Catharsis

I usually spend my first “awake and vertical” moments with a cup of coffee in front of this very computer.  While it's quiet in my house, before the rest of my family wakes up and wants something or makes noise.  This is my time to peruse Facebook.  I check my email.  I might take a peek at a blog or two.  Result?  I spend my first moments of my day looking to see what other people are doing.  It’s mindless, really.  It’s a little like reading “US Magazine” or some other such quasi-reputable rag mags they sell at the checkout line.  You know you read them.

Fact:  I love writing.  I do.  I have no idea as to whether I am a great writer, a mediocre writer or a truly crappy writer.  The answer to that question is up for grabs and honestly does not matter.  I love to write.  I always have.  I always have a story in me, an idea to express.  When I go to sleep at night, I don’t think “I wonder what so-and-so is up to on Facebook.”  I think about something that related to my life…maybe something I have done that day or maybe something conceptual I have thought about that day…and I think about how I’d want to put it down on paper. 

So…Facebook…I give you up.  Sort of.  At least in the mornings.  I give you up for me.  For writing.  So I can have the time to put what is in my head, heart and mind down on paper – or as we do nowadays, in the digits.  On the electrons.  Soft copy.  Whatever. 

OK, no, really, I can’t give up Facebook…although I see a "Facebook Fast" or hiatus coming on at some point in the near future.  After all…most of you wouldn’t be hitting my blog had it not been through Facebook.  But Facebook…I am taking back my mornings.  My mornings are for writing.  And I have a lot to say.  I have two romance novels, and a humorous autobiography inside me.  I need to get busy. 

I am the mom of “virtual twin” three year olds.  My time has suddenly been compressed.  I haven't perfected the getting ready/getting out the door routine with two wiggly toddlers.  Bathtime and the jammie/teeth brushing/story reading/good night kissing routine is a two-man Olympic sport.  I don't have a lot of time to sit at my computer.  And, if I make time during the day, it means that my boys might make "soup" in my bathroom sink and put an entire new container of baby wipes in the soapy water.  Or, they might put body lotion on my Kindle...not that these things have happened in our house. 

So, what does "virtual twins" mean?  This means I have two three year olds who were not born to me and did not come to me as twins.  So…they’re three.  Yes, both of them.  I did not adjust to twins three years ago, and they did not adjust to each other as siblings three years ago.  We were somehow all thrown together at different points in our life cycle (my doing) and we’re expected to be a normal family. Normal I don't know about, but insanely busy - for sure.  Carving out time to write definitely involves some time management and some selective surfing.   

So now the catharsis part.  I write because I find it healing.  I've been struggling since we added Kyle to our family.  Many things about this adoption have been stressful and overwhelming and I feel like I'm just finding my way back to normal.  Writing helps.  Seriously, two back to back adoptions has knocked me on my ass.  I’m trying to get up.  Telling me “I wanted this” or “I asked for this”…not cool and not fair.  Yes I do and yes I did.  Does not make it easy…I guess parenting never is. 

I am struggling with the H to the E to the hockey sticks squared that it has taken to get Kyle properly registered in to our insurance system and to get him seen by the appropriate professionals. I am struggling with the lack of organization and adoption savvy I see in the medical admin community that keeps giving me the runaround and keeps making me wade through more and more (and more and more) red tape before I can get a simple doctor’s appointment to tell me what I already know is wrong with my child.  I am struggling with being told time and time again from many “administrative professionals” that Kyle is different from a “real child” a “normal child” or a “regular child”.  I am struggling with medical needs that we weren’t expecting – which any new parent might need to deal with.  But…with a three year old with “documented” medical care, I didn’t expect so many surprises.  I am struggling to figure out how to parent two three year old “twins” who were strangers a month ago.  I am struggling with how to integrate them in to the rest of my family.  I am struggling to get my head around the fact that three years ago, my husband and I were empty nesters.  Now we are a couple with three kids at home. 

I am struggling because most of my friends have run for the hills, either through natural attrition, like PCS or deployment, or through the fact that we’ve got nothing in common anymore.  I get it.  Most of my contemporaries don’t have small children.  But…I still have no social outlet.  The moms “my age” have just breathed the giant sigh of relief because their kids are finally out of the house.  The moms of other three year olds are named Dakota and Summer and don’t know who Duran Duran is. 

I’ll pull up.  I’m a strong girl.  I’ve got a couple of people in my corner and I’ve got a few people here on Mill Lane that are kind of counting on me to keep my cookies together.  But, for the here and now…difficult.  Challenging.  Overwhelming.  I use a lot of Kleenex. 

Motherhood is wonderful.  Marriage is wonderful.  Adoption is wonderful.  I’d do it again in a heartbeat.  Everyone asleep in my house (and everyone IS asleep in my house, save me) is here because they are supposed to be here.  Have I come to my family via the traditional road?  Uh…no.  We are still a family.  Stay tuned. 

My mornings are for writing.  So says me.  What I write heals me.  It pleases me.  I censor what I write only slightly.  No holds barred.  I have a lot to say.  Think you can hang?  Stay tuned, people.  Cheers.