Tag Archives: home school

Today’s choice

I am moved to tears. Daily. By a blog. (Well, I was. BWIHIA – Back When I Had [regular] Internet Access.)

And Dreamboat finally asked me to stop reading it before I come to bed.

The family behind the blog continues to experience heartache that can be overwhelming, and I deeply identify with some of their circumstances. But, do you know what is emerging from their pain? Beauty. Because they, the writer of Chasing Rainbows and her family, choose to learn from every circumstance. Because they choose to overcome. To not just continue living. But, to thrive. To practice gratitude for the good things in their life.

I want to be like that. I want to focus on the silver lining. The joy that exists alongside the darkness and the despair.

I firmly believe that joy comes through gratitude. 

Just let that sink in…Without actively cultivating, or practicing, being thankful, we don’t have joy.

As a mom, it drives me crazy when my kids ask for something the second after they’ve just received a treat.  Can’t they be grateful for a little while?  Gratitude doesn’t seem to come naturally to them.

But, unfortunately, that sounds just like me. Maybe they got my ‘wanting’ genes.

Or, maybe it’s human nature.

I (and possibly, you) want and want and want something, like a house or a job (which is something I really-need-to-find-right-about-now-when-our-bank-account-has-been-depleted-from-this-year-of-travel), and the minute I achieve it, I start wanting something else. The minute I finally get the shoes I’ve lusted after, there’s another pair I must have. That’s true for me, even with groceries. Especially the fresh, organic kind.  I constantly have to remind myself to be grateful. To say thank you. To Dreamboat. To the kids. To friends. To colleagues.

And, of course, the more I speak out my gratitude, the more I become aware of how blessed I truly am. Which then, makes me grateful.  See the beautiful cycle?

We have a family rule, which I love. Before the kids can ask for something, they have to first thank us for three things. Isn’t that awesome? Even though I know they’re saying ‘thank you’ to get something else, it still has the desired effect of making them grateful, and reminding them of how much I do for them, and it makes me happy too. It’s a win-win.

“When we lose our tolerance for vulnerability, joy becomes foreboding.” Think about it. (Quote from Dr. Brene Brown).

We get to choose our attitude. We can choose to live and be content in our circumstances. To open up to others and allow them to get close to us. To be vulnerable. To be present and find the gifts in our lives right now. To find joy.

I know this may sound trite to some of you who are hurting. Suffering. Grieving the loss of someone, or something. But we all face pain. Life can be hard (I would actually say, “Life IS hard”).

Just this week, two hours after finally arriving at our destination in Colorado, joyfully reunited with our two older kids, we sat down to eat with family. For what should have been a raucous reconnection.

But. Instead. Peanut reached out to poke/pet (interpretation dependent on whether you were the toddler or the dog) the family dog. And it bit him. In the face. One tooth went into the outer corner of his left eye. Five additional bite marks were so covered in blood, it was difficult to see how badly his face was hurt.

My darling Dreamboat, concerned about the blood dripping all over my shirt, was trying to stop the flow of blood down Peanut’s face. (Good thing Dreamboat wasn’t aware of how much I spent on that shirt, or he might still be standing in the kitchen, mopping up blood from Peanut’s face.) Within minutes, we decided to bundle him back into the car that we had just gratefully exited (after ten days of driving). We waved a hasty goodbye to the older Littles, and drove an hour to the nearest emergency room.

During the five-hour-visit, Peanut was treated, his eye examined, antibiotics administered, and one bite-mark was stitched up.

Dreamboat and I came crashing down from the adrenaline rush, me with uncontrollable shakes and he with an overwhelming desire to sleep; and had to explain, repeatedly, again (as we have to do as least once a day), that yes, Peanut is four years old, but he doesn’t speak. At three-and-a-half-months-old, he was hit by a car that drove through the wall of his daycare. And since then, he is developmentally delayed. That this dog bite doesn’t even register in Peanut’s Top Five Medical Emergencies. We interpreted his signs, answered their medical questions, and their curiosity, as they treated our frightened, hurting, little boy.

We finally left the hospital, drove an hour back up the mountain, and climbed in to bed just before 3:00am. To wake the next morning and learn, that the dog had been put down.

This sweet dog was well-loved. By all three of our children. By its family. By me.

Just recently it saved the lives of two family members from a pack of coyotes when they were lost, trapped, overnight. It had defended their car from thieves. Their house from intruders and bears (yes, this is Colorado, wild bears get hungry and daring, especially in the spring). But, it had started biting non-thieves, and children that frightened it (Peanut was the second child to be bitten, and its owners were deeply concerned about potential, future, episodes).

That night, through our tears, we raised our glasses and made a toast to the sweet, life-saving, Peanut-biting, dog.

You see, life IS hard.

We all have heartache. Sometimes it is fleeting. Sometimes in comes in the form of a little boy, and stays with me, for each day I am lucky enough to spend with him.

But, there is beauty, and deep joy in life as well. I am grateful to be reunited with my older kiddo’s. And that my Peanut’s eye is going to be fine. And that his little face is healing nicely. And I am grateful for each day I am lucky enough to spend with him.

I am grateful for the beauty and tranquility of these magnificent mountains, restoring my soul.

I am deeply grateful for friends with whom I can be vulnerable with my pain and fears, who bring me great joy.

Today, I am choosing joy. Tomorrow, I hope to choose joy as well.

Will you join me?

16 Comments

Filed under August 2013

Trailer Trash

I live in a trailer.

And most of the time I love it. Especially on the rare occasion when everything is put away and I can actually see and use the miniscule ‘dining’ table. (As long as I don’t put any weight on it, because the screws around the legs have lifted out of the thin flooring, and it’s about to fall over).

When our family arrived back in the US, we spent three weeks on the West Coast, visiting friends and family, and finally taking the kids on the long-awaited visit to Lego Land…the one thing that we had originally used as bribery, to get them to at-least-not-fight this year-long-adventure.

Then, in a stroke of luck (from Dreamboat’s perspective. My opinion wavers on this one.), an Keystone Outback Ultralight 230 RS (I had to ask Dreamboat to repeat that several times) was for sale in Michigan. (That’s 2,500 miles or 3,582 km from where we were in Seattle.) Dreamboat went and picked it up. Yep, he drove 5,000 miles to go there, hook up the trailer, and tow it back to meet us. So that we could head out again. But, for the first ten days, without Miss O and G-ster. After I safely (and tearfully) deposited them on their flight as unaccompanied minors, to go visit my parents, Dreamboat, Peanut and I, headed out on our last 3 months’ adventure. A US history tour, living in our trailer.

Early morning coffee al fresco

The beautifully described plan, as Dreamboat explained it to me, was to drive a few hours a day, find a lovely place to park (and have electricity, water, and wifi). Then we would hike, or take a bike ride to explore the spectacular scenery. And enjoy hours of job searching, reading, and quiet. I would have plenty of time for my workouts.

While we have seen countless awe-inspiring vistas, our desire to travel without a plan, hasn’t gone to plan. Most of the RV parks are full. Those that aren’t, don’t have hooks ups. And, then I wanted to see Banff. And it was ten-hours-out-of-the-way. Each way. And then, we decided to take up my aunt’s Facebook birthday message to Dreamboat, and go visit her. But, after another ten-hour-drive-to visit her in Kalispell, our emails, phone, and Facebook messages, didn’t connect. And so we left the next morning.

In reality, so far, we have finally stopped driving and set up the trailer after 8pm (the night we went to Banff, it wasn’t until 2:00am). Then, we get up early in the morning to see what the area has to offer, grab some breakfast, and race through packing up the trailer and tying everything down in order to hit the road by the 11am check-out. Then, we sit in the car, enjoying the views, but not able to enjoy internet access or exercise or even much phone access, for another nine to ten hours.

 

Banff!

We’ve been lucky enough to see a stunning array of wildlife. We’ve taken countless pictures of mountains and waterscapes so beautiful they don’t seem real, while still buckled in our seats. And, I’m more grateful than I can express, that Peanut has been a happy, delightful, traveler. And, without the older Littles, I’m able to spend a vast amount of time chatting with Dreamboat, or alone with my thoughts.

Wildlife crossing. Really.

While my thoughts swirl around my dreams and hopes and fears, my inner peace and direction have grown. I keep reminding myself of this inner calm I’ve reached, as I have watched the heat of the tranny (‘transmission’ for you car lingo neophytes) rise steadily into the danger zone. Then to finally hit the top of the pass and breathe a sigh of relief, knowing the engine will get a much needed break from puling the trailer uphill, only to start worrying about the breaks, as we head down miles and miles of steep grades, with runway truck ramps after every turn, and the acrid smell getting stronger and stronger.

Things took a definitely downward turn, for our transmission anyway. And our trailer is currently parked in some friends’ neighbor’s driveway, in Idaho. (Yep. You read that right. Right now I’m grateful for friends around the country. And grateful they’re really good neighbors.) Tomorrow we have an appointment, three hours away at the closest dealer, for the transmission.

Ironically, while this trip so far hasn’t gone according to plan, I’m much happier than I expected.

And, I’m embarrassed to say, that I spent a lot of time and energy complaining to my Seattle friends about it.

It’s true that this portion of our year of travel is my least favorite. There are countless reasons: I find the adventure of visiting other countries more exciting. I am clean/neat obsessed and living without space to put things away might make me require a strait-jacket at the end of two weeks, let alone three months. I dread all five of us being in such small quarters all day, every day. I have driven across the US before, so there’s not much novelty to this trip.  I am not the history-buff my Dreamboat is, and while I enjoy the occasional historical marker, I’d much rather get the Cliff notes version. I am deep-down, unapologetically a City Girl who will miss the activity and sparkle.

And, most importantly, after a few days with my amazing friends in Seattle, it is even more painful to say goodbye, again.

But, life is bitter sweet, right? There is joy to be found, deep joy even, while in the midst of things that are painful, or simply not fun. So, I am loving the time with my Dreamboat. Celebrating his joys. I am soaking in the quiet without my oldest Littles. I am sifting through my dreams and working through my fears. I am working on some long-overdue posts.

It’s three days until we’re supposed to meet Miss O and G-ster in Colorado. Fingers crossed we make it on time, without having to rebuild the transmission, or worse. But, if we don’t, they’re in great hands, and Peanut is getting unlimited time and attention from me and Dreamboat. And I am mostly loving living in a trailer.

5 Comments

Filed under July 2013

What exactly, are we teaching the kids?

We went to poverty stricken Guinea, in West Africa. To teach the kids to have a heart for those less fortunate. Then we went to Morocco. Here, the little kids, and many adults, have learned to holler in French,

“Give me money!”

You should see my kids’ faces as I walk on by. Or, answer “Non”.

Or, even worse, dare to ask them, “Pourquois (why)?”

My kids look at me as though they’ve never seen before…Then the questions start…

Now they’re not sure whether we’re supposed to love our neighbors as ourselves, or, shun them. While giving disapproving stares. Not quite sure where to go from here. It’s not the conundrum I was expecting to face. I’ve explained that the local children we’ve seen here are healthy and well. And that it would be offensive if we were back home in Seattle, and asked obvious tourists walking through the city, to fork over money to us. I think I just gave them their next fundraising idea.

Not sure the message is clear to them yet.

Or to me.

 

1 Comment

Filed under December 2012

Nighttime dose of reality

I know the pictures of us touring Brussels look like so much fun. And we are having a great time. But, let’s not romanticize what traveling with three kids can look like. I won’t go into the detail of the fighting and bribing to get two of the three kids to eat, at two of yesterday’s three meals (we fixed the usual fare for breakfast, in our apartment).  But, I will give you a brief overview of what the night looked like.

We were going to have an early night.

That was the plan. But, plans don’t always happen.

After blowing (Ruining. Forever.) our Bluetooth speaker (our only provision for the music required for family dance-offs), Dreamboat figured out how to accommodate charging 3 devices through an assortment of converters, power strips, and adapters. One of the devices was my phone.

Dreamboat and I finally turned the light out just after midnight. I swear I had turned my phone off. Repeatedly. But, as it was one of the lucky electronics to be charging, when someone called at 2:30 AM, it rang. And rang. And rang. I finally unplugged it to get it to power off.  Even though it was arguably my fault, for the sake of preserving friendship, I’m not going to find out who called.

The call started a chain reaction.

First Peanut woke from what he thought was an afternoon nap.  After 30 minutes of listening to him (and potentially cursing his being awake. Potentially), I got up and gave him a Melatonin.  Yep. Drugged the Peanut.  Shouldn’t have wasted my time.  When I went back to bed he yelled loud enough to be heard back in Seattle. Woke the other two kids.

Here’s where the night took a decided downturn.

I brought Peanut to bed with us.

Now, I’m not a family-bed-kind-of-person.  No judgment here for those who are.  (I believe that whatever works for your family and gets your kids reared with the least parental-suffering, and I suppose, least child-suffering too, is a good way to go.)   For me, that means no co-sleeping. Co-sleeping means I suffer. And we all know, “when mama’s not happy, ain’t nobody happy.”

I need my sleep. Dreamboat and kids will agree, I need my sleep.  In fact, I can totally see the appeal of Carol-Burnett-style-separate-beds. Just saying. (And, obviously I am seriously sleep-deprived or I wouldn’t ever say that. Ever.)

So, bringing Peanut to bed, which was a selfless gesture on my part to allow the older kids to sleep, had the usual disastrous effects on me. Even though I got more cuddles and kisses and slobbering and kicking and face-patting and hair playing (pulling) and eye poking and hand-holding than a girl could wish for.

Peanut thought he was in Heaven.

I thought I was in Hades.

Dreamboat slept through it. All.

At 5:20 am, Peanut fell asleep.  I immediately carried him back to his pop-up-crib and returned to bed.  Where I eventually fell back asleep.

At 7:00 am, construction started on the building across the street. Let’s just say my thoughts weren’t charitable and my earplugs, which I wear every night, can’t stand up to hammering on metal. With a metal hammer. At 7:00 am. After having been asleep for only 1.5 hours.

At 7:30 am, Miss O came in to show me a bite on her finger. A bite, on her finger?  From a bug. That’s why she thought it was ok to wake me? Really? I refrained from giving her a bite to complain about. But I thought about it.

I sent her away without acting on my thoughts. I thought I was even pleasantish. (Miss O may have a different opinion.) But, I bet she won’t wake me to show me a bug-bite tomorrow morning.  Although, she might wake me for a hangnail.

At 8:00 am, G woke up. And came to tell me was awake.  Wasn’t that thoughtful of him?

I gave up. Got up. Made some coffee.

I have to say, Douwe Egberts makes some delicious coffee. And, when paired with heavy whipping cream, it makes me happy.  And, drinking several 10-ounce ‘cups’, from a European-styled bowl, makes me really happy.  And helps to make-up for the lack of sleep.

So, I’ve now been up three hours, and Peanut is still sweetly sleeping.

And I’ve had lots of coffee.

I’m equal parts admiring and envious.  But, I’m letting him sleep.  How can I begrudge him the rest he needs, that also gives me the quiet I need to write?  And to enjoy yet another large bowl of heavy-cream filled coffee?

Once Peanut wakes, we’re off to explore the Atomium and other Brussels monuments, and free-museum Wednesdays.

And I’ve already warned the family that I may not be at my most-sweetest today. Let’s just hope there’s no discussion over trying new foods today.

They’ve been warned.

4 Comments

Filed under September 2012

Rollercoaster ride

Lots of people have asked how I’m doing. What I’m feeling, as the departure date looms just around the corner.

“Are you excited?”

“Can you hardly wait?”

“Are you ready to go?”

Although I’m looking forward to this year with great expectations, I have to say the answer to those questions is a resounding “No.”  I’m terrified. I’m overwhelmed. I’m too busy focusing on what has to be done in the next ten minutes, to be able to think about next year. It’s like a rollercoaster ride I can’t get off.

Here’s a random list, in no particular order, and in no way exhaustive, of some of the things taking up my emotional bandwidth, energy, and time.

Trey.  A friend’s 3-year-old just died. From Whooping Cough. He was born a few weeks before Peanut. Although I never met him, I loved him dearly and deeply. Most of the scary stays (‘visit’ sounds much too pleasant–but I guess ‘stay’ doesn’t do it justice either) we had at Seattle Children’s Hospital, Trey and his family were having their own scary stays, usually much longer than ours, at another Children’s Hospital across the country.  In addition to other physical complications, Trey was experiencing many of the same challenges as Peanut. I prayed for him on and off for 3 years and watched him struggle and grow and learn and develop.  Now, as I move from room to room, sorting and packing, each time I pick up Peanut, I think of Trey. The loss of him hits deep down inside. I cry for his Mama who will never again feel the delicious weight of him in her arms, or smell his hair as he snuggles close. I cry with gratitude that I have my Peanut and can kiss his sweet cheeks. And there’s a feeling, less strong than guilt, similar to uneasiness, that my life goes on. That my life is all about looking forward and adventure.  And I keep looking at video’s and pictures of Trey, and then I can’t stop the waterworks and can’t focus on packing. And then I’m completely derailed from whatever task was at hand.

Logisitics. To not frighten away anyone who might be considering making a similar life change to follow your dreams, I’m going to quickly smooth over the nightmare of tangled details required to get this family of five out the door. Read fast…Doctors appointments by the dozens. Countless house showings, always at the most inopportune times. More immunizations and paperwork than I am comfortable with. Flights. Housing. More flights. More housing. Contractors in and out (good idea to keep this one in mind so you don’t inadvertently leave the bathroom door open when you think you’re alone in the house. It’s embarrassing). House sale falling through. Goodbyes for each child, with each of their closest friends, and with their classes. Selling both our cars and coordinating “alternative transportation” (taking offers from kind friends to pick up and drop off, then breaking down and getting rental cars). Listing and selling all our possessions we don’t want to keep, and coordinating the pick-up/delivery for each. Boxing and storing what we do want to keep.  Getting the children to do the same. Changing our mailing address on everything. Getting the electronics and entertainment (music, books, movies) set up.  Changing insurance for most everything. Writing homeschooling and therapy curriculum. Working full-time and figuring out how/when/who to tell the news (oh, and block them from FB until you do). Figuring out, ordering, and testing eyelash enhancers. And the list goes on. But, I’ve lost interest in writing it and you get the point. We’re busy.

I threw my back out, helping someone carry out an armoire they bought from us. Let’s just say that muscle relaxants don’t help with clarity and focus, and shooting pain isn’t conducive to packing, lifting, and moving.

We’re also trying to be thoughtful parents, and help prepare the kids for what’s to come, and to help ease some of their fears as they watch piece after piece of furniture leave through the front door.  FYI, I’m not currently focused on being a great wife. It may partially be because I think I get a pass for these last few days, and just possibly because it isn’t readily apparent that Dreamboat is focused on it either. But it’s possible it’s me and I’m missing the effort.  So, we’re trying to spend some time with each child, making them feel important, and allowing them time to talk through what’s going on inside them. And my heart is heavy for Miss O in particular.  She is struggling with saying goodbye to her best friend. And her best friend is really struggling. And Miss O is very similar to how I was as a child, strong on the outside, but very tender and sensitive and easily bruised on the inside. And this friend is the only person she really talks to. Including me (one of my greatest hopes is that I become her confidante this year).  And we’re also trying to do some ‘normal’ summer activities with the kids, like sports camps, additional therapies, and evenings by the water, enjoying al-fresco dinners at Music In The Park.

Time. With friends. There has been a steady stream of company, staying with us this summer. And, we’re trying to fit in every last opportunity for time with our local friends too. If you’ve heard of the book “Love Languages”, mine is TIME.  I feel loved when people spend/make time for me. That’s how I show love too.  So, in the middle of this craziness, I want to carve out time for everyone I love. Of course I’m driving the family that I love a little crazy too.  I haven’t figured this one out yet…no clear answer or boundaries set. I’m willing for things to be crazy if that means I get one last dinner, or Bunko game, or girls’ night, or sleepover, or coffee, or happy hour, or breakfast, or pedicure, or, or, or….I’m in!

A friend of mine recently returned from an extended visit to Uganda. With their three children who are similar in age to mine. I called to catch up with her and asked for some tips on what to expect.  She told me how one of their kids dealt with the culture shock by withdrawing and going very quiet. The older child showed his struggle by being angry. All the time. The third child couldn’t swallow. And gagged or threw up EVERY morning. It was awful. She hated it. And after twelve months they adjusted, and equalized. And a few months later they moved back. And now they’re going through it All. Again. But, she also said it was all worth it. And she’d do it again. So, I’m mulling it over and wondering how my friends will feel if I’m gagging through our champagne breakfasts upon my return…

And then there’s the fact that I’m going back to Mercy Ships. To where I grew up. It’s like going back to those horrid, awkward feelings of being thirteen. But, more on that another time. I don’t have words yet to describe it. For the ‘hornet’s nest’ to make sense.

So, I hope you’ll understand that although I know I am blessed beyond measure, and that this year will be a highlight for all of us, that I’m not excited right now.  I’ll get there.  Soon.

Miss O saying goodbye to Maisy

7 Comments

Filed under September 2012

For My FIVE Kids

Not sure I would ever say this out loud.  But, this is my private journal (right?).  I wrote this alone in a motel room, after a lovely glass of chilled rosé (it’s my favorite summer wine). And I recently read an inspiring story about an abandoned child that was rescued by Mercy Ships.

And, although I currently have three children, my key password at work is: For My FIVE Kids.

It’s not figured into our budget. There are no additional airline tickets purchased. And, just yesterday, Dreamboat tried to get me to agree we would NOT. But, here’s my secret hope…

There will be a child. Or siblings. Who need love. Our love.

I’ve always wanted five kids.  I remember Dreamboat’s eyes when I told him this particular dream of mine, on our fourth date (right after I told him that I don’t share well, and if he wanted to date the other girl he was seeing, then no hard feelings, but I wasn’t interested).  Well, obviously Dreamboat bet on me, and we’ve made three amazing children. And I barely lived through the pregnancies. And the family barely survived me being pregnant.  And I wouldn’t want to add children to our family while I’m busy working with my corporate clients.

BUT, while we’re taking this year to focus on family, should a child (or children) be without love. Without family. Without resources. Without hope.  Then, I want to be their answer.  We have love to give.  We have more resources than they were born to.  And, with this year “off”, we have the time to spend, incorporating them into our family structure. Loving them. Nurturing them. Showing them they are valued and unique and treasured.

It may not happen.  It doesn’t usually happen this way. In fact, Guinea’s adoption policy with the US is complicated.  And if it doesn’t happen, I’ll be OK. Disappointed. Maybe a bit heartbroken. But OK.

And, knowing me, I may put the dream to one side…but only for a while.

Miss O wants a little sister. I’m happy to comply. But, I’d be happy with any child. Boy or girl. Or one of each. Or two of one.

7 Comments

Filed under Aug 2012

Home – part two

I’m often told how strange/odd/unique/different I am.  It’s true. I am.  Just today I was trying to fill out one of those online password reminder forms.  It wanted the street I grew up on.  The city I lived in. My 3rd grade teacher…NONE of which I could answer.

So, here’s a bit of background on why I am such an alien. Happy alien. But still an alien.

I grew up on a ship. The Anastasis.  She was  a 522 ft. (183 m), 11,650 ton hospital ship that recently ‘retired’ (it was time.  She deserved to sail away on still, aqua waters, forever.  But, it was and still is, very hard to say goodbye). I moved onboard when I was nine.

See that third porthole back from the 4th deck up? I drew a yellow arrow for you…that’s my cabin…IS my cabin. ‘Cause in my head it’s still mine.

The facts are pretty simple.  How I felt about it is more complex…which I’m sure will feature in future blogs, as its part of who I am.

The Anastasis belonged to Mercy Ships. A non-profit organization that brings hope and healing to the world’s forgotten poor.  All their work is given for free.  They perform all sorts of surgeries, like the cleft lip and palate repair on this little one.

Their crew of volunteers minister to those terminally ill.

Train local personnel to address mental, neurological and substance abuse disorders.

Agricultural training.

Maternal health training.

Varied construction projects to build local hospitals, training centers, orphanages, and other community service facilities.

And distribute food and other supplies to the World Health Organization (WHO).

Here a picture of us kids (me, Luke and JP), shortly after we moved onboard, and then with Mom & Dad, and Charles, after he was born.

During my ten years onboard, we sailed all over, usually spending half of each year in the world’s poorest nations (by WHO standards), and visiting 1st world countries the other six months, to gather supplies, support, and volunteers.

‘The Ship’ as everyone calls it that lived onboard, was like a floating village.  There were upwards of 500 people and over 50 kids at any given time.  We had school in a designated area, built-out with classrooms on the aft (back) of one of the decks.  And unfortunately, Mom was the Principal for a while. I didn’t like that so much.  She was great, but you can’t get away with anything when your mom is your teachers’ boss…

We did science experiments and had piano lessons (and the dreaded recitals).

A nuclear submarine engineer and Chief Engineer taught my advanced trig and calc classes. During the summers we had to volunteer with the department of our choice.  My favorite jobs were volunteering with the fire team, the aft deck snack shop, and working with a construction crew. I’m sure painting on my arm was really helpful.

These glimpses into my life don’t really begin to describe it. I loved every minute of it in many ways, and at the same time really suffered from it too (mostly because of who I am). One of the things I found the hardest was the constant goodbyes to friends, either as we sailed away and waved goobye to them and their country, or as other ‘ships kids’ and their families moved back ’home’.

But, growing up on the ship gave me an innate understanding and love for people of other cultures.  That raises the question of what ‘other’ cultures are. Hmmm. Not sure what culture I am…But I know I am so very grateful for how blessed I was, and am.  Growing up as I did was the amazing gift that made me who I am. That gave me the heart for development. That exploded my worldview. That gave me such a feeling of fulfillment and joy. That helped me truly see and really love people.  All people.

And now, Dreamboat and I are about to take the kiddo’s back! Back to living with people from 149 countries.  Back to making a difference.  Back to doing our small part to change the world.

We start volunteering (yes, we’re PAYING for the privilege to work) on the Africa Mercy this fall.  This ship will be in Guinea.  My life, in an awesome and strange way, is coming full circle.  I get to introduce my kids to my home.  It will change their world…and make them odd too.

And by the way, I like being odd.  It suits me and it will suit them :-)

4 Comments

Filed under July 2012

Itinerary

This is subject to change, depending on flight costs and whims of fancy, but our plan for the coming year is to divide our time between four different areas. We’d also like to ‘follow-the-sun’ so that we don’t have to pack winter clothes. And because, well, we’re tired of the grey Seattle weather.

First, we’re volunteering with Mercy Ships in Guinea. We’ll be living on the Africa Mercy. Dreamboat and I will be teaching business and managerial skills and offering coaching to the crew. I hope there will be lots of opportunities for us and the kids, to get to know some of the patients. To color with children before their surgeries, and sit with them and their mamma’s and daddy’s while they wake up.  G has already collected a bag of small toys–to give to children he meets in the villages we’ll visit.

After Christmas in Morocco (I know, what an incredible DREAM!), we’re heading to Southern Spain …time to take advantage of the slower pace of life and the Euro crisis. And Spanish immersion classes. I keep telling the kids, repeatedly, that my dream is three-hour meals, where we lounge around a table of incredible food, enjoy each other’s company, and just BE together.  They just look at me like I’m crazy.

OK.  I have to tell you here, that one of the reasons Miss O has been supportive of this whole, crazy plan, is that she wants to spend some time in Paris (her current dream is to be a fashion designer there).  And, as the flight gods didn’t align, we’re now flying through Brussels and not Paris, on our way to Guinea.  Haven’t told Miss O yet…

Then on to Peru for the third leg of the trip, where we’re planning to take surfing lessons, volunteer at an orphanage, and lose ourselves in more Spanish language and culture. And visit Machu Picchu.  I’ve always dreamt of hiking the trail up to visit the ancient Inca city. At this point, my three kiddos couldn’t do it on-foot, so I may have to adjust my dream a bit.  But, who knows….by then my kids’ endurance may be better.

Finally, we plan to spend some time on the East Coast of the US, focusing on revolutionary US history, with visits to Washington DC, the Smithsonian Museums, and several of the historical battle sites.  We’ll also be planning how to re-enter ‘normal society’, strategizing, and doing job searches.  And, Dreamboat wants to spend these three months in an RV.  HELP.  I don’t see how even my favorite chocolate and wine can solve this one…

AND we recently adopted a dog.

Major complication.  The kids are in love.  I’m irritated (although late at night, when no one’s watching, I rub her belly while we snuggle on the floor. She’s not allowed on the furniture).

So we’re also working on pet-travel-regulations. And by ‘we’, I mean Dreamboat.

 

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Home – part one

Our house is on the market. For sale or lease. Whichever comes first.

I’m sure our neighbors just love us.  You see we only moved into the house a year ago.  And it was a dump and we’ve turned it into our dream house and reduced the dozen cars and other issues the neighbors hated, that came with the people who were renting it. And now we’re selling it.

This house has fulfilled a lot of dreams for me.  I love to entertain and to decorate.  The process of taking a place with urine-stained carpet…and the smell that accompanies it…into a welcoming and beautiful home, gets my creative juices flowing.

In our previous place, when we had friends over for dinner, once everyone was seated at the table, it was no longer possible to move around the room.  At all. There was no room.  The table extended through the hall and up to the adjoining wall.  Had there been room to move a chair back enough to stand up, there was no point, there was no-where to go.  In fact, and this was really embarrassing, the door to the toilet was directly next to the head of the table.  People didn’t want to leave the table for ANY reason… you get my drift here, right?

You may wonder why I still kept inviting people over.  But I love to entertain. Truly. Deeply.

I’ve got to stop thinking about that, as I’m feeling all caged up again, and shoe-horned and uncomfortable.

Our current place makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And proud of it and what I’ve done with it.  And at peace. Especially when there’s people over…or a party on the horizon J  We’ve had fifteen sets of overnight guests in the year we’ve been here, and are eagerly awaiting 4 more groups before we leave.   Woohoo. Can’t wait.

Although I’m so very happy here, I’m ready to sell. At least I keep telling myself that it’s just a house. There will be other places to decorate and welcome friends into, right?

I want to focus on my children and the relationships we build, and the kind of people they become. And I believe (Hope. PRAY)  that our dream of traveling with the kids, and all they will be introduced to, and our time together, will shape who they are and make them better people.

There are lots of inspiring, wonderful people out there who haven’t taken a year like this.  Whose dreams are different.  But it looks as though, because I am who I am, and because of how I grew up, that once again, we’re going to choose the hard way.  Beautiful too.  But hard. Staying, for our family, would be easy.

But here’s what scares me.  Ok, here’s one of the MANY things about this year that scare me…

I grew up living in 200 square feet, but without a home (I grew up on a traveling hospital ship – more about that in another post). And I know what it’s like to not really belong ANYWHERE.

And my little kiddo’s are begging us NOT TO SELL THE HOUSE.

And maybe I’m projecting, but am I going to scar them? Will they feel lost and untethered?  Will they feel abandoned, or worse… rejected…by their friends who may fill up, with other friends and activities, the gap my kids leave?

I just opened an email with an offer on the house. Today. Now.

So, tonight, Dreamboat and I will be discussing the pro’s and con’s of selling the dream house.

And potentially scarring our kids.

Your thoughts and prayers are appreciated…

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Breaking my heart a little

It’s been one week since the big decision.  Tonight was the designated night to let my friends in on the secret. Talk about shaking with excitement and dread.  I want my girlfriends to know what’s consuming my mental and emotional capacity. I need them to know.

I need them.

But telling them also makes it really real. As in REAL.

And six years after moving here, I finally feel like I have an amazing circle of friends.  My community.  We’re finally really happy and settled here.

And now we’re leaving.

FOR. A. YEAR.

The evening started out well.  I played stylist and selected outfits with matching bags, jewelry and shoes for every potential type of event…from my closet.  I gave away the ball gown I was wearing when newly pregnant with Miss O and Tippi Hedron accosted me in the ladies room by rubbing on my not-yet-protruding belly.  Ok, maybe it wasn’t quite an assault, but having never been pregnant before, I hadn’t been warned of the violation of personal space that was to come.  I gave away the suit I wore when I pitched the VC in San Francisco. I gave away the four pair of leather boots my friend Teresa picked out for me, sight unseen, at a Nordstrom ½ of ½ of ½ sale. I gave away the sequined shirt and jacket I wore to see Mama Mia one fun evening in London.  I gave away the red high heels I wore when Elvis walked me down the aisle to marry Dreamboat that night in Vegas.

Several people have asked if there was a sadness.

There wasn’t.  I loved purging my closet of the extravagance of things I haven’t worn in years. And I really loved seeing the joy on my friends’ faces when they found JUST the right thing.

And there was an abundance of champagne and wine. And amazing appetizers they all made.

Just FYI, I pick great friends.  In addition to being wonderful people, they’re foodies too.  And boy can they deliver a host of mouth-watering delicacies.  Diet be damned.

Although there was no grieving the stuff, there was a ½ day of panic that I was wounding my kids.

My family moved a lot when I was younger, and my family gave away EVERYTHING.  Almost all my parents’ stuff is relatively new, whereas the friends who were recipients of all that generosity have ‘our’ antiques lining their walls.  And my Dad no longer has his letters jacket. And whenever Dreamboat leaves a back-up hard drive in their closet, he tapes a big sign over it saying ‘Do NOT throw away.  I will collect soon.” And includes the date of the expected pick up.

So…after some soul searching and a chat with Teresa, of the four pair of leather boots, I realized it wasn’t a binary problem.  I’m smart that way! I didn’t have to keep everything, or give everything.

So, I let Miss O pick some of her favorite pieces of jewelry, and kept two sparkly shirts hidden in my closet that she has eyed for years.  And I asked her if she was okay with what I was giving (she answered that she had already taken all she wanted). The wedding gown is still safely archived on the top shelf.  I even kept TWO pairs of running shoes for those weeks when I fit in running AND exercising at the gym.

Back to the evening.

I had put off telling my news as long as I could.

I finally called an intermission to the private-trunk-show-shopping and discovered that corralling my friends away from the free merchandise was a bit like herding cats. When we finally all gathered in the kitchen for the dessert course, I told them all how much I treasure them in my life, how they are my personal ‘corporate board’.

And…that I’m leaving.

Talk about ‘Debbie Downer’.  From then on, there was a lot more tears, a lot less champagne.  And no toasts.

When the shock wore off, and we were able to talk again, several said how much they admire my strength. My ability to step out of my comfort zone and make the hard decisions.

That I inspire them.

I didn’t feel inspiring.

Tonight felt like paying the cost of following your dreams. The heartache of leaving.  I’ve always been the newcomer and never felt like I really belonged.

Until now.  And now I’m leaving.

I will treasure these women in my heart. Always. And as happy as I know I’ll be out on my big adventure, I know I’ll long for them.  For their friendship. For their openness and honesty and willingness to share their lives with me. And for the taken-for-granted-joy of sitting over several glasses of wine and looking into their beautiful faces, and talking.

As happy as I am to follow my dreams, my heart is breaking just a little.

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Filed under July 2012