew that opening my heart and our home would require connection and trust. I was afraid we wouldn't be able to connect or build that trust, that we would not find the "right match." I feared the scrutiny, on both sides. I feared wanting a baby so much that I might overlook something. I feared discomfort, awkwardness. Of course when we met and instantly connected with K, those fears dissipated. All of a sudden, I saw how it could work. I saw how easy it would be to open our hearts to this young woman, not because we wanted to parent her child, but because she was an incredibly kind and thoughtful person and we cared about her well being. We wanted her to make the best decision for herself, whatever it was. When K asked us to parent her baby, it was clear that our family would grow by more than just one.

3. What do you think are the main advantages to open adoption versus closed adoption?

I truly believe that open adoption benefits everyone in the triad.

I used to think that openness was primarily for the expectant parents.* They could they be empowered to choose the adoptive family with a chance to witness the child's development and opportunities to share their love and celebrate the child's life. I thought that early and ongoing contact would be important for healing -- i.e., that to see and know the child might help diminish a very real loss. Openness helped us establish a wonderful relationship and trust early on. K knows we consider her family and she is always welcome in our home. That offers her some peace.

I believe the benefits of openness to the child are paramount. When possible, I think early contact is important so the baby is not immediately and permanently separated from her mother at birth. Studies have shown a smooth transition can help infant development. K wanted us at the birth so we could begin to bond immediately with the baby. Then we spent a lot of time with K for the first two months of Baby J's life, which actually made others uncomfortable but seemed natural to us. It made my heart happy to see K holding Baby J. While it was K's heart I was concerned about (not mine), she said it was healing to be with us.

I think it's important to maintain contact because, as I said above, I think the child has a right to information and access to his/her family of origin. I feel a responsibility as an adoptive parent to preserve that connection until my daughter is old enough to act on it herself. When she has questions (about her adoption or ancestry) who better to answer them than her birth family? I also want her to know her birth siblings, should she have some one day. She would have none of that in a closed adoption. She might spend years and endless emotional energy wondering, searching, and fantasizing about her birth family. She has a right to know.

Most importantly, I think you can't deny the benefit of love the birth family has for the placed child. I think everyone has a right to express and receive that love. As an adoptive parent, I don't feel I should restrict that (except to the extent necessary to preserve the sanctity and safety of our family). The greatest benefit of all is that our daughter will feel love from her birth family, many of whom have become part of our extended family. If we can help our daughter process her story, maybe we can help her integrate the feelings of loss she may experience from not growing up in her family of origin. Maybe we can all help her to feel healthy and whole.

Finally, openness has had another unexpected benefit for me as an adoptive mother. Being chosen to be our daughter's parents has been quite empowering for me. Knowing that K is who made me a parent provided me with a healthy sense of entitlement to be this little girl's mama. Being treated as "mom" by K and her family has been so affirming. What a privilege.

(*Note: I realize that openness is often dangled in front of expectant mothers to entice them to place their babies. Unfortunately, openness can be held out as a promise that is not always kept.)

4. I’ve heard it said that adoption “cures” childlessness, but it doesn’t cure infertility – what are your thoughts about that? (What’s your “relationship” with your infertility like these days? Do you view infertility any differently now that you have a child?)

This is such a good question that I threw it right back at you. I think it's true that adoption "cures" childlessness but not infertility. Through adoption I became a mother, but I am still an infertile woman.

I had to "resolve" my infertility before I could even consider adoption, because I knew I had to heal myself before I could be anyone's mama. As I've said before, it is not the job of any child to "cure" or "heal" anyone; that is far too great a burden to unload on any child. I had to come to peace with my infertility and accept that my body would not produce and carry a child to term. I had to learn to love myself despite not being able to do what others have done so easily for eons. Infertility took so much from me, and I had to let it all go.

Infertility left me wounded. It ripped my heart open and left deep scars in its wake. I worked hard to heal my heart so I could share it with the child that would join our family through adoption. I am by all accounts a much happier person since becoming a mother. I am so fortunate that my life has taken such a beautiful turn, and I haven't looked back. Still, the scars are deep beneath the surface, and with certain triggers those wounds can feel unexpectedly raw again.

Some people say that infertility, like grief, is like an old friend (or adversary) you bump into now and again, or an old hat you can pull out of a box and try on every once in a while. By that I mean that once you get past the devastation and move on to a more fulfilling place (with or without a child), the persistent effects of infertility subside but don't simply disappear. They can resurface, sometimes when you least expect it.

But now I have experienced the joy that motherhood brings. Every day, I have the privilege of being mama to the most wonderful little girl. And I would not trade that for anything.

I suppose I now view infertility as something I survived, something that defeated but did not destroy me. I refuse to let infertility define me anymore. I am finally "mama."

5. While being a mom is, of course, great, is there anything you miss about your pre-baby life?

I've been asked this before and the real answer is no, I don't miss a thing. We had plenty of time to enjoy all the things that people do before they have children. Too much time, really.

Sometimes I do miss sleeping through the night, uninterrupted. But mostly I cherish those moments in the wee morning hours, rocking quietly with my sweet girl's little neck nestled into the crook of my arm, feeling her weight while she sips warm milk and falls back asleep.

Of course sometimes I think it would be cool to go to a movie or a concert again, and do some more traveling. But that day will come, eventually. By then I imagine I will long for those days when our little girl was just a tiny baby...

Day "Off"

I had my first day off yesterday as part of my new schedule.  I'm so glad I had time to do some things that otherwise would (maybe) get done on the weekends (during nap time), or after Lauren goes to bed, or on a vacation day.

I took Lauren to the dentist, then to school, then had lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in a long time (good food, great conversation, particularly about writing). I went to Whole Foods and stocked up on organic/free-range/hormone- and pesticide-free goodies.  I vacuumed, Swiffered and mopped my kitchen floor. I scrubbed all my kitchen chairs and the table legs (ew). I did some laundry. I went to the UPS store, Target and Kohl's. I picked Lauren up, made dinner, hung out with her and put her to bed.

I am exhausted! Work is so much easier.

UPDATED-Words

I just emailed another reporter and sent her an article about positive adoption language. She wrote an article about a pregnant girl "...who is deciding whether to keep her baby or put it up for adoption."

What is this, 1950? "put it up for adoption" -- like she's posting an ad or craigslist or something? (uh, if craigslist existed in 1950...you know what I'm trying to say)

I can assure you that pregnant girls/women who are considering adoption do not do so lightly. It's hurtful to both the birth mother and to adopted children to speak about the process as if one is throwing an object up on a shelf somewhere for someone else to pick up. The correct term is "make an adoption plan."

I have once before written a reporter about this (yes, politely), and he was very gracious in his response. I might come across here like I'm angry about it (because I kind of am; more so annoyed), but have written to reporters in the spirit of educating them, as I have been educated along the way.

Here's what I sent them, from Adoptive Families Magazine:

"The way we talk—and the words we choose—say a lot about what we think and value. When we use positive adoption language, we say that adoption is a way to build a family just as birth is. Both are important, but one is not more important than the other. Choose the following positive adoption language instead of the negative talk that helps perpetuate the myth that adoption is second best. By using positive adoption language, you’ll reflect the true nature of adoption, free of innuendo."

[then there's a list of positive and negative language that I can't seem to paste in here, but it includes things like using the term "birth parent" instead of "real parent"--if you're interested in the list, go here.

More from Adoptive Families magazine:

"Words not only convey facts, they also evoke feelings. When a TV movie talks about a "custody battle" between "real parents" and "other parents," society gets the wrong impression that only birthparents are real parents and that adoptive parents aren’t real parents. Members of society may also wrongly conclude that all adoptions are "battles." Positive adoption language can stop the spread of misconceptions such as these. By using positive adoption language, we educate others about adoption. We choose emotionally "correct" words over emotionally-laden words. We speak and write in positive adoption language with the hopes of impacting others so that this language will someday become the norm."

*Update* Just got this from the reporter:
"Thank you so much for the correction. I'll make sure to change it immediately. I really do appreciate it. Thanks and have a great day."

Nice.

Time

Exactly one month from today I get my first day off as part of my reduced schedule. Next month I start working 36 hours per pay period, which means I get one day off every other week. It’s not a lot (ideally I’d like to work about 3 days a week, every week, but that ain’t gonna happen), but certainly better than nothing. I had been talking to my boss for a while about possibly working four 10-hour days, but decided against it because, with my commute, it would keep me away from home for way too many hours most days of the week. And I’d never have any interaction with Lauren’s school/teachers (wouldn’t be able to drop off or pick up). So my boss suggested this alternative. I will have to take a 10% pay cut, which didn’t sound too bad until I crunched the numbers. I will actually have to adhere to a budget for once in my life. That’s fine; it needed to be done anyway. And if I was just blowing that 10% on stuff I didn’t really need, all the better.

Anyway, the important thing is the time I will gain. Since Lauren was born, I feel like I’ve been drowning. There’s never enough time to get things done at home, so I am delighted that I’ll have a bit more time each month. Time to do things that now never get done (painting the inside of our front door that was installed 5 years ago), things that bug me (piles of clothes to go to Goodwill), things that only get done when absolutely necessary but should be getting done more often (mopping the kitchen floor), things I do on the weekend that I’d like to NOT do on the weekend (grocery shopping). I already have a list of chores, projects, etc. to work on, and I’m giddy at the prospect of crossing some of these things off my list.

My plan is to take Lauren to school in the morning, spend about 6 hours doing whatever needs done, and picking her up a couple of hours early so we can have a bit more time together. On days when it’s especially nice outside, I won’t take her to school at all, we’ll just go to the pool or play outside.

Can't wait.

Modern Family

Hoo boy, do I have a story to share. First, Elise -- Lauren's birth mother -- visited us last night and left today for a warmer climate several states away. Her plan is to live with her sister, find a job, then get a place of her own and after she establishes residency, go to college there. I am happy for her; she seems very excited about making this change and, in her words, "getting my life together." I sure hope she comes back to town at least a couple of times a year so we can see her.

Spending time with her last night got me thinking about Lauren's birth father (let's call him Drew). This is a little more confusing. I know who he is, but am pretty sure he doesn't know who I am, nor that I know who he is (are you following this?). Elise told us his name when we first met her (they were no longer together when she was at the end of her pregnancy), but he's never wanted to meet us, or Lauren. From time to time I've Googled him, and searched for him on Facebook, but hadn't done that in several months, maybe longer. Today I looked him up and discovered that not only is he engaged, but HE HAS A BABY! A daughter, born this month. Which means Lauren has a half-sister. I always knew the day would come when Elise would get married and have children, and hoped that Lauren could know them, but I hadn't even considered Drew in this light.

So. Lots of stuff stirred up here. Part of me wants to contact him and say, "Hey, I adopted your first daughter and let's all be one, big, happy family and get these girls together." Part of me wants to smack him upside the head for choosing to ignore the fact that Lauren exists, while accepting the existence of -- and actively raising -- this new baby. And, as Bret pointed out, perhaps someone needs to share the merits of condoms with Drew, not that we're complaining, as the lack of one resulted in Lauren. Anyhoo...

There's really nothing I can do with this information right now. So I will hang on to it for when it's appropriate to share with Lauren, or to contact Drew, or whatever. There's no handbook for how to handle this type of family stuff. We just have to make sure Lauren knows how loved she is, and that's the easy part.

Dream Office

Oh, my, gosh, how stinking cute is this office?


I would love to do this in our office (which right now has two mismatched, strange-looking desks, a futon, papers strewn everyhwere and stacks of cardboard boxes with who-knows-what in them).

Someday...

Rejected

I sent a query letter to a literary agent for the first time last week. Her web site said she'd respond in 5-10 days. I got a form rejection email in 3 days. A very nice form rejection email, I might add.

I was not surprised (though I had conjured up fantasies of being able to say I landed the first agent I contacted) or devastated. I'm actually glad I took that step. And now I can send it to someone else. It only takes one "yes," right? Or a good self-publishing company and a few thousand dollars.

Anyway, at least I feel like I'm making some progress on a goal, which is not a bad way to start a week.

Shoes, Part III, etc.

Updating you on the riveting running shoe post...they didn't fit. Too narrow (imagine my surprise). Guess it's back to buying men's shoes. Which my current sneaks are, and when a friend's daughter was in a restroom stall next to me (and didn't know it was me) said, "Mom! There's a boy over there!"

Nice birthday on Saturday. Took Lauren to swim lessons, got my hair cut and colored (not exactly the Debra Messing-like red I was hoping for but still nice to be at the SAL-on), and out for a fantastic dinner with Bret and Lauren.

Lauren picked out her card for me, the cake, the ice cream and the ribbon on my present. All day she'd look at me and grin and say, "Mommy, it's your birfday!" That made turning 41, which is quite possibly the most un-exciting age to turn, totally worth it.

Sneaks

I just ordered a pair of semi-hideous running shoes (don't laugh; I read once that if you are, um, a bit bigger than average, you should wear running shoes for working out because they offer more support than cross trainers or walking shoes).

Anyway, my old ones were pretty broken down, but man, are athletic shoes expensive. Not like back in the day when you could go to Kmart for some $10 trax (were they even that much?).

Also, I have me some big old feet, so can't buy shoes just anywhere. I found a few pairs online and though I liked the way a couple of the others looked, I went with the least expensive pair. Only $48, but maybe a bit flashy.

So why did I buy 'em? Budget, baby. It's time to stop spending like it's 1999. Time to build up some savings, eat at home more often and, yes, buy shoes that might make me look like I'm wearing fat tropical fish on my feet. I'm actually okay with that. I feel good about this budget thing and am ready to make some changes in my life to have more money to spend on things I really want. Like this.

Burn Fat, Get Ripped and Improve Endurance

I can think of no better New Year's resolution than this copy from a spam email I just received (subject line above):

Shred Excess Fat
Gain Insane Strength
Unleash Raging Energy
Maximize Your Libido
Enjoy Wicked Pumps

I'm not exactly sure what "wicked pumps" are (arms?) but I'm going with the literal translation. Ah, yes, M. Louboutin, now that's a resolution.