Never alone.

Having insomnia is a bitch.  I take meds for it, which make sleeping easier, but make getting up and out of the rack in the morning an awful pain in the ass.  Saturday mornings I have an AA meeting that I love, my "home group" if you will.  I haven't been for a few weeks because of, well, dragging my carcass out of bed seems to be a bit harder on Saturday mornings when I know Rob and Cam will be up and out of the house.

So glad I got up and went to that meeting.  In four and a half years, a lot of the same faces are there week after week.  Even though I am terrible about small talk, and have yet to get a sponsor, seeing those same people is very comforting.  A man celebrated his first year of sobriety today by sharing his experience, strength, and hope. So many people spoke up to tell him how much they admire his courage and that he is an inspiration.

Then someone shared that they go to a meeting down in Florida that has a big sign over the door: "You Are Never Alone Here".  It's true.  The place I most feel comfortable is in an AA meeting.  People genuinely CARE about me there.  They care about all of us.  And no matter how shitty I feel on any given day, when I sit in that meeting, or any meeting, I feel a sense of peace and serenity that only comes from feeling not alone. Someone then remarked how they heard once that an AA meeting is one of the only places they have walked into a room full of strangers and were able to reminisce.

If I could wish anything for people in 2012 it is that they have that same sense of peace and serenity that I get an hour at a time in those meetings.  

Officially official.

We got the call from our SW today, we are officially in the system as foster care parents in our county.  I must have asked her three times if that meant we could get a call any minute now.  She calmly replied yes, and then kept trying to tell me how she was getting our info into the system to get paid.  Because I have a limited attention span and love shiny objects, all I heard was "you could get called at any minute."

The timing is pretty funny.  It is almost two years to the day that we went into the adoption pool for Cam.  Our first "maybe baby" was about six weeks later.  Here's to hoping the calls come a little faster than that.  :D

It could be at a CVS near you soon.

Cam has had a hacking cough and runny nose for over a week now.  You'd think this next statement would be unrelated, but you will see.  The kid also has an unusual palate.  She LOVES wasabi peas.  The more they burn her nose, the more she comes running back for more.

Cam knows where we keep the peas, and kept walking over to the cabinet.  The cabinet which is devoted to Rob and my snacks.  Okay, junk food.  So she would walk over and grunt.  Seeing as how she has never had a Twinkie, or Raisinettes, or Sweetarts, I grabbed the peas.  She nodded solemnly.

Since eating her weight in those peas this afternoon, that cough has subsided.  Anecdotal evidence?  You betcha.

Who's to say whose crazier?

One of the best things about being not quite right mentally, is therapy.  I love my therapist.  We've been working together for almost five years.  I initially hated her guts, thought she might be just a bit that side of malpractice.  Predictably, it was my alcoholic's mind that made me think she was out of her tree, and I had put my mental eggs in the wrong basket.

Her major transgression?  Suggesting I needed AA.  I remember, clear as a bell, telling a friend "doesn't she realize I have REAL problems going on?".  I laugh at my brazen, stupid self of yesteryear.

Another great thing about therapy is that I get a quiet break of at least 30 minutes in the waiting room.  No whining child.  No husband prattling away on a work call that you can hear at any spot in our tiny townhouse.  Blissful peace.

So I break out a book while waiting my turn, and start to realize my appointment time is nearing.  My senses perk up for the telltale signs of another client quietly leaving my therapist's office.  Ten more minutes passes, and my time is officially past.  Normally, when someone exits, I do the therapy office bit of neighborliness, by averting my eyes and ignoring the person.  No way I could do that to the lady leaving today.

She was guffawing before the door even cracked.  I could hear my therapist return the laughter, and then the lady started talking LOUDLY about decisions she had to make.  She broke therapy etiquette by pretty much airing her business.  I had to look.  So I took her full in.  Because I am learning to deal with my character defects, I admit I am quick to judge.  I also have a hair-trigger for loudness.  My immediate thoughts were not kind, and erred on the side of brutal.

E, my therapist, whispers for me to come in.  Promptly I march in and plop myself on the sofa, and reach over to the other end to feel the warmth on the seat from the braying woman who just vacated.  Mind you, I am not ticking off the many ways I am being crazy.

I have been really anxious and irritable the last three weeks since my last appointment.  I chalked part of it up to my menstrual cycle.  Then I tried to mentally scroll through all the things that could be causing my mood upset:  motherhood?  Nope.  Husband?  Not really?  Mother?  I had to admit that even that hot-button was not it.  So for the next 50 minutes E and I worked our way through what it could be.

Well, seems I am very much fearful of getting licensed to be a foster parent.  Right under my nose the whole time, something I SHOULD have picked up on, but didn't.  Felt great to get that load off, and now the fear is manageable.

I left E's office feeling light and bouncy.  Then I thought, "man, she must be emotionally drained from dealing with crazies all day long!".  And I am pretty humbled to admit, I was barely thinking of ME being part of that equation.  The braying woman came right to mind.  Then I though how awful of me to diminish my own crazy and it's effect on others.  Light bulb!

Still, that braying woman has some shit to work out.  Heh.

It could have gone one of two ways....

...but we got a smile instead of sheer terror and a look of horror.  Either way, a good story to tell when we pull the pics out years later.  Last year, Cam had "the look".  Mouth agape, and staring dead ahead as if in complete shock. 

This year Cam took to Santa like a pig to mud.  After the picture was snapped, Santa came up to me to ask how old Cam is.  He was shocked to hear that a 21 month old was so calm and ready to sit happily.  The kid even said "No!" when I asked her if she wanted to come back to Mama.  She even gave Santa a big kiss.

When did my baby start looking like such a big kid?!

Thank Full.

That is the saying on my Thanksgiving tee I got from Life is Good.  I wore that sucker with pride yesterday, having sat impatiently by the front door for days waiting for the UPS man to bring it to me.  It arrived right before 1700 the day before Thanksgiving.  For that, I AM thankful.  :)

We had a great Thanksgiving.  We gorged ourselves at Cracker Barrel, knowing our family eats late.

I had FIVE plates of food from just ONE order.  Oh how I love thee fatty, carb-laden foods.

I had been so looking forward to spending the day hanging with family, chatting.  What I did not take into account was that keeping track of a very inquisitive, agile, and energetic 21 month old would lead me to have no conversation longer than "are you done with your plate?" or "where is your father?".  Still, it was a wonderful day, especially since two of my out-of-state cousins were able to both be there.

Cam melted down hours before we anticipated leaving, so we had to hustle out, and hit the country roads.  Cam was asleep before we got a mile down the road, which was a nice change from the whining we endured for most of the hour and a half trip over.  I was zooming down the nice hilly road when a deer decided to make a break for it right in front of us.  I am extremely thankful for Doris, my most awesome family hauler.  She stopped on a dime, which meant poor Dixon (9 year old Pug with a bum leg) was thrown full speed into the back of Rob's seat.  Cam never woke.  Poor Dixon sat on the floor where he landed for the next 20 minutes.  Rob finally put him back on the seat, only for him to climb right up onto Cam's lap for a long siesta.  Being that he weighs a few pounds more than her, I felt bad...yet I felt worse for my boy.  Who doesn't need a warm lap after a near death experience?

Got home and got Cam back down fairly easily.  A few hours later, she woke up crying and hopping mad.  We sat in her chair, but she could not get comfy.  Then the cough she developed two days before started.  the kind of cough you'd expect from a wizened old woman with a three pack a day habit.  Then the tell-tale signs of retching began.  I thought, oh shit we are in for it finally.  The kid is NEVER sick.  Nope.  She yakked for about 10 minutes and recovered.

It was this morning when I realized, she did the same thing the first night of vacation, and on another big day.  Too much excitement?  Perhaps.  But I am extraordinarily thankful that the puking ended and that all she has today is the nasty cough and a grossly snotty nose.

Lots of gratitude today.

Gratitude

Tomorrow we are spending the holiday at my aunt and uncle's.  My uncle is my Dad's brother, and I used to spend lots of weekends with he and his family when I was a kid.  I love this side of my family, because even though we only see each other a few times of the year, it always feels like...home.

Choosing where to go for Thanksgiving has gotten dicey over the last few years.  Once my Pop died, I felt compelled to spend the day with my mother.  It wasn't where I wanted to be, so I was ever so thankful that she decided to buck tradition and go to her friend's parent's house.

The last two years, since Pop died, I have chosen my other relatives, because it's fun and I don't have to be surrounded by negativity and a maudlin atmosphere.  This year was even dicier.  Mom decided she wasn't going to her friend's house, and I never offered to come to her place.  She made the correct assumption that I would be going to my uncle's, and I just let it lie there.  Cowardly, I know.

You see, my uncle's side of the family is technically my step family.  Since Pop died (and even before) many little things have transpired to make Mom persona non grata.  My sister has completely alienated that side of the family, as she always thought of them as step family, and not the people who actually gave a shit about us.

Last week my sister L had a little birthday party for my uncle and my niece (her daughter).  Mom actually came with.  It was odd in that the day of the party was on my Mom's actual birthday, but it was barely acknowledged.  Well, not odd, just...awkward.  To make matters even more awkward, Mom starts saying how she feels bad, but she won't be able to join us for Thanksgiving, because she will be spending it with my sister S (confused yet?  S is my full blood sib, L is my step) and nephew.

Silence.  Like you could hear crickets kind of silence.  Fresh in my memory was last year's conversation with my aunt "we'd invite your mom but she never seems to want to be here.  And your sister and nephew have made it very clear they don't like us."  Ahem.  Okay.

So, my step family, who feels MORE like family to me does not like my blood family.  I am stuck in a weird and awful place, because my mother keeps asking why she has been black-listed.  Um, really?  Think about it.  Mull that one over and see if you can figure out why, because it's quite glaringly obvious to everyone else.

I posted last night on some forums that my dirty little secret is that I sometimes wonder if my family, the ones I never remember meeting because I was younger than Cam when my parents hooked up, secretly puts me in the same camp as my mother and sister.  I wonder, because we are not blood, if I am really one of them.

It's ridiculous, so says my heart.  OF COURSE they love me and think of me as one of them.  It shames me to feel this way.  And sometimes I wonder if I only feel this way because of the rejection of my mother and sister....which then makes me extremely pissed at THEM.  Is their behavior and attitudes causing me to lose a bit of a grip on my family?  95% of me thinks I am completely bat-shit crazy to think this, but then there is the scared, self-conscious part of me that can't shake the feeling.

This issue has nagged at me throughout my life.  Having Cam may have exacerbated the feelings.  It scares the hell out of me to think she will ever feel this way about us.  About this family that I love.

So while I have a piece of my heart that is in turmoil, I am ever so grateful to have this family.  To look across the table and see familiar faces, not because we are genetically related, but because they have always been there.  I am grateful that Cam will grow up knowing that she is not the only one in the family who has no blood ties, and that everyone loves her just the same.

I am humbled and grateful this Thanksgiving holiday.