Baja Vacation

Monday was our four-year-seven-month anniversary. We are in Baja on vacation visiting Cher’s parents and having some time together. Four years and five months ago we were here as well—newly together and basking in the delight of our new romance. It’s wonderful to report that we still delight in our romance and although life is busy and sometimes gets in the way, these times together certainly help us to stay connected and remember how much we love each other and how much our relationship means.

I want it to always be that way.

I will do whatever I possibly can to keep it that way.

I arrived in Baja on Saturday, bringing with me seven novels and my Spanish textbook. I believe I may have been a little bit ambitious in thinking that I will get all of those books read—and accomplish the other things I want to do, like write for myself and study Spanish. Looking through my Spanish textbook this morning and realizing everything I’ve forgotten over the past nine months, I’m definitely re-thinking skipping 103 and going right to 201. I don’t have a lot of confidence that I will be able to self teach myself four chapters, but until I review the first six chapters, I’ll reserve making a decision.

I’m reading “The Book Thief,” a story about a young girl growing up in Nazi Germany.  The story is narrated by Death and he tells the reader about this young girl, Liesel, who is sent to live with a foster family. On their way to the foster family, her brother dies on the train and she is haunted by his death and his burial in the snow. During the burial, she sees a book, left by the gravedigger, and she steals it. This is the first of many books she steals. Each theft is taking her a step on her journey and her tale of living under Hitler, stealing food and harboring a Jew in their basement.

Death is busy in the book—seeing how there is a war going on.

Death also visited us yesterday.

Cher and her mom found an abandoned kitten and had been taking care of it. I arrived on Saturday and assumed my caretaking role as well. The kitten seemed to be doing okay and Sunday morning I took her out of her kennel and washed her up. Cher made her a bottle, which she didn’t drink much of. We offered her some wet food, which she ate right away. When she finished, she was washing her paws and seemed to be okay. Suddenly she got very lethargic and I knew something was wrong. Cher thought she was just tired and told me to put her to bed. I waited for a couple of hours and got her up and tried to feed her again. She wouldn’t eat. It only took a couple of hours and she was weak and withering away. We drove to the vet, but they were both closed. I knew on the way home that she was dying.

Cher held her and watched her draw her final breaths, each one a little further apart from the last until she was gone.

I was overcome with sadness. This little tiny life that we were trying to save, just slipped away and there was nothing we could do. We could only sit with her in our hands and watch her struggle to breath and then slip away.

I take comfort in knowing that she died warm and being held and loved instead of cold and alone, maybe being eaten by ants or other bugs. If it weren’t for us trying to save her, no one would have cared for that little being. No tears would have been shed and no one and nothing would have given her even a passing thought.

Even a little tiny life matters. Watching a little tiny life fade away reminds me how precious it all is and to value even the little parts of life that we may otherwise not consider. It’s all around us—we have to just take a moment and notice.

So thank you wee small kitten for letting me care for you for a short time and give you a little bit of love and comfort as your energy passed to somewhere different. Perhaps Death scooped up your soul and carried you away. If so, I have a feeling he held you just as sweetly as we did.

100

Degrees it was yesterday but I am not complaining. I would rather it be 100 than 60 and I would certainly rather 100 than 40, which is what it was when we were camping over the 4th of July. So the weekend it was cold, we went camping in the mountains. The weekend that it is hot, we’re camping nearer the valley. Camping=Fail. Either way, I love the camping and I love the summer so I’m happy.

I’m starting to think I would really like to move to a warmer climate. I’m saying this coming off of nearly ten months of weather that required a sweater or a jacket with only occasional breaks. This causes me to wonder if perhaps I am getting terribly old? I don’t want to run off to Florida or anything–just maybe northern California. Unfortunately the glich in my plan is that my family and my childrens father are here in Oregon and unless they are all planning on moving with us, it’s pretty much a no go. But I like to think about it. Each season brings with it the good and the not as good, highs and lows, love and loss.

My girls’ grandmother passed away yesterday. She had been ill for many years but I always thought that she would eventually get better. She did not. From what I know, she was quite sick at the end and it pains me to think of anyone going through that process of knowing that death is just around the corner but not quite knowing what it looks like. When I think of her, I try to imagine her being comforted and dotted on by her mother, who I know was by her side the entire time and probably when she slipped from this life into the next realm. Even though a child should not die before her children, there is something amazing about being there the moment someone comes into this world and then ushering that person out of the world as well. Death comes to all of us and it is natural as being born–it can be just as beautiful and doesn’t need to be a scary, dark or horrible time. I’m trying to help my girls through this and day by day and eventually they will be able to process their loss. I feel for their father and hope that he is taking care of himself at this time–I know that he doesn’t handle this type of thing very well and I hope that he can find some peace and love as he journeys through. He won’t know how to talk to the girls about this so I’m glad that they have three other parents to pick up and help him out but he will also need to make his own way. I wish him well.

Yesterday I was sitting in my ex’s wife’s car talking to her about this situation and planning out the weekend since their father is away. It just seemed so normal to be doing this–to be collaborating on what is best for the girls and who would be taking care of them which day, etc. I was telling my BFF Neighbor Judy about the conversation when she interrupted me and said, “How can you do that?”

I looked at her and said, “Do what?”

“Sit and talk to her, knowing that she says terrible things about you.”

I don’t know why I am why I am. No one taught me to be this way–I just am. I’m probably forgiving to a fault and I don’t hold grudges. I’m happy to give a person a pass on causing me pain in some way and I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.  My ex and his wife care for our children 40% of the time. They love them. It doesn’t matter what has happened between he and I, the girls need parents who try to get along and communicate–for their benefit and for ours. Sometimes one or the other of us may be the only one trying to do that, but I hope that I will always try to be above pettiness and think about what is best for my girls.

More than anything, I want to be a better person and know that at the end of my life, I will not be on my deathbed wishing I had been nicer and more forgiving when I had the chance. I hope that will be the case.

Hospital Corners

I don’t mind hospitals, I’m not one of those people who has a hospital phobia or gets weirded out by seeing people with IV’s or oxygen or heart monitors. I used to be a Doula (professional childbirth assistant,) so I’ve had my share of helping people while they’re in the hospital and everything that goes along with it. Usually when I’m with someone in the hospital I’m compelled to clean up their room, organize their flowers and put extra pillow cases on their pillows. Do you know why I do this? Because those pillows are covered in plastic and the pillow case inevitably slips off, allowing the person’s face to touch the yucky blue plastic pillow. By putting a pillow case on both ends of the pillow, it doesn’t slip off. I think I invented this technique–let’s call it the Kathryn Pillow Technique from now on.

Last week I visited my friend Maggie while she was in the hospital and this past Tuesday I sat with my friend Jamie while her sweet partner was having surgery and yesterday I spent the day and night in the surgical waiting room while my mom had another abdominal surgery. She was having a lot of pain and the doctor thought that maybe when he re-connected her intestines back in June that maybe he didn’t do it right, but after the surgery he told me that his connection looked beautiful. While he was telling me this I couldn’t help imagining that the connection looked something like those plastic joint things that you connect PVC piping with and then caulk with that clear glue stuff. I don’t think that was what he did to my mom’s intestines but in my head that’s what it looked like.

The connection was fine but he found something that wasn’t but he’s not quite sure what it is. He gave me the best and worst case scenario and of course we’re hoping for the best case scenario.

I slept in my mom’s room last night. On a recliner and as you can imagine, I slept very well. I’m lucky to have a amazing wife who is driving down to the hospital (45 minutes from our house,) to bring me my phone charger and some clothes. I’m not leaving the hospital until the doctor comes in and lets us know which of the scenarios it is–and I don’t know how long that will take–I could be here for awhile.

I’m getting a little tired of hospitals so I just want to let everyone know that I would appreciate it if you all could please not get sick or injured anytime in the near future as I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it to straighten up your room.

Thank you.

I really am a blogger

Sometimes I even blog about interesting things. This past term of school drained every bit of energy out of me and I had a terrible time finding moments to do anything that I enjoy (other than wasting time on Twitter and Facebook but some of that was work related.) School drained me. (Did I mention that?) Sometimes I don’t know how I’ll be able to finish all the way to my Master’s Degree but then I remind myself that I can do it, I just have to take it one step at a time. I also need to lower my expectations for myself and realize that I can’t do it all, I just can’t. Going to school full-time is equivalent to a full-time job when you factor in homework and studying and commuting. I also have a part time job as a freelance writer and even though it’s very part-time I spend a lot of mental energy on it. I also take care of my three children and my house; I do all the cooking, pack lunches every day, run kids around to practice and appointments and games and other activities. I do most of the housework (except laundry because of the “sock issue”) and all of the shopping.

It’s fucking exhausting.

Sometimes I get cranky.

But now it is summer and I’m putting that all behind me now. I’m going to enjoy my summer and read for pleasure and blog and, (don’t judge me….) scrapbook. Kennedy’s baby book isn’t even finished and she’s TEN. How pathetic am I?

My Mom is having surgery today and I’m sitting in the waiting room to hear how she’s doing. I’m sure she’ll be fine but the doctor (he has long hair and pierced ears and looks like a hippy) will be removing two feet of her intestine, which really is kind of yucky. There’s a lot of that in there you know, the intestine, so I think she can probably spare some but two feet? She had to sign a release giving them permission to dispose of it. Seriously? Did they think we wanted to take it home with us? “Oh, don’t mind that container in the fridge, that’s just my mom’s intestine.”

There are a lot of lezzies in this hospital. So far I’ve counted five and that includes a doctor who I happened to have met on our last Olivia trip. We’re Facebook friends but I didn’t want to be a dork and wave and say hello. She’s a surgeon and there is a certain decorum you know. She did see me topless and drunk so I thought I would keep my mouth shut.

Speaking of vacation. We just got home from one and it was fabulous. The weather was beautiful, the girls got along (almost) the whole time and we all had a very fun week. Coming home was a bummer (as it always is) but slowly I’m returning to reality–unfortunately while in a hospital waiting room.

While we were on vacation in Hawaii Jon and Kate’s marriage fell apart. For the record, remember when I said that I had an affinity for her? I’m way over it. As a matter of fact anything that was ever between us is over. I can’t even imagine going through a divorce with eight children while being televised and I can’t imagine what the Divorce Diet will do to her–she’s already skinny.I hope she and Jon can get through this amicably and not damage their kids. I hope that if Kate decides to re-marry a woman Jon doesn’t say things to their children like, “Lesbians are gross.” I hope if Jon gets re-married it’s to someone nice and smart and knows that you don’t need a passport to go to Hawaii. I hope that they can communicate somehow other than by e-mail only and I hope that Jon isn’t abusive and mean and hateful to Kate every chance he gets. I think that’s possible.

Isn’t it?

I really am a blogger but it looks like I’m going to be missing BlogHer this year because I’m a complete idiot. I arranged to share a hotel room with Melissa Lion, I had the flight schedule figured out and blocked the entire weekend out for months.

I forgot to register.

There are 1,000 people on the waiting list and even though Melissa Lion says she’s not mad at me and that I’m never, ever, ever again allowed to say, “You’ll be mad at me,” I feel absolutely horrible and sick about the entire thing.

Do I secretly hate myself and think I don’t deserve to do something fabulous for myself so I subconsciously sabotaged this experience to punish myself because I feel guilty and unworthy?

I’ll ask my therapist on Thursday.

Make that six lesbians.

*****Well Internet, it looks like the Heavens opened up and the God of Lezzie Blogger’s grace was shining on me because I’m going to BlogHer after all!

For The Children

Even though I’m a lezzie, I actually have children. Three of them. And even though their father is voting for McLain, I try to teach them to be compassionate to others and show them some of the realities of the world.

Like Homeless Youth.

Portland has a very high population of homeless youth and according to The New York Times, the fastest growing segment of the homeless youth population is queer kids.

Queer kids who in many cases were disowned by their parents for being queer. Yes, those are fine family values. This shouldn’t be surprising considering the sheer number of kids who are ostracized by their families, churches and communities. It is also not surprising that GLBTQ kids who are not supported by their families, churches and communities have the highest risk of suicides.

GLBTQ kids who are supported by their families, churches and communities risk of suicide is the same as other kids.

What does this say about us as a society? We’d rather have these kids homeless on the street or dead rather than support and embrace who they are as human beings. That isn’t my family value and I am trying to do my small part to help.

Last night I made homemade, vegetarian, mostly organic macaroni and cheese for 35 homeless youth. My BFF Neighbor Judy and I, along with DD’s #2 and #3 will be taking it to the P:ear Center this morning for the kids to have for lunch. What kind of time does this take? Oh, about three hours total. Three hours out of my life to make a delicious meal for kids who don’t have a mother to cook for them. And three hours out of my life to teach my daughters a small lesson in helping others.

I need no accolades for this task, I write about it here to be another voice for a group of children who have been left behind. They’ve been left behind in a country where we have an administration legislating how to not leave any of them behind–and then ignores the ones who are already lost.

And I pass this information along to all of you using these powerful tools that brings us all together– Blogging, Facebook, and Twitter.

Powerful information and powerful networking, and how I found this volunteer opportunity and how I found P:ear. Thanks to @sarahgilbert on Twitter and a tweet she made about teaching the youth to cook one day. P:ear said that it was their very first Twitter referral!

I hope other homeless youth organizations get a Bloggy referral today!

No On Prop 8: For The Children

“Lee” left a couple of comments on my last post that I would really like to address. I don’t like to toot my own horn you know, but I actually did a research paper on this subject. It was called, Marriage Equality and the Effect on Oregon’s Children. If I knew how to link to a PDF, I would, but I don’t. If you would like to read it, email me.

For Clarification Purposes

I wrote a very long blog post and probably tried to hit way too many points and I’m sorry if I didn’t come across clearly enough. So I will reitterate a bit because I can. And this is not for the Trolls, just so you know.

No where in my post yesterday did I say that women should not work outside of the home. I don’t believe that. I think that as Melissa and Erin pointed out quite passionately that for some women it is not serve them well to be at home full-time and I completely agree.

I believe that women have the right to do whatever they desire–pursue their passions, pursue their dreams, and live their lives authentically. If that includes children and career–great! If it includes being at home raising kids–great! If it includes not having children at all–great! That was what I was trying to point out about feminism. Feminism gave us those choices.

I also stated that I believe that babies need their mothers–biologically. I do not believe that it is beneficial for a baby to have his mother leave him to go back to work three days after his birth by her own choice.

In this country we don’t value families. The Republicans can talk and talk and talk about Family Values but in this country we expect mothers who give birth to be back at work six weeks afterward and only provide three months of un-paid guarantee that they won’t lose their jobs if they take longer than the six weeks. We do not support parents when they go back to work and instead assume they will figure out how to find quality childcare that they can afford. We don’t give families with children basic healthcare–we assume they’ll figure it out–and if they can’t find a job that gives them healthcare–oh well, too bad for them.

We also do not give any parenting support or education or help with the basic needs of having a new baby. In France and other European countries parents are given a YEAR off when they have a baby–PAID. They also are given free healthcare and someone to come in to help with the baby. When parents do go back to work–their daycare costs are quality and reasonably priced–around $1.00 an hour. Having a healthy society begins with taking care of babies, children, and families. Our countries leaders could learn a lot from countries like France et. al.

Now we have a Vice-Presidential candidate who is role-modeling that women go back to work when their special-needs infant is three days old. And that is a good thing? Is that what we want women to start doing? Is that the example families should assimilate? That’s a Family Value?

I would like to be very clear–I don’t believe any PARENT of five children–one of whom an infant with special needs and one a pregnant teenager should be running for the highest office in the land. Man, Woman, Democrat, Republican–it matters not. I’m talking specifically here–Children first.

Hannah Montana is a teenager who is pursuing her own ambition–she doesn’t have five children.

Jon and Kate? Their exploiting their children–that’s a different blog post all together.

I don’t have a lifestyle–I have a life. My children have not actually had anyone be mean to them because I’m a lesbian and if they were I would explain it to them the way I explain everything to them–honestly. I can’t change being a lesbian any more than I can change the color of my skin.

And Limpy?

He was joking.

I’m-a-Sexist-Feminist-Lesbian-Mother

Okay. I will accept that for today with no problem. It’s possible that some of the fine people who read this blog may not like what I’m about to say so I will start out by saying this–It’s my opinion and I’m fully entitled to it and I wholeheartedly welcome intelligent debate. (Not mudslinging from people who have a Google Alert on the topic and troll to every blog to leave the same negative comment over and over again.)

As a girl growing up in the 70’s and 80’s, I was raised to be anything that I wanted to be. I could have it all, a husband, a family, a career. I could bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan. I was a 1980 Lady but a Pillsbury Girl, I could carry a briefcase and a diaper bag and fully take part in the American Dream. Many of us were raised this way and it was a great idea. In theory.

Before I had DD#1 I had a career that I was very good at. I worked hard and was noticed by “higher ups” in the corporation who wanted to groom me to do bigger and better things. I was quite capable of doing anything and I’m sure I would have been quite successful in any business venture I would have taken on. I had a baby and everything changed. I worked part time at the same company and during an annual review my Big Boss said to me, “You could really go places if you would cut those apron strings from your baby.”

I didn’t cut the strings. When I announced to Big Boss that I was expecting DD#2 he was so angry he actually left the office and closed the door.

I started to stay home with the girls when DD#2 was born. My XH and I didn’t know how we were going to make it financially but we agreed that it was the best thing for the girls and for our family. Not long after I found out I was expecting another baby and then our decision for me to stay at home was pretty much cemented. Taking care of three girls under the age of four was a big enough job for any one person to do.

At that time I was very involved with the MOMS Club, a support organization for stay-at-home mothers. I held a position where I gave information to potential new members and often found myself giving them counsel and validation about their often new role in life. One morning we had a new member at our meeting and she told us how disappointed her father was in her for deciding to stay home with her newborn infant. “I didn’t send you to college so that you could be a housewife,” he told her. When I became the President of the organization I would always open our meetings telling the women how important their jobs were and what important work that they were doing.

When our grandmothers were younger they didn’t have choices. They were unable to even open a bank account or own property on their own. Most women didn’t go to college, fewer went on to achieve a post-graduate degree and virtually all women were homemakers–not by choice necessarily–but because that is what they did.

Feminism paved the way for women to have choices. They could go to college, own property, have a career, marry or not, have children or not, and make decisions about their lives for themselves.

I am grateful to feminism for allowing this for women. I’m grateful to the women who came before me, fought for my rights, and opened up for me chances and opportunities never realized by the women of my grandmothers generations and before.

I am a feminist. I believe in equal opportunities, equal pay, and equal respect between men and women.

I also believe in biology.

Babies need their mothers. They know their mothers scent and voice. She is bonded to her baby through huge spills of hormones released in her body through the pregnancy, birthing and post-partum periods. When a woman breastfeeds a hormone is released that makes her feel high and content and in love with her baby. It’s the same hormone that is released between two people in love during the first three months of a relationship. Anyone who’s ever been madly in love with someone knows what that feels like. It’s a feeling of attachment and it is Mother Natures way of ensuring that a mother will take care of her infant. That bonding is not only nice for the baby–but is very possibly the foundation for what kind of person that baby will become.

I believe that if you choose to give birth to a baby it is your responsibility to BE there for your baby. Bringing a child into the world is the most important job that a parent has to do and certainly should be a parent’s first responsibility–without question.

I understand that there are people who for the sake of survival need to be away from their children–and I wish there was a way to ensure that no child had to ever be away from their parents because of financial need. But that’s another blog post.

I don’t make any decisions about my life without first considering how that decision will affect my children. Even my decision to get a divorce, my decision to live my life authentically–I considered all of it and I would have sacrificed my own happiness if I thought it would benefit my children. In the end I did do what was best for them because we are all happier now and the girls are very well adjusted. Could I have predicted that? Yes I could. Because I’m a mother who has been with her children and I know them better than anyone else.

HG and I would love to move into Portland. Into the city. Live urbanly and take advantage of all of the great things that living in the city would bring. Why don’t we? Because it’s not in the best interest of the girls at this time. I’m not going to move somewhere that would ultimately cause them a lot of distress simply because I would like it better. I’m not going to compromise their education and safety and ability to see their father easily because of my preference. I won’t put my kids through that at this time as it wouldn’t be good for them.

And this is why it amazes me that a woman, ANY woman would choose to put her children through public scrutiny, spotlight and potentially life altering circumstances to benefit her own career is beyond me.

Yes. I’m talking about Sarah Palin.

Sarah Palin who went back to work as the governor of Alaska THREE DAYS after giving birth to a disabled child.

Sarah Palin who has a pregnant teenage daughter and is purposely putting her in public eye and showing that young girl’s vulnerability and shame in front of the entire world.

Sarah Palin who is willing to move her family across the world to live in a completely different culture in order for her to work in a demanding position that could become even more demanding in a heartbeat.

What kind of mother does this? What kind of mother chooses her own ambition over her own children?

Sarah Palin chose to bring five children into the world–one of whom is a disabled infant. And then she chose her career over them. She’s not a just a working Mom–she’s running for the Vice-Presidency of the United States–and that is a different playing field and I don’t get how THAT is a family value.

Sexist? Perhaps. Except for the fact that if Sarah Palin were a man–I would feel exactly the same way. If Barack Obama had an infant with Downs Syndrome and a pregnant teenage daughter–I would not support him–nor his running mate if he were in that position.

Those five children have needs beyond average children and they don’t deserve what is being done to them right now.

It’s a crying shame and it breaks my heart.

I’m a feminist. But I also believe that we have a responsibilty to the children that we bring in to this world and Sarah Palin is not only failing her children but the future children of this country by the example she is setting.

My Mom is the Michael Phelps of Pie

Because of my Dad’s visit, I’ve been horribly neglecting my blogging life (for good reason.) I’ll try to catch up–my brain is bursting.

We went to the Pie-Off last Saturday.

I made a Key Lime Pie. Melissa Lion made a Pie, Witchtrivets made a Pie, My Mom made two pies.

Neither Melissa, Witchtrivets, nor I won a ribbon for our pies, but my Mom won THREE! She was sure that she wouldn’t win anything and lined up for pie; when they announced her name she was stunned. She was even more stunned when she won two more ribbons. Oh the talent I come from.

The Pie-Off was fantabulously fun even though the competition was fierce; 49 pies were entered, and that’s a lot of pie. I’m already scanning for pie recipes for next year. Look out Mom–those ribbons are MINE next time.

It was a tad weird being with both of my parents at the same time. This hasn’t happened for many years and that was at a funeral so it doesn’t really count. As you can see from that picture I posted, I don’t really look anything like either of my parents–a fact that I’ve always wondered about. Sometimes I have a little fantasy that I was stolen and sold on the black market and and switched at birth and that my real family is uber-wealthy and fabulous. For all of  these years they have been waiting to find me, all along keeping a large trust fund going for the day that we reunite. When we do, they will send their private jet to retrieve me and we will fly to the family’s “summer compound” in the South of France. There they will cry and tell me how sorry they were that I was raised in such a dysfunctional home and how they will make it all up to me one million dollars at a time.

Okay, maybe my family isn’t as dysfunctional as I once thought.

A lot of healing went on this past weekend. Healing for me, healing for my Dad, healing for my Mom and healing for my kids. HG stood by my side and lovingly took care of all of us all weekend being the gentle, smart, amazing woman that she is. She adores my Dad and he adores her and we all had a wonderful time getting to know each other. The girls were as receptive and engaging as could be expected and yesterday on DD#3’s first day of school she wanted her Pap to take her, which he did. DD#1 has already asked when Pap is coming back. I hope it will be soon, as does the rest of the family.

“There’s still time for a lot of good memories to be made,” said my Mom yesterday. And she is absolutely correct. Mom’s know stuff like that and I’m going to focus on that instead of my switched at birth fantasy instead.

And Pie. I’m focusing on pie.

Welcoming it all

The smell of fall is in the air here in the Pacific Northwest. I’m not really ready to let summer go but fall is my favorite time of the year. More than January 1st, fall feels like the time to begin again–a new year–a new time of possibilities.

We’ve had a fun summer and I’m beginning to be ready to dive in to the world again. I’ve been cleaning things up in my office, my home, and in my head. Taking stock of what I have, what I need, and what to do next. It’s a little exhausting at times, but I know it will all pay off in the end.

I was having some apprehension about starting school again. HG and I decided that changing schools would be a good idea and I applied to the school I want to attend last spring but did not follow up on my admittance until just last week. I think I was having anxiety about it and figured if I put it off too long I could just take some online classes at the community college I attended last term. But I did decide to follow up and did send them the info they needed and did register for classes as a non-admitted student until everything is processed. Yesterday I filled out all of the financial aid info that I know they will need as soon as everything is processed, cleaned out all of my files, recycled an entire garbage can of paper, and got ready to mail two important items that will (yes, Universe WILL) bring me some money.

I’m making room for great things to come my way.

In a few hours I will pick up my father from the airport for his visit here with us. I don’t think that I realized just how anxious I am about this visit until I woke up this morning at 2:30 a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep. Usually when something is coming up that I’m not sure about I just put it aside and deny it awhile. It works out for me actually because I think while I have it set aside in my denial I somehow process through it a little bit.

This visit brings up a lot of things for me. Obvious things like Why Now? Why Now, after all this time does my father want to come and visit? I’m glad he does and I’m very much looking forward to it but I still hear that voice in my head that says, “What’s wrong with me that he didn’t want to come before?”

Logically, I know it isn’t me (right?) but I still hear it.

I am a little resentfull of all the things that I’ve never been able to do with my father/never experienced with having a father.

• He never held one of my newborn babies.
• He’s never seen my children on Christmas morning.
• We haven’t had a holiday meal together for nearly two decades.
• I’ve never cooked dinner for him (or made him coffee, or mixed him a drink, or baked him a cake.)
• He’s never stepped foot in any of the four homes that I’ve owned.
• He’s never met my wife or any of the dear friends that I adore.
• He’s never fixed anything for me.

These things come up at a time like this but I am extremely grateful that we have a chance to maybe catch up on a few of them. I will certainly make him coffee, pour him a glass of wine and possibly make a cake. He will be a guest in my beautiful home. I will cook him dinner, and he will meet my wife and my friends.

And the other day when he called me to check in about the flight and the weather here and what-not, the last thing he said to me was, “And if you need anything fixed while I’m there, I’m very handy. I can do pretty much anything–electrical, plumbing, whatever you need.”

I laughed and said, “Well, as a matter of fact . . .”

Inside my heart jumped with happiness. My dad is going to come to my house and fix something for me! In a strange way just the thought of this is very healing.

I’ve been making room for good things to come my way.

And I’m welcoming it all.