Weekend in Review

It’s a little past my bedtime, but I am stalling and reading Face.book posts I’ve already read because I just don’t want this weekend to end.  I had been dreading it for a long time.  Mom went to the beach with her “gal pals” and Skip left Thursday for an out of town wedding.  I had to hire a sitter for all day Friday and again for Friday night because months ago (before the wedding and the beach trip were booked) I scheduled the annual Relay for Life Silent Auction for Friday night. This meant that Layla stayed with a sitter for approximately 13 hours on Friday.  That’s more hours in one day than she’s spent with a sitter (besides mom) combined in her entire life.  (I think. I suck in math, so I could be wrong).  Anyway, the weekend ended up being pretty great.

Layla, of course, was great for the sitter.  I completely trust Allison and knew they’d have a good time.  The worry-about-it-anyway mama in me just had to lose a little sleep over being away from her for so much of the day.  The silent auction went great.  I think I did less work than I’ve ever done hauling stuff out and setting up.  That’s thanks to a great group of girls who believe in the cause and in hard work.  I enjoyed being at a basketball game on Friday night hanging out with my best friend, Megan.

Saturday, Layla and I met Kimberly and Quinn for lunch and a long walk.  Layla even took a nap in her stroller, which almost never happens.  Skip got in that afternoon and happily hopped back in the car to take his girls to Chickfila for dinner.  Half way there, he confessed he’d had Chickfila for lunch, but I had a calendar card to use and no more days to use it, so we went anyway. We ended the night with Blacklist- our new favorite show.

Today, I decided I would attend Sunday morning growth group and the worship service.  Ever since Layla started staying in the nursery and got on a nap schedule, I’ve been leaving after growth group to bring her home for a nap.  After Kimberly told me during our walk that Quinn stays for Sunday School and preaching, I decided it was high time Layla did the same.  But, since I am a (reluctant) nursery worker myself who hates to be in there with whiny/fussy/screaming/anytypeofkidsreally, I made it clear that I wanted them to text me if she got really fussy.  She made it to 11:25AM, and I was so relieved to get there and find her just fussy and not inconsolably crying.  They’d listened to my wishes, something I really appreciate and don’t take for granted.

After I got Layla home and fed, she went down for a nap and slept an hour and forty minutes!  THAT NEVER HAPPENS.  I even slept 20 of those minutes!  When she woke up, Skip and I took her for a little walk to the park.  Mom was dying to see her when she got back from her trip, so after the park we headed her way.  We dropped Layla off and went on a little date to Target.  We had Starbucks (me) and Jamba Juice (Skip) and took a little drive through a neighborhood I really adore on our way back to get our girl.  We finished the night with frozen pizza and bedtime guitar playing, and it was just really relaxing and wonderful. 

Lately, most moments with Layla are wonderful.  She’s so stinking cute and she’s learning so many new things every day that we just sit around in awe of her and the fact that she’s ours.  She’s started using several signs to communicate and it’s so fun and funny to watch these motions we’ve done with her for months really click.  She loves to take her bib off and sign “finished” after her meal.  She’s recently found her nose and will point to it on command.  She can almost blow a kiss, but she’s perfected the art of giving them right on the mouth.  She’s even learned she can trade things like, “if you give me a kiss, I’ll give you a marshmallow.”  She’s still just taking a few steps here and there when she darn well pleases.  She CAN take five or six in a row, but she rarely does.  Lazy little booger!

Our Life Group lesson this morning was “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” One thing Mrs. Shirley said that really stuck out to me is that a lot of times, we don’t wait for the devil to steal our joy, we just hand it right over.  I think I am guilty of this a lot.  I am a worrier.  I’ve gotten better since marrying Skip who worries about very little, but it’s still a big struggle of mine.  I’d worried myself silly over this weekend. Would the auction go well…would Layla do well with a sitter for that long…would mama have fun… would I handle being a single parent all weekend ok... and other trivialities.  I’d convinced myself the whole weekend was gonna suck before it even got started.  Now, I’m sitting here rambling out a blog post because I don’t want to see it end.  This is that abundant life Marty was talking about before I got summoned to get Layla.  This is the joy that really is strengthening and sustaining, and it’s just what I need to get through a new week.

One Year Later

Mom has the pukes, so I am home with Layla today.  She’s been down for her afternoon nap almost an hour, so I’d bet money (if I wasn’t fresh out) that I won’t get very far with this before I hear little noises through the monitor.  Today has been a little chaotic, but it has reminded me of how lucky I am to have a mama that relishes keeping our baby girl.  When she called at 6:30AM, I was relieved it was just a stomach bug and nothing more serious.  Skip and I discussed options, but decided I would just keep her, and we’d venture to school after her morning nap. 

My new-to-me car is in the shop, so I am driving my OLD-TO-ME Altima while it’s being fixed.  I’d only had my new-to-me car seven weeks before burying its front bumper in a ditch leaving church, but I’d already gotten used to the perks of a newer car, like headrests to hold my Kindle for Layla and a CD player that will play Laurie Berkner.  The ride to school is 20 minutes, so during her nap, I braved the cold and Jerry-rigged the Kindle to the seat with an assortment of bungee cords Skip got for Christmas-Thanks Rich!  She traveled well and smiled pretty for my school peeps and I got very little done before it was time to meet Drew for lunch.  Again, she smiled pretty and attracted many compliments from the patrons of the restaurant.  Oh and she emptied half her squeeze pouch in Drew’s lap (good thing she owns a clothing store!) before we headed home. 

After we got home, I checked with mom who, unfortunately, did not think she’d be able to keep Layla tomorrow.  I texted a few people and initially everyone who responded was unavailable.  Christi was available but also recovering from Strep Throat, so she was an option but a slightly less appealing one.  Skip was just about to cancel his meeting and keep Layla himself when my very first daughter, Alanna, texted back that she could keep her.  Alanna was the first student I claimed for my own and she’s great with kids!  Problem solved!  I can start second semester tomorrow without worrying about Layla. 

As we were playing in Layla’s room before her nap, I opened Timehop and could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped my mind amidst the weirdness of today.  One year ago today, I got in my car and waved goodbye to my first baby girl.  It feels impossible that it was a year ago. When I let myself remember all that went into her leaving, my chest tightens and my eyes well up like it was yesterday.  I try not to “go there” too often because I’ve worked so hard to forgive her mother and form a relationship with her, and thinking about all the hurt she caused us makes that tough.  I try not to feel like only a means to an end for her even still as I work to stay in Amoura’s life. 

Just this week, through a series of emails, I learned that both Amoura and her baby sister were in Charlotte with her sister’s father and that her mama had no way of getting them back to her in Winston.  Apparently, they’d been there for two weeks and he didn’t have gas money and she doesn’t drive, so they were kind of at an impasse.  She’d let the girls go with him because she had no one to watch them while she worked (he doesn’t work-shocker).  What I thought was going to be a fun couple of days with all of them at our house exchanging Christmas presents and catching up turned into Skip and I leaving Layla with mom after dinner Monday night and driving to the other side of Charlotte and straight to Winston to drop the girls off.  I felt totally used and unappreciated but what else could I do?  The mom in me just could not ignore her request to help her get her children back to her.  The ma-ma to Amoura in me could not pass up a chance to hug that sweet child even if it was just while getting her in and out of a car seat. 

I saw a picture on Face.book the other day that was a spin on the typical Foster care to Adoption pictures.  It was a birth mom getting her daughter back after 252 days.  The blog explained that the mom got her life together and the foster mom and birth mom forged a friendship.  The foster mom was so proud of the birth mom and that made it easier to let the sweet baby girl go back to the woman who gave birth to her.  When I got finished reading it, I wasn’t inspired, I was just sad and jealous and angry that our story did not turn out that way. 

The truth is, Amoura’s mom is in no better shape now than she was when she dropped off her 8 month old at our house almost two years ago.  Yes, she has a (part time) job.  But she still has the same childcare issues she needed us to help with then.  She doesn’t have a steady cell phone, she doesn’t appear to be any closer to getting her license, not to mention her GED, and she and the girls live in a two bedroom apartment they share with her friend and her boyfriend and their (monster of a) three year old.  I know the girls are clothed and fed and there’s a roof over their heads, but its just so vastly different from the life I want for Amoura that I try not to think about it too often.  It leaves me feeling so weepy and helpless and angry that it’s just best if I pretend like things are different. 

It’s harder to pretend now that I‘ve been to their apartment.  Amoura cried and cried when we got close to the apartment and she realized where she was going.  I don’t think she’s being neglected or abused or anything like that. I think she thought she was going to our house and she likes being away from their rundown apartment and the chaos that undoubtedly fills it. It’s hard to not wonder who will keep the girls when their mama goes back to work on Friday.  The plan is for her friend to keep them, but she works long hours and has the (monster of a) three year old.  It’s taken everything in me (and the understanding that Skip might kill me) not to ask for her back.  Supposedly, once she works enough hours she can get daycare vouchers and the girls can go to daycare.  The thought of Amoura going to daycare 10 hours a day used to frighten me; now, it would help me sleep at night.

I started writing this afternoon just to honor the day and show appreciation for those who are so willing to help us when we need it with childcare and so faithful to still ask about Amoura.  I’ve been hesitant to share too much about her because, well, it’s just sad.  But, I know many of you who prayed for us last year while as we said “see ya later” will pray for her now.  Pray for her living conditions, pray that daycare vouchers come through soon, pray that we would be willing to help in whatever way God intends on using us (and I know He’s not done using us in this!) and that Skip and I would be on the same page.  Pray for people in her area to come into their lives and speak truth and be a constant support for them. 

I wrote in a co-worker's shower card today that it takes a village, and no one knows that better than us.  Thank you for being our village and praying for us and our girls.    

Scared

When I was a young kid, even a young adult, I hated staying at home alone at night.  I lived at home until I got married and while away at college, I probably only stayed in our little house twice (in three years) alone. If my roommates were going to be gone for the night, I planned to come home or have company over. I didn’t even like to stay in the dorm room alone even though there were some 40 other girls right down the hall.

Then, I got married. 

Eight weeks before our wedding, Skip took a job that required a massive amount of traveling.  The longest time he was away was five weeks.  A month before we got married while Skip was living in our house alone, It was broken into while he was away at a race and I was at the beach with my mom. By the time he returned, I had had an alarm system installed.  After the wedding, I began staying home alone.  I still remember the anxiousness of the first few nights.  I made Skip hang a shade on the kitchen door because when I went to the potty at night, I thought someone could look in and see me.  I kept the alarm set at all times when I was home alone. 

Eventually, I got used to staying by myself.  One night I went to sleep without a knot in my belly and I have been pretty carefree about the whole thing ever since.  We even cut the alarm system monitoring out of the budget for a while and I still slept like a baby. 

Tonight, like many nights, Skip left to go back to the office around 7PM.  He kissed us goodnight and dead bolted the door behind him, and Layla and I headed upstairs to play in her room.  As she was winding down and beginning to nurse before bed, she seemed unsettled and looked intently at the monitor on the wall.  As soon as I looked, I was unsettled, too.  The monitor camera, which stays positioned downward to let us look in her crib, was pointing right at the rocker where we were sitting.  I was instantly scared.  I had been the one to turn the camera off this morning and I knew I had not changed the position.  I called Skip, but got no response, so I texted him: “I’m scared, probably for nothing, but call me.”  He immediately did and I explained what had me spooked.  He offered to come home but at first I said that wasn’t necessary.  Even though his office is only two miles away, it seemed silly and I didn’t want to waste his time.  I asked him to just talk to me until I finished feeding Layla and laid her down.  The longer I sat there in the quiet and imagined going down the stairs, the more scared I got, and I finally just asked Skip to come home.  He stayed on the phone with me the whole time and made it home even quicker than usual and, of course, no one was in the house watching me nurse my baby from my bedroom on a 3x4’ screen.  (And if they had been, they could have easily done me harm by the time Skip got home-weapon drawn!).

Skip stayed with me for a while, giving himself a chance to calm down as well, and he never made me feel silly or like I had bothered him.  He’s stressed about several projects and upcoming appointments, but I did not feel like an inconvenience.  He kept reassuring me that he always wants me to tell him when I am scared.  He offered several times to bring his laptop home for the night and work with our less than stellar internet speed.  Of course, I was over being scared by then and ready to do my Bikini Body Mommy workout without an audience, so I sent him back to work. 

So now I’m sitting here in the quiet house again, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude for this man I get to share my life with. Sometimes I know he doesn’t feel like I need him. Sometimes when I do, it comes out as more of a demand than a request. I never grew out of the “I do it myself” stage and I like things the way I like things WHEN I like things, so I do them myself most of the time.  Frankly, there was no man around to check closets and haul furniture and get the oil changed when I was growing up, so mom and I did it ourselves.  I am so glad I don’t have to do it myself anymore.  I am so grateful that Layla gets to grow up with a Daddy who would rather drive home and give her mama piece of mind than finish a project or make a sale.  I am so lucky that Skip knows me well enough to know that I would’ve come down those stairs and checked out the bedroom and the monitor all by myself, but that I really, really, really did not want to. 

*****

There seems to be no explanation for the monitor being pointed at the rocker.  I was the one to turn off the base this morning and when I did, it was facing into the crib.  We had to replace the monitor over the weekend, so that makes the whole thing even more strange! 

This Season

To every thing there is a season,

and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time of war, and a time of peace.

Ecclesiatstes 3:1-8

My students had to memorize and recite poems for class today.  Megan found a website that had a lot of poems with literary merit listed and we gave them the link and asked them to choose from the list.   Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 was on the list, and since it’s fairly easy to memorize (or should have been!) several of my students chose it.  My first period is not honors, so they didn’t have to memorize, but were to attempt a dramatic reading of one of the poems.  When the first student read the verses out loud, this mama’s eye welled up with tears. 

I claimed these verses two years ago when I was weeping, mourning, breaking down, hating my circumstances, processing death.  Christmas two years ago was the worst of my life.  We decorated our house and went through the motions and missed our baby boy like crazy. Last year we had both girls, and although we were so grateful, the stress of sharing Amoura was exhausting, and the events that actually transpired over the holiday cast a shadow on our first Christmas with Layla.

But this year is different.

We spent last night at the Village Park riding the train with Layla, her bestie, Quinn, and her parents Kimberly and Jason. 

The picture says it all: we moms had been waiting far too long to snuggle bundled up babies under the glow of giant trees and fake snow falling.  I kept thinking to myself as we smiled for pictures and encouraged the girls to look at all the pretty lights, “what a difference a year makes.”  Christmas of 2014 was tough for Jason and Kimberly.  They’d gone through three failed adoptions and still had empty arms.  Now they have a nine month old, and we get to freak out together over awesome Christmas bibs and “bow of the month” clubs for baby girls. This is our season of “getting” and it feels incredible.

When I warned my students today that I might cry, they wanted an explanation.  How can you NOT cry at the promises in these verses?  Even in my saddest season, I believed that a time to dance was coming.  I knew I would laugh again.  I didn’t know when or what it would look like, but I knew it was coming.  And now that it’s here and it has a name and calls me mama, I am so grateful and humbled and ashamed of myself for not always giving thanks. This Christmas season, may I not forget for one second what a gift I’ve been given, not just in my baby girl, but in the baby boy who was born in a manger and became not just the Savior of the world, but the Savior of a small town English teacher who cries when her students recite poetry.