Ethan has had a LONG year of school. He began the first part of August, and tomorrow (the middle of JUNE!!!) will be his last day of school. He is excited to be done. I'm excited for him to be done. I'm looking forward to having all my children at home. I'm looking forward to not doing the drop-off and pick-up routine. I am looking forward to connecting with my son. As each of my children has come home they have had to acclimate to the pace of life here,and expect Ethan will have some trouble with it. He will assume that since he is home he shouldn't have to work. He will be impatient with the needs and desire of those around him. He will push against the restriction of family life, in other words, meeting the needs of others will be inconvenient to him. He will probably be a pain in the butt - for awhile. But under that. He's a really great kid, who is just beginning to think big thoughts and really question the world. He wants to please and have a connections with his family AND he wants to be independent. He is nearly 12, and sometimes 8 and sometimes 35, and he will be taller than me soon. The years ahead of him remind me that junior high was one of the most trying seasons of my life. This becoming is difficult business, and I feel so humbled and unprepared to walk my children though the new season. Diapers, baths, and stories seems so easy in comparison. (Though talking to my baby sister about life with newborn is a good reminder that it ain't easy at all. ) This parenting an (almost) adolescent seems weightier, and I really really want to do it well. And I have just enough parenting experience to know that I'll screw it up regularly...just, hopefully, not permanently. And that is why there's always Jesus and a good therapist....

Farmers market

Peaches Pluots Rainier cherries Strawberries blueberries Cantelope Honeydew Kale Cilantro Mixed greens Mushrooms Carrots Red cabbage Hummus Artisan bread California farmer's markets beat Colorado ones hands down. Emma and I ran around like kids in a candy shop scooping up deals just minutes before the Castro Valley Market closed. Delicious! Nutritious! Aesthetically pleasing, socially conscience, environmental stewardship. Plus a whole lot of fun.

Marriage

So we're in a small group that has been working through a book on marriage. A lot of the couples in our group have had, or are having, a bumpy go of it.

Eddie and aren't among them. Our marriage needs an occasional tune-up, but mostly its just pretty easy. That is not to say that our life together has been easy, but the actual relationship portion of things has been less difficult than what most people deal with.

So Eddie and I have been asking ourselves, "Why is it so easy for us when so many around us struggle." I guess that sounds arrogant, but it's a sincere question. Here's what we've come up with:

-Some of it's blind luck and grace.

-Most of it is having gone into marriage with an accurate perspective on what marriage is about, and how much it costs.

We got good council that went like this: "Marriage isn't about you're happiness, self-actualization, contentment or comfort. It's about you loving your spouse in a way helps him/her become his or her very best self. It will, more than likely, be uncomfortable for you and cost more than you can imagine right now.Sometimes to do this well you need need get some training. But people invest in the things they care about. If you care about your marriage you'll get smart about how to do it well. Learn to fight fair, and love well."

So, yeah, marriage is easy once you've resigned yourself to the fact that it isn't really about you at all. All of the sudden you discovered there isn't that much to fight about. You're too busy trying to do the best thing for the one you love.

NOTE: GIANT SIZED CAVEAT IS THAT THIS ONLY WORKS WHEN BOTH THE HUSBAND AND WIFE BUY IN. WHEN ONE OR THE OTHER OF THE PARTNERS IS BEING A SELFISH ASS, OR AN IDIOT DETERMINED TO STAY IDIOTIC - MARRIAGE JUST STINKS.

-And that is where the blind luck and grace comes in.  Neither Eddie or I have the misfortune of being married to a selfish idiot.

-Which is not to say, necessarily, that if your marriage is bumpy that there is a selfish ass in the equation. Sometimes its just hard, and the situations, history, and personalities involved create complexity that could never be easy or simple.  But even then it has the potential to be good. Just hard and good.

-For us to hand out marriage advice would be like those people with naturally compliant, bright and happy kids who look arrogantly out at the masses of less well behaved children and prescribe their dose of parenting wisdom.  Some of the best parents I know have the most challenging children.  And though it would be tidier to say that difficult kids are the result of sloppy parenting, sometimes it just isn't the case.

And so it goes with marriage.  Some wonderful people, who work hard to be unselfish, and become students of marriage...well sometimes their marriages are still challenging. 

Abby is so transparent. She takes what she wants. It seems like 100 times a day we ask, "Does that belong to you?" We expect an answer to the silly rhetorical question. And she delivers it with flair and volume, "But I want it!"

 But I want it: that which belongs to another. You'd think I'd have outgrown such childishness. In fact, I thought I had out grown it.

 Well mostly.

 Alas, I am a big baby. And I want that which doesn't belong to me. I look at others enrolling their kids in public school and think, "I wish it were that easy for us." I watch other moms drive off to work and think,"I wish I could hang out with grown ups." I see the tiny little sedans that fits one measly carseat and think, "Life is sure easier for those who have fewer kids."

I picked having a large family. I picked intentionally being home with my kids. I picked homeschool. Becuase I thought these were the best choices for our family.

I still think they are.  I like our life, until I begin to compare. Then I struggle some with discontent - which is basically wanting the someone else's life - which is childish. Which is humbling.

 So I am working on sinking deep into my life. the one God gave to me. I'm working on living fully the one life God has given to me and  I'm learning to be present in this season.

And when I do it well, I find I very much enjoy where I am, who I am, and this little tribe on the East Bay.

Ragged Edges of Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day. I got breakfast in bed (let it be known: the man can cook) and have a few minutes to myself this morning. Over the years Mother's Day has become increasingly important to me. Really, it's more important to me than my birthday. I guess so much of my headspace, time, and heart are devoted to my role as mother that it feels good to have what I do and am acknowledged. But Mother's Day is emotionally loaded... Today, is Abby's 5th birthday. We celebrated yesterday, and I could hardly believe in the remembering that the journey that brought her to us really began almost 7 years ago. How could that be? Adoption, Abby's adoption story, and our adoption journey continues to be one of the narratives that most profoundly effects my life and outlook. The story can be told from many perspectives, and the one that I am struck by today is that Abby turns 5 on Mother's Day, and somewhere back in Denver she has a birth mom that hasn't seen her since her day of birth. Of course, she couldn't, and can't parent. Yet, I wonder about her sometimes. I am so profoundly grateful for the opportunity to love our little girl, but Mother's Day has ragged edges for Abby's birth mom. I know it, and today in the joy there is just a little sad too. Also, I'm thinking of my mother-in-law, for whom I am profoundly grateful. I lucked out in the mother-in-law department and scored not only an amazing husband but a woman that kinda rocks as a grandma and is so easy and fun to be around. This Mother's Day must be hard for her, because her mom passed away. G.G. King was a sweetheart who has needed care nearly all of Eddie's life. For years - decades - my mother-in-law has mothered her mom. I am sure she is is sad. And how then does one shelf the confusing roll of daughter/mom she has handled with grace for so many years? Again, the ragged edges of motherhood... A country away my baby sister sits ripe to popping with a 4th child she will welcome and love with her whole heart, though this little guy was a surprise she hadn't planned for. And, only half a country away, my other sister juggles the complexity of being a full time mom and having a career in the grown-up world too. Motherhood, is not tidy; it is a complicated, heart-rending thing. My mom is far away today. She was a good mom, the kind that had warm cookies waiting when we got home from school. She was the mom that kept the kitchen stocked with teenage friendly food, and made our home a place our friends liked to hang out. Smart woman. She is far away today. My mom did the job of mothering well, and in doing so sort of worked herself out of a job. She is the one that taught me that being a mom is having your heart walk around outside your body ( and in my mother's case, having your heart walk around in 3 different states simultaneously). Her mother heart hasn't changed but the daily-ness of her roll has. That feels like the ragged edges of motherhood too. I read, just recently, a blog that said most poignantly what I am trying to say. The author described a piece of art that portrayed a mother and her ducklings in a nest. The tag line told the story of moms everywhere. "The mother duck lines her nest with down she has pulled from her own chest." Isn't that the way of it? Good moms line the nest with down that they have pulled out of the best of themselves. It's love this giving of the best. But , frankly, that momma duck had bald patches on her chest. And had she been human and on the shiny pages of a grocery store magazine, someone would surely have photoshopped the heck out of her. And so doing lost the beauty of story. The San Francisco Bay Area is a cosmopolitan region, and having four kids is like signing up to be the traveling exhibit of the freak show. The bald patches feel conspicuous here. I feel like Eve in the garden with not a shred to wear - naked with the vulnerability of motherhood. Who would have thought the simple act of lining a nest with down would feel so flagrantly counter-cultural? So this motherhood thing, it's more than a gig. It's a statement, and a quiet rebellion. Here's to bald patches and ragged edges!

Learning Humility

Humility can be learned at Costco. I hate Costco runs. They are an enormous amount of work in and of themselves, and are followed by an enormous amount of work packing, unloading, and restocking our kitchen (that wasn't designed with Costco trips for a family of 6 in mind). In California, as far as I have been able to discover, Costcos are always jam packed with people. So I try to go during the week when at least some of the throngs are at work. This means we must quickly bust through homeschool in the morning and squeeze in a Costco run between homeschool and swimming lessons and be back by 2:50 to pick up Ethan from school. I pack a cooler, and try to streamline everything possible to make our trip efficient. Efficient and four-year-olds are antonyms. Efficient and four-year-olds with FASD are uber-antonyms. I am not setting up myself, or my children to be successful with this little Costco stunt. And this is how I found myself stuck with a cart full of $300 worth of mostly unpaid for groceries covered in urine. Can I just say that there is NO GOOD WAY to handle this situation. There is some obligation, I think, to finish ones purchase. And besides we needed those groceries, and the total excess of packaging actually protected everything from real urine damage. The produce and meat were already paid for, everything else was just drippy and needed to be hosed off and have the shrink wrap removed. But it was awkward for the check-out guy, and the people in line. (Incidentally, all but the check-out guy decided to move lines, as, apparently, long waits are preferable puddles of pee.) Also, it is awkward for the 8 and 10 year old siblings who are trying to all at once disappear, be helpful, and not slip in puddles of urine. And the people watching me haul a pee drenched kid to the bathroom, dripping the whole way there, felt a little uncomfortable with the situation, I think. And the four year old, was less than comfortable. She clearly communicated this by screaming and flailing. Ever notice how those big warehouse stores are kinda all echoey and tend to amplify noise? If I had any ego left about superior parenting skills, it has gone the way of the rolls of paper towels drenched in pee. But I am wiser, and more humble. I used to judge parents who let their children watch too much TV, or forgot to make their children comb their hair. i used judge when their children asked for candy in the check-out lines. I used to judge. No longer. Because sometimes life just goes that way, and the best you can do looks like groceries covered in urine.

All because of a Jalapeño

Yesterday evening I had a meeting to attend. I left Eddie in charge just the hysteria was hitting full stride.

I'd made southwestern chicken salad for dinner, which seems innocuous enough. Until, Ethan decided to spice things up, by slicing raw jalapeños on his dinner. I suggested that this may be going overboard, and recommended he take a small sample before he sold out to the jalapeño ridden chicken salad. With one small bite the hollering and hyperventilating began. Which set into motion a series of "I dare you" stupidities. Emma ended up sobbing and blowing bubbles into a glass of milk trying to get it to cool down her flaming lips. Puffy eyed, puffy lipped, red faced with milk dripping down her chin, she couldn't understand why she was hard to take seriously. Watching the drama unfold Caleb decided it would be funny to feed a jalapeño to the dog. And when didn't produce the reaction he was looking for he decided to sword fight his baby sister. She, unexplainably, ended up with the blunt tip of a purple plastic light saber jammed into her eye socket.

Which is when I decided to leave.

Apparently, more drama unfolded after my departure -something to do with jalapeño juice in some kid's eyes.

It was a three ring circus.

About half way to my meeting I started to giggle. Because, if it wasn't happening at my house, and it wasn't my children it would be down right comical in a sort of horrific way. 5 miles down the highway I could find the humor that evaded in the moment. Even now I can't quite put my finger on why the giggles kept erupting; I imagine it has something to do with the level of chaos that seemingly sprung out of nowhere, and how often that moment of time can become a metaphor for a bigger slice of my life.