Downton Abbey

When I started blogging, it was because I couldn't sleep at night (hence the name "Insomni-Mommy"). Then I got a job working the early mornings, spent my days with two hyper boys, and couldn't fall asleep fast enough at night. Occasionally something would keep me up, like when I read Twilight and The Hunger Games, and the suspense was too much to take! Now I have 3 children, and no longer work outside the house because its way too much anyway. So the stakes have gotten much higher to keep me up at night. And I was totally shocked that the Masterpiece Classic show Downton Abbey would fit the bill. I heard about the show from facebook friends and then on the Golden Globes (which I primarily watched in disappointment that Ricky Gervais was not as snarky as the previous year). It showed up on Netflix Watch Instantly, and I put it in the queue, thinking it would work well to help me unwind after a long day of child-raising. So not the case! Within the first five minutes of the first episode, I was sitting up in bed, completely rapt to the action on screen. When the episode ended, I described it as a cliffhanger to my disbelieving husband. And I was hooked. I watched both seasons in the course of about a week, staying up until 3 am (what am I, 19?) and devoured every moment of restrained passion and delineated social position. I think what this show has going for it are the beautiful location, costuming, all that visual stuff that makes you totally wish you lived in a Yorkshire manor in 1912, and the themes of class and generation, not to mention Dame Maggie Smith, who could be the new Girl Next Door and make me watch that ridiculous show. I love her line about how young people are so much more likely to see things as not set in stone, and it resonates with how I'm feeling now that I'm about to be 30. I am no longer completely that person who sees the world as open and full of possibilities. Some doors have closed, and some traditions make sense to me. I think that is one of the real hallmarks of growing older. And Downton Abbey does a fabulous job of illustrating that point in every episode, by the reactions given to a situation by the Dowager Lady Grantham, Lord and Lady Grantham, and their daughters. Particularly in the early part of the 1900's when so much was changing, and the world was becoming the one we are familiar with today. I also thought during the first episode, how much it reminded me of Gosford Park. A little IMDB search showed that the show's creator also wrote that amazing movie, as well as The Young Victoria, which is possibly one of the most romantic movies EVER! So I was an insomniac for a week, now I am a lovelorn American desperate for news about season 3, and horrified that I have to wait until 2013 to see any new episodes!

September 11

In September 1901, an angry young man from Cleveland shot and killed President William McKinley during a public engagement in Buffalo, New York. There was a word used for men who sought to disrupt a government they deemed evil by causing chaos and murder: anarchist. A hundred years later, angry young men from the Middle East boarded four different airplanes in the United States and crashed them into the two towers of the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and a field in Pennsylvania. We found a different word: terrorist. Its been ten years since that day, a day when "the world stopped turning", when Americans experienced an attack on native soil that took the lives, not of soldiers entering battle, but of citizens, mothers and fathers going to work, then later, fire fighters and EMS workers, running into buildings that would fall to the ground to try to save lives. Its difficult for me to think about September 11th, to remember all the lives lost, and all the lives that have been lost since in our War of Terror. Especially when I still feel terrified, still afraid of an angry person who feels like there's nothing left to lose, and gives his life in a final act of terror. Most days here in quiet Canton, Ohio, there's no worry that someone will use us as an example to terrify the rest of the nation; that's what large cities like New York, Washington, DC, or even Cleveland have to fear. Also, since I'm not involved in the sale or use of crystal meth, I don't feel like my life is in immediate danger from our local criminal element. But I do worry about air travel, vacationing somewhere that an "underwear bomber" could target, or traveling overseas. Its scary to feel like my country of origin could make me the victim of terror, and I'm petrified of something happening to my children. Its not like this is a new problem that we've invented in the 21st century; murder, terror, assassination seem like key elements of human history. This weekend, I'm sad for the loved ones we have lost, and I'm sad for the innocence I lost ten years ago. I'm praying for peace.

Happy Birthday James!

March 30, 2007: I woke after only 2 hours of sleep, got a shower and did my hair. Then Chris and I got in our car and drove to Mercy Hospital to become parents for the first time. I was excited and nervous, I remember rubbing my belly in the shower and asking my baby if he was ready to meet us. We got checked in and had all the c-section preliminaries done, and were joined throughout the process by my mom and dad and my mother-in-law, who gave me great advice about which route to take to numb my body. Right as I was being wheeled down to the OR, my sister came in with a tray of goodies, which I couldn't eat yet, but gave me a kiss and a good luck wish. Once everything was in place on the operating table, the doctor started the procedure, and I wondered if I would know when they pulled my baby out. Not to worry, there was no pain but tremendous pressure on my abdomen, and then suddenly my little boy's cries filled the room, and they held him over the fluid splattered curtain to show me James. He was tiny, covered in waxy vernix and amniotic fluid, and squirming and crying at the "cold" room and bright lights. They told me his feet were pressed against his ears when they opened me up, and he had little Spock ears for a week, until they finally curled under. He was 6lbs 15oz and 18 inches long. I had expected that he would be bigger, since I was at full-term, but he soon outgrew the tiny preemie clothes he wore that first week, and then continued to grow and need new sizes every few months! He also latched on for breastfeeding right away, and was a wonderful eater from the start. He's not such a big fan of trying new foods these days (unless it comes in a bright shiny wrapper) but he always has a healthy appetite.

Becoming a mom changed my life. It has taken me in directions that I never could have seen, and never thought I would do well. During my pregnancy, I kept saying that we wouldn't have any more kids, because the experience felt terrible, but looking at James' tiny face and pursed lips in my hospital room made me want to do it all over again. Things I would never want to forget: the feeling of him leaving my body, the closeness we experienced during breastfeeding, the first time I heard him laugh, then the first time he laughed at something on tv (an episode of Pink Panther), feeling pressure from his arm and realizing that he was hugging me back, every time he fell asleep in my arms and let me cuddle him (including this past weekend), watching him learn to walk, feed himself, dress himself, talk, use the Wii, the dvd player, the iPhone, the computer, light switches, doors, a flashlight, the way he would rub my pregnant belly and kiss his future brother, the way he smiles, the way he laughs when he's being tickled or sees something really funny, the first time he counted to ten and when he learned the alphabet. In just 4 short years we have experienced all of those things, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for my special boy. I love you James!

Becoming Foster Parents

This coming week marks a new experience for our family. Chris and I will begin our Foster Home licensing classes and what promises to be a long process of paperwork. We are excited that our family will be able to grow this way, and ultimately hope to give a forever home to at least one of our foster kids. At the same time, this is a completely different way to become parents than how we have done it in the past, and I'm nervous not only about the experience, but also about how people will react to our situation. The friends and family we've talked with have so far been very encouraging and supportive, and for that I am so grateful. I am also so glad to have a new friend who has gone through the foster and adoption process with our local Children Services, to use as a resource and possibly a cheerleader when things get tough.

I'll be learning about how the system works and what to expect over the next four weekends, but what lies behind me is a long path of inspiration and experiences that have gotten us here. I recently tried to think back on all the ways that foster care has popped up in my life, and why I have been called to do it. One strong memory was reading "White Oleander" by Janet Finch. I think I picked it up because it made Oprah's book club, but it was a beautifully-written account of the ugliness of human nature, with a young woman in foster care at the story's center. When I finished the book, I remember thinking that there has to be someone good to be a foster parent, not someone who will sleep with a teenage girl, or lock up her cupboards and starve the children in her home, and I wanted to be that person. Another experience was getting to know a little boy named Joshua, who was in foster care when I met him, and was later adopted by the family he lived with. My mom signed up to take Joshua out and give his family a free afternoon on the weekends, and he soon became a regular fixture at our church and in our home. I was a teenager and loved spending time with this precocious and affectionate kid. Certainly, Joshua had issues associated with being in foster care, being neglected by his birth parents, and generally at-risk in a society that preys on children without an advocate. Again, I wanted to be able to protect him and care for him in a way that would help him reach his full potential. Over and over, foster care seems to pop up in my life, as though someone has used an orange highlighter to bring it to my attention. And every time, I want to be a part of it.

The next piece of the story involves my family; certainly I want to do many things, but I need my family to willingly participate with me. So how to get my husband on board with my plan? I started with prayer, which you can scoff at if you want, but it has been hard at work in my life, and made a difference. So I prayed that my husband would be open to fostering children with me, if that was what I was supposed to do. In the meantime, we started a family of our own: two blond-haired, blue-eyed boys with amazing smiles and independence to spare. I became a stay-at-home mom to save money and keep them close to me while they are still willing to sit on my lap and cuddle with me on a cold day. Finally, this past September, our church offered an opportunity to spend a weekend at a nearby Children's home and volunteer at a carnival to raise money, then visit with the children who live there. A little persistence got my husband to agree to go, and our kids stayed with the grandparents while we were gone overnight. The trip was life-changing. Chris and I spent the first morning helping set up the carnival, then ran a few game booths and had a chance to socialize with all the different people who came to the event, including the staff at the Children's Home. That night, we went to the "houses" on the property and played board games and colored with some of the children who live there. The ages we met were early elementary school, and so likeable and excited to spend time with us. We left the next day and spent our car ride home talking about what we had seen and done. That was when Chris shared that the time he spent with a kid named Michael had filled his heart with the desire to give a home to a kid that needed it. We finished the morning at church, where the sermon focused on following through when you are called to do something good that seems scary or uncertain. And that was when we requested paperwork to begin the licensing process.

So sometime in the next 6-18 months, we'll be placed with a child who needs a temporary family. And maybe that will turn into an opportunity to adopt, or maybe we'll be able to send that child back to his or her birth family and open our home again. I can't wait!

Well-rested

I haven't posted a blog in months! The reason being a good one: I started blogging late at night when I couldn't sleep, and I've been getting fully rested lately. My husband is the biggest influence over my sleep, partly because he's truly embraced the daddy role even when its his wife resisting bedtime, and also because he sometimes takes kid duty when I'm too exhausted to rock a fussy baby for one more minute. Anyway, I think its been good for me to rest up since my days are packed full of activity with the beautiful spring weather creating many more opportunities for my boys to run around outside and more opportunities for me to chase after them and make sure they don't eat dirt, play in the street, or roll in poison ivy. Also, we've been dealing for several months with the stress of helping our older son, James, increase his communication. Most of the winter was marked by huge snowstorms and appointments to test James' hearing, receptive communication, and social interactions. It was very difficult to be present for these tests, to see that there was something not completely normal about my child, to have professionals tell me that he had developmental delays, signs of autism, abnormal behaviors. This is my first-born, the carrier of all my hopes and dreams, my special, beautiful baby! And after all the tests and evaluations, I still feel confused about the "diagnosis", since there really was no one hard-and-fast answer to what was causing him to not talk. So I have nothing to focus my attention on; instead a litany of suggestions that can be contradictory and overall don't feel effective, as well as no good answer when friends and relatives ask what's wrong. The one point everyone seemed to agree upon was the treatment. So my sweet little boy has begun attending a public, "integrated" preschool where he can receive both speech and occupational therapy one-on-one, as well as interacting with a teacher and "typical peers". To clarify on integrated preschool, this is not referring to race, ethnicity or gender, but identification of disabilities, so that half the class is developing normally and the other half are experiencing delays. We've seen a definite increase in James' verbalizations, although most are still a bit garbled and can't be interpreted. He's added new words to his vocabulary as well as increasing his use of words he already mastered. But more recently I have been impressed with James' increased self-care skills, such as using utensils at meals, picking up after himself, and steps toward potty-training. Its been such a difficult year caring for a new baby in addition to the extra attention James has needed to identify and treat his delays, but I'm feeling hopeful that school and therapy are making a positive difference for my boy. I feel so blessed to be able to send him to school with a caring and knowledgeable teacher!

Pro-Life Superbowl Commercial

I am really excited for the Superbowl tomorrow(technically, later today). Football is a rallying point for my family, including my in-laws, and I love the hype and excitement the Superbowl generate. We'll be watching at home, since the last few have been interrupted by fussing babies, but my husband is planning a tasty meal of roasted chicken and twice-baked potatoes! Like most people, I'm almost more excited about the commercials than the game(lifelong Cowboys fan, so not really vested in either team playing). And the ad getting the most attention before it has even aired is Tim Tebow's commercial against abortion, since his mother was apparently counseled to abort him during her pregnancy. I am definitely pro-life, even more so since I have actually experienced pregnancy and motherhood, so I hope this commercial gets that message across in a meaningful way. The Tebows are raising a great point: that abortion snuffs potential by cutting short a life that could be destined for greatness, in this case, a Heisman-winning quarterback. But do we sometimes forget the potential for the men and women who are losing the opportunity to become parents? It has been my experience that our human relationships pull us further out of ourselves to experience life more fully than we can on our own. With marriage and parenthood, I have known joy and sorrow, humor and anxiety, love and anger, unlike anything I knew before. By linking our lives to others, we have a chance to grow and experience redemption and truly become better people. I read an amazing article on the Tebows' Superbowl ad by Sally Jenkins which got me thinking about how we can make a difference on this very controversial issue. Jenkins, a pro-choice feminist, states that everyone "wishes the 'need' for abortions wasn't so great." This made me do a double-take. I had assumed that if a person was pro-choice, that they would be pro-abortion no matter what. Well, if we are all agreeing that abortion is not a great thing, that unplanned pregnancies put people in a difficult position of having to choose between three painful options (raising a child unprepared, giving a child up for adoption, or killing that child), then why are we still arguing about this? Let's stop fighting over whether abortion should be legal (let's face it pro-lifers, just because something is illegal doesn't mean it won't happen) and instead, do what we can to reduce/eliminate the need for it! Let's encourage responsibility, education, and support for young men and women before they have a knife over their heads. Let's stop encouraging promiscuity, sending mixed messages about sexuality, and criticizing abstinence! Who's with me?

Hope for Haiti

Since I became a mom almost three years ago, so much in my life has changed. For starters, I spend my Friday nights at home with my family, such as tonight. We also have cable now, so usually that gives me some variety to what I can watch, unless all my favorite channels are showing the same thing... a Hope for Haiti telethon! Then my choices are numbered! But watching this and other footage about the recent earthquake has also made me aware of another change that began during my first pregnancy. I love to read, and besides What to Expect When You're Expecting, I also picked up Flags of Our Fathers while I was pregnant with James. It was a great book, especially for a history buff such as myself, but while I was interested in learning more about the preparation for and resulting battle on Iwo Jima, I was also struck by the background provided by the author. Even now, the part that sticks out in my mind regards the "Rape of Nanking", which was a terrible time in Asian history, when the Japanese invaded China and perpetrated horrors against its people. I don't want to go into the gory details, but let's just say "rape" is putting it mildly! I realized then, with my baby boy floating around my uterus, the other members of my family safe and alive, that we live in a volatile world. What used to make me shrug as I heard it ("War? Eh, I'm not involved." or "I'm not affected by poverty, who cares?"), over the past few years I have come to hate! Because these things are always going on, and its only the lucky accident of when and where I was born that allows me to live in peace, with a relative measure of safety for myself and my family. There are some truly horrifying reports from Haiti right now, just as there have been from various countries around the world, and even here in the US, during my lifetime. So I'm wondering... why me? Why do I live in peace and downright luxury compared to others who are just as human as I am, just as deserving of the right to have a family and a home? I don't know, but I thank God tonight for it.