Moonspun Spins

I’ve just a few short morning hours of ‘work’ left. Though I am clearly distracted and during our department meeting, Great Boss is going to do my most-hated job…taking of notes. I won’t have time to put them together before I leave. That already feels like vacation.

   Lil RP#1 has mixed feelings about going. It means vacation, but also the last week of spending time with her dad. Like any kid her age, though, she’s unable to articulate the swirl of emotions she is clearly having. And so it comes out in odd things, like a tussle with RP over not bringing a backpack because she said it smells. It’s amazing to me how kids can be a dog with a bone and their issues are so right there, so in the moment. This is where being a step-parent is an odd thing. When Lil RP#1 or lil moonspun work themselves up into an 8 year old frenzy, it’s the non-step-parent one of us who takes care of it. As good of a relationship as I have with Lil RP#1, when it comes time to go into her room after she’s slammed the door and is crying, well, right now that’s not my forte. She’s not doing to confess to me the secrets of her heart like she will to RP. And that’s fine. Lil moonspun is the same.

   We got through the backpack crisis, had a nice dinner and managed to pack in a relaxing way. I actually fit both me and lil moonspun’s clothes in one suitcase, including shoes. And Lil RP#1 and I had time to watch a couple decorating shows. I am SO IN LOVE with the DVR feature on our satelite tv and record my two favorite decorating shows from HGTV: Myles of Style (she is so cute and creative) and Decorating Cents (very practical down to earth and love the host Joan Steffend).  I love being able to watch them whenever I can! It’s been a routine of mine with the girls, either both or Lil RP#1 to sit and have popcorn and watch them. RP defers to other activities. They don’t interest him. Though afterwards, I’l say “hey, let’s move this here and paint that green” and he’ll at least offer an honest opinion.

 While you are sleeping in your own cozy bed tonight, think of me and my family on an Amtrak train hurtling toward Ohio and disembarking at 4:45 am bleary eyed and travel weary. But ON VACATION!

   I am not sure if I’ll get to post at all while I am gone. Unlike my buddy, Badass Geek, I don’t have a cell phone or can’t offer you multiple ways to contact me. Only know I 1) hopefully haven’t drowned in Lake Erie on the triathlon swim Monday morning and 2) am meeting new relatives and 3) Having a great time with my new hubby and extended family and 4) not working for a week!!!

  Be well my friends!

It’s a gloomy day in Vermont. There are flood warnings and it’s pretyt much going to rain all day. As I look out the window from my desk (aka the fish bowl) it looks dark, like the sun is about to set. But it’s 9 am. The rain started last night in the 4th inning of yet another great baseball game and it was canceled.

   During the game I asked RP what I thought was an innocent question about money asking some advice. Money is the one big stumbling block we have, we don’t do well talking about it. I was trying to reach out by asking advice. It turned into a conversation that neither of us wanted to have…yet again. Once we finally fell asleep, RP went into a deep sleep and I was uncomfortable and hot. I dozed off and on until 2 am or so. Finally I got up, took an  Alleve and a Calcium pill and that managed to calm my body down.

 I barely heard RP’s alarm go off at 5:30 when he got up to go for a run. I shut off my own alarm when it went off at 6:20. I knew I’d be useless without extra sleep as I was finally getting good deep sleep.

 RP woke me up when he came back from his run and I stumbled into work at  hour late, but I’ve got GB so he was all good with me getting more sleep. But because of the gloom outside, I could easily crawl back into bed and spend the day reading and sleeping.

  Tonight is the big push to get everything packed for vacation! We leave tomorrow night. We are driving to Albany and then hoping on the train to Ohio. It’s overnight. We get on at 7 am and get off at 4:45 am. Not too bad. (right??!!) We’ve yet to see what a  train ride like that will be with our two eight year olds.

   Still, this vacation is the first that RP and I have taken together. We’ve been on weekends away, but not a long vacation. It’s exciting. On Friday, he’ll drive to meet his ex-wife and pick up Lil RP#2, who is 18 months old. She’ll be with us for the week. It will be great fun and probably busy with the three girls and relatives, but good busy. Vacation busy.

  I know RP will be sad at the end of vacation because he will be bringing both girls back to their mother and the summer will be over is some sense for him. He’ll have to wait until before Christmas to see his daugthers again. Lil moonspun will be away more of August than home and I’ll actually only see her a few days for that month until she gets back and starts school. Sometimes we sink or swim with our kids. It’s something you get used to, but you never get used to it. It’s not the same when they aren’t around.

 But I digress, because what I am really thinking of now is the lists of things I need to pack tonight. My clothes, lil moonspun’s clothes (she is with FFO now) and getting the house ready to live. Good stuff, though. VACATION stuff.

   Can you tell I am ready to go on vacation?!

Over the weekend, on my way following RP down to the basement I slipped and nearly fell down the stairs. Graceful me. The bad thing was that I hit my bone spur on my heel, the most senstive place on my body (well pain-wise… ). It hurt so bad, that I burst into tears. It also gave me a nasty cut as I scraped some skin off…yuck! What I didn’t know about until my chiropractor appointment yesterday was that it had also thrown my back out.

  So I got that fixed, but my butt muscle on that side was really sore. Instead of swimming I decided to go home and literally sit on ice. No sense taking any chances a week before the triathlon. So I sat on ice and then we had dinner and RP suggested a walk. We’ve got a lovely 3 mile loop from our house, so RP, Lil RP#1, damn dog and I set out.

  About 2/3 through the walk we go by a house and there is man and dog in the road. Damn dog is an Australian Cattle Dog, a red heeler. She’s sweet and mellow with people. Not so around other dogs. She’s a herder and so wants to tell them what to do. The man introduces himself and we start talking.  He puts his dog in the house and then his wife comes out and we all start talking. In Vermont country speak, we are neighbors.

  They turn out to be the nicest couple and have lived in their house for 35  years. They eventually offer us a beer and to sit on their deck. The deck is through the garage, but expansive over a lawn and overlooking the brook.

   We heard lots of stories about different neighbors, those still around and those gone. We heard a few things in regards to our own house and its history. We drink beer. Unlike RP, I am not social by nature, but I want to be better and not appear a wallflower next to my chatty husband. I did good. I actually initiated conversation and participated as well. It felt new and different for me. But less effort than in the past. Maybe RP is a good influence on me.

    In two days we leave for vacation and tonight we’ll go to our last baseball game of the season. I can’t wait to be on vacation!

For those of you with kids, I wonder if you share my both delight and horror in regards to hosting a birthday party. It can be delightful as they are cute. It can be like herding cats. You think it’s cheaper to do at home and that’s not always true. It starts and you can wait for it to be over.

  Imagine my Friday afternoon when I drive home with a list of things to do: bake cake, do laundry, vacuum house. I’ve got a few hours before RP gets home and then my parents arrive with the girls. I’ve got my plan.

   Oh no, the best way to test a planner is to throw a big huge thunderstorm in her way. I drive home after hearing said thunderstorm from the grocery store and on my lovely country troad, it’s still raining so hard I can barely see. I pass by four HUGE trees have fallen down, one just barely and arrive at my house. There is hail on my steps and the rain is slowing down.

  And there is no power in the house.

  So, since it’s a “mark of leadership to adjust” (a phrase I try to live by) I clean what I can in the house and make it ready for the family coming back. There’s a sort of excitement from the girls about the candles that light the house when they are home. Not so much about the warning tonot flushing the toilet.

    Fast forward to the next morning where I’ve had a fitful night of sleep in the pullout couch with RP (parents are staying in our room) and am starting to panic about people coming in the afternoon for Lil moonspun’s party and telling them they have to pee and poop in the woods and we can’t open the fridge. RP decides that we should try the generator to the house and so we are in the front yard trying to start it. For the first time. I am still in my sleeping t-shirt and boxers (men’s of course) and a neighbor rides his bike by. He stops and helps us, giving advice and such, he knows of generators. He says he thinks it will be a while until we have power as the lines up the road are snaked in with fallen trees.

  After RP goes out for more gas for the generator and I got get some water as we are all feeling dehydrated and coffee for my dad, the generator starts. I call FFO and tell her that she needs to buy a cake, I haven’t been able to make one. The generator is loud, but at least the fridge and the water pump works, so all seems well.

  Fast forward an hour and a half and a power truck drives by. They stop in front of our house and say that the power should work now. So RP shuts down the generator and woo hoo! the power is on.

   Fast forward a few hours and our yard is swarming with 8 kids and various family for the party. Lil moonspun is having a great time. It’s hot. There is an odd group of adults talking. RP and I are taking turns with kids activities. He’s a master at kickball. Cake is brought out and eaten, pink lemonade is regularly sucked down at alarming rates.

   In the last part of the afternoon before the drop-off parents come for their kids, there is a pile of people cooling themselves off at the brook across the street. It’s great fun. There is a small waterfall, like one you can sit in, and soon my sister and her wife and then my MOM are going down it in their clothes. It was a great scene and I decided to join the sitting in the brook. At first it was shockingly cold and then felt great. It was freeing being there in my shorts and RP took a great picture of my mom, my sister and me sitting together.

   Lil moonspun’s party ended with a campfire and my sister and her family staying through to the s’mores and sparklers. It was a great day all around and most importantly she had a wonderful time.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Overheard from the kids:

Lil moonspun: “Ew, those nachos look gross!”  Lil RP#1: (in passionate voice) “Gross?! They are not gross, they are a MASTERPIECE!”

 Later in the car… Lil moonspun: “I didn’t know that Indians could write in cursive.” Lil RP#1: “I think they invented cursive.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday it rained buckets all day. That was fine as it was. I exchanged lil moonspun to FFO and went home to watch taped decorating shows with Lil RP#1 (love my new DVR!). I got a call from FFO last night at 9:30 pm that lil moonspun’s leg had swollen, she had taken her to the emergency room and she had a staph infection.

    Lil moonspun has had an excema flare-up in the soft spot behind her knees. It was sore and weepy and we were putting cream on it. She complained it was sore on Saturday night, but we thought it was because it was stiff. She still complained Sunday. I never saw the swelling in her leg. I would have taken her to the hospital. I have to tell myself that it wasn’t here. Otherwise, I feel like a terrible mother. I assure myself that my mom is medically astute and would have noticed, too.

  I was feeling guilty about not noticing and then pissed off at FFO for not calling me from the emergency room. I said something to her last night. I said “I would have called you if our daughter was in the emergency room. I can’t believe you didn’t call me.” Sigh…

  Lil moonspun will be fine. But no day camp for her this week, she’s infectious until later today.

   What did I say about organized chaos?!

I am currently having a crisis of faith about finishing my application for the master’s program I was going to apply for. Everything is in, except for my final essay, which is supposed to be about if I feel that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were justified. Light reading, of course. But that’s not the point.

  It’s a perk of my job to get free tuition for any one of the 10 graduate degrees the college offers. And actually now that I am married to RP, I get the benefit that way, on the off chance that I suddenly get a new, slightly more exciting job. The problem? My dream master’s degree is a MFA in writing. It’s not offered here.

   So last year I went through all the different programs to pick one I found most interesting. Some are career oriented like MBA, that’s not me. I wanted more academic. I took an undergraduate class in the spring in history, which I wrote about off and on. I found the subject matter interesting. So now why the choke?

  Well it’s both subject matter and timing.

  First, I could have taken a philosophy course and been just as interested. I can get into a subject by taking a class. So is taking one class in history a reason to get a master’s in it? Maybe, maybe not. RP said that I’ll do lots of writing and it will be good for me no matter what. Hmmm…

 The other part is timing. Maybe I should give myself a mellow year. In 2007/2008 I moved twice, got engaged and planned a wedding. It’s been busy. I am also planning on having surgery on my bone spur in December. I could take an undergraduate class again, decide for sure if I like the subject, have my surgery and then start the master’s program.

   A dilemma.

  I went for a long walk yesterday with a new friend, a woman I admire greatly and am just getting to know and tried to work it out. She asked me how I usually made decisions like that. “Good question” I said and thought for a moment. I responded that while I was definitely logical and a good planner, I tended to be an emotional decision maker. So my challenge now is to distinguish between possible nervousness and lack of self-confidence and whether the program I am considering just isn’t right for me.

  Oh what should I do?

I like anniversaries. I don’t have to celebrate every single one, but I tend to remember dates and they remain important to me. Thus, I know that it was 3 years ago today, the day after lil moonspun turned 5, that FFO, lil moonspun and our four cats piled into our two station wagons and headed north to Vermont to live.

  I had been talking about moving to Vermont for years. Ask any former colleague of mine at the time and it was no secret that that is where I wanted to live. Yet I’d been ensconsed in my job (which I loved) for many years and I was good at it. I was the main breadwinner for our family. No one thought I’d ever do it. But I was determined to create a life for lil moonspun and find a place to educate her beyond the public school in the slightly drug infested area we lived in. And so we did it.

  FFO and I made many mistakes along the way, including building a house that we couldn’t afford to maintain and not having a secure job for either of us.  But that’s not what I want to remember today.

   I want to remember the feeling of hope and excitement I felt while driving north to our rental house. My Saturn station wagon was filled to the brim, including a number of items on the roofracks. Lil moonspun was in the backseat next to a cat carrier with two cats, who were alternatively quiet while she talked and sang to them, and then loudly protesting the 3+ hour ride. 

  I remember a feeling of wonder and awe about what I was doing. I had just left a good paying and secure job with great benefits and the state I had lived in my entire life (of 38 years). I was excited. Yet I had just said goodbye to family and friends whom I loved. I was mixed. I was ready for change, though. I knew it deep down.

  We pulled into the rental house, which was a lovely cottage near a pond, around dusk and unpacked.  We were exhausted from weeks of packing and moving and saying goodbyes. 

  None of us could have predicted the enormous life changes that were to challenge us in the next year. We only new that life was different and that we were in Vermont and that was where we were supposed to be. And all was well.

   Three years later, I’ll spend dusk at another baseball game. The same place that RP and I went two years ago to celebrate my one year of living in Vermont. I’ll have a feeling of hope and wonderment as I did then, but for how life has turned out and for the 1095 days I’ve spent as a Vermont resident and how it IS where I am supposed to be.

 And all is well.

It was a stereotypical hot and steamy summer night. Our small apartment was full of people. Myself and FFO. Our two midwives, PM and NJ, and an intern.  Tattooeddad was videotaping, slinking in the background. At one point NJs small children arrived to be nursed and our friend (at the time) who ‘donated’ the goods to conceive a child. (I could write an entire week of posts about lil moonspun’s biological dad, but not now)

   We had planned a homebirth and had the visit with the midwives at our small apartment at 37 weeks as planned. In Massachusetts, you can’t have a homebirth before 37 weeks. At the end of the visit, NJ had said “Ok, anytime now.” Lil moonspun took that seriously and the next morning FFO’s water broke and the cycle started. I had the day off and we called PM, who was both our midwife and my fabulous assistant at work. We got advice and I went out shopping for food to make sure the hordes of people we anticipated at our house wouldn’t starve. In the afternoon my mom and sister came over and helped me set up the pack and play and organize baby clothes. We’d planned to do that in a few days, after all, we had time…NOT! After a while I gently guided mother and sister out the door and assured them I’d call when I knew anything no matter what the time.

    It was dark and the air was heavy before ‘action’ happened. All in all, FFO did great, only 8 hours of labor. I’ve got lots of images of that night and one general impression was how concentrated and all woman FFO was while giving birth. She’s not the most typically feminine person and being pregnant and giving birth was the most feminine thing she’d ever done. She was powerful.

    In the end there were 5 people on the bed and as things came to a ‘head’, PM said clearly “Moonspun, grab your baby” and I, of all people, got to reach down and be the first hands to touch her and pull her into the world. What a thrill and an honor.

  She was a headful of dark, thick hair that defies the golden curls she sports now. And she talked right away. She squeaked and after being checked over, and dried off with baby hat on, she talked as if she was telling us her story. What a sweet sound. What a lovely, lovely thing.

   Unlike things I’ve read over the years from other lesbian couples or adoptive moms, not once did I then or have I ever questioned that lil moonspun is my daughter. She has always been and will always be. When she was three, she looked a lot like I did when I was three. I didn’t need proof she was meant to be my daughter, but it was a nice visual nonetheless.

 Today my lil moonspun is eight years old. She is a bundle of energy, a source of endless creativity, and will never cease to make me wonder. She will be the source of my greatest frustrations and fear for the rest of my life. She has already taught me lessons of unconditional love, letting go and faith in the world.

  My lil monspun and my Running Professor are the two most precious people in my life, the ones who can rip my heart apart like no other and then heal it with a touch.

  Happy birthday, my wonderful child.

“Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold.” Classic brownie/girl scout song. Guess where I heard it? Yep, last night around the campfire with lil moonspun and 49 other moms and daughters.

  Lil moonspun, I am happy to report had a great time at camp. She didn’t starve or have any reports of not making friends or not being able to fall a asleep. Both camp directors had good things to say about her.

  The mom and me weekend was fun, and we did all the typical camp things. We swam and canoed, we hiked and did arts and crafts. We sang songs at mealtimes, we played games and had a campfire. I was thinking last night as we were learning and singing different songs that on the one hand, lil moonspun doesn’t need camp.

 After all, we’ve got mountains we can hike from our backyard, a brook to play in. We’ve got a firepit in our yard, plenty of crafts to do and we can have s’mores any night we want.

  Then I realized, I didn’t send her to camp for the nature experiences, though they are a great part of it. I sent her to camp because living in a micro-cosm of people like that, she’ll learn skills of how to live with other people, how to listen, work in a group. How to figure out what to wear without me always picking out her outfit. Those kinds of skills are what she needs as well as learning how to canoe.

   Last night I sat on the shores of a lake as the bullfrogs started their evening song, the coals of the fire burned red and darkness took over a picturesque lake scene with lil moonspun on my lap. I thought about holding this small person whose life I am responsible for shaping, and my new husband, who inspires me to want to do more and be more. And re-learned another camp song which I thought was a good reminder to myself. I only remember the chorus. But you’ll get the gist.

  “On my honor, I will try, there’s a duty to be done and I say I. There’s a reason here for a reason above. My honor is to try and my duty is to love.” 

Isn’t that a pretty picture? It’s an award. (checking wrinkled up piece of paper and clearing throat…) I’d like to thank the blogging academy….and my family and friends for being there….Ok wait, let me explain…no, no is too much let me sum up (know what movie that is from?)

 I had the disctinct honor of being tagged by my new blogging buddy BadAss Geek to get a bloggy award. He said some really sweet things about me on his post and most of all, I am glad he likes my lil blog and what I write. So the pretty picture up top is the Arte y pico award and yes, the site is in Spanish, so don’t go there unless you can read it.

 Now it’s my turn to pass on the award and the rules. First though, I have to say how much I enjoy reading Badass’ blog everyday and how he makes me think, laugh and smile. It was a good find and I appreciate his part in my online life and that he is a loyal reader and commenter on here.

  I am not going to entirely follow the rules, either…but here are my awards for great blogs. I am very picky about the links I add to my website, so they all deserve their own standing and some I’ve just started reading so I am still new to them.

   Psycho-Momia is the big reason that I asked her talented husband Tattooeddad to create my website for me last September. I’d love her to post more, but when she does post she is passionate, poignant, brutally honest and articulate. So after reading her blog for a few months, I knew I needed to strike out on my own. I adore what she writes and I’d be a devotee even I didn’t know her in person. She’s one of my favorite human beings. Heck, I wouldn’t ask just anyone to co-officiate my wedding!

 And then there is aforementioned Tattooeddad who is the administrator of my site, because I am a dork with technology and he’s very talented. Like his wife, I’d love him to post more often, but he’s always got something interesting to say. He’s not lacking in any opinions ever and he’s creative with language. He’s a great dad and always trying something new creatively. Like PM, he is one of the reasons I delved into this online world.

  Oceans of Possibilities a blog written by a college friend who adores folk music and whales among other passions. She writes about the big and the small things. She just wrote a very thought provoking post about July 4th and her thoughts on the country.

 Lastly (yes I know it’s only 4) while it’s a blog in a different vein, I’ve got to award Offbeat Bride . It’s a fantastic site. Whether or not you are getting married. There are, of course, profiles of offbeat brides, but there’s all kinds of creativity going on with ideas for weddings and beyond. It’s amazing how offbeat people can be and still be stunningly gorgeous. Love the visuals and despite the fact that I am no longer in wedding planning mode, I’ll still be a regular reader.

 And while he doesn’t have his own blog, I’d like to acknowledge Running Professor, my best friend and husband. He’s a faithful reader and oft commenter and some of what I write on here prompts great discussions between us. He’s an amazing writer himself and between us we’ve shared thousands of e-mails and hours of conversation in the last two years. He inspires me to communicate!

  And here, for posterity, before I got pack my stuff for Mom and Me Girl Scout camp, here are the official bloggy award rules:

1. Pick five blogs that you consider deserve of this award, (whether for creativity, design, interesting material, or contributions to the blogging community, no matter what language).
2. Name each nominee and link to his/her blog.
3. Show the award, and include the Name and/or link to the blog of whoever presented you with this award.
4. Link to the Arte y Pico blog so everyone knows the origin of this award.
5. Post these rules.

Thanks again, Badass….*smooch*

It’s not easy being a stepmom. Now as I have said before, Lil RP#1 is a great kid for the most part. I try all I can to have empathy for her situation. It can’t be easy having your parents live so far apart. Knowing if you are with one, the other is 1000 miles away.

 Still, as is the way of the world, there are things about her personality that I struggle with. I found out last night, that they become magnified for me when lil moonspun is gone. I am not entirely sure why. Maybe because I miss lil moonspun, maybe because my left pinky toe is sore, maybe mercury is retrograde, or maybe there is no good reason at all.

  As the night wore on, I found myself wanting to scream at little things. And so I withdrew. I find withdrawing from the situation easier on everyone else. I know it’s confusing to RP and I do my best not to be outwardly rude to lil RP#1, but I’d rather withdraw than have an adult temper tantrum and permanently scar a child. I am also, more so than RP, hypersensitive about what Lil RP#1 might say/complain about when she talks to her mother on the phone. RP has enough issues in communications with the…uh…ok, I’ll refrain from name-calling today…woman…without me doing something to exacerbate the situation.

 So last night all I could do was find fault in my head with poor lil RP#1, from her table manners to the fact that she got more chicken than me to the fact that she was watchign Cory in the house when I wanted to watch tv and so a squall came over my head, like a dark thundercloud and stayed there.

  RP asked me this morning if I  knew when the squalls came. I said, no, they just rolled in without warning. He’s a good man to put up with me. I can’t blame it on the heat. It’s not hot here right now.

   I’ve got a half day left of work and I get to go to girl scout camp tomorrow morning for ‘Mom and me’ camp with lil moonspun. Weather is supposed to be good, so it should be fun. I am looking forward to the activities and hope I don’t get a top bunk!