Part 2

Who knew you could find a bit of Arizona in Provence?

Here's the deal. I committed to blogging for one year. Guess what... it has been a year!

I promised myself not to reread what I had written for a year. I've started to peek, and guess what, holy crap batman, I've written a TON! And a lot of it more honest than my parents probably wanted. Obviously, more than my lovely groom thought possible. He, the lovely groom, is the one that brought up it has been a year and is it time for me to move on to other things, like paying more attention to him (you know that one hour 3x week he has been missing me). Well, he made me think about it. My thoughts:

• I blog because it makes my head calmer. Those little voices go away and the ideas stop bouncing around trapped in there.
• I blog as a way to keep my parents in the loop, as I'm totally not into talking on the phone, which I keep promising myself I will learn to do.
• I blog as a way to post the boys photos for extended family, its just easier then printing and sending.
• I worry about the blog because I'm sharing my thoughts a bit more than any of my family or extended relatives ever really thought I would. Now I'm not sure what they think of me, but the proof is that they keep coming back to read (maybe I am the family train wreck that everyone is watching?).
• I have focused the blog on my thoughts about parenting, being a parent and my obligations to the boys. It is not their point of view, it is not about them fully, it is about my reaction to everything.

So is it time to stop? I don't think so, but it is time for some changes.

I'll continue to share thoughts on the boys, parenting and living in a house where the toilet seats are up all the time and I seem to be the only one that flushes (really makes you want to visit!). I'm still just a private mommy blogger that doesn't mind if people follow along, but I'm not going big time and advertising, recruiting, or building my base (not that this is a bad thing, it happens to be some of my favorite reads on my reading list). I'm going to use nicknames for family members to protect their identities. And here are the changes; I'm going to widen the scope of my writing. I'm going to open the door on the craziness of my businesses, my adventures through real life, and occasionally I may just rant. And, I'm changing the nick names. I will continue to blog an entry within an hour, which means you will still see typos. I will continue to use this forum as if no one is reading it to quiet the voices in my head.

That's it, I'm looking forward to Part 2. I find it pathetic that I'm such a hard core optimist.

I'm not the only one drinking

Market Photos

The above is all hand made soaps.

I know that one thing that has increased in the last year, as long as I'm on that topic, is my drinking. It is not like I get drunk every night. Frankly, its not like I get drunk ever. But I do now like and enjoy a cocktail or glass of wine in the evening. Even if my groom is out of town/working late, it is not unusual for me to open a bottle of wine once I've go the boys to bed (if I didn't already open it during for their bath time!).

I used to drink red wine. But frankly, the good stuff is too expensive to spend the money on at the moment. I've switched to white; it is easier to find a good cheap white than a good cheap red. Or the cheapest is alcohol, as in the martini. Which we now have more often. I think it is because you only need one a night, so the bottles go much further.

Enough about my own habits. Last week and article in the July Parents magazine caught my eye. It was about food substitution; specifically if you like 'x' than eat 'y' instead for great flavor and less calories. More impressive they had a page devoted to alcohol.

If you like...... then order.......
Margaritas ........ Vodka, Lime Juice, & Seltzer
(309 calories) vs. (72 calories)

Pina Coladas .........Coconut Rum & Pineapple Juice
(247 calories) vs. (117 calories)

White wine ......Champagne
(121 calories) vs. (108 calories)

Daiquiris ......Sangria
(264 calories) vs. (102 calories)

So OBVIOUSLY I'm not the only Mom drinking.

Then today I went on the Parents website to look for Birthday cake ideas and they were hosting a quiz about what do you do to relax on a hectic day (and really as a mom when is a day not hectic?)? I chose a glass of wine, which when they showed the results was the leading choice among quiz takers.

So my conclusion, we are not the generation of cocaine. We are the generation of staying active with the kids, not hiding them in the closet, and this takes alcohol. But there is another choice, the editor of Parents and I should stop drinking together.

Anniversary

Wild horses in Provence, kind of sums up the last year.

One year ago today I became the mother of two.

My world turned upside down between that day and this.

I'm better for it. In so many ways.

I wanted to write something profound, but this covers it.

A year ago

Marseille at night & prayers to a saint.

There are so many things I didn't know a year ago.

I knew the adoption process and paperwork were frustrating. I didn't know that adding a child to my life would be such an immensely distressing personal event. I didn't know that "the adjustment" was on both his and my side. I didn't know I would come to question my own choice in the action.

I did know my husband was a good guy. I just didn't know if I could stand another minute with him.

I did know I loved my first born. I didn't know that he would become a pillar of strength for me from which to watch and learn.

I knew I wasn't my job/career. I knew it had lost its passion for me. I didn't know that I would lose my job/career. I didn't know I would come to worry about finances as I never had in my life. That I would choose a new career that followed my passions but offers no security. I would redirect, but not reinvent myself.

I knew I was taking on more responsibility. I didn't know that it was too much. I have learned to say no more, not just to others, but more importantly to me. I don't try to do it all. I still want to do it all and the 'will to try' is a hard fire to stop.

I've learned to love myself, my hubby, my children. I've know now that I can flow, adapt. I've learned to learn from others; not to go it all alone. I've missed my friends that I've lost, but I've gained new friends (just the story of life circumstances). I'm thankful for those that have gone the distance and just stayed (it hasn't been easy to be my friend this year; I've missed dates and been out much less). I'm sorry for those friends I didn't make, as life was just too much for me to connect with anyone. There are times when I missed me this last year. And I'm sure there will be times when I get lost again. But I know from this year that I can always eventually find me, my way, my heart again. I could cry everyday. I never knew I would hit this point. And I know it is not the worst place to be.

home again

The lavender of Provence.

I'm home. I didn't jump a plane to Africa or Asia, but headed back to NYC.

Last night I was trying to explain to the Big Boy that Paris is the capital of France, like NYC is the capital of.... guess what, it's not the capital of anything, when Big Boy suggested, "the capital of the world." Yes, it is. I'm home.

I had a fabulous trip. I missed the boys, and I didn't miss the boys. I didn't miss the chaos that I call starting a business, but it was on my mind the whole time. I improved my photography skills, and I lamented that I just don't spend enough time working the craft (photography that is) while I was still full time working the craft. Sounds schizophrenic as I write it and yes, that is the duplicity of my life at the moment. Really, it is all good, its just me trying to have it all which I know is crazy. I will find balance. I'll start posting a few photos.

I spent the weekend with the boys out in the park, riding bikes and just hanging. It was nice. But an amazing comment came our way, we were hanging with the 'doormans' hosing off the sidewalk, when our next door neighbor stopped to chat. We have four neighbors on our floor. One neighbor we are super friendly with and the boys run relatively freely between our house and his. One is a former Broadway singer, older, and we quite like her and chat regularly. One is a hermit and in eight years I've seen him once, actually last week and didn't realize who he was until he got off the elevator. The last is a single, widow, slightly older lady, whom I'll call Sarah, who is nice, but she puts a case of wine in the garbage once a week (I like a glass wine at the end of the day, but ouch). She usually rents to one person at a time, which the last couple years has been a really nice young gal somewhere around 30 years old. She is a former classical musician like my husband, with a couple harps in her house. She is nice, but we don't chat everyday. But totally friendly when we pass in the hallway. Beyond the people on our floor, we are very friendly with another six families, and friendly with another dozen or so.

Well, Sarah stopped to chat with me and said to my surprise, "I didn't realize until this week that the Little Man was yours. I just thought, 'wow those kids are good friends, he's over all the time.'" While this is hilarious, in two days the Little Man will have been part of our life for a year, it is also amazing that race does make a different. If he looked more like us, then maybe she would have thought she just missed the pregnancy. What also amazed me is that the comment comes at a time when I've started to forget to think of our family as multi-racial; we are just a family.

I laughed with her, smiled and said, "yep, he's part of our troupe now!" and the Big Boy proclaimed, "He's my brother." I guess the big struggles of integration are passed (keeping my fingers crossed): we are just family.

Wander Lust

There is a rhythm and flow to airports. My old job included significant travel. I’m generally in sync with airports and enjoy hanging out before a flight. On this trip, flying solo, I relish moving through the airports with no one to worry about but me. It’s been a while.

I like that I can sit and watch the world go by. Literally, the world, when sitting in the Amsterdam international airport. There are the classic tall blonds, as always in Amsterdam, a healthy presence of Muslims in colorful but hooded attire, and a wide variety of language as people continue with their connections around Europe. Oddly, a much lower Asian presence in Amsterdam than many other airports.

I like sitting and listening to the different boarding announcements. I think about, “would I like to go there? Have I ever been there? Where would that place rank on my list of next desired trips?” There is the romantic thought of just boarding a random plane; not the one I came for. But that is unrealistic in the post 9/11 world.

I did once start to board the wrong plane once. It was not romantic, just an error. There were two flights to Chicago at the same time, at neighboring gates. They announced, I went. I almost went to Mid-Way airport rather than O’Hare. Not that that diversion would have been exciting. But almost the wrong flight.

I wonder what international travel was like before world war 2. More trains, less flights, but no passports. At that time you really could go anywhere, anytime. Really could drop off the map and leave all known to you behind. Crazy to think about. This age of internet, almost anyone can be found, and travel between countries is limited and monitored.

For work, or my old work, I just to travel months out of the year. I remember once in our early days of our marriage, but after a couple years of working, my lovely groom and I were planning a get away. He asked if I thought I had enough miles stored up to get free tickets. I guessed, “yeah, I bet I have over 50,000 miles”. He called me later that day to confirm I had miles, >400,000 of them! Like I said I traveled months at a time.

Then there is third world and Carribeian travel. Not always equivalent, but I bundle them here due to the similarities in airport style. Often the airports are open air, but include indoor smoking, and a complete lack of signage. Those are airports you move about on instinct, never truely sure if you are in the right place. At the Amsterdam airport, like Heathrow in London, there are signs that actually tell you how far you are from your gate, “walking 11 minutes away”. I like to try and beat it by half, but Heathrow can be a work out.

This trip I’m traveling all carry-on. Which weighs a TON! Because I have all my camera gear, tripod, computer equipment, let alone a few socks and underwear. For photo journeys, only super casual wear. I know I’ll be in fields sweating and no one will care how much I stink. It is kind of liberating! I will brush my teeth daily, but as to whether I’ll wash my hair that remains to be seen. I brought the bottom of the underwear pile. It is time to find out why this underwear has made it to the bottom of the pile and if it is worthy of the flight home or should be sacrifed for some trinket found along the way.

I’m always surprised that the airlines do not weigh your carry-ons. I’m well over the limits, but as long as I don’t strain at the counters, offer big smiles, no one stops me. I love it when someone offers to get my bag down from overhead. I say, “no worries, I’ll get it, it is REALLY heavy.” To which they smile and nod at me like, ‘pathetic woman’, then grunt with their efforts. I say thanks and tottle on my way.

I love the personnel uniforms. From the airline attendants, which in Europe wear heels I wouldn’t even attempt on a date, to the badges and stripes of the pilots. But my favorite is the military personnel with machine guns. I love that. It is a serious presence, with combat boots incase the airport suddenly turns into a swamp environment. Hats as if the roof is about to rip off. But most importantly, machine guns, because they have not intent of chasing anyone, but shooting them down as they flee. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t find their presence reassuring.

So off on my adventure. Another cup of tea, another magazine, another takeoff and landing. I do like the flow of an airport.

Happy 4th of July

Happy 4th of July! We are off to celebrate with friends. The city is empty. And tomorrow I'm even leaving the country.

Most 4th of July's pass without me giving any thought to the country, or citizenship. The fourth also happens to be the anniversary of when my lovely groom and I met. For me it wasn't love at first sight, but he tells an amazing story of how it was love at first sight for him. For me, it took months of his calling to realize he just wasn't going to go away until I dated him. Then he won me over. So today is 14 years! Kudos to his tenacity.

But this year for the first time I'm thinking about citizenship. This year I created a citizen. He had no choice in the matter. He may have an opinion down the road, but it is too late, once you take away the Chinese passport, he is extremely unlikely to ever get another. Was this fair? Will he care? Will it matter in the long run?

I am a citizen by birth. After years of international travel, and much third world travel, I realize that being born in the US is a major lottery ticket win. I wasn't born to a family that couldn't afford to feed me. I wasn't born into a family that was horrified by my look. I wasn't born into a family that kept me and offered me nothing but poverty. I was born into a family that was out going and loving, well beyond the reach of our front door. It was not a household that faced no obstacles, it was not a silver spoon, but still, I won a major lottery ticket.

Now, I worry about the country; are we curbing liberties inappropriately? Are the hate mongers necessary? Does prejudice have a long term role in our society? I'm not a flag waving American. But hey, we are doing some things right, some glorious things, and we'd be stupid not to celebrate those today.

I hope I contribute, along with every parent out there, to creating a society where we would want ANY child to live, not just our own, but ANY child. This to me is the celebration of the American spirit. We Americans don't assume everything is set in stone. We Americans actually assume that rules are written so we can break them. This is what I hope to give to my newest citizen. I hope he forgives me for the cultural break, the heritage lost. I hope both boys find love, happiness, and a spirit that craves learning. I hope they learn to understand the rules and then break those rules that need to be broken.

So next week I'm off to the country side in France. Just me, not the boys, not the hubby. Every year I try to sneak away for a week by myself. I have a huge independence streak and this week to myself really grounds me. I don't know if I'll be able to blog or not. I will try, but I'm literally out in the country, sleeping at farm houses, shooting landscape photography. But this year I leave with a renewed spirit. I'm the mom of two, wife of one, starter of businesses, maker of laughs and a woman who can do anything she puts her mind to if I stick with it. Yeah, tell me that is not the American spirit.

May the fireworks sparkle for you all!

New Family Member

I like to think it is one bird we are feeding, but the reality is there are a ton of birds that all look alike and the way they are going through food without gaining notable size, we are feeding more than one bird.

I think of it as one bird, because it seems friendly, I like keeping it personal. For him its like sitting in the window of a fast food joint. You get the food but you also get the view. He is happy to eat and then checks out the craziness of our household. Recently, I've even noticed the bird popping over to the boys window and looking in, as it is the window next to the kitchen. But it didn't start this way.

I'm a firm believer that nature, even in the big bad city, can be loved and appreciated. Normally in the Spring the Big Boy and I force bulbs in our widows. But this year we didn't; (a) my favorite bulbs are pricey, (b) and most likely more (b) than (a), I wasn't confident that the Little Man would allow the bulbs to grow without trying to drink the water. So I got to thinking maybe we should have a bird feeder.

First, I started looking all over the city for something you can hang out an apartment window. This went no where. So then I went to our porter, or as the boys call the great group of young men that make a huge impact on my daily life, "the doormans". They didn't know of anything but said they would keep their eyes open. Then one day my mail arrived with a bird feeder catalog that was clearly meant for one of my neighbors, but the 'to' address had been blacked out by a marker.

This was a great catalyst. It was an amazing catalog, with more bird feeders than one could ever imagine, from hundreds of dollars to the little <$20 bird feeder with suction cups that was perfect for our situation. And I optimistically also ordered a 5 lb bag of bird food.

The first hanging attempt was fun, the suction cups didn't stick. So we all spend 30 minutes cleaning a window as it was a ceremony and no rush. Of course the second attempt didn't work and this time I dropped it and we all had to run outside to retrieve the feeder before it disappeared from the side walk; this is after all still NYC. Finally, I rigged a simple string to the window and it just hangs. If it is really windy I try to remember to bring it in, but its held its own really well so far.

We had it up for several days with no bird sightings. Well, how were they supposed to find it up a couple of stories on a huge building? I devised a plan. Every evening, around 6 pm, the boys and I started taking bird seed to the side walk just below our window. There also happens to be a bus stop there, so everyone was enjoying the routine (NYers are generally friendly). Pedestrians would avoid our piles as the Big Boy would work on number skills counting our "customers" and the Little Man would work on keeping a distance so the birds didn't go "Bye Bye".

Then about two weeks ago I went charging in the kitchen and scared a bird away on accident. My heart sung! We have been found! We stopped putting the food on the sidewalk and only on the window, and YES, the keep coming.

The birds have become accustomed to the ruckus that I call home. They now sit better and don't immediately leave when we walk in. Sometimes I'm cooking right there at the window and a bird will sit and watch. The boys are ecstatic to say the least. They are city kids, but they are understanding that we can still take care of nature and be given an amazing interaction in return. Of course, I'm waiting for the downstairs neighbor to start complaining about poop.