Redefining Our Family

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Today Hunt and I filed for divorce. We made this decision together a few months ago but wanted to finalize the sale of our home before we filed.  We have been married 16 years. 

First and foremost: the kids are okay. We told them soon after we made our decision and they took it very well. After the tears and hugs we all went to eat dinner together and talked about the future with smiles and hopeful thoughts.

Second: Hunt and I are okay. We are happy and content. We are friends and have each other’s best interest at heart. We truly do. There is no drama or angst.

I am the one who did the actual filing. I printed off the papers, signed three copies for the court and walked to the courthouse. I stepped to the district clerk window and handed in the papers. She looked back at me, “It’s uncontested?”, she asked surprised. I responded yes and took a seat awaiting further instructions.

There were two other women in the waiting area. One was obviously a lawyer in a skirt with a briefcase and sensible heels. The other woman, her client, was an older woman who wore her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was dressed nicely and without make-up. I gave her a simple smile and she stared back at me with tears streaming down her face. The tears didn’t stop when she looked away from me and stared straight ahead.

I realized again how lucky I am to have Hunt by my side in this new journey and not on an opposing side. They called my name and I was directed to go upstairs to another office to finish the filing. I looked back at the unknown woman and walked to her. I touched her folded hands and told her I would pray for her. She looked up through her tears and said, “thank you and I for you”.

Twenty minutes and a check later the paperwork was filed. The county employee was kind and empathetic as she explained next steps and instructions. Our divorce is final in 60 days. We will see the judge on the 61^st day to complete the process.

I called Hunt as I left the courthouse. Now it was me with the tears in my eyes and a lump in my stomach. We talked and assured each other we will be okay. It sucks but it is what it is, and we will not let this destroy our family. We are redefining our family, not ending it.

To be clear, there will be no Team Wendy or Team Hunt. There is ONLY Team Foster and we ask that you stay on it and continue to support us.

A glimpse in our life

From September 26, 2007:

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”  

If you stood at the base of my stairs you would hear me softly singing those words off key, out of tune but still singing.  I have adopted that as Ella’s song.  She does not seem to mind.  

“You make me happy when skies are gray”.  

As a baby, she did not like to be rocked.  Ella preferred to be laid down and left alone at the first sign of sleepiness.  Yes, she was an easy baby and yes, I counted all my blessings but a part of me wanted to have that down time with my baby girl. 

“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you”.  

At 15 months, she wants that down time with me I used to crave.  I cannot simply lay her down, unless she is extremely tired.  No, my baby likes to be held close, rocked and serenaded by her tone-deaf mother.  With the lights off, we sit and I begin to slowly rock and sing.  Her legs wrapped around my waist, her blonde curls rest on my left shoulder with her right arm wrapped around my neck.  I watch her body rise and fall and with each breath I inhale and release.  Sometimes she plays with my hair while sucking her thumb.  She usually turns her head and looks at me after two times through the song, she smiles and I know then it is okay to lay her down. In those two verses, I find peace and we know love. 

 “Please don’t take my sunshine away"

Last night:

"It's time. It's time. It's time to go to bed"

My kids have accepted that a part of their mom (me) will always be a high school cheerleader and old school rap fan. In an effort to make bed time less painful and more fun, I made up a rap that changes nightly and one that neither Rob Base or LL Cool J will ever be envious of or care to hear. The lyrics flow differently depending on day's tone or the activities planned for tomorrow. Both of them like it even if they think it is corny. 

"Its time to brush those dirty teeth and lay down those sleepy heads"

My kids eat well enough but the little one has a sweet tooth that is hard to control. It is also hard to patrol tooth brushing but some how it gets done. Each child goes to their room or sometimes if Ella is feeling extra nice she allows her brother to join her in hers. Both are in bed clothes and under the covers as I walk to turn off the light.

"I said, it's time, it's time, its to close your eyes"

I walk back and sit on each of the quilt covered twin beds, tuck stray hair either behind an ear or out of a closed eye, whisper "I love you" in their ears and then together we pray. 

"You've got in bed, we said our prayers, no time for lullabies"

Except, there was. 

"Mommy??" 

"Yes, baby girl"

"Please just one song."

"Okay, what will it be?"

In unison they said, "You are my sunshine!!!"

"Please don't take my sunshine away" 

The more things change the more they stay the same. E is 10 now her legs are almost as long as mine and fitting her on my lap is not easy. B turns 7 next week. Both are tall and strong and gifted; they will forever be my sunshine and there is ALWAYS time for one song. I'll have to change the rap again.

My Potty Mouth

So Bruce Jenner becomes Kaitlyn Jenner and the cheese ball joke heard around the world was, “I wonder what bathroom he/she will use?” (insert moronic laugh here). What few realized was that was the exact thing thousands, not millions, were dying to bring up and capitalized on Jenner’s transformation as the opportunity of a lifetime. Then all the major news outlets picked it up and the avalanche began. You cannot turn on morning TV without the transgender bathroom fight popping up. Now the President has weighed in through executive order. And even less surprising than our president weighing in on a liberal issue and interfering with states' rights, Texas is probably going to sue the federal government over it.

Current state leadership is proclaiming that keeping bathroom integrity is a top issue for the state when the legislature comes into town.  I am not happy. Not only as a mother but as a rational, educated woman the thought that this issue even ranks high enough to be mentioned disturbs me. I live in Austin, the liberal mecca of Texas. It is also a place where public the school system is facing financial challenges, our roads are insufficient, health care is mess, the list could go on but- don't worry-the state will make sure our bathrooms are safe.

Bad men sneak into women’s restrooms; it is not a new thing. As a kid, my mom would always check the bathrooms before I walked in to protect me. I do the same for my kids. Bad men will always break the law, their intent to cause harm and steal the innocence of a child will not be deterred if some man who believes himself to be a woman and dresses as such is peeing in the stall next to mine.

Bad men lay in wait in men’s restrooms too. There is a reason I make my son talk to me when he is in the men’s restroom and I have to wait outside the door. There is also a reason I ask my kids to hold my hand when we cross parking lots, why I do not let my daughter dress according to current standards of appropriateness, why I apply sunscreen to their young skin: it is because I love them and want to keep them safe from all harm. I am smart enough to know that I cannot totally protect them but I will do all in my power to keep them safe. And I reserve the right to tear apart anyone who hurts my children.

Bad men and women exist in this world and if they are intent on causing harm they will do so in bathrooms, at malls, in parking lots, in movie theaters, in their own homes and within their own families. Our country is struggling with its divided citizenry warring amongst itself: some to be all inclusive and some want boundaries and borders not only recognized but respected including the boundaries of bathrooms. It is sad. We have real issues to be addressed and this distraction is seen as a serious policy issue.

Hello, ever hear of ISIS? They want us dead. No negotiation. They scare me and they should scare you. The transgendered person in the bathroom may offend your beliefs of right and wrong but they likely will not do you harm. I am sorry I am not more sympathetic, I have kids to raise, work to do and love to share. 

The Church's Candles

          "Mommy, they sound like candles," Boone said as he listened to the choir on Sunday morning. "Candles?" I asked not sure if I heard him right.
     "Yes, mommy, candles. Their singing goes up and down like the fire" he said.
"You mean like the flame of a candle?" I asked and he nodded yes excited that I finally understood what he meant.
      "Why is she wearing all black?" he asked.
I was relieved I could answer that one easily, "she must like the outfit. Mommy is wearing black, it is a nice color." He continued his observations with the conductor moving her hands up and down was like she was putting out the candles then bringing them back to life.
      "She controls the candles," was his conclusion. And it was then I saw church through five year old eyes.
           We sat in the balcony on Sunday because that's where my kids like to sit. Boone went on to ask about the microphones that hang from the ceiling, the flowers on the stage, why the minister wore a black robe did he and the music lady plan that... who killed Jesus, "Didn't they know what they were doing?" And then he saw the baptismal. "That's where you get dunked," he said.
"That is where you are baptized," I corrected.
      "What is that exactly?" he asked and I explained it was a public declaration of bringing Jesus into your heart. "I want to do that," he said when I am like 7 or 8 which seems forever in his mind.
I asked "why wait" and he said He could fit better in an bigger heart, "He needs enough room to fit".

I did not learn any great life lesson in those moments but I came away with a fun memory. Boone is not the easiest kid to raise but despite our not so spectacular moments that morning I felt some assurance that it would all be okay.

My Christmas Story

At 5 AM we heard quick footsteps on the hardwoods above our room, then a second set joined suit. “They’re up,” was all I got out before they started down the stairs.

            “Did he come? Did, he? OH MY GOODNESS!” B squealed as he peaked into the front room. The Christmas tree was lit and presents were overflowing. The glow of the tree’s tiny white lights were exaggerated the early hour; the pitch black morning framed through the picture window behind the tree.  

            That is how the Christmas 2015 started. Just as I wanted: in our home, the kids running down the stairs to see Santa’s delivery, squeals of delight. The largest gift was from me and H but mostly well actually all of it was from him, my name got attached somehow and I did not correct anyone.  The kids opened the front door and an urban scooter was on the porch. Not a Vespa but a scooter minus the sidecar that was ordered but did not make in time for Christmas. Each kid (including my husband, the biggest kid of all) got a real helmet not like the cheap plastic ones we got them for their first bike ride. As it was pointed out to us, our children’s heads will be the same height as every car’s bumper. Ugh!

            H agreed to the kids’ demands for a ride on the new toy. B climbed up first then E got her turn when they returned. I even went for a quick spin before picking up the torn tissue and wrapping paper that littered the floor and packing for our planned trip to my parents in South Texas.  There was a lot to do to get me and the kids ready. What was a peaceful feeling at 530AM was turning into a slightly overwhelming feeling. The maternal stress that never really leaves me started creeping its way back into its familiar place in my bones. H sensed my this and offered to take the kids for hot cocoa at the neighborhood coffee joint they noticed was opened on their earlier joy rides. The house was then quiet and I started my packing.

            Twenty minutes later, E bounced through the door. I asked where her brother was and was told, “Dad is going back to get him. We can’t both ride at once.” GULP. In a calm voice, “You mean Dad left him at the coffee shop? Where?” She said he was outside on the benches. Please remember we are talking about my 5-year-old son. He’s 5 and alone at a coffee shop. E saw I was about to loose my cool and interrupted the process with, “he’s fine mom. Geesh, he’s with that singer dude you like with 3 names. John Jackson Joe or whatever.” With a tilted head and puzzled head, I asked her who she was talking about again. She said, “that guy, the singer. Me: “Jerry Jeff Walker??” With relief in her face she said “Yea, him. He’s drinking coffee by B so its all good. I’m still outraged but then both H and B walked in the door safe and there was too much to do so starting that discussion did not make sense; I kept packing and loading the car.

            Thirty minutes later I am in the car wearing my Mrs. Claus apron and Santa hat in total Christmas spirit with the kids ready to go. This is my new car. My first solo road trip in it. I push the ignition button…nothing. I had left the keys inside on the counter and could see in my mind exactly where they were so I asked E to please run inside and get them. Minutes later a crying, hysterical, red faced child comes sprinting to the car.

             It turns out that when picking up my keys E did her traditional flare thing and threw them above her head in a playful gesture. In doing so she hit one of the custom lights that hangs above our kitchen bar shattering the light fixture. I got out to clean up the mess after I got that story out of her. She was afraid her father would flip out which he probably did once he saw it but that was after I cleaned it up and left. Honestly, the broken light just matched the other one B knocked a hole in when he played football in the house. It's all good. Forward motion I kept thinking, just have to move forward.

             E is still crying when I get back to the car. I offered comfort but at 9 years old her drama meter is higher than mine. Forward motion…. Just keep moving…  I drive three blocks from our home and stop at the stop sign to hear the crying get louder, the back lights illuminated and now B is yelling at E to stop her tears. It is complete chaos. I turn around and ask what is going on, can they please stop or tone it down I was trying to drive, yada yada yada…. Sometime during that plea I lifted my foot slightly off the break and rolled forward a bit. It was then we hear and feel the crash. At the exact moment I rolled a man turned the corner and we hit. My car mostly unharmed, his back bumper hanging like a tooth that needs to be pulled. Great.

               I reverse-that’s the opposite of forward motion- park, get out and do not even begin to argue or make some excuse of it not being my complete fault. I did not have the capacity. The cops showed up, we filled out the reports and between interviews I am now telling E to suck it up and stop crying. She is telling me now hers were not tears of guilt over the light but for me wrecking my new car. My voice raises  as I yell at B to get his tail back in the dang car after each attempt to run home and get his father. "Its just down the street," he yells. "but you are 5!!!!" I yell back, "get in this car NOW". My husband was on the other line and not answering his phone and well, I was holding it together but just barely.

                The cop finally called me over to visit with the other driver.  I am now standing in my Mrs. Claus apron- minus the Santa hat- on the side of the road again admitting fault. And that’s when it happened. The cop said he should give me a ticket but was not going to, “Its Christmas”. And the man I hit looked at me and said, “and I remember those days. My kids are grown now but (he paused looking down) I remember.” My eyes welled up with tears. Two complete strangers saw me for who I was in that stupid apron and I was so thankful for their understanding. My husband showed up on the scooter, assessed the damage, went back home got some rope and tied the man’s bumper back onto the car. We all left and I finally got enough forward motion to get to my parents. Still in the apron but in need of a hug and a nap from the emotions of Christmas Day.

                   Insurance is working the claim, we have recovered, the lights are not fixed but I’m making a conscious effort to drive more carefully and no one was hurt. Most of that day is a blur. I can publish this account only because I wrote the first of this piece days after Christmas when it was still fresh in my mind. I do not remember much but I will not forget the moment of kindness shown to me that day. Their eyes were not judgmental but understanding and for that I am thankful. The older I get the more I appreciate the moments not the days that mean so much.  

Full Circle Travels

EEEEEEEKKKKKKKK!!! OH MY GOODNESS!!!!! GET OUT OF HERE!!!!  THAT IS AWESOME!!!!!  OH MY GOODNESS!!!!  EEEEEEEEEKKKKKKK!

Last year I spent some time in California on business.  It was my first out of state client, grown up,  travel.  One morning while heading to the office with a fellow employee, we drove by a huge, pretty building (see above) that caused me to experience some deja vu.  I had never been Los Gatos, CA but yet that building was familiar.  I asked, "What is that?" pointing out the structure to my coworker.  He smiled, "that is the local high school."  I felt like an idiot and told him it seemed familiar but it must just be jet lag.  Then he finished his sentence: "...That was the 90210 high school, you know the TV show."

"Dude,", I said as calmly as I could while trying to suppress my excitement, "I grew up watching that show."  Brenda, Dylan, Kelly, annoying Donna, and my favorite Steve.  Plus it was my first introduction to Dean Cain (remember, Brenda brought him home from Europe as her boyfriend totally hurting Dylan but Brandon loved him, anyway…)  I loved that show.  AND they graduated in 1993, my graduation year.  Each Wednesday throughout high school I was glued to the TV.  They were me (kinda) and I was them (not really). It was Beverly Hills 90210 at 8, then Melrose Place at 9 which was totally inappropriate for me to watch but somehow I got to see it. And for the record, Jake was hotter than Andrew Shue...it was that bad boy thing.

The above picture is not mine, I did not ask my coworker to stop to let me snap it one but I had to post one.   (Thanks Google images!)

Now to the point:  I am a getting older, ouch!  I, like Brenda, Dylan, et all and not we are all grown up.  I am a believer in tangible milestones.  I keep items that serve as a reminder of important events.  I have concert tickets, hospital bracelets, cards, letters, pictures, wine corks, etc.  Each hold a purpose and serve as a reminder of where I have been that opened the doors to where I am today.  The Los Gatos HS was another milestone for me.