The Unexpected Housewife

Felicity our Bulldog is a healthcare fiasco.  We've spent more than we are willing to sum on her care.  We adopted her last summer, when I was on a leave from work because the kids had been adopted.  She came from a rescue organization, having had a sad history.  Hot mess was a generous term....she had crate terror, uncovered after we hired-yes-wait for it- a dog behaviorist....Having spent her life in a puppy mill, crates were hell, even if they were found in my laundry room.  After traveling all over the country with her on our vacation, learning that she does not even like the most classy of hotels, we admitted Felicity was ours, we were stupid, and she needed to chill. She's still here.  And frankly, much to my own dismay and challenge, I love her.  She's a medical nightmare.  After many vet visits, we headed to NC State for a final diagnosis....she has a genetic disorder that causes cysts all over her body.  While likely benign, there is no cure.   I assure you, we pu

Traveling with kids.  There should be a warning on suitcases when they are purchased….”If you plan to bring kids on this trip, you’re going to need two of these”. We headed to NYC last weekend with the kids.  It was a goal of the year to get there, tour, see the Statue of Liberty.  Trip was actually fantastic.  We saw people we love, Ciera ate all the carbs her little body could hold, Isaiah saw dinosaur bones and knights, and I got to see the Met-a personal mecca.  We loved it and it proved to us that our kids are not only pretty cool, but they adjust well and can be city dwellers.  Here’s the thing-timing is never awesome, right?  That was proven on Sunday afternoon.  We were at the Fraunces Tavern in the Financial District.  Bob was determined to have a frosty beverage where George Washington had before---and the historian in me (who had been there with my dad as a kid) couldn’t resist either.  We were all soaked from the deluge during our tour of the Statue of Liberty….(PS,

Both my parents were only children and that meant that our family was predisposed to be small. My mother and father did an exceptional job of pulling friends close to them, so that they were chosen family.  As such, I never really felt like I had a small family...I had "Aunts", "Uncles" and "Cousins" just like my friends and it was the only normal I ever had.  I can't imagine my life without Aunt Eileen and Uncle Vin...and now my cousin Allison is one of my closest friends.  Same goes for Betty and Dave, who's house I'd come into, open the fridge, and make a snack...and hang out with Jess, my childhood BFF. Now that I am an adult, I have uncovered what a true blessing this gift was from my parents and their circle. In fact, I am doing the same thing for my children.  They have an Aunt Jess, Farrah, Allison and Caitlin who are awesomely present in their lives and the children know no other way.  They see the friends that I have, and know that t

Being a working mother is the topic of many an article and book.  It's the ongoing discussion about guilt, feeling like there is not enough of a person to go around, and the constant grappling that a working mom feels.  I enjoy working.  I knew long before I became a mother that if I had children, I'd be a working mom.  It's not the simplest thing on the planet and I am more tired than I have ever been, but it is right for me and for family.  Make no mistake, I fell to new depths recently and bought Lunchables.  I did not make homemade treats for the soccer team.   I actually had my mom join us for a dinner celebration that  happened at Chick Fil A (Lord in Heaven).  Last week there was an assembly at school and I told the kids I wouldn't be there because I had a meeting. I traveled recently on business for a few days.  I was gone for about 3 nights and left my dedicated husband in charge.  I attended a conference that I had been invited to speak at, and doing this wa

When Bob and I were adopting, we were open to adopting children of any race.  We wanted to be sure that the child we were matched with would feel comfortable with white parents, but beyond that, we were open.  Enter Isaiah and Ciera. These two little people, created perfectly in God's image (although I often need a reminder of this), are beautiful in many ways.  They are thoughtful, comfort each other, and funny.  They also happen to be Hispanic. The children love to talk about how they are Mexican, and when Ciera gets this lovely dark tan at the pool in the summer and people compliment her, she basks in the compliment and often responds "It's because I am Mexican.".  This pride, this acceptance of herself, this love for her ethnicity brings me joy.  She celebrates her heritage. We do the best we can to support the children and find ways to explore their background.  And I am sure it is no surprise to anyone who knows me that I am more than happy to take the kids f

The other day, I picked the kids up at afterschool to see a sad little face on Ciera greet me.  By the time we got into the car, it was clear something had gone wrong.  On the way home, from the backseat, Ciera shared that she did not have such a good day....and began to cry. It was all I could do to not pull over and get the whole story.  When we pulled in to the garage, I knelt down and held this little person.  On the playground, a little boy, who Ciera has mentioned before as a friend, apparently asked Ciera a bunch of questions about adoption, among them "did your real parents not want you anymore?"  Ciera was so hurt, and the question opened up a raw wound for her.  She and I spent the night together, joined at the hip, while she wept through dinner, homework and was unconsolable.   In an effort to end the evening peacefully, I drew a bubble bath for her in my bathtub and chatted with her.  After prayers and some reading, my little mermaid was feeling loved, comfortable

I love to cook.  It's something cathartic for me.  When we built our current home, we made certain that the kitchen was an environment that was comfortable and the center of the home.  For me, it's the heart of the home.  The large island is often crowded around with great conversation, food, and wine.   There are always large bowls of fresh fruit and vegetables on the counters, a favorite cookbook on an easel, drawers filled with serving dishes. Often, I spend weekend afternoons making large quantities of homemade food.  I love the way the house smells when I cook, and I love being able create large meals that I can use throughout the week to feed my family.  At least, that was my vision. That I know now is an illusion. I never expected to be able to serve curried mussels to a seven and eight year old.  I knew that there might need to be "adult dinner" some nights so Bob and I could enjoy finer foods.  However, my family palate has become a complex puzzle that the