Reflections, Part III

This is what happens when you're the parent of a toddler: gone is spontaneity; carpe diem is out, routine is in.  (Frankly, as fun as spontaneity is, I love routine.)  So it is Saturday morning again, Mr. Squire is at basketball (after letting me sleep in until 10 AM - GLORIOUS!) and Junior is napping.

And so much happened this week.  SO much.  Sigh.

Let's start with the single mom living with us.  We had a big talk with her last Sunday evening, and--thanks be to God--it went really, really well.  She was pretty receptive to everything we were saying, we set out our goals for her (she's cooking her first dinner tonight!), and generally gave her what I would call tough-but-loving encouragement.  And I think God really gave especially Mr. Squire (who was doing the bulk of the talking) a special patience and love that wasn't nearly as present during our private discussions beforehand.  God heard our prayers :)  So all that's good.

* * *

Then the rest of what happened last week happened... the Voice singer, the Orlando attack, the toddler and the alligator...oh. my. goodness.

We were not directly affected by any of these events, yet they loomed large in our everyday lives.  They weighed on our souls so heavily, and we trudged through the week feeling like we were carrying enormous burdens, but we weren't quite sure why.  Of course, I've been incredibly affected by the attack at work; everything has changed about everything at the office--from what we are doing, to when we are doing it, to who is doing what, and to who is covering for the whos that are doing what, and when.  

But the hardest thing has been just the sheer weight of collective grief in the community and region.  I will note that there has been tremendous comfort and encouragement in seeing the community come together, but there is still this corporate shock and mourning that is still raw and palpable from day to day.  I'm usually the bright and sunny, chipper lets-do-this worker bee at work... but this week, I was just so tired, and each day I thought it was later in the week than it actually was. I seriously thought Tuesday was Thursday--the week just seemed to stretch forever.  And then I slept 11 hours last night.  Because seriously: it was that kind of week.

It's hard to explain this situation to Junior, though I try, because she needs to know and we cannot (nor should we) hide the realities of evil in this world from our child.  I explain to her that there are sometimes people who hurt others in a big way, and sometimes even in the name of God, but that's not who our God is.  When she sees beauty, and order, and harmony, and compassion, and peace, and joy, and community--those are indicative of who our God is.  And when she sees discord, and grudges, and evil acts against others, and fighting, and shaming--those are indicative of the enemy.  And our job is to believe in God, and hope in Him, and reflect the things that show who He is.  (And also know that we all contribute to the evil in this world, and need Jesus to help us.)  It was a good teaching opportunity... but what a horrifically sad occasion to have a teaching opportunity arise.

The thing I've craved most this week is human connection.  Usually I bring my lunch to work and work through lunch so I can get home sooner, and my co-workers have to drag me out to lunch once in a while (or I have to commit to myself that I will go hang out with them). But this week, I found myself trolling the halls, looking for a lunch partner, every single day.  I just wanted to talk to someone, and process everything that was going on, and ... I don't know... feel better.

And then I missed, more than ever, our friends from our heart-home of New York.  I received a few sweet and thoughtful emails over the course of the week, which I appreciated so much.  I was actually surprised at how few people reached out; maybe they thought that because the attack took place in a gay Latino nightclub that we were wholly unaffected.  But the grief is widespread, and I don't know how else to explain it, but when something like this happens so close to home, it's just different.

Anyway, I miss my friends.  I miss my family.  We have a wonderful life here, and it would be perfect, except for the big missing piece of our beloved community.  And we are building community--and have been blessed in that respect--but it's just not quite the same.

Alas.

* * *

Father's Day is tomorrow.  Yay for fathers, and for those of us who have fathers in our lives who are worth celebrating.

I bought a card for Mr. Squire that features a big bear on a bicycle with a little bear in the bicycle basket.  It is so appropriate (SO appropriate!) because he always takes her to and from school on the bike, and she sits in a seat directly in front of him.  Everyone in our neighborhood recognizes the baby in the green helmet on the bike with her daddy.  

And she is, indeed, so so lucky to have Mr. Squire as a dad.  

He changes all her diapers without complaint.  

He makes her laugh when she is sad.  And when she is not sad.

He prepares her lunch, cutting all those mushrooms, beans, strawberries, oranges, and pieces of chicken without fail.  

He packs her lunch, making sure to include 2 cups (milk and water), 2 containers (fruit and lunch), and a half piece of whole wheat bread in her bee bag.  

He plays with her after school for 3 hours each day until Mommy comes home--taking her to the playground, chasing her around the house, helping her perfect the art of lounging, feeding and cajoling her into finishing the remainder of her lunch (while bribing with cheese and goldfish), helping her water Mommy's airplants, etc.

He constantly studies her behavior in an attempt to understand her better.  He knows that when she is not feeling well, she wants to sit in our lap and read "God Bless You and Good Night" (her book from Auntie Cze-Ja).

He cares for her so deeply and lovingly.

He teaches her new things constantly.

He shows love to her mommy.

He's the best daddy ever.  You're welcome, Junior.  Mommy picked a good one.  (Okay, okay -- time to be humble... you're welcome, Junior.  Mommy can't take any credit: God gave BOTH OF US a good one.)

Happy Father's Day, Daddy.  We love you so much.

Reflections, Part II

Well, this rarely happens... when Junior is napping and Mr. Squire is at basketball, and I am awake enough to not want a nap, and... I finally have the physical and mental space to reflect.  Feels nice.  :)

One of the things that we're challenged with is the single mom living with us (without her child).  Yesterday she put us on notice that her aunt in another state (who is caring for the child) told her that she doesn't need to rush in reuniting with the child; she should take the time she needs to restore her own life.

This puts a bit of a wrench in our plans... our plans had been to give her a home to stay in, for free, for 4 months so that she could get her life in order enough (e.g. find a place to live, move in, get things ready) to reunite with her child.  She has a job--a decent-paying one--and no substance-abuse issues, and she's clearly intelligent, so we figured 4 months should be sufficient.  Looks like she'll be with us longer than that.

But we can't have her live with us forever; that's not good for her or for us.  So it leaves us in a bit of quandary as to what to do next.  We never expected to essentially be parenting a teenager at our age (it's as if we had had a kid at 16!).  We (Mr. Squire and I) talked about it at length last night, though, and I think we have a go-forward plan... I just hope/pray that it works out and doesn't blow up in our face somehow.  

Starting next month, we're going to set monthly progressive goals for her that will build on one another (the ones we have in mind are:  wash dishes twice a week, and prepare a meal for the whole family once a week; set a budget for the future; attend a support group; wash dishes twice a week and prepare a meal for the whole family twice a week--and "look for housing options" will be on each month's goal list), and starting in Month 5, we will start charging actual rent that she will not get back (instead, we will subtract out what it costs for her to live with us, then forward the balance to a battered women's shelter or something like that).  

The thing is, if she's not going to reunited with her child, then...I guess the only thing we can really work toward is helping her gain her independence, since she claims that her ex emotionally abused her to the point where she couldn't make any of her own decisions.  So my hope is that by setting these monthly goals for her--and making her continued stay with us contingent on her meeting those goals--we can give her structure and incentive to do the things she needs to do.  I've never really dealt with someone who claimed to have PTSD as a result of emotional abuse, and I told her at the outset that we were here to encourage and support her and give her a safe place to heal and grow, but that we weren't here to be her counselors.

I feel like our role is to give her a bit of tough love and guidance, to teach her and not enable her.  I feel like so many voices in her life are just giving her license to wallow in her misery without a real step forward.  And there is a definite place for grieving and processing and working through that mess (and that's what counseling and support groups are for), but there's also an entire life that needs to be moved on with...and a child who is waiting for her mommy's return.

It's hard to know what is the right thing to do.  It's challenging to balance our sense of "come on, get with it" against our recognition that she needs compassion and mercy.  I'm not quite certain what the point of this exercise is, and we did kind of jump into it headlong without a lot of time to fully weigh the way it might play out.   But I'm sure God will help us figure it out...

Reflections

There's nothing like being sick--and spending more than 36 hours in bed over two days--to get me to stop and reflect.

And be thankful for health, and all the other days that have come and gone, without enough sleep, without enough decompression time, without enough exercise, (probably) without enough nutrition... without issue.

And be thankful that at least my child is healthy again, because seeing her suffer through a fever and a bout of hand-foot-mouth last weekend was awful, and the only consolation was that I was able to be there to hold her in my lap, the only place she wanted to be, all...weekend...long.

And linger a nice while on that thought, of little Junior on my lap.  I love it when she's on my lap.  She loves to climb onto my lap when I'm sitting in a chair.  She loves to plop down on my lap when I'm sitting on the floor.  She loves to walk up to me expectantly and look up at me with those eyes that say, "Pick me up, bosh?"  (Because "bosh" means please in Junior-speak.)  She loves it when Mommy holds her.  It can stop her from crying in a second, it can bring a joyful smile to her face (with an excited kick of her legs), it can make her squeal with delight, it can bring her to her safe and comfy space.  What a privilege to be the arms that hold this little one! I never say no, and I will carry her for an entire afternoon, through Costco, through the gardens, through the Science Center, whatever...because I know the day will soon come when I can carry her no longer.  Or she won't want me to.  These days are precious and limited, and I am enjoying each one.

And sign onto Facebook and consider the brevity of our lives here.  The number of friends, or friends-of-friends, or law school classmates, or family-of-friends who have lost their lives under the age of 35 is astonishing.  A lot of cancer and other health problems.  Mostly, actually.  The occasional freak accident.  All sad.  All reminders to enjoy each moment that we have.

Which...I mostly do.  But I feel the insidious monster of discontent creep in eventually, and it has been visiting me as of late.  Oh, who are your friends here, really?  Who's your bestie at work?  Oh, you don't have one?  You get along with everyone great, but no bestie -- even though nearly everyone else has a bestie, how about youuu?  And no mommy friends?  Well, no close mommy friends?  Well, that's what happens when you're a working mommy...no mommy friends for youuuu...

and on and on.

I could finish, but it's time for my next nap!