Not again....please

I had intended to come home this evening to take up where I last left off on the "Worthy..." post.

However, this is not to be because I am too distracted and upset.

One of our kitties - Forest - is sick. And not sick like she has a little respiratory infection. She is sick like she needed x-rays and our vet doesn't like the way her x-rays look and had Chris schedule an abdominal ultrasound on Thursday. (We'd do the ultrasound sooner, but the ultrasound guy is on vacation until Thursday...)

Chris shows me the x-rays when I arrive home this evening. He points out the area that Dr. B doesn't like: some kind of mass with white spots in her lower abdominal area.

This wasn't there when she was having some issues with weight loss back in July. The ultrasound was clear. We changed her meds. She gained some weight. She seemed OK.

And then she started eating more sporadically and losing weight again.

And now this - whatever it is - is in her belly.

We just lost Annabel.

We can't lose Forest, too. We just can't...

Please send healing energy to our little Forest if you think of it. Thank you.

More soon.

Overload...

I've been on "blog reading overload" for the last few days.

Really.

I cannot seem to get myself away from my computer. Or other people's blogs.

Last night I made Chris take me to a movie so I wouldn't sit on the couch all night reading blogs.

And when we got home and I should have been getting ready for bed, where was I and what was I doing? Yup. On the couch again reading reading reading blogs.

As a result of this blog reading overload I have neglected my own little corner of the blogosphere.

Could this possibly be because the last few posts have been so serious that they require additional follow up posts to continue working through my thoughts? And I just don't want to do that right now? Have I been reading other people's blogs so I don't have to address my own?

Yup.

Sneaky, eh?

I've been wimping out for a while on The Serious Post...and I believe that this is going to be a continuing trend for the short term.

Additionally, all of those serious thoughts that I haven't been writing down on the blog are now competing with all of the Christmas stuff in my brain: making macaroons, what I need to buy at the store to make the macaroons, how much gift wrap I need to buy that won't leave me with tons of leftover to store all year long, getting the house clean so we can enjoy Christmas weekend sans clutter, deciding where I'm going to hide Chris' stocking this evening, figuring out what I'm going to wear for the various family events coming up this weekend, hoping that all of my various in-laws will prepare food that I can actually eat (read: gluten free), blah, blah, blah.

So...I think for the next few days that I'm going to try to stay away from the computer. From thinking heavy and deep thoughts. From reading other people's heavy and deep thoughts. From all things bloggy.

And I'm just going to enjoy the holiday weekend.

Hope you do, too.

Worthy?...

I've been trying to formulate this post for a few days now. Gathering my thoughts to put into some kind of order onto the blogosphere.

There are a number of first mother blogs that I follow with some regularity. Some of these blogs - particularly those that are in open adoptions are quite inspiring. Seeing how first mothers/fathers and adoptive mothers/fathers navigate their relationships with each other and with the children who bond them together is quite amazing. These are the blogs that give me hope that an open adoption can work if all parties keep their promises and work together.

Other of the first mother blogs are difficult to read because they are filled with pain and anguish - the blogs of mothers who lost their children to adoption unwillingly. Some via the social service system or others who were teen/young mothers who felt that they were coerced into giving up their children because they were considered and convinced by others that they were "too young to parent." Although these blogs are difficult to read, I do so because they challenge me to look at adoption from another's perspective and to consider how our adoption will affect all of the people involved in our upcoming "adoption triad."

Earlier in the weekend I visited and commented on one of the blogs that I find challenging to read. The blogger, Cassi, replied to my comment as did another blogger, Lori, who actually used my comment/question as a springboard for a long post of her own (also included below.) While we come to adoption from opposite sides of the table, both of these women were very respectful of me and willing to engage in dialogue without name calling or hostility. I so appreciated that.

My question/comment to Cassi:

First - as always - let me take a moment to thank you for sharing your story and for sharing so much for yourself on your blog.

Reading this post was very difficult. It's so raw and full of anguish. I can't tell you how sorry I am that you've had to endure this kind of suffering.

I don't know if you can or would choose to answer a question that occurred to me while I was reading your post: Would it have made a difference back when you were so young and scared if open adoption had been available to you?

Please know that when I say "open adoption" I don't mean getting a few pictures and letters every year from the adoptive family. I mean an actual relationship between your child, his adoptive family and you and your family. (Obviously in my way back when scenario hopefully you would have been the key player in the choice of adoptive family...it sounds like the woman who adopted your son was a nightmare.)

Please don't feel like you have to address my question if it makes you upset or uncomfortable. Or if you feel that I have crossed the line somehow in my asking this question (and if I have done so, I hope you'll please accept my apologies. It is certainly not my intention.) I would just be extremely interested in your perspective on adoption today in regards to a much more open process and relationship.

As a prospective adoptive parent, I don't ever want to make another woman feel the way that you do. I'm really trying to find a way to be as open and inclusive as possible and to move through the adoption process with integrity, honesty and compassion. I value your opinion in this regard.

Again, thanks for sharing and for allowing me a bit of space to ask my question.

Cassi's reply:

I'm so glad to see you back. And I hope you know I have a great respect for you and the courage you show by continuing to read and ask questions. I know, even for me too, it's hard sometimes to listen and learn from another side and so many refuse to do this. It shows great strength in those that do.

I'm not sure though that you will like my answer to your question . . . twenty two years ago when I gave up my son at birth, his was an open adoption. It was during the beginning wave of open adoptions and was actually a step ahead because I had two visits a year which was not common during that time.

His adoption remained fully open for the first two years of his life. After that, his adoptive mom no longer allowed visits so his adoption became semi-open with the letters and pictures I was promised.

In my son's fifth year, I received one picture - his kindergarten picture - and that was it. His adoptive mom closed his adoption and it remained that way for thirteen years until my husband and I reunited with our son when he was eighteen.

So I have literally been through open adoption, semi-open adoption and closed adoption in my experience and, honestly, none of those have ever, or will ever heal the pain I expressed here.

I say that because before ANY kind of adoption can take place, a woman still has to go through feeling as if she is not good enough or worthy enough for her own child.

The message to her is still one that places a "better" mom in front of her and encourages her to lose while another gains. It still places her in a position of not feeling confident as a mother because she is led to believe through outside forces, including society in general that she will fail at raising her own child without ever being given the chance to prove otherwise.

I know that open adoption is supposed to be easier for First Moms. That is what so many believe, but in truth, it can't take away that feeling of failure and loss that first must happen to any woman who gives up her child.

Those emotions can be so strong. They can rule our lives for years without easing. By our very nature we are meant to love and nurture our children. When that natural instinct is not only challenged but doubted because one doesn't have "enough" it's hard to move past that and believe in yourself again as a woman and most importantly as a mother.

Even now, all these years later, after raising my three other children, adopting back my oldest son, I still struggle with my insecurities when it comes to being a mother. I still fear someone else is better than me. That I will lose my children to someone else. That they will see another woman as their mother and I will lose that in my life.

Therapy and support groups have helped to recognize these feelings before they fully control me as they used to. But they still exist. They still, in weaker, can play on my doubts and fears. And, honestly, I don't think they will ever go away for good.

I just think, when we support a life where one woman's loss and grief is considered "worth it" to ease the loss of another woman who society views as more "deserving" of being a mother, we create an open, and never closing wound, for so many mothers out there who never even got the chance to try before believing they would fail.

Lori also responded to my question/comment:

"As a prospective adoptive parent, I don't ever want to make another woman feel the way that you do."

Jennifer,

Have you ever considered just adopting the family? I know that it won't take the place of a child of your own, but in reality, will a child that is not ever really going to be "your own" ever take that place either?

Most babies really do have their own mommies and yet there are thousands of children and young adults (teens) that would love to have a family. Yeah, lots of issues, but guess what, mother issues are nothing compared to what the kids have once they are adopted.

These are generalizations, yes, but very few of the adopted persons that I know, don't want to know their "real" parents. I don't mean that in a bad way. I just, after reading many blogs, talking to many adopted persons, took my psychological training and realized that what the kids are saying is that they want the original parents. And mothers, we are saying instead of taking our children, be part of our family and help us keep our children.

I am not anti-adoption, I am massively adoption reform. There truly are some children that need homes. But because of the basic feeling that we all deserve, want, need to be parents, we forget the simplest of all things. To see what is about a child, not what is about us.

So, there are options, foster care (and never believe what is written in the reports, insist on meeting both first parents prior to adoption - social services are the best at telling tales that are not quite true) adoption.

Guardianship - always good because it leaves the child with all their own identity and still gives the family unit a reality.

Or, adopt the family or let them adopt you. I never had another child after my daughter and the one thing that I do find much satisfaction in is the children that have found their way to my doorstep. Many children. I never felt the need to have them call me mom and, in most cases, when they did I was very leary of them (they were usually the ones that I had to make leave and tell never to come back). I enjoy my nieces and nephews and have had a huge hand in caring for some of them for most of their lives.

But, Jennifer, the truth is, when you adopt you will cause this pain. Adoption is the breaking of an existing family. Family is not a piece of paper, a desire to parent, the need to have a child/procreate. Family is the unit, usually biological, that may not be perfect, may argue, fight, be poor, be rich, be dysfunctional, but most of all it is the love that only a mother/father and a child can share. It is looking in the mirror of your parents eyes and seeing you, the real you, whole and total. It is the blessing of knowing that your grandmother's arthritis might become yours one day and accepting that the dimple on your left cheek is not just a mark, but a badge of belonging.

That is what family is.

Adoption is uncertainty. Looking into your parents eyes and seeing someone that is different, not quite right, worthless.

Adoption is waking up hearing your child cry and knowing that it is not real. Spending countless hours and days looking at children in stores, malls, parks and schools, wondering "is this him/her?" It is the locking of part of your heart for fear of drowning in the hole.

Adoption is not the answer. It is the problem.

If you want a child, find one that truly needs parents. One that is from this country, with no living parents or relatives to be found, that has a real need to be loved. Accept them the way they are and know that nothing is perfect. Know that if you don't find this perfect child it is not a curse on you, but a blessing on the children.

But most of all, remember this, to parent you don't have to be the legal parent. You just have to love.

Just my thoughts.

I'm still having a hard time formulating my thoughts about the above dialogue.

What struck me most from reading Cassi's and Lori's words is the theme of worthiness vs. not being worthy.

The idea that I - as an adoptive parent - am somehow viewed by society as more "worthy" or "better" to raise a child than the child's mother is troubling to me.

I certainly don't feel that I am anymore worthy to raise a child (biological or adopted) than any other woman. Perhaps what I am at this point in my life is someone who is not more "worthy" but is instead simply at a stage/age/time in life where I have both the internal and external resources to raise and care for a child.

This has certainly not always been the case.

Had I become pregnant at age 17...there is no doubt in my mind that I was in any way prepared or capable of being a mom at that time. I can safely assert that I would have been too terrified to even think for one second that I was capable of being a mother. My fear would have won out and I would have been a teen mom who turned to adoption. Who walked through the doors of the agency and made/carried though with an adoption plan.

And, if I'm truthful, had I found myself pregnant at ages 25 or even 30, chances are that I would have been in much the same situation as I would have been at age 17. Even though in my twenties and at thirty I had many more external resources: an education, a decent job where I was making OK money, a good living situation, a career path, and marketable skills, there was one other thing happening in my life that would have prevented me from parenting:

I was a mess.

A complete emotional mess.

It was such a struggle just to care for myself - something at which I didn't do well for far too many years. Help was so needed back then, but I didn't know how to ask for it.

Couldn't ask for help and, sadly, didn't even recognize that I needed it.

Again, I am certain that in my twenties or early thirties I would have been so utterly paralyzed by my own terror and anxiety that I couldn't have been any kind of a decent parent to a child. The internal resources necessary to parent just weren't there. It wouldn't have been fair to me or to my child for me to have even tried.

So, speaking for myself - in a way I actually agree with both Cassi and Lori in that I would have felt that there was a "better" mom out there somewhere to raise my child, but unlike Cassi and Lori - not because anyone on the outside made me feel that I wasn't worthy to be a mom. Instead - because of all of the "stuff" happening inside of me at that time in my life - because of my own internal struggles and the sense of unworthiness and failure that already existed in me.

And so I feel for anyone who has been made by anyone to feel less than worthy.

That Cassi and Lori both felt strongly that they were made to feel by others as less than worthy is beyond awful. That the adoptive parents of Cassi's son broke their promises and kept her separated from her child for 13 years - cruel. That Lori was forced to surrender her daughter unwillingly - cruel and life shattering. That they have spent their adult lives trying to recover from these traumas is heartbreaking.

I do not want anyone to ever feel that way.

Still, it is difficult for me to think about turning away from the path that we're on. Difficult to think that there is a woman out there feeling somehow less than worthy - for whatever reason - be it not having the external resources to care for her child or the internal wherewithal or a combination thereof.

I have more to write on this topic, but I think that I need to take a break for now to once again gather my thoughts.

Anyone visiting - your thoughts?

And please - if you choose to share your thoughts - please be respectful to all parties involved in this dialogue. Thank you.

Open...

From the book Making Room in Our Hearts: Keeping Family Ties Through Open Adoption by Micky Duxbury:

The gifts one inherits from birth parents do not merely form the template, with the adoptive parents forming everything else. The personalities of adoptees are shaped throughout their lives by their biological and cultural roots.

Many people are navigating the waters of openness not because they think that it will make the pain of adoption disappear, but because they believe that it will enhance the child's sense of self.

In The Open Adoption Experience by Lois Melina and Sharon Kaplan Roszia, the authors underscore the effect of the closed [adoption] system:

It gradually became apparent through research, personal accounts, and case histories that the failure to recognize and grieve for the losses of adoption had long term effects...impaired self-esteem...difficulty forming an identity...difficulty forming relationships...Not all confidential adoptions were failures, nor did all adoptees, birth parents and adoptive parents suffer serious psychological problems. However, there were many people that found their experience of adoption provided them with emotional challenges that they did not expect and didn't always know how to conquer.

If I knew who my birth mother was, I could have stopped fantasizing and wondering...I could have just asked her those questions instead of just having them bounce around in my head for all those years. - Ben, an adoptee, age 29

Although birth parents were not ready to parent, they have a vital role to play in helping their child know that she was loved then and is loved now by those who gave her life.

If someone would have just told me about open adoption, or turned me onto a book, or let me talk to another birth mom, everything would have been so different. The whole experience would have been so much less chaotic and overwhelming. - Molly, birth mother of Leo

We thought that by choosing open adoptions, our children would be less likely to be plagued by issues of abandonment and rejection, and that the birth families would not wonder if a child they passed on the street could be their own. - Mathew, adoptive father of Lily and Reed

While Chris and I have not made any formal decisions about the level of openness that will happen in our adoption, I find myself very drawn to the idea of openness in adoption and am reading up on this important and potentially life-changing topic. Making Room in Our Hearts, in addition to be informative, happens to be an exceptionally interesting, compelling and thought provoking read as you can probably tell from the quotes above. If you are considering open adoption, I imagine that this book is a must-read.

In addition to books, I have of course, been checking out numerous blogs. I was surprised to find quite a few bloggers who write about their open adoptions. Dawn writes beautifully of her life with daughter Madison and of their lovely and close relationship with Madison's first mom, Pennie.

Rebekah and Rebekah...I only found their blogs a short time ago and haven't left any comments, but have become a regular reader and am inspired by their story. Rebekah and Rebekah found each other in late January 2009. Rebekah #1 is a single parent who was pregnant with her fifth child who felt strongly that she just couldn't parent one more child. She made the difficult decision to pursue an open adoption. Rebekah #2 had been struggling with infertility for some time when she and her husband Ben made the decision to start a family via adoption. Along came baby Ty who is now the strong connection between the two families. Their blogs are lovely and reading about Ty from both perspectives - adoptive mom and first mom - is pretty amazing.

I'd like to write more, but it's late and I should take myself off to bed.

More on this soon.

Good night.

Feeling like a mom...

I dread it...

My workplace Board of Trustees/Community Advisory Board/Staff annual holiday "do."

I'm a fundraiser, but not much of a schmoozer. It's rather embarrassing to admit that in my particular profession that I don't really enjoy these kinds of events.

Still, there will be folks at this event that I actually know and the food will be good. So I hit the ladies room to "fix my face" after a long day in the fundraising trenches and then head out to our holiday decorated lobby to face the masses enjoying our little fete.

A few minutes into the event I run into S - a vice president from one of my company accounts. We exchange greetings and start talking about the holidays and what our families are doing. Soon I find myself saying, "My husband is so excited about next year when we'll introduce our child to the craziness that is his family at Christmas."

S lights up and asks, "Omigosh! When are you due?"

"Well," I reply, "we don't have a due date because we're adopting, but we're hoping it will be fairly soon."

"That's so exciting!" says S and goes on to congratulate me.

Soon we're chatting happily about her kids and grandkids and their traditions and what Chris and I hope our traditions will be with our Little One.

When S has to excuse herself to head home, I find myself in conversation with our Chief Operating officer (A) and one of the Community Advisory Board members (F.)

The "How was your Thanksgiving?" conversation lasts for a few minutes and then A says, "I know when we talked this summer you said that you and your husband are considering adoption. Have you touched on that anymore?"

"Oh, we're actually in the process. We just have a few more photos to get to our adoption facilitators and then our profile goes live online...and then we wait."

"That's great! Are you going to get an older child? Or a baby?"

"Well, we're only planning to do this once so we'd like to have the whole experience - poopy diapers and all."

"That's wonderful!" chimes in F.

And soon we're off on a whole conversation about little ones. A regales us with stories of her son who, unlike his well-mannered relaxed older sister, got into EVERYTHING.

"It's not that he was a BAD kid," says A, "it's that he was BORED and wanted to learn things. So he'd throw something in the toilet to see what would happen. He'd put crayons on the radiator and I'd say, 'Now, N, why the heck did you do THAT???' And he'd say right back, 'To see what would happen to them.' He was just curious! Still is!"

"That sounds just like my little 2 year-old grandson," says F, pulling a photo out of her wallet and pointing to the youngest of three Little Ones posed artfully with Santa Claus, "He is just a little DEVIL!" But she says this with a loving smile so I imagine that he isn't all that bad.

They share more stories about their kids and grandkids to which I enjoy listening. I chime in with a few tales about my nieces and find myself saying, "I have sooooo much to look forward to!" in response to some of their funny stories.

They agree.

"Yes. You do."

Soon the party begins to die down. I say my goodbyes and head home.

As I'm in my car, it hits me that this evening I truly feel for the first time like an expectant mom. Something about sharing my news with S, F and A (people I don't really know all that well) that for reasons I cannot explain - make the adoption and my impending motherhood seem so REAL. Not that it hasn't been real throughout the last 6 months of hard adoption prep work.

But tonight for the first time I just feel like any other woman who is expecting a baby. I feel like an expectant mom.

It's not an intellectual thing.

I'm not thinking, "Oh, I'm going to be a mom."

It's a feeling that comes from deep inside my core and radiates out to my fingers, my toes and even my hair.

Wow. I'm going to be a mom.

And I'm not scared or nervous or panicked or anything in this moment.

Just happy.

Annabel comes home...

Yesterday's tree trim...

Chris runs out to get the tree and I run out to do a few errands before I start to feel too pooped out from The Cold That Will Not Let Go.

Upon my return to the house I find that Chris already has the tree set up, watered and is in the process of putting on the lights. It's a really good looking tree. Smells wonderful.

A short time later while I'm bustling around the kitchen, Chris wanders over to the kitchen table and lifts up a maroon gift bag that I hadn't noticed sitting among the clutter of the table. He says slowly and gently, "While I was out getting the tree, I brought Annabel home."

I think that I may utter a little, "Oh."

I look inside the bag to see a smooth wooden box.

The box containing Annabel's ashes.

Immediately I burst into tears.

Chris is crying, too.

We cry together for a while and then take the box out of the bag. In the bag is also a card from "Final Gift" - the company that performed the cremation. The card contains a nice poem inside and a certificate stating that the ashes in the box are certified to be Annabel's.

We cry again for a few minutes. Chris holds me while I babble about not being able to bring myself to pick up Annabel's ashes for the last few weeks. He soothes me and says, "I know. I broke down in my car in the parking lot after I got her ashes."

After a while there isn't much else to say so I return to some half-hearted bustling around the kitchen. Chris disappears into the basement and returns with a package for me.

My ornament.

Every year on tree trim day Chris and I give each other a new ornament.

I've been so sick over the last week that I never got Chris his ornament and as I stand there looking at the package, I feel terrible.

"I didn't get you an ornament yet," I say to Chris. "I feel terrible. I suck as a wife."

"It's OK, " Chris replies, "you've still got two weeks left til Christmas."

Chris had been in New York this last week at a seminar and so I assume as I open this year's ornament that he has gotten me some art ornament from the Met.

He got me Annabel.

There she is - in her bowl - looking cheerful on both sides of a porcelain ornament.

Immediately I burst into tears again.

So does Chris.

We hold each other for a while and then I finally break away to ask, "Where did you get this?"

"I found a company on-line that does them. I think the colors are a little washed out."

"No. It's perfect."

And so there she is now looking out from the top front of our lovely Christmas tree.

It was a really lovely and wonderful tree trim yesterday. Chris describes it perfectly in this post.

But it was a little strange, too. No Annabel sitting on the couch diving into the tissue papers we throw there as we unwrap the ornaments. No "mrow!" and purr this year.

Oh sure - Forest "supervised" the whole tree trim from the chair next to the tree. Well, actually she mostly snoozed through tree trim occasionally waking to stretch and receive a good scratch or two from Chris or me.

Cecil, of course, would venture into the living room from time to time only to run away in utter terror at all of the strange activity going on...the music, the rustling of the tissue paper, the tall strange green thing in the middle of her living room. It was just too much for her delicate sensibilities.

No, Annabel was really the only one of our three cats who truly appreciated and got into the spirit of tree trim.

So now she'll supervise and enjoy from her spot on the tree.

I know that next year I'll probably burst into tears again when Annabel's ornament comes out of its package, but I know that I'll be happy to have her be part of Christmas again and show her to Schmoopie.

Welcome home Annabel.

Say "Cheeeeeeese"...part 2

So we're at a standstill with the adoption because of the photo situation.

We apparently didn't say "cheeeeese" in the "correct" way.

Crap.

We sent the adoption facilitators the photos we liked and thought would be best for our profile and got several rather firm e-mails in response saying essentially, "Some great photos, but not everything that we need." Our adoption facilitators will not budge on this issue.

Chris e-mailed several times trying to get them to budge.

No go.

If we e-mail again it'll just turning into a pissing contest.

So while Chris was at the grocery store last night I spent time looking at the various profiles on the adoption facilitators' website.

Essentially many of the couples' close-up photos look exactly the same - sweet and gooey and super posed.

Really?

This is what we have to do?

Sigh.

So, today we need to take more photos. And since we're planning to do "tree trim" today it's at least a good day to take some fun photos of us actually doing something that we like to do.

And - as much as we hate the idea - we'll have to get out the tripod and take some gooey "couple-y" photos of us looking adoringly at each other.

Gack.

Not that I don't adore Chris...because I do. But the idea that an expectant mother will somehow only see our love for each other or my adoration for Chris via a photo of me making goo-goo eyes at him...It's just so stupid.

If you really want to see how Chris and I are together - check out or wedding photos. There are certainly some gooey ones, but the best photos show us just when we're being silly. In fact, my very favorite photo is of Chris kissing me on the cheek while I have my tongue stuck out at the camera. It's actually one of a three-photo series where we're just totally goofing around. I think that my grandmother was horrified to see that particular series featured in our wedding album, but anyone who knows us thought they were great and pretty much reflects us as a couple.

So today - in spite of me still having a cold and feeling kind of on the crappy side - we are going to take more photos. We are intelligent, fun and creative people and we will NOT be defeated by this photo process!!

Besides, if the adoption doesn't move forward again and very soon...I'm pretty certain that my wonderful husband's head will explode. He is NOT a happy camper. And when he's not happy... nobody's happy.

So....say "cheeeeeeeeese"

Again.

Sharing...part 3

Well, it happened.

I made it through whole week of not sharing the common cold.

I did everything right - hand washing, utilizing hand sanitizer, using paper towels to open doors, kept myself hydrated, blah, blah, blah.

And I STILL managed to get Chris' d@#$ nasty whopper of a cold.

Obviously I got careless somewhere.

And a germ made its way through my defenses.

Rats.

Forest and Cecil...

I awake this morning thinking that it's maybe 7:30 or 8:00.

I'm surprised when my little alarm clock reads 10:00. So surprised that I get out of bed to check the clock in the kitchen.

Yup. 10:00 a.m.

How did I sleep so late?

And then it hits me...

No Grey Bullet to wake me.

Annabel kept us all on schedule. Her insistent "Mrow! Mrow! Mrow!" at 7:00 a.m.on Saturday and Sunday mornings got us out of bed. Now, more often than not we'd feed Annabel and the other cats and then head back to bed to catch a few more z's, but at least we were up and had the option of starting the day early.

Not so much anymore.

Our other kitties are content to wait until one of us rolls out of bed to feed them breakfast.

Cecil is, in fact, quite ecstatic most weekend mornings to have a long "lie in" with Chris. She snuggles under the covers with him and would be just thrilled to stay there all day if he chose not to get up out of bed.

Our Cecil is not what one would call "a morning person." She is more times than not quite grumpy about having to get out of her warm comfortable bed to have her breakfast. Her tail swishes violently back and forth to indicate her displeasure as she slowly makes her way from the bed to the chilly kitchen all the while casting me a baleful look with her intense blue eyes.

It really is amazing that Cecil is as chunky as she is with her attitude towards her morning feedings.

There are people who say that cats have no personalities.

"I like dogs. They have personalities. Cats just don't."

Obviously the people who make these kinds of statements have never lived with a cat.

I described Annabel's amazing personality in a previous post, but I'm ashamed to admit that I have not done Cecil and Forest any justice on the blog. They really are the most amazing - and totally weird - cats.

Forest is probably the weirdest little cat I've ever met. First of all - she's funny looking. Her blue eyes are sort of small and squinty and just slightly crossed. She generally looks like she's a little worried about something. She has a half-mask with one side of her face chocolate brown and the other white. She's skinny - something that we and the vet worry about and battle against constantly with medication and as much food as we can get her to eat. Her tail - unlike her sister's - is generally held straight up in the air. And she has a loud, penetrating and harsh cry. For the most part she's a pretty happy little thing who is not so much a "lap cat" as a "leaning cat." When you're laying on the couch watching tv she likes to hop up and lean against you while you pound on her side. The harder you pound the louder she purrs.

Forest also has the distinction of having perhaps the loudest purr on the planet.

Really.

It's astounding that such a small creature can make that kind of sound. When I'm on the phone with my mom and Forest is nearby in purr mode I'll say, "Hear, listen" and hold the phone up to Forest.

My mom will laugh and say, "Oh my God!"

Aside from her phenomenally and abnormally loud purr, one of Forest's other peculiar traits is her preference for sticking her head in Chris' armpit and sometimes mine. Why? It's a mystery.

Sometimes when she's in leaning mode, she'll fold her front legs under her and just kind of stand on her head with her butt held straight up in the air. All the while purring. There are times when she'll fall asleep like that. She also very much enjoys being cradled like you would a baby.

After her morning meal, Forest generally races into the bedroom to fling herself violently on the bed. She isn't one of those cats who settles into lying down either. She just falls over on her side. Hard. And lays there purring - all the while watching us as we get ready for work. Willing us to stop gathering clothes and jewellery and instead come over and pound on her side and rub the side of her face.

Which we do.

She is so weird and wonderful.

And then there is Cecil.

The Grump.

The ChunkaMunka.

Cecil, unlike her sister Forest, is GORGEOUS. She has HUGE blue eyes that jump out from the dark chocolate mask that surrounds them. She has a large round face, very smooth fur and a black beauty mark in the white fur next to her nose.

Alas, while Cecil is most certainly the Greatest Beauty Among Felines, she is no scholar. In fact, she is Dumb as a Box of Rocks.

"Are you Dumb as a Box of Rocks?" I'll ask her while I'm petting her. This question is most often received with a blank look and a slightly louder purr.

We are certain that there is very little synaptic activity occurring in Cecil's brain. In fact, we're just as certain that she has just one active brain cell...and it ain't all that active.

Cecil's main goal in life is to be physically attached to Chris. In bed, on the couch, at the kitchen table, while he's at his computer. She doesn't care. She just wants to be in his lap.

It is when Chris is at his computer that Cecil is most miserable because the computer is getting all of his attention and Chris becomes rather annoyed with her and shoos her away. Many times she spends hours crying and doing everything possible to annoy him just to get him to pick her up again. Tearing up papers on my desk. Knocking things off of my desk and his desk. And other times she'll simply sit on my desk or in my chair if I am not occupying it staring at him with such utter longing it almost breaks your heart.

Almost.

The thing that is most endearing about our Cecil is that she is so grumpy. It's become more pronounced over the years and gets funnier all of the time. Her grumpiness reveals itself in any number of ways including a myriad of Baleful Looks (she is the EXPERT at giving the Baleful Look), her incredibly expressive violently swishing tail, and her meow, which isn't so much a "meow" as a bleat. She sounds like a sheep.

And lately she has a newer sound..."Meh."

Really.

I'm not kidding.

Here's a conversation between Cecil and me:

ME [while petting her]: Are you a Grumpy Girl?

CECIL [purring]: Meh.

ME: Are you the Grumpiest Girl in the Whole World?

CECIL: Meh. [purr, purr] Meh.

ME: You are such a Grump! How did you get to be so Grumpy?

CECIL [purring more loudly]: Meh.

Too funny.

Cecil also gets the Kitty Crazies, which is pretty funny considering her normal state of total indolence.

Generally in the evenings after she has digested her evening meal the Kitty Crazies will come upon her and she will without warning: fly from the bedroom-down the hall-into the living room-up onto the chair using it as a springboard to the bay window-then turn quickly-jump back down from the chair-onto the floor-then-STOP-crouch-thrash tail-then- ZOOM back to the bedroom!!!!!

Repeat.

Repeat.

I may miss The Grey Bullet something awful, but I am so lucky that Cecil and Forest are here in my life and I can't wait to introduce the Schmoopie to the joys of cats...and eventually dogs.

Now where is that Grumpy Girl?

Mess...

Our house is a mess right now.

This isn't an unusual occurrence.

I am, at best, an erratic housekeeper. As I've mentioned in previous posts this is mostly because when I get done with an 8, 10 or 12 hour work day I just don't have the energy to do anything else. And on the weekends I feel the need to try to rest up as much as possible to prep for the next insane hectic work week.

Consequently...mess.

It drives me crazy, but usually when it gets too out of control...or we have company coming...we take a day to get our house in shape. Luckily we have a fairly small house so most big cleaning can get done in a day or so.

Not so much for a friend of mine who is out west dealing with her mom's house. Her mom is one of those people that would be classified as a "hoarder."

This is apparently the third time in two dozen years that my friend and her siblings have had to shovel out their mom's home. It's so very sad and frustrating for my friend and her family. They've been cleaning and shoveling out stuff for almost two weeks straight and my friend reports that there is still "sooooo much more to do" before an upcoming visit from the social workers who will determine if the home is habitable and if my friend's mom can return to live there independently (with regular visits from the social worker.)

It's amazing to me that anyone could live in a home full up (and apparently my friend's mom's house was literally FULL) with that kind of chaos.

HOW can you live like that? How can you not do anything about that?

But then I look at my own house...at the kitchen table that is currently covered in various piles of mail, magazines, a slow cooker and assorted and sundry "stuff" and I realize that someone who is a very tidy housekeeper might very well look with horror at my untidy kitchen table while thinking, "HOW can you live like that? How can you not do anything about that?"

Yup.

The truth is that I much prefer my house to be clean and tidy. I don't have the hoarder's need for acquisition. And I DO actually see the mess. I do also share one thing with someone who is a hoarder...I often feel overwhelmed by our stuff.

Part of me has this fantasy that once I'm working part-time and the Schmoopie is here that I will become one of those really tidy people. That I'll have the time and energy to straighten and clean with regularity. That I won't be freaked out when people drop by unexpectedly. That my house will always be spic-n-span clean.

Then I remember my 14-month old niece The Wookie....and her propensity for emptying any and all containers, bags and drawers onto the floor. It takes her just a few minutes to turn a neat and tidy room (say, for example, my sister-in-law's living room) into a Zone of Total Chaos.

Is it just possible that our little Schmoopie will be a neat and tidy little kid who has no interest in making chaos?

Yeah...right...

Fantasy.

And so there will be different mess in our house with the arrival of the Little One...kid mess.

Ah well.

Maybe someday my house will be clean.

Perhaps I'll at least clean off the kitchen table this weekend...

Now where the heck does that slow cooker go?

Name calling...

I was visiting a few blogs yesterday and was shocked (although by now I guess I shouldn't be...) at the incredible and awful name calling in them.

Name calling directed, of course, at me.

The prospective adoptive parent.

Names mostly so vicious and nasty that I can't even repeat them here.

(Apparently my earlier cry for compassion has not been heard across the blogosphere.)

Sigh.

Again, I guess that I shouldn't be all that surprised because we live in a world rife with name calling.

Politicians, the media, entertainment, talking heads, talk shows, blogs, etc. etc. etc.

The list goes on.

Instead of listening to each other and trying for compassion and understanding, the general attitude seems to be that you just call the person you don't agree with a nasty name...and then you move on. What a cop out.

"I don't like what you have to say. I don't agree with you. You're a jerk!"

End of discussion. Move on!

Listening to each other. Talking things through. Trying to put yourself in someone else's shoes. Agreeing to disagree. Really taking the time to let someone else express their opinions without interruption. Without argument. Without name calling. That takes time, patience and maturity.

Name calling seems to me to be the lazy person's immature way out.

I hope that we raise our child to be compassionate. To listen. To discuss. To be patient. To go against the tide of laziness and meanness to be a person of substance, maturity and the ability to see through someone else's eyes...to be kind.

So to all of those people out there who called me nasty names...

I choose not to participate in name calling.

(So there!)

Sharing...part 2

Our conversation this evening...

ME (from the top of the stairs): Did you read my blog post today?

HUSBAND (calls up from his desk): No.

ME: (still from the top of the stairs): I'm an awful person.

HUSBAND: Are you going to get us in trouble with the Home Owners' Association?

ME: No. Just you.

HUSBAND: [Silence as he reads my blog post]

HUSBAND: Y'know, Lysol hurts when it gets in your eyes...

ME: [I laugh] I'm an awful person, aren't I?

HUSBAND: [long pause] Nooo...

ME: That was a really long pause before that "Nooo."

HUSBAND: [no answer. I can hear him tap-tap-tapping furiously away on his keyboard]

ME: Are you leaving me a comment?

HUSBAND: Maaayyybeee... [tap tap tap!]

Sharing...

Chris has a cold.

And not just a cold, but a whopper of a nasty cold.

I feel really bad for him.

Really. I do.

But, as always...I'm terrified for me.

I am the queen of the upper respiratory infection. What starts as a small cold that lasts for a few days in other people usually settles in my chest and lingers for weeks.

So I am avoiding my husband.

Because I do not want his whopper of a nasty cold.

Talking to him from a distance of six feet or more. Yesterday I even seriously contemplated spending the night at a hotel. I'm opening doors and drawers with wads of kleenex and paper towels in my hands to avoid touching germ-y surfaces.

This morning Chris is feeling a tiny bit better and is heading off to work. Before he leaves he comes over to plant a kiss on my hair and as much as I hate to admit it, my thoughts are, "Please stay away from me until you feel completely better! Don't give me this cold! Don't touch me!"

Poor guy. I know that I actually cringed when he came near me.

I love sharing things with Chris.

Really I do.

Everything except the common cold.

Needless to say...since he got sick this weekend we've both been pretty grumpy. Him because he is sick and feeling wretched and me because I am worried about becoming sick and feeling wretched and because I am not being very comforting.

Of all of the things that make me nervous about becoming a mom, sharing illness is the thing that makes me the most....squirm-y. I won't be able to NOT pick up my kid when she has a cold just because I'm terrified of catching it.

But I know that I'm going to think about not picking her up.

I'm going to cringe when she sneezes on me knowing that it's just a matter of time before I'm sick and miserable, too.

How awful is that?

The idea of me and Schmoopie being sick at the same time. Grumpy and not being able to comfort each other. Just awful.

I'll try to be a better and more comforting wife when Chris gets home today. Maybe I'll give him a hug.

And then go spray myself down with Lysol...