Today I didn't fill a trash bag or recycling bin with a significant number of things in my decluttering process (primarily since we had several errands to run in town and were thus gone a large part of the day, so I wasn't here to go through much). But it was still a big day for letting things go.
I joined the TY Beanie Baby craze in junior high and ran with it for several years. I was one of the many suckers who thought these things were worth their weight in gold and bought up the rare ones, complete with plastic cases and tag protectors. Of course, hindsight is 20/20 and we all know how nonvaluable these things are now. Lesson learned: if it's a fad, it's not a collector's item.
I mentioned before that I'm kind of a frugal freak. I don't drop large amounts of money without some serious thought. So when I bought some of these toys, though I was a teenager at the time, they were purchases I never thought I'd part with. Cut to now. Thank God I don't remember exact prices paid for these things, because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to get rid of any of them. But I am. I'm giving away a bag, and another bag is moving to my classroom (mostly holiday and international bears--I figure they could come in handy when I teach world music and celebrations). I'm keeping the cats and dogs (always my favorites) and a few others that I think my son might enjoy playing with. And all the big plush toy versions, because they're huggable and kid friendly and will make good additions to Taven's toy collection.
In addition to this minor victory in letting go, I sent my parrot Mango off to his new (hopefully for good) home today. There's a long story behind this, but in the interest of brevity I'll just say I've had the bird less than a year but still got attached to him, much to my own dismay (so not a bird person, thank you very much). He got possessive of me, which isn't safe with a baby on the way, so we found him a home with a friend and former boss who is a real bird lover and who I hope and pray is able to bond with him. I hate goodbyes, even to a bird, so it was an emotionally draining day.
So now I'm thinking I will go through one more bin, try to throw away some inconsequential items, then detox from this day with something relaxing or fun. I bought Manic Panic in Shocking Blue to put in some semi-perm streaks for camp, so maybe that will be on the agenda. I may even make some ice cream. I have fresh strawberries and peaches and a new ice cream maker. Sounds like a plan to me. Jumping back on the purging wagon tomorrow.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Decluttering, day 2
Today I tossed:
- Awards and certificates from throughout my school years (took pictures of first place stuff so I won't forget)
- things I shouldn't have kept to scrapbook in the first place (e.g. All the bubblegum wrappers I emptied during a game at a BCM event; a fingerpainting from Summer Serve)
- letters from a college pen pal program when I was in 3rd grade
- piles of drawings from campers and students years ago
- a Christmas card stamping kit I've had for longer than I can remember (Goodwill is getting it; the stamps are still in fine condition and some kid might like it)
- event programs out the wazoo
- scrapbook pages of movie and concert tickets dating back to 1995 (The Babysitters' Club, when movies cost $3.75 to see). I took pictures for amusement's sake.
- some kitchen gadgets I didn't use to begin with (to Goodwill)
- a few decorative and/or holiday things we got as gifts years ago
- bedding odds and ends--cause guess what. There is no earthly reason to have as many sets of sheets as we do. (I am still wrestling with the idea of cutting up some of the tshirt knit sheets to use as cleaning rags and/or burp cloths... This is where I struggle with finding the line between sensible repurposing and packratting.)
I kept:
- photos and relevant scrapbooking things (e.g. pages already made)
- a reader's theater script from high school (to be typed and saved, then paper copy trashed)
- report cards from 5th and 6th grade (I always liked looking at my mom's old report cards, which tells me this might be relevant one day)
- most stuff to scrapbook from my senior trip (sorry, but I've only done NYC once and I made memories I'd like to keep. I think I've earned this one.)
- serving pieces we got as wedding gifts. I use them two or three times a year, but that's the point--I do use them. I like being able to pull out a nice vase or trifle dish or cake stand when the odd occasion calls for it, and I hope to do more entertaining at home that would call for it, now that I'm in a new place with more room.
I wish I had a whole month free to get all this done at once. However, I don't think I'll ever have a month free at one time ever in my foreseeable future, so I'll be happy with what I can do this week and in whatever time I can steal throughout the summer.
On a completely unrelated note, I am pretty much in love with country life after just a few days back in it. I also adore this house. The windows are enormous and let in the perfect amount of natural light, and it's so quiet, not a neighbor in view. And I had forgotten about fireflies, living in the suburbs for so long. Turns out they just don't come out as much there. There are so many outside my house right now that it's borderlining on being an Owl City song. Srsly.
I'm quite content today. That pretty much sums it up. Looking forward to another productive day to follow.
- Awards and certificates from throughout my school years (took pictures of first place stuff so I won't forget)
- things I shouldn't have kept to scrapbook in the first place (e.g. All the bubblegum wrappers I emptied during a game at a BCM event; a fingerpainting from Summer Serve)
- letters from a college pen pal program when I was in 3rd grade
- piles of drawings from campers and students years ago
- a Christmas card stamping kit I've had for longer than I can remember (Goodwill is getting it; the stamps are still in fine condition and some kid might like it)
- event programs out the wazoo
- scrapbook pages of movie and concert tickets dating back to 1995 (The Babysitters' Club, when movies cost $3.75 to see). I took pictures for amusement's sake.
- some kitchen gadgets I didn't use to begin with (to Goodwill)
- a few decorative and/or holiday things we got as gifts years ago
- bedding odds and ends--cause guess what. There is no earthly reason to have as many sets of sheets as we do. (I am still wrestling with the idea of cutting up some of the tshirt knit sheets to use as cleaning rags and/or burp cloths... This is where I struggle with finding the line between sensible repurposing and packratting.)
I kept:
- photos and relevant scrapbooking things (e.g. pages already made)
- a reader's theater script from high school (to be typed and saved, then paper copy trashed)
- report cards from 5th and 6th grade (I always liked looking at my mom's old report cards, which tells me this might be relevant one day)
- most stuff to scrapbook from my senior trip (sorry, but I've only done NYC once and I made memories I'd like to keep. I think I've earned this one.)
- serving pieces we got as wedding gifts. I use them two or three times a year, but that's the point--I do use them. I like being able to pull out a nice vase or trifle dish or cake stand when the odd occasion calls for it, and I hope to do more entertaining at home that would call for it, now that I'm in a new place with more room.
I wish I had a whole month free to get all this done at once. However, I don't think I'll ever have a month free at one time ever in my foreseeable future, so I'll be happy with what I can do this week and in whatever time I can steal throughout the summer.
On a completely unrelated note, I am pretty much in love with country life after just a few days back in it. I also adore this house. The windows are enormous and let in the perfect amount of natural light, and it's so quiet, not a neighbor in view. And I had forgotten about fireflies, living in the suburbs for so long. Turns out they just don't come out as much there. There are so many outside my house right now that it's borderlining on being an Owl City song. Srsly.
I'm quite content today. That pretty much sums it up. Looking forward to another productive day to follow.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Decluttering my life
This weekend my husband and I moved out of our "starter home" in the suburbs and into a farm house we will be renting from very good friends for a while before we buy it. (Side note: please pray our old house sells quickly.)
I am already a creature of habit and do not like change, so the move was difficult in that regard. I get way too attached--to people, to places, to things, to routines. I haven't moved a lot in my life, and those few times have been serious emotional turmoil (yes, I'm being over dramatic, but that's what it's felt like each time). Little did I realize how my tendency to attach would make this transition even more difficult.
I am a packrat. Third generation born and raised. There is nothing cute about it, I'm now realizing--hopefully not too late to fix it. I grew up staying a lot with my dear wonderful Granny whom I love so very much, and she was part of the generation that lived through the depression and learned to hang onto things for meager times. They had a good excuse. I learned to find comfort in clutter, I think, partly because she had so many little odds and ends and trinkets that she would keep, either for sentimental value or for a rainy day or simply because they'd always been there and had become part of the scenery. And I was comfortable and at home in her house, thus in that environment.
My mom wasn't nearly as intense, but I still remember her occasionally calling herself a packrat; I think her reasons for hanging onto things were more out of sensible frugality than anything else. If it could be fixed, altered, repurposed, or given away to someone who could use it, that was being a better steward of things than just throwing it away. That makes sense.
Then comes me.
I don't know when it started. I've always been comfortable in clutter, and it truly has never consciously bothered me. I have joked about my "organized clutter" numerous times and laughed off the fact that, yes, there are twelve piles of paper on this table, but I can tell you exactly where everything is within those piles! I was one of those kids who had to be constantly ridden and nagged to clean up my room. It wasn't necessarily dirty, just unorganized and full of... just stuff. I collected various things over the years--dolls, figurines, jewelry, Beanie Babies, bottles of a few kinds, shells, nail polish, CDs, t-shirts, books--and those things compile and take up space and collect dust, and the dusty piles become things you just block out and want to forget about. So you forget them and leave them in their dark corners, only to move on to some new collection that will inevitably take up space in some opposite corner, thus repeating the cycle. Then before you know it, you're moving boxes of your clutter to new phases of your life for no good reason other than that they've always been there and you're attached and it feels like an amputation of part of yourself to get rid of them.
(takes a breath.) You know, just generally speaking.
I moved my stuff, my clutter--years of it--to college with me, then into our first apartment when we got married, then into our first house, and much of it followed me to this new house. And guess what.
It. Is. Exhausting.
I'm just now beginning to have my eyes opened to the fact that stuff weighs people down. It seems a lot of people have been enlightened to this fact already and I'm one of the last to catch on. And I'm sure people have tried telling me this before, and I didn't listen, because I'm a Taurus and I'm stubborn.
I started throwing some things out before we moved, so there would be less to move and because I was starting to get clued in to the idea tht I really didn't need all this stuff. For me, being the emotionally attached person I am, it was a big deal to throw away every student/camper drawing I've vet been given, or every piece of clothing associated with a memory. And having picked up on my mom's frugal tendencies (and taken them to the extreme), I didn't want to toss anything I'd gotten free or at a good deal. But I started to. I felt like I was making progress.
Since we got everything moved, I've made more baby steps (which to me feel like leaps) toward a simpler, less cluttered life. Today I purged a scrapbook-stuff box of all the cards we received at our wedding. Yes, I was still holding onto them. No, I'm not entirely sure why. I wanted to scrapbook them, and each of them had some emotional value, but I realized how ridiculous it was to keep hanging onto things that don't matter in the long run.
Here's to small victories as I clear out my life of junk and make room for the new life that will soon be a large part of mine. No, it's not easy to let go, but it's necessary and healthy. I'm learning. I'm progressing. I'm getting there.
I am already a creature of habit and do not like change, so the move was difficult in that regard. I get way too attached--to people, to places, to things, to routines. I haven't moved a lot in my life, and those few times have been serious emotional turmoil (yes, I'm being over dramatic, but that's what it's felt like each time). Little did I realize how my tendency to attach would make this transition even more difficult.
I am a packrat. Third generation born and raised. There is nothing cute about it, I'm now realizing--hopefully not too late to fix it. I grew up staying a lot with my dear wonderful Granny whom I love so very much, and she was part of the generation that lived through the depression and learned to hang onto things for meager times. They had a good excuse. I learned to find comfort in clutter, I think, partly because she had so many little odds and ends and trinkets that she would keep, either for sentimental value or for a rainy day or simply because they'd always been there and had become part of the scenery. And I was comfortable and at home in her house, thus in that environment.
My mom wasn't nearly as intense, but I still remember her occasionally calling herself a packrat; I think her reasons for hanging onto things were more out of sensible frugality than anything else. If it could be fixed, altered, repurposed, or given away to someone who could use it, that was being a better steward of things than just throwing it away. That makes sense.
Then comes me.
I don't know when it started. I've always been comfortable in clutter, and it truly has never consciously bothered me. I have joked about my "organized clutter" numerous times and laughed off the fact that, yes, there are twelve piles of paper on this table, but I can tell you exactly where everything is within those piles! I was one of those kids who had to be constantly ridden and nagged to clean up my room. It wasn't necessarily dirty, just unorganized and full of... just stuff. I collected various things over the years--dolls, figurines, jewelry, Beanie Babies, bottles of a few kinds, shells, nail polish, CDs, t-shirts, books--and those things compile and take up space and collect dust, and the dusty piles become things you just block out and want to forget about. So you forget them and leave them in their dark corners, only to move on to some new collection that will inevitably take up space in some opposite corner, thus repeating the cycle. Then before you know it, you're moving boxes of your clutter to new phases of your life for no good reason other than that they've always been there and you're attached and it feels like an amputation of part of yourself to get rid of them.
(takes a breath.) You know, just generally speaking.
I moved my stuff, my clutter--years of it--to college with me, then into our first apartment when we got married, then into our first house, and much of it followed me to this new house. And guess what.
It. Is. Exhausting.
I'm just now beginning to have my eyes opened to the fact that stuff weighs people down. It seems a lot of people have been enlightened to this fact already and I'm one of the last to catch on. And I'm sure people have tried telling me this before, and I didn't listen, because I'm a Taurus and I'm stubborn.
I started throwing some things out before we moved, so there would be less to move and because I was starting to get clued in to the idea tht I really didn't need all this stuff. For me, being the emotionally attached person I am, it was a big deal to throw away every student/camper drawing I've vet been given, or every piece of clothing associated with a memory. And having picked up on my mom's frugal tendencies (and taken them to the extreme), I didn't want to toss anything I'd gotten free or at a good deal. But I started to. I felt like I was making progress.
Since we got everything moved, I've made more baby steps (which to me feel like leaps) toward a simpler, less cluttered life. Today I purged a scrapbook-stuff box of all the cards we received at our wedding. Yes, I was still holding onto them. No, I'm not entirely sure why. I wanted to scrapbook them, and each of them had some emotional value, but I realized how ridiculous it was to keep hanging onto things that don't matter in the long run.
Here's to small victories as I clear out my life of junk and make room for the new life that will soon be a large part of mine. No, it's not easy to let go, but it's necessary and healthy. I'm learning. I'm progressing. I'm getting there.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Loss and Life
When you get married, you join and commit yourself not only to that person but to his or her entire history and future, and that includes family. I wonder how many people realize the seriousness of that before entering the commitment. You're doubling your family in a day, essentially.
I'm fortunate to have been accepted into my husband's family (now mine) with open arms by all. And I love them. But doubling your family means not only doubling the love you receive, but also the loss you will inevitably experience. That's bittersweet.
Today we will honor the memory of my husband's grandmother. It has been a really rough weekend since her passing early Friday morning. I was blessed to grow up with two living sets of grandparents, but MaMa was the only grandparent Scott ever knew. And she was so influential in the lives she touched, so the pain of this loss is extra strong.
In her last few weeks, she asked Patricia (Scott's mom) to tell us that she was headed into the sunset and our baby was headed toward the sunrise. While I hate that she didn't get to meet this new little life and that her own ended so closely before his... There's almost comfort in knowing she *knew*--not just that he was coming, but that, in a sense, they were trading places.
I've been reading Tuck Everlasting with my students this semester, a novel that discusses the ideas of life, immortality, and death. It's suggested therein that, though it's sad and we hate and often fear it, death is a natural part of the wheel of life, right next to being born; that old life must leave to make room for new. It seems in Scott's family, this pattern is almost always true--death and new life come paired together. I have mixed feelings about this. It's selfish, but I even don't like the fact that my child's birth will be, in a sense, less happy an occasion because it will follow so soon after Belle's passing. People may associate the two and it might make them sad.
I guess there's comfort in knowing she knew he was going to be named after her late husband (Perry--Taven's middle name). I know that tickled her. But I'll always hate that they never met. Not in this life, anyway.
Belle was a wonderful woman whose life deserves to be celebrated, and I hope we will keep doing so anytime the family gets together. I'm thankful for the new life God is sending our way to celebrate even I'm the shadow of loss. He's good that way.
Written 4-15
(Finished later)
I'm fortunate to have been accepted into my husband's family (now mine) with open arms by all. And I love them. But doubling your family means not only doubling the love you receive, but also the loss you will inevitably experience. That's bittersweet.
Today we will honor the memory of my husband's grandmother. It has been a really rough weekend since her passing early Friday morning. I was blessed to grow up with two living sets of grandparents, but MaMa was the only grandparent Scott ever knew. And she was so influential in the lives she touched, so the pain of this loss is extra strong.
In her last few weeks, she asked Patricia (Scott's mom) to tell us that she was headed into the sunset and our baby was headed toward the sunrise. While I hate that she didn't get to meet this new little life and that her own ended so closely before his... There's almost comfort in knowing she *knew*--not just that he was coming, but that, in a sense, they were trading places.
I've been reading Tuck Everlasting with my students this semester, a novel that discusses the ideas of life, immortality, and death. It's suggested therein that, though it's sad and we hate and often fear it, death is a natural part of the wheel of life, right next to being born; that old life must leave to make room for new. It seems in Scott's family, this pattern is almost always true--death and new life come paired together. I have mixed feelings about this. It's selfish, but I even don't like the fact that my child's birth will be, in a sense, less happy an occasion because it will follow so soon after Belle's passing. People may associate the two and it might make them sad.
I guess there's comfort in knowing she knew he was going to be named after her late husband (Perry--Taven's middle name). I know that tickled her. But I'll always hate that they never met. Not in this life, anyway.
Belle was a wonderful woman whose life deserves to be celebrated, and I hope we will keep doing so anytime the family gets together. I'm thankful for the new life God is sending our way to celebrate even I'm the shadow of loss. He's good that way.
Written 4-15
(Finished later)
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Five days
This Friday is our gender ultrasound. I do believe this will likely be the second longest five days of my life, second only to my due date.
Scott and I talked last night about how nice it will be to start talking to the baby in utero. The earliest I've read he/she might be able to hear is 18 weeks, so we have another month on that, but still. Knowing what the baby is and being able to call it by its name... I think that will just help to make it all real.
There have only been a couple of "real" moments, really. When the doctor called with the results of my hcg test and confirmed the pregnancy, I cried, because official results rather than the at-home test seemed to make it real.
The other defining moment was the first ultrasound. I half expected a blank picture to come up onscreen, for the tech to say, "there's no baby in here; what were you thinking?!" But then I saw it, wiggling around and waving and kicking and very much real and alive. I teared up then, too.
I can't wait to see more of this little person who's about to change my entire world.
Scott and I talked last night about how nice it will be to start talking to the baby in utero. The earliest I've read he/she might be able to hear is 18 weeks, so we have another month on that, but still. Knowing what the baby is and being able to call it by its name... I think that will just help to make it all real.
There have only been a couple of "real" moments, really. When the doctor called with the results of my hcg test and confirmed the pregnancy, I cried, because official results rather than the at-home test seemed to make it real.
The other defining moment was the first ultrasound. I half expected a blank picture to come up onscreen, for the tech to say, "there's no baby in here; what were you thinking?!" But then I saw it, wiggling around and waving and kicking and very much real and alive. I teared up then, too.
I can't wait to see more of this little person who's about to change my entire world.
Friday, February 17, 2012
A special teacher moment
This week has been a tough one at work. Long story vague and short enough for safety, my teaching ability was called into question (by some students who I believe had a bad combination of having it out for me and genuinely not learning as much in my class as others because they put forth less effort and little to no enthusiasm--but, hey, can't win 'em all). It has been a week of self-doubt, defensiveness, desperately hurt feelings, and internal panic. One of my most tragic flaws as an educator is my desire to make everyone happy and my subsequent need for approval (yes, my name is J, and I'm a people-pleaser), not just from administrators but from colleagues, parents, and students as well.
After today's attempt on my part to smooth things over, I felt drained and defeated (despite my administrator's advice not to feel that way at all). Combine this with pregnancy hormones and the chaos that is my multi-tasking life these days, and you've got a considerable mess.
Tonight I logged onto my school Facebook page and scrolled through the news feed, all the usual types of posts from my students--music videos, carefully angled photos taken on cell phones into mirrors, and misspelled updates about the drama of life. Then I noticed a post with my name in it. It read:
dude we have 1 of the best teachers of all time i kno she thinks im playin but shes still best
to mrs O'Shields
This was the student whose truancy conference I attended earlier this week.
Several other students commented and agreed with his post.
These are the moments that remind me it's going to be okay, strange as it is.
After today's attempt on my part to smooth things over, I felt drained and defeated (despite my administrator's advice not to feel that way at all). Combine this with pregnancy hormones and the chaos that is my multi-tasking life these days, and you've got a considerable mess.
Tonight I logged onto my school Facebook page and scrolled through the news feed, all the usual types of posts from my students--music videos, carefully angled photos taken on cell phones into mirrors, and misspelled updates about the drama of life. Then I noticed a post with my name in it. It read:
dude we have 1 of the best teachers of all time i kno she thinks im playin but shes still best
to mrs O'Shields
This was the student whose truancy conference I attended earlier this week.
Several other students commented and agreed with his post.
These are the moments that remind me it's going to be okay, strange as it is.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Nature vs. Nurture
I hardly ever post here, and that needs to change.
I decided to post today while looking ahead to my plans for next week. I'm going to spend a longish weekend with my birthmother and her family in Knoxville. I dug through my private blog archives (from the long lost, dusty days of MySpace) and pulled up my entries from when I initially found her. I wanted to post them here not just for those who might read them, but also for myself--to remember. It's become so comfortable that I guess I needed to be reminded of how far we've come. So here goes. Memory lane...
~~~~~~~
6/25/06 found her
Current mood: content
I finally got up the nerve to make the call today. Took me several hours of crying and a little panic, but I called. My biggest fear was that I wouldn't know what to say, but she fixed that because she had *so* much to say. Turns out we were both keeping low expectations--she thought I'd only be interested in contacting her for my family's medical/health history in case I ever wanted to have kids; I thought she wouldn't be that interested in getting to know me--and we were both wrong. She's lovely, and what's awesome is that she made it clear that she knows I have a family that I know and love as my *parents* and that she has no intention of trying to take their place. She said she'd very much like to be like a big sister to me, or, as she put it, wherever I can fit her in, she wants to be a part of my life. This is such a relief! Oh, and get this--I have a little brother and sister!!! Aack! For the first time in my life, I'm not an only child! So weird. My sister is 10, and I got to talk to her for a couple of minutes; my brother is 12 and was a little too shy to get on the phone, but considering he's a prepubescent boy, we'll understand that and give him time. : ) Also, she said that my birth father (long story there) has at least two daughters that she knows of, so I have *more* sisters! The thing there was... they got married about a year after she gave me up but separated two years later, sort of a peaceful, mutual "we made a mistake" thing. They still communicate every now and then, apparently. The last time they spoke was a few years ago, and he asked her if she'd heard anything from me yet, but they couldn't have because I wasn't 21. So she said she would give him a call and let him know about me, and eventually I'll probably get to meet him and his family--way more than I expected, since the fathers usually don't want anything to do with the kids in adoption situations. She lives in TN (driving distance, so we may be going up there soon to meet her) and he lives in NJ (definitely not driving that far anytime soon!) where they are both from. So yes--I'm a yankee. DO WHAT NOW?!? (Ana was ecstatic--for those that know Ana, you will understand.) And we figured out that she's where I get my musical side--she and her kids all sing, her son plays guitar, and her daughter plays piano. Her daughter is also in a theater workshop this summer (how ironic since I'm *teaching* theater this summer) and is very much of an artsy turn of mind. She sounds a lot like me at her age. She sent pictures too! She and the kids are all fair-skinned (like me!) and thin (not like me!). She and her daughter have my face shape, nose, and chin, and her daughter has blue eyes like me. Her son doesn't look a bit like me, and he's 5'9" at age 12! Her husband and mine both think we look alike--I see it a little bit, but it'll be interesting to see if we have similar mannerisms and whatnot. It's nice to have this all out in the open.
So that's what's been up... thanks to everyone who prayed for me on the birthmother issue. Things are going great and I suspect they will only get better from here.
6/28/06 so what do *you* think?
Current mood: curious
observe: my half-sister, my birth mother, and me. resemblance?
(little brother has been omitted from comparison, as it seems he is the mini-me of his father, who is not my father)
7/4/06 after 21 years...
Current mood: full
I promised. Here it is.
So for those of you who've been keeping up with the Janae show, I spent the past weekend with my birth mother and her family. It was Family Day at camp (oh the irony) which means all our campers' parents came that afternoon for a long program in which the kids performed all the stuff they'd been working on the last 2 weeks. All that to say, I spent the day running about like a headless chicken, making props and getting costumes in order, so I had exactly zero minutes to think about meeting my birth mother that night. It worked out well, because if you know me, you know ordinarily I'd be nervous as all get out. I mean, who wouldn't? But as soon as post-program cleanup was over, I headed back to the apartment to take care of the puppies, and we left as soon as Scott got in from work, about 5:20. This was the plan: since Scott's mom and dad didn't want to keep the puppies for the weekend, and since boarding costs ridiculous amounts and doesn't even allow them exercise or playtime, and since they're too complicated to get someone else to come and let them out and feed them for 3 days straight, *and* since my husband is too much a protector to let me make the 3-hour drive to Tennessee by myself, he decided he'd drive me up, spend a little time there, drive back, spend Saturday resting from the drive, then drive back up Sunday morning, get our Meggie to come let the puppies out that afternoon, and both of us come back late Sunday night. I tried to talk him out of it, but if you know him, you know how he is. : ) It was only supposed to be a 3-hour drive anyway. We just didn't take into account the holiday traffic. Yeah. We were on I-26 for an hour and a half around Asheville (I think) and went 15 miles. Besides this nice little detour we took in Hendersonville where we got in the middle of road construction and *that* took another hour. We finally reached their house at 10:30. When we got there Chris (birthmother) cried just a bit, and we both laughed a lot, and just sat there at the kitchen table and looked at each other. Not saying much, what is there to say at that point? It just took a while to take it all in, finally meeting a part of you that's been missing 21 years. Weird feeling. So when we finally got past the awkward silence, we talked a bit with Scott and Riley (my ten-year-old sister) while Chris's husband Danny (not my father) and Taylor (my twelve-year-old brother) were kinda bashful and didn't talk much. Eventually Scott left and the boys went to bed, so Chris and Riley and I stayed up till 3am talking. Riley has a mouth like mine, so it was hard to get a word in edgewise and ask the questions I really wanted to ask Chris. It was still cool talking to them though. Riley found my knitting in my bag and wanted to learn. That was also distracting. But fun. The next morning we all sat around--Riley and I knitting, Taylor playing guitar and singing (we figured out where my musicality comes from). Chris decided she wanted to learn to knit too, so we took a trip to Michael's and they got needles and yarn (clearance only--I also figured out where my severe frugality comes from). So when we got back home and all sat there on the loveseat knitting, Taylor played his manly guitar and made fun of us for knitting. Then all of a sudden *he* decided he wanted to learn. But he refuses to call the needles anything but "sticks." Cute kid. We were up late again that night--knitting and having a singalong with Riley's keyboard. Sunday morning we lazed around, and Scott got there before brunch. We spent most of the day just talking and visiting and taking pictures, and of course, knitting. We left out about 8 that night. Chris cried and cried when we left, but I promised her we'd see each other very soon--they're coming down here in a week and a half.
Everyone thinks Chris and I look a lot alike. I definitely see it from the nose down. She's so beautiful though, I don't think I can compare myself to her. Her personality and attitude are very easygoing, not in a hurry, just sweetly and contemplatively enjoying life. She looks very much the California girl and is skinny (darn her) and smiley. She looks and acts a lot younger than her age, so it's hard to think of her as a "mom" at all--I definitely see her as more of a big sister. She's awesome. I think the biggest surprise of the weekend was finding out how truly much she did want to keep me, but she gave me up for my own good and has regretted it ever since, to some degree. She told me over and over, "I wish I'd kept you, but you turned out so much better than you ever could have with me." She's such a sweet woman. Loves God very much, loves her family, loves music, loves animals, loves helping people. She and her husband own a bus company (selling and renting tour buses) and she developed a side business of sign-making and lettering (for the buses) which she uses as kind of a pro bono ministry. She's helping this band from Charleston by making decals and bumper stickers with their name on it, trying to help them with publicity and stuff. That's why they're coming down in a week and a half--the band, Leslie, is playing in downtown Greenville next Thursday night, and she wants the kids to see them in concert.
Speak of the kids--Taylor is 40 trapped in a 12-year-old's body. They don't have cable or satellite at their house (good for them, I say) so he and Riley watch DVD collections of old shows like Andy Griffith, A-Team, McGyver, Dr. Quinn, and his favorite, Dukes of Hazzard. He's amazing on guitar and has such a sweet little voice--pretty deep for a 12-year-old, actually. He likes Johnny Cash and bluegrass, and he likes dressing up. He saved up his own money and bought his first tux when he was 7, and wore it to school. No occasion, just wanted a tux. He's very sarcastic and brainy and just fun. I like him a lot. I taught him to play "Bad Day" on the keyboard and he's gone crazy with it.
Riley is full of energy. She's just like Scott's 10-year-old niece Abby--never quits going. She's always bouncing around and talking and saying "yeah" when you tell her stories or explain things, very much the "oh, of course I understand" type of kid. She looks a lot like me. Except she's skinny and all legs. We have the same profile and eye color (which is weird since Chris and Danny both have brown eyes, and my birthfather who isn't Riley's dad is where I thought I got my eye color) and the same skin. She's also musical (I got her some starter piano books for the keyboard she just got) and craftsy. I was amazed she could sit still long enough to knit. She's loving it though--making clothes for her teddybears. Small steps.
Chris's husband Danny reminds me of everyone at my home church--quiet Southern guy who sits in the corner and doesn't say much, but you know he's paying attention and taking everything in. He's a hardworking, good-natured, supportive guy and a great father to Riley and Taylor. I like him a lot too.
They also have the fluffiest kitty I've ever seen, bar none. Her name is Muffy, and she has long fur growing between her toes. She is the queen of the house, and we bonded over the weekend. They also have a cute dog about Karma's size named Lizzie who has the most gorgeous ice-blue eyes ever.
I feel so blessed to have so many families. My mom and dad and their families are awesome. Scott's family is also awesome. And now I have a third family that is equally awesome. I'm a lucky girl.
Pictures of my weekend are here.
~~~~~~~
One of my kids' vocab words last week was "nurture," and I used my adoption story to illustrate the difference between this and nature. I've always been really interested in the Nature vs. Nurture debate because of my background. Meeting Chris and getting to know her over the past five and a half years has allowed me to come full circle with that and to form my own theories on the argument. I've concluded I'm almost exactly half and half. (And no, that's not a copout.)
If you've met my mom, you know I'm her made over. She came to my school last week to do a cake demo for my kids for careers, and I got to watch her as an instructor... and I realized, though I didn't technically learn teaching from my mom, I picked up on so many of her tendencies. She bounces around--not in an unorganized way, but trying so hard to get in every little detail that's important. Guess who also does that? :) We're alike in too many ways to count. I inherited her workaholism, her drive, and her inability to say "no" to anyone... among other things.
Then there's Chris. Chris is where I got my music--and that, to me, is at least a third of who I am, despite how exaggerated that might sound to some. (It's kind of like that movie August Rush, except way less dramatic.) I also got my psychoanalytical side from her, I think, and a little bit of OCD, and possibly some of my love for animals... and other things I'm continuing to learn more about.
It makes me wonder what, if anything, I got from my birthfather. Am I like him at all? I'm not a great deal like Dad (though I love him dearly and am my Daddy's girl through and through), so I wonder if maybe who I am is primarily an amalgamation of my moms. Maybe he was just the one who made my blue eyes blue. Thinking about it makes me wonder, probably for the eightieth time, will I ever get to find out?
Well, that's enough soul-baring for one week. Off to lesson planning and playwriting!
I decided to post today while looking ahead to my plans for next week. I'm going to spend a longish weekend with my birthmother and her family in Knoxville. I dug through my private blog archives (from the long lost, dusty days of MySpace) and pulled up my entries from when I initially found her. I wanted to post them here not just for those who might read them, but also for myself--to remember. It's become so comfortable that I guess I needed to be reminded of how far we've come. So here goes. Memory lane...
~~~~~~~
6/25/06 found her
Current mood: content
I finally got up the nerve to make the call today. Took me several hours of crying and a little panic, but I called. My biggest fear was that I wouldn't know what to say, but she fixed that because she had *so* much to say. Turns out we were both keeping low expectations--she thought I'd only be interested in contacting her for my family's medical/health history in case I ever wanted to have kids; I thought she wouldn't be that interested in getting to know me--and we were both wrong. She's lovely, and what's awesome is that she made it clear that she knows I have a family that I know and love as my *parents* and that she has no intention of trying to take their place. She said she'd very much like to be like a big sister to me, or, as she put it, wherever I can fit her in, she wants to be a part of my life. This is such a relief! Oh, and get this--I have a little brother and sister!!! Aack! For the first time in my life, I'm not an only child! So weird. My sister is 10, and I got to talk to her for a couple of minutes; my brother is 12 and was a little too shy to get on the phone, but considering he's a prepubescent boy, we'll understand that and give him time. : ) Also, she said that my birth father (long story there) has at least two daughters that she knows of, so I have *more* sisters! The thing there was... they got married about a year after she gave me up but separated two years later, sort of a peaceful, mutual "we made a mistake" thing. They still communicate every now and then, apparently. The last time they spoke was a few years ago, and he asked her if she'd heard anything from me yet, but they couldn't have because I wasn't 21. So she said she would give him a call and let him know about me, and eventually I'll probably get to meet him and his family--way more than I expected, since the fathers usually don't want anything to do with the kids in adoption situations. She lives in TN (driving distance, so we may be going up there soon to meet her) and he lives in NJ (definitely not driving that far anytime soon!) where they are both from. So yes--I'm a yankee. DO WHAT NOW?!? (Ana was ecstatic--for those that know Ana, you will understand.) And we figured out that she's where I get my musical side--she and her kids all sing, her son plays guitar, and her daughter plays piano. Her daughter is also in a theater workshop this summer (how ironic since I'm *teaching* theater this summer) and is very much of an artsy turn of mind. She sounds a lot like me at her age. She sent pictures too! She and the kids are all fair-skinned (like me!) and thin (not like me!). She and her daughter have my face shape, nose, and chin, and her daughter has blue eyes like me. Her son doesn't look a bit like me, and he's 5'9" at age 12! Her husband and mine both think we look alike--I see it a little bit, but it'll be interesting to see if we have similar mannerisms and whatnot. It's nice to have this all out in the open.
So that's what's been up... thanks to everyone who prayed for me on the birthmother issue. Things are going great and I suspect they will only get better from here.
6/28/06 so what do *you* think?
Current mood: curious
observe: my half-sister, my birth mother, and me. resemblance?
(little brother has been omitted from comparison, as it seems he is the mini-me of his father, who is not my father)
7/4/06 after 21 years...
Current mood: full
I promised. Here it is.
So for those of you who've been keeping up with the Janae show, I spent the past weekend with my birth mother and her family. It was Family Day at camp (oh the irony) which means all our campers' parents came that afternoon for a long program in which the kids performed all the stuff they'd been working on the last 2 weeks. All that to say, I spent the day running about like a headless chicken, making props and getting costumes in order, so I had exactly zero minutes to think about meeting my birth mother that night. It worked out well, because if you know me, you know ordinarily I'd be nervous as all get out. I mean, who wouldn't? But as soon as post-program cleanup was over, I headed back to the apartment to take care of the puppies, and we left as soon as Scott got in from work, about 5:20. This was the plan: since Scott's mom and dad didn't want to keep the puppies for the weekend, and since boarding costs ridiculous amounts and doesn't even allow them exercise or playtime, and since they're too complicated to get someone else to come and let them out and feed them for 3 days straight, *and* since my husband is too much a protector to let me make the 3-hour drive to Tennessee by myself, he decided he'd drive me up, spend a little time there, drive back, spend Saturday resting from the drive, then drive back up Sunday morning, get our Meggie to come let the puppies out that afternoon, and both of us come back late Sunday night. I tried to talk him out of it, but if you know him, you know how he is. : ) It was only supposed to be a 3-hour drive anyway. We just didn't take into account the holiday traffic. Yeah. We were on I-26 for an hour and a half around Asheville (I think) and went 15 miles. Besides this nice little detour we took in Hendersonville where we got in the middle of road construction and *that* took another hour. We finally reached their house at 10:30. When we got there Chris (birthmother) cried just a bit, and we both laughed a lot, and just sat there at the kitchen table and looked at each other. Not saying much, what is there to say at that point? It just took a while to take it all in, finally meeting a part of you that's been missing 21 years. Weird feeling. So when we finally got past the awkward silence, we talked a bit with Scott and Riley (my ten-year-old sister) while Chris's husband Danny (not my father) and Taylor (my twelve-year-old brother) were kinda bashful and didn't talk much. Eventually Scott left and the boys went to bed, so Chris and Riley and I stayed up till 3am talking. Riley has a mouth like mine, so it was hard to get a word in edgewise and ask the questions I really wanted to ask Chris. It was still cool talking to them though. Riley found my knitting in my bag and wanted to learn. That was also distracting. But fun. The next morning we all sat around--Riley and I knitting, Taylor playing guitar and singing (we figured out where my musicality comes from). Chris decided she wanted to learn to knit too, so we took a trip to Michael's and they got needles and yarn (clearance only--I also figured out where my severe frugality comes from). So when we got back home and all sat there on the loveseat knitting, Taylor played his manly guitar and made fun of us for knitting. Then all of a sudden *he* decided he wanted to learn. But he refuses to call the needles anything but "sticks." Cute kid. We were up late again that night--knitting and having a singalong with Riley's keyboard. Sunday morning we lazed around, and Scott got there before brunch. We spent most of the day just talking and visiting and taking pictures, and of course, knitting. We left out about 8 that night. Chris cried and cried when we left, but I promised her we'd see each other very soon--they're coming down here in a week and a half.
Everyone thinks Chris and I look a lot alike. I definitely see it from the nose down. She's so beautiful though, I don't think I can compare myself to her. Her personality and attitude are very easygoing, not in a hurry, just sweetly and contemplatively enjoying life. She looks very much the California girl and is skinny (darn her) and smiley. She looks and acts a lot younger than her age, so it's hard to think of her as a "mom" at all--I definitely see her as more of a big sister. She's awesome. I think the biggest surprise of the weekend was finding out how truly much she did want to keep me, but she gave me up for my own good and has regretted it ever since, to some degree. She told me over and over, "I wish I'd kept you, but you turned out so much better than you ever could have with me." She's such a sweet woman. Loves God very much, loves her family, loves music, loves animals, loves helping people. She and her husband own a bus company (selling and renting tour buses) and she developed a side business of sign-making and lettering (for the buses) which she uses as kind of a pro bono ministry. She's helping this band from Charleston by making decals and bumper stickers with their name on it, trying to help them with publicity and stuff. That's why they're coming down in a week and a half--the band, Leslie, is playing in downtown Greenville next Thursday night, and she wants the kids to see them in concert.
Speak of the kids--Taylor is 40 trapped in a 12-year-old's body. They don't have cable or satellite at their house (good for them, I say) so he and Riley watch DVD collections of old shows like Andy Griffith, A-Team, McGyver, Dr. Quinn, and his favorite, Dukes of Hazzard. He's amazing on guitar and has such a sweet little voice--pretty deep for a 12-year-old, actually. He likes Johnny Cash and bluegrass, and he likes dressing up. He saved up his own money and bought his first tux when he was 7, and wore it to school. No occasion, just wanted a tux. He's very sarcastic and brainy and just fun. I like him a lot. I taught him to play "Bad Day" on the keyboard and he's gone crazy with it.
Riley is full of energy. She's just like Scott's 10-year-old niece Abby--never quits going. She's always bouncing around and talking and saying "yeah" when you tell her stories or explain things, very much the "oh, of course I understand" type of kid. She looks a lot like me. Except she's skinny and all legs. We have the same profile and eye color (which is weird since Chris and Danny both have brown eyes, and my birthfather who isn't Riley's dad is where I thought I got my eye color) and the same skin. She's also musical (I got her some starter piano books for the keyboard she just got) and craftsy. I was amazed she could sit still long enough to knit. She's loving it though--making clothes for her teddybears. Small steps.
Chris's husband Danny reminds me of everyone at my home church--quiet Southern guy who sits in the corner and doesn't say much, but you know he's paying attention and taking everything in. He's a hardworking, good-natured, supportive guy and a great father to Riley and Taylor. I like him a lot too.
They also have the fluffiest kitty I've ever seen, bar none. Her name is Muffy, and she has long fur growing between her toes. She is the queen of the house, and we bonded over the weekend. They also have a cute dog about Karma's size named Lizzie who has the most gorgeous ice-blue eyes ever.
I feel so blessed to have so many families. My mom and dad and their families are awesome. Scott's family is also awesome. And now I have a third family that is equally awesome. I'm a lucky girl.
Pictures of my weekend are here.
~~~~~~~
One of my kids' vocab words last week was "nurture," and I used my adoption story to illustrate the difference between this and nature. I've always been really interested in the Nature vs. Nurture debate because of my background. Meeting Chris and getting to know her over the past five and a half years has allowed me to come full circle with that and to form my own theories on the argument. I've concluded I'm almost exactly half and half. (And no, that's not a copout.)
If you've met my mom, you know I'm her made over. She came to my school last week to do a cake demo for my kids for careers, and I got to watch her as an instructor... and I realized, though I didn't technically learn teaching from my mom, I picked up on so many of her tendencies. She bounces around--not in an unorganized way, but trying so hard to get in every little detail that's important. Guess who also does that? :) We're alike in too many ways to count. I inherited her workaholism, her drive, and her inability to say "no" to anyone... among other things.
Then there's Chris. Chris is where I got my music--and that, to me, is at least a third of who I am, despite how exaggerated that might sound to some. (It's kind of like that movie August Rush, except way less dramatic.) I also got my psychoanalytical side from her, I think, and a little bit of OCD, and possibly some of my love for animals... and other things I'm continuing to learn more about.
It makes me wonder what, if anything, I got from my birthfather. Am I like him at all? I'm not a great deal like Dad (though I love him dearly and am my Daddy's girl through and through), so I wonder if maybe who I am is primarily an amalgamation of my moms. Maybe he was just the one who made my blue eyes blue. Thinking about it makes me wonder, probably for the eightieth time, will I ever get to find out?
Well, that's enough soul-baring for one week. Off to lesson planning and playwriting!
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