Monthly Archives: June 2012

Jun 29 2012

If My Dogs Attended School, They’d Be In Special Ed.

I love our dogs, they are a part of our family.  And they are oh so special.  Macy is a mid-sized terrier, loyal, agile, anxious and stubborn x10.  Harper is nearly 90 pounds and although he just turned 3 he seems all puppy, also extremely loyal.  This week’s walk in the park is a prime example of the nut bag behavior I deal with for these lovable clowns.

In lue of getting a work out in at home, pilates with a toddler on the hip is impossible, I figured an escape to nature would serve the same purpose and be fun for all.  I loaded up baby and pups for a ride to our favorite dog park – Shawnee Mission Park.  The parking lot was rather empty on this Tuesday morning, which worked out fine for me I was able to open the back and let the dogs run straight to the gate without leashes.

The dog park area is large in comparison to other parks we have gone to, there is a long wide path down the middle flanked with grassy areas on either side and wooded areas beyond that.  Although there are paths down towards the wooded areas, we have always seemed to stay in the middle as it is the quickest way to the water.  My dogs love to be social with other dogs, although they lack social etiquette and don’t quite get it when other dogs are annoyed with their jovial nosiness.  My husband and I haven’t dedicated adequate time to training our dogs, although, we are pretty proud of them coming when we call (eventually).  On our last trip to the dog park another dog accidentally knocked Parker to the ground, the shock made her cry and our dogs immediately retreated from their playful fun to lay down in front of their baby to protect her.

The dogs and Parker were so happy to be out free to run, Parker calling out to her dogs and laughing when they would coming running back towards her.  She alternated between running after them and breaking to be carried.  Needless to say the toddler toddling was not moving fast enough for the dogs.  There were not many other park goers when we first arrived, the dogs greeted fellow pedestrians and pets who passed then happily continued down the path.  Long down the path reaches a wooded area and the trail forks, both sides leading circling to a beach area.  The dogs had been racing forward and back to us until we neared the fork, at this point Macy couldn’t contain her excitement and ran straight out of view towards the water.

Slightly annoyed at her irregular disappearance, I figured no need to worry we would catch up to her.  The beach time was the real purpose of going all the way to Shawnee Mission Park anyway, bringing the dogs out in the heat I knew they would need some time to cool off.  Harper stayed near us, whether to look after the baby or because he is a baby himself – he stayed close.  We took our time and descended the hill down the path I thought was the shortest towards the water.  My memory served me wrong, though the twists and turns eventually got us in sight of the beach to which my daughter exclaimed “Wa wa!”  And finally I was back in sight of my little white terrier sprinting along the shore after a boxer.  A couple more turns and we were at the beach with no sign of Macy.  I called and whistled, no Macy, no boxer and no people.

I knew my anxious mutt probably followed the other park goer and his pooch back up the opposite path when she realized she would be abandoned alone on the beach.  I pleaded with Harper, as if he could suddenly exhibit Lassie’s intelligence, “Go get Macy.”  to no response…  Lugging extra 30lbs on my hip, and a good for nothing beast at my side we began to climb the opposite path, where Macy had apparently gone to join another family.  By the time I reached the spot back where the fork rejoins at the top my cell phone was ringing and I knew someone was calling from the tag on my dog.

A girl with a rottweiler had Macy leashed and was waiting for me up the path, when she realized Macy didn’t belong to the people she was following she stopped to help.  THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to the stranger who interviened.  She even said Macy was looking around nervously, of course I knew this was between the mindless bounding over the other dogs…  Want to play with me, where’s my mom, I’m so excited, I’m so scared.  

With our group finally reunited we headed back to the water and Macy dove right in.

Parker was dressed in a swimsuit, I assumed it would be wet and messy on the beach even though I didn’t intend on us actually getting deep in the water.  Therefore, I came without a swim suit and felt comfortable in light summer clothes until Harper made me think I might actually have to dive in for him.

Shawnee Mission Park

Despite being half golden retriever sometimes I wonder if he really has any of that blood in him, he doesn’t retrieve and he is scared to swim.  Harper will run along the water and take advantage of the splashes to cool is black furry body, he doesn’t generally go deep enough to even let the water touch his chest.  On this morning he stood in the water facing the shore when some seaweed must have brushed up against his leg.  Panic set in for my giant and he scooted his body back further into the water.  At this point fear increased more because not only was he feeling something on his leg, now he was getting into deeper water.  I called sympathetic and encouraging calls for him to come to me.  I knew if he continued his backward motion I would have to forego my plan of not getting wet in order to save him.  Yet, back further he went until the water was over his back and he appeared petrified putting his head underwater as if to bite at the lake creature pulling him out.

Just before I could leap forward and make the 10 soaked steps it would have taken to reach him, Macy swam out in front of me and snapped Harper to attention.  It was as if in a split second she taught him how to doggy paddle and he could finally make a forward motion in the water again.  She lead him to the shore and as soon as he could reach he practically leapt over her to get to dry ground again.  Macy suddenly made up for her earlier run off and became the Lassie for the day to save Harper from drowning.  Yea, like I said – they are “special” dogs.

Harper refereed a game of Tug-A-War and stayed close to the shore after his terrifying ordeal.

Jun 25 2012

Daddy & Daughter Demands

My daughter is becoming fiercely independent.  Don’t get me wrong this is exactly the kind of attribute we want to praise and encourage for her to develop and benefit from throughout her life.  Years from now she will have the strength to stand up for herself and others.  She will be able to advocate for what she needs and she will not take no for an answer…  years from now.

Right now, though, this independence is too much for her to handle.  My daughter wants to be on her stool washing dishes, standing on the toilet to brush her teeth, unlocking the front door after errands, turning on the stereo (and turning the volume waaaay up), reading her own books, cooking, and dressing herself.

I was so pleased when she learned how to pick out a pair of shoes, put them on herself, and cooperate with switching when I told her “wrong foot.”  Even when she is opinionated about choosing the pair which didn’t necessarily coordinate with her outfit, her learning this task made me happy.

Not all of the independent tasks she is trying are coming so easily though, and some of them seem to be incredibly frustrating to her nearly 2-year-old mind.  “No” seemed to be absent from her vocabulary up until the last few months and now it seems too many statements or questions are met with a sharp “NO.”  When she gets stuck in a task she cannot figure out there is tantrum and tears, yelling and refusal of help.  One night over the weekend she fought to put on her own pajamas, whining and squirming with them.  When she got her legs stuck in the arm holes the body flailing began, so mad these pajamas could do her so wrong.

I allow her to have as many opportunities to practice her skills as possible.  I stand outside in the heat for an extra five minutes for her to put the key correctly in the lock, I take the time to show her the correct method to get results, I step in to take over when she has lost control and I spend plenty of time cleaning up her messes.  Let’s face it learning can be dirty sometimes.  I wrestle with thoughts of psychology, child development and reinforcing behaviors, how much is too much and am I raising her right…  Quickly snapping back to reality as duty calls for a second bath for the day when she attempted changing her own diaper in her crib after the nap.

Is this the terrible two’s, has it already arrived four months before she even turns the dreaded age?  This stubborn toddler now demanding her way and don’t help, will be challenging my stress level for how long?  When will she grasp the limitations I put in place for her and stop trying to push it?  (dumb question I realized this after I wrote is since there will be evolving changes all the time.)  The hardest part about meeting her demands is when my husband so honestly pointed out “How will you be able to deal with BOTH of us?”  See he exudes much of the same childlike intolerance for when things don’t go his way, minus the body flailing.

There are far more smiles, hugs and expressions of cooperation then there are the no’s, the tears and the tantrums.  With both my hubby and my toddler I will keep practicing patience, choosing by battles and providing loving support when it’s accepted.

And when my husband voluntarily gets up with my daughter in the morning and serves her chicken, pepperoni and cherries for breakfast.  I’ll just say “Thank you for letting me sleep in” and wake up tomorrow.  Life is perfect right now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jun 25 2012

Grassroots for Women & Children

If you examined the laws in India you might consider the country to be progressive in human rights, finally putting person equality before cultural traditions and religious justification.  As a society with its own history of discrimination, we can understand how the attitudes don’t immediately change once a law is put in place and it often takes decades for perception to shift and acceptance to find its place, even then there are some exceptions.

So why is it that despite laws being in place to protect the rights of women and children in India, there is still such blatant disregard for their welfare?  The Child Marriage Restrain Act was established in 1929, yet there are still too many cases of children under 18 being arranged to marry.  This is only one of many issues – human trafficking, child labor, infanticide, and the exchange of a dowry.

A dowry is one representation of why women are not valued in Indian culture, it is a gift or form of payment a women’s family must pay to the family of her future husband.  Although dowry became prohibited by law in 1961, it is still common practice in India.  A daughter being born does not benefit her parents at all, she is seen as needing to pay off a debt from a previous life.  The daughter will be taken care of then a dowry raised to marry her into another family where she will help to take care of her husband’s parents – not her own.  Since a son is valuable in terms of meaning and future roles he will play for the family, a boy is what Indian parents want.  Because of this view gender selection has begun to curve the ratio of male to female in India.  Infanticide happens with poor or rural families who cannot afford to care for a girl, and aborting a female fetus occurs with couples who can afford the prenatal care and want to avoid the stigma of a girl.

The dowry perpetuates the idea of women being less than men and leads to so many other problems.  Despite the laws being established to protect rights, the laws don’t appear to be enforced for the welfare of the women and children.  Beyond corruption in the systems and the desire to hang on to how things have always been, slow progress is occurring because of the lack of knowledge women have.  Most Indian women believe they are nothing without a man, either their dad, brother or husband.  They don’t know what their rights are or where to get help.  They are born into a world where they are looked down upon simply for being a girl and limit themselves accordingly.

One of the field trips our group went on in Kolkata was to an organization creating changes with their grassroots effort.  Child in Need Institute (CINI) focuses on empowering women with the idea if you can help the mother you can help the child.  They have centers throughout Kolkata serving different purposes.  CINI focuses on the health of the mom’s and their infants, educating them about nutrition and conducting support groups.  Health workers act as a first means of contact going door to door in villages and slums to provide basic health needs and resources, then can help support mothers and children in getting in to the CINI offices if further medical assistance is required by nurses or doctors.

We toured one location during a time when there was a free health clinic.  Hundreds of bright-colored sari adorned the women gathering with their wide-eyed infants.  They weighed babies, obtained supplements, and met with nurses or doctors for medication.  Another CINI location we visited was in the middle of the city, it was designated for street children.  Kids could go there for safe overnight shelters or attend evening school.  Even though the Child Labour Act has been prohibiting this practice since 1986, many children work as child laborers and miss out on gaining an education.  CINI provides education to help reintegrate children back to regular schools within 6 months to one year.  Making this program even more impressive is considering the behavioral problems some children have from both trauma and the need to be independent to survive on the street.

Because of the efforts Child in Need Institute, and other programs like it, has made towards bettering the lives of women and children there is hope for changing the culture in India.  With women coming together to gain confidence in how to do things and knowledge of how the laws protect them, attitudes will turn.  And with the next generation of youth pushing to gain an education, they will be different.

Much of the beauty and intrigue of India lies in its cultural and religious practices.  Their dances, food, and tradition are uniquely Indian and should be valued and preserved as such.  I wonder, is it possible for India to maintain their rich traditions and religious practices while omitting the inequality?  Maybe as the women take power…

If you are interested in learning more check out the Child in Need Institute’s website.  They accept donations to continue their work and proudly contribute 90% of donations directly to the women and children – greater than average for an NGO.  http://www.cini-india.org/

This post is part of a series written about my travels to India as part of a social welfare class.  Feel free to look back through previous posts about my experiences or return to see what’s been added.

Jun 25 2012

One Weekend Not Long Enough – Darjeeling.

Darjeeling was our first escape from the madness of Kolkata.  It was a much-needed break from the heat to be up in the Himalayan Mountains, to hear nature instead of honking and to be away from the congested population of the city.  We had only been in India for about a week and I already needed a vacation from my travels.  

This was to be our first of many train rides in India, we left on a Thursday evening for an overnight train.  A group of caucasian women stood out no matter where we went, however, the trains always seemed to bring out the most obvious and uncomfortable gawking.  For example, waiting for the train we entertained ourselves with a simple game of UNO, which drew a crowd of men hovering to watch.

On the train our group shared two sleeper cabins, these were not private cabins, rather to the isle.  The cabins contained two blue, school bus style bench seats facing each other.  Above each bench two additional bunks would fold from the wall and attach to each other with chains, creating a total of six beds.  We knew to be aware of theft on such public trains and for this reason used our backpacks as pillows and kept all valuables in a tight grip for any measly slumber we might have gotten.  Somehow my travel mates were always accommodating as I snagged the top bunks – climbing three beds high – on each sleeper train we rode.  In the morning there would always be one or two travel-mates who wouldn’t have slept at all and observed the creepers who came by to gawk at us, strolling back and forth through the open isle.

Following our first train adventure it was a three-hour drive up the mountains to get to Darjeeling.  Though it was overcast for much of the weekend the scenery was beautiful, already it was evident how much friendlier the people seemed by smiling and waving.  On some mountainsides you could see tea plants covering acreage and I wondered how dangerous it must be to work those fields.  

After an overnight train and 3 hour drive we arrived in Darjeeling.

After checking into our accommodations we explored the town, shopped and relaxed.  Most of us purchased scarves and wore them frequently the remainder of the trip, as well as saving some for souvenirs for family members.  Some bought jewelry, books, and tea to bring home, we visited an internet cafe and enjoyed macaroni and cheese for dinner with beer.  Some of the girls were thrilled to order mac and cheese and devour something similar we could find back at home, it was a let down since India doesn’t really have our American taste for cheese.

One early morning we woke up to journey to a location called Tiger Hill, it is a spiritual sight to witness the sun rise.  Only 11 km from Darjeeling, I read there are over 400 taxis used on busy days to drive tourists to the sight.  We had to park far from the viewing location and hike up the remainder to join the crowd of spectators.  From this high point in the Himalayas, Mount Everest is visible, although on our morning it was too cloudy yet still crowded with spectators.

When the sun was well risen, our group of light-skinned women once again became the attraction.  Tourists to Tiger Hill were requesting us to pose in their vacation pictures.  Of course with a language barrier there was no way for them to explain to us what the relevance was in having pictures with us.  I wondered whether they were hoping we would be of some celebrity status back home or if we were really that much of a novelty to be seeing in person.  Whatever it was, I declined posing in pictures.  My travel mates who accepted ended up getting lines of people waiting for the next shot.

Posing for Indian tourists’ pictures.

Our whole class on Tiger Hill

After the shopping, relaxing, admiring the animals and visiting Buddhist temples in Darjeeling it was difficult to leave.  I regained my ability to take a deep breath and then it seemed we were headed back to Kolkata again.

On our way back down the mountain to get to the train we were invited to visit a tea plantation for lunch and a tour.  We met the manager and his wife who lived on the property, they showed us their factory and around the crops.  I was lost in the process of how tea is made and instead focused my thoughts on the workers who take care of the field.  On our tour we stopped at one location in the crops where hundreds of women were picking leaves.  They strap a bag to their head which rests on their backs and fill the bag 20 to 26 times per day, six days per week.  The workers make very little in take home pay, though the company provides housing, health care and schooling for the children of the workers.  Consider how far your tea traveled next time you brew and who may have contributed to your cup?

 When I returned home from India I was asked many times whether I would want to take another trip back.  Without hesitation I’d answer “I’ll go back to Darjeeling.”

Jun 19 2012

What Is There To Say?

Expressing concern for someone’s grief always leaves me wordless…  I am mindful not to deliver the usual cliché condolences as these phrases can instigate more suffering and be invalidating.

“I understand how you feel,” is often used even when it’s not comprehensibly possible to know what someone else is experiencing.

“There is purpose in everything,” ouch – while true – not important to hear about in the midst of grief.

“Things will get better,” not helpful in the present moment when loss is so fresh and suffering is so painful.

Being fearful of saying the wrong thing leads me to say “I’m sorry,” and then stare blankly in the absence of something profound or the necessary empathetic expression which actually may help.

The reason this is on my mind is because of an e-mail I received from a friend last week.  She and I met several years ago in school, we work in the same field several hours away from each other and keep up with each other’s lives sparingly through Facebook, phone conversations and the occasional lunch.  My friend was elated to report of her pregnancy this spring, shared pics of her pregnant belly via Facebook and asked me questions about labor and planning for a newborn.  To say there was no baby daddy drama would be like belittling the Clinton sex scandal.  Regardless of no stable relationship she was glowing with excitement about this growing miracle.  From a distance it appeared her life revolved around preparing, planning and providing for the little one, and her smile in the pictures could not have been any brighter.

Her e-mail indicated she had gone into pre-term labor last week and delivered her baby at only 22 weeks gestation.  The tiny 1lb 1oz girl was too premature to survive and passed with less than an hour in life on earth.  

The thought of what she is experiencing right now takes my own breath away and puts me in a state of grief considering with how devastating the experience would be.  I want to hug my friend, I want to be able provide the explanation she doesn’t have as to how this could have happened, I want to fast forward to the point in life where she can feel some happiness again.  I really want to know what I can say to bring her some comfort because I am without words right now.

Jun 18 2012

The Ultimate Determination

I have a friend I met almost four years ago through a job.  Carrie and I were hired within a month of each other and had an immediate connection.  We’ve talked about our souls being connected in the past and I knew she came into my life to help fill in the gaps of my own inadequacies and I to help her in the same manner.  We only worked together for about a year before some political drama and employment cuts ended up with her out of the job.  The situation makes me cringe to even think about and I could easily go into a downward spiral of hatred considering what happened…  So I will stop there and move on.

Our friendship continued although, our face to face contact became more dispersed.  She and I talked about the possibility of a business venture since our personalities complimented each other so well.  She is slightly older than I and sometimes it felt like she had a lifetime more life experiences.  There were times I would smile and nod at her question “You know what I mean?” hoping she wouldn’t recognize I knew nothing before I could puzzle together some context clues.  Carrie has a knack for getting her needs met, her southern drawl could reel anyone in and convince them of whatever she was requesting.  Her dark curly hair is the kind most women would lay down big money to duplicate, and this is on the days she claims she didn’t have time to fix it her own way.  She has warm brown eyes, a bright smile, rounded face and naturally tan skin.  Carrie’s outward beauty barely begins to exude the beauty within, as she has worked her life serving others.  Her career has involved advocating for those who cannot do it for themselves, and she is exactly who I would want representing me if I were incompetent to make my own decisions.  Sounds like I have painted the picture of a wonderfully warm and generous human being who speaks softly, with manners and always kind and gentle.  Yes, this is true of Carrie in many ways although I would warn you…  Don’t cross her, she can outwit you and pull the totem your pride was standing on before you can catch your next breath.

These characteristics have served Carrie professionally and recently in a deeply personal way as well.  This story is about the ultimate determination I have witnessed in my friend and an incredible journey to parenthood I am so honored to be able to report.  Seriously incredible and worth making into a movie, I told Carrie she would be played by Angelina Jolie.

Two years ago Carrie talked to me about her desire to be a mom.  She had been in a number of serious relationships throughout her twenties and thirties, none of them amounting to “the one” worth marrying.  Since she was well into adulthood, built a professional career and firm foundation, Carrie felt the tug of parenthood greater than the need for following society’s approved order of becoming a parent (i.e. relationship, marriage than baby).

Haters – stop right there.  I know some people immediately get all judgmental when someone acts out of the realm of what is traditional.  Need I remind you a large number of youth grow up in single parent households in the present day, single moms can do just fine providing all the emotional, physical and financial support a child can possibly need.  AND there is no such thing as a traditional household anymore – family make-ups are all unique and no one is better than another – just different.  There is no specific recipe for what ingredients make for a healthy child – love and resources in what ever form they may come.  

So Carrie began with looking at her options.  She wanted the experience of being pregnant, of feeling the baby growing and kicking, and delivering it into the world.  She submerged herself into research about the medical advances in using donors and insemination.  She met with doctors and began preparing her body.  She revised her diet and workout regiment, she was religious about vitamins and necessary medications.

I can’t recall all of the details of each insemination attempt. I know there were many and I know a few took to pregnancies and all ended in miscarriages.  Between attempts she became well versed in the medical terminology, being able to converse intelligently with her doctors about what tests they were failing to administer which increased her chances the next time around.  She submitted her body to a strict regiment of shots and medications to prepare for and retain the pregnancies.  With each attempt Carrie was more hopeful and then more upset with each loss, feeling dreams of motherhood crashing.  Feeling pregnancy may not be an option for her she looked into adoption.  Adoption also appeared like a hopeless path as adoption agencies look for two parent households.  The foster-care into adoption situations would only consider her for older children, sibling sets or children with special needs all of which she felt unprepared.

I heard her talk about “This will be the last try,” leading up to the most recent medical procedure, and I was elated to hear the positive test results several weeks later.  Without trying to sound pessimistic I questioned how she and her doctors felt this one would hold better than the last and if she would on-going increased care.  I so wanted Carrie to experience to joy of being a mom, to carry a healthy baby and experience the terrific pain of childbirth, I just had a sinking feeling this might not work.  In March Carrie told me the news, there was no heartbeat on the sonograms and this pregnancy also ended in a miscarriage.  It was devastating to hear and I cannot even begin to imagine how she was feeling.  Weeks went by before I heard from her again, and this time it was a phone call I will never forget.

The day before Easter Carrie called to tell me she was going to be a mom and her baby is due by the end of the month.  I wanted to cry, I wanted to hug her through the phone, I wanted to be there with her getting to see the expression of joy she had to be having.  Words wouldn’t even formulate in my mouth to ask appropriate questions of – how did this happen?  She provided me with some background and wanted some information, since she had spent two years working on how to become pregnant she missed the nine months women usually have to prepare for the baby.

Through this phone call and conversations we have had since I understand the bizarre and amazing connections which brought my friend to motherhood.  Even greater, the determination my friend sustained throughout this journey demonstrate she can tackle whatever challenges a parent may face.

Carrie and her mom learned of a young woman who was pregnant and wanting to give her baby up for adoption.  The birth mom was addicted to a multitude of prescription drugs and knew she couldn’t be responsible for the infant after the birth.  She used throughout the pregnancy and had no prenatal care at all.  Shortly after meeting with my friend she agreed Carrie is meant to be her baby’s mom.

Carrie scurried to get all of the necessary legal documents completed including a home inspection and began making purchases for a nursery.  She paid for a hotel room for the duration of the pregnancy and time afterwards since the birth mom had no stable living arrangements.  And she took the birth mom to buy food and to doctors appointments where she learned she was having a boy.

The birth mom reassured Carrie about how even the baby knew she was his mom, when he would calm his movements when her hand was on the belly.  She the only person who provided calm for him in the chaotic environment his birth mom surrounded herself with.  Carrie said there were various times when several women and handfuls of children would also be staying in the hotel room when she came by with groceries.  During one such visit an ambulance was called when one of the birth mom’s guests had a gran mal seizure.  The way Carrie described the individuals she interacted with, they sound incredibly intimidating.  She certainly wouldn’t let any fear show, as she was there for her son.

The estimated due date provided Carrie with about a month to prepare, except two weeks early she was rushing to the delivery room with the birth mom.  The hospital staff requested Carrie’s cooperation to help the birth mom through the labor as she was the only one the panicking woman would respond to.  For hours during active labor Carrie was on her knees on the hospital floor to bring her baby into the world.  One Monday, at a perfectly healthy weight and size her baby was born, miraculously showing no effects from the drugs or withdrawal symptoms.  

You might think hooray, and it ends there…  Not for Carrie, with adoption it’s not over until the paperwork is signed by the judge.

Court was scheduled for Thursday, leaving four more days in the hospital.  Carrie snuggled her newborn and got to enjoy the first feedings and diaper changes, while in a separate room birth mom recovered.  The hospital social worker was obviously disapproving of the adoption arrangement and questioned the birth mom “wouldn’t you want your son to have two parents?”  When her questioning wouldn’t budge the birth mom’s decision she talked about child protective services coming to speak with her.  After the conversation with the hospital social worker, and without the knowledge of Carrie or any hospital staff the birth mom eloped from her recovery room.

Once the social worker and director of nursing became aware of what was happening they approached Carrie about taking the baby to the nursery, because she was not a legal guardian for the child (yet.)  The social worker and DON were no match for all Carrie had been through in the last two years for this child, and she made sure they understood how they had failed this child by making the birth mom feel insecure and allowing her to walk out.  She made sure they understood she would not allow her son to be punished by removing him from her care because of their mistakes.  Carrie tolerated the babysitter/security they staked out in her room for the remainder of the days leading up to the court hearing.

A head hospital administrator learned of the events taking place on the nursery floor and came to Carrie with an apology.  He offered two $10 gift cards to the hospital cafeteria as a gesture, ha – as if that could make up for the furry Carrie felt toward his establishment.

On the Wednesday evening before court the lawyers began drawing attention to the birth mom’s absence and her unresponsiveness to calls.  It was clear if she didn’t make it to court, the proceedings wouldn’t happen and the baby would become custody of the state.  Carrie’s mom stayed with the baby while Carrie went on a chase.  She drove to every sight she had ever been to with the birth mom, contacted each connection she had made with the birth mom and followed every possible lead to where she may be.  Around 2am Thursday morning Carrie found herself in a trailer park with some shady characters looking high out front.  She found the birth mom inside a trailer passed out and helped her regain enough consciousness to get into the car and return to the hotel room.

Despite the roller coaster of emotions during the week and a sleepless night before the hearing, Carrie made it to court with the birth mom.  In the meeting room before seeing the judge the birth mom continued to try to put her head down and sleep, with the lawyers looking on frowning for fear the judge may postpone the date.  Carrie insisted she stand up and jog in place with her to stay alert and ensured all of the final paperwork was signed and approved.

 

 

 

My friend Carrie’s story of becoming a mom is the ultimate determination.  Her son is as lucky to have her as she is to have him, and I am fortunate to have her friendship.  Carrie’s dedication to fulfill her dream is an inspiration to me and to so many others who have witnessed her journey.

Jun 17 2012

Reflections Fit For Father’s Day

That’s me and my dad (1982). You will see not much changes, he still wears the same mustache.

I have an older brother and a younger sister, none of us look a thing like my dad.  We are all three reflections of my mom and her side of our family.  My mother is beautiful and looks the same now as she did in pictures from twenty years ago, except better because she is without a helmet perm and enormous eye glasses.  She is incredibly kind spirited and generous to all living things.  She is bursting with creativity and is more motivated to follow-through on tasks quickly than anyone I have ever met – which easily demonstrates why she has been so successful in her own interior design business.  My siblings and I have observed these characteristics in her and have absorbed parts to benefit us each in unique ways.

For better or for worse, feel like I am the only one in my family who has acquired some personality traits from my dad.  So, in honor of my dad on Father’s Day – here goes…

*HUMOR*

I’ve always heard stories about my dad’s dad and his family of brothers, my grandpa passed away before I was born although I feel I know him from these memories shared.  My grandma told me while she was dating him she would eat at his family’s house for dinner and her stomach would ache the next day from laughter.  She talked about how each brother would seem funnier then the next and how his mom would top them all with her punch lines.  I can almost imagine the scene, the sarcasm and the ridiculousness.

The Mady Brothers. My grandpa is the handsome one, third from the left.

At our family dinner table I know when my dad is about to tell a joke before he even opens his mouth.  So I find it exceptionally entertaining when I can make him laugh or encourage him to be gullible in an outlandish tale.  Part of what makes my humor is how people don’t suspect it from the sweet look I got from my mom.  I can make a silly request or develop a whole unbelievably, outrageous story leaving the other person looking dumbfounded before they question my innocence.

About to ride The Tower of Terror 1995. Looking so cool – Dad in his member’s only jacket and me in tapered jeans.

*ADVENTURE*

My mom, brother and sister are perfectly content  staying with their feet firmly planted on the ground, and without risk or fear.  My dad and I are not.  My dad and I rode roller coasters on family vacations while the rest faked illness for a seat on the park bench.  We took scuba diving lessons while the others were beach bound.  He escorted me and my friend’s to haunted houses before we were old enough to drive ourselves. And while my family came to support and watch me skydive, I think my dad was slightly jealous to not be strapped to a parachute too.

Without my dad being at my side through the early adventures, I may not have gone on to pursue my own later – canyoning, paragliding, river rafting etc.  Don’t get me wrong, some of these risks have been terrifying to me.  It’s overcoming the fear for the adventure which makes it exhilarating and worth it every time.

*QUESTIONING*

My dad always wanted us to think for ourselves.  Sounds like a great thing for a parent to want to teach their children, except if you are the child and you just want to know how long before we stop.  And what you get in response is “Well, we are driving at a rate of 68 miles per hour and have another 150 miles to go.”

As a double major in biology and chemistry it was important for him that we didn’t just get answers, rather  we would know how to solve the problems.   This would lead to thinking outside the box and questioning what was already known.  Around middle school or high school age I began to understand from my dad there is a lot more happening in the world then I would get from public education.  I gained confidence to speak my mind, ask direct questions and point out what didn’t make sense to me in school, at the workplace and in general.  It’s not always cool to be the one who is trying question the flow of the popular opinion.  Being cool isn’t important to me though, I would rather not conform back into a box.

I am an extremely lucky individual to have the parents I have, who have supported me so much in life, and who have blessed me with the inherited and learned characteristics which make me who I am.  I love them both, and today – Happy Father’s Day Dad – I appreciate you in so many ways.

Jun 14 2012

Hi…Ummm…Bye

Language development in a toddler is amazing to hear unfolding.  Each day my daughter, Parker, is repeating new words, able to point to and identify new items, form somewhat recognizable statements, sing to the tune of songs and verbally respond to situations.

She is 20 months old now and growing rapidly in so many ways.  She mimics gestures, uses wild facial expressions and easily communicates humor with everyone willing to interact.  Parker has created some of her own terminology, as many toddlers do, like “baba” represents her pacifier and “wawa” is for water.  “Ye-haw” is what you might hear in response to a sneeze or in place of a clear thank you.  Image

One expression I have heard her using a lot lately has caused me to examine my own language usage – and no, I am not cursing a lot around my daughter.  It has been comical to observe her with her pretend phone conversations.  Anything to a Parker represents a phone – an ipod, calculator, remote control, pad of paper etc.  Over a year ago she pretty much became motivated to crawl when a cell phone was dangled in front of her to reach for.  Let’s just say the allure of a phone is present and she loves pretending to talk on it.

Her baby babble often follows a clear “hi” and at some point she abruptly ends the conversation with a clear “bye.”  Within the last week there have been pauses between the indistinguishable babble for an “Ummm” thought pause.  Now it seems every phone call she takes contains the hi, the bye and several umm’s.

Now I understand I am not the only individual she encounters who may use “umm” to pause and prepare words.  As her primary adult interaction, and the individual she most often listens to and likely observes on the phone – I gather she may have learned this un-word from me.

My daughter is constantly a source of inspiration.  This week she has inspired me to be more mindful of pausing silently rather then filling the space with an “ummm.”

Jun 13 2012

When It Rains – It Floods

The following is an account of an event from exactly five years ago today during my journey to India.  Since the anniversary of the start of the trip I have been posting stories from this adventure, this is the sixth.  I understood Kolkata would be unique from anything I had ever experienced, different language, culture, traditions, food, clothing etc.  There were also other surprises I never anticipated and Wednesday, June 13th, 2007 presented one of those shocks.

I awoke to heavy rain and crashing thunder that morning, it was close to monsoon season although we thought we would be returning home before it started.  My usual routine would be to head down to breakfast with which ever travel buddies happened to be hungry and was startled to peer over the balcony.  What was, the day prior, our floral sanctuary of a courtyard was now a swamp of dark dirty water.  Going down the stairs to the ground level I wondered if my eggs and warm cereal were even worth the effort on this day.  I waded through shin deep water to step up to the cafeteria area and reach my friends.

 

As an assignment for the program I was reading May You Be The Mother of a Hundred Sons by Elisabeth Bumiller.  In it she describes the flooding on the streets during the monsoons.  Naively I assumed since the book was published in 1991, drainage systems would have corrected the problem.  Wow, was I wrong.

Days before this Jesi, Natalie and I set appointments for the morning to get massages as it was a day off of classes, and we were encouraged by our instructor to try out the Indian style of massage.  We wondered whether everything would be closed down anyway.  We were assured cabs continue to run and businesses stay open today.  Following breakfast we began the trek out to the main street, the usually noisy and bustling traffic had slowed to only the larger vehicles to manage the dingy water.  Shortly after leaving the gates of the Ramakrishna Mission I chickened out.  Considering how dark the water was and knowing the condition of the sidewalk to not being able to watch my step I knew I would be clumsy.  Further, having observed for weeks trash, human and animal waste all over the streets of Kolkata and then feeling things brush up against my legs in the water I couldn’t see…  the princess in me had to run back up to my room and immediately shower.  

By the evening the flooding had resided and while the streets were wet, water was not standing everywhere.  At yoga some of the local women informed us the flooding is normal.  They stated later in the monsoon season it will sometimes rain like it had that morning and continue for three days.  When it peaks all traffic stops and including trains and planes.

It was shocking to witness a whole city underwater and to think at a fairly regular rate in the summer time the whole population grinds to a stop to wait for the water to reside.  Maybe it’s the equivalent to when Kansas City has a blizzard or an ice storm and waits for the plows to clear or precipitation to melt.  The difference between Kolkata and Kansas City when it comes to natures interference is the number of individuals without appropriate shelter.  

I was privileged on June 13, 2007 to escape the waters to an air-conditioned third story room.  I wondered where everyone else went though?  Where do the families who live on the streets go when it floods?  What does the already impoverished conditions of the slums look like with tainted liquid?  How many people have to sit and wait it out with their feet soaked in the standing water I was scared of being in?

While I can’t repair the drainage for the Kolkata, at least I can be more patient when nature interferes with my plans at home.  Remembering most importantly: I am safe and it will pass.

On a somewhat humorous note, Natalie and Jesi did brave the conditions to attend their massage appointment the morning of the flooding.  Two days afterwards both girls had rashes covering their bodies, mostly their legs.  Natalie and Jesi continually checked  their skin for improvements and frequently found it to be spreading more.  They resorted to calling it their scabies and were thankful when it eventually went away later in the week.  Exactly what it was or what caused the rash is unknown.  We assumed it was probably a reaction to the tables or oil at the massage place.  Whatever it was, I was happy I chose not to go.

 

Jun 11 2012

Turning 25 – My Indian Birthday

The experience of being in India, seeing the sights I was witnessing and learning life lessons through submersion in a foreign culture was an uncomfortable challenge.  I didn’t regret deciding to go, even when I was sick to my stomach, sweating through my clothes and barely making it to the toilet – even the second, third or fourth time this occurred.  One moment that was really hard for me was calling home on my birthday.

My boyfriend (now husband) didn’t answer his cell phone the first time.  After several attempts I finally got connected to hear he had just gotten off the boat with our friends at Lake of the Ozarks.  My friends hollered in their “hello’s” and “happy birthdays,” then they got off the phone to drinks and card games while I hung up the phone to cry.  The previous few years and the years following I spent with those friends at the Ozarks on or near my birthday, and at that moment in my humble Indian room all I wanted was to be at the Lazy Days in Condo with my friends.

Credit to Jesi for the pic.

Lucky for me the lonely feeling passed as I shared my 25th birthday with 7 new friends and created some unique birthday memories I, nor they, will forget.  It was no secret to the group, my instructor and I had some issues the week prior to my birthday.  Seemed the heat and stress of organizing the travels had gotten to her and somehow I became a target.  I will give her credit for making me feel special on my birthday, even if it was sort of as an apology.

Our instructor told us Amitabh Bachchan was her heart throb growing up in India and one of the biggest movie stars in India. Following my trip to India I have seen him talked about on Oprah as he is the father/father-in-law of India’s hottest Bollywood couple or India’s equivalent to Brad and Angelina.

Monday, June 11th, 2007 was a break in classes.  Our instructor took our group to a mall – a seven story dizzying paradise of shoes, perfumes, sunglasses, candy and jewelry.  Our agenda was not to shop, we were on a mission to catch a Bollywood film in the afternoon.  The movie theater was on the top floor of this westernized oasis; at the concession stand they offered egg rolls, veggie burgers, ice cream and more.  We had assigned seats like you would going to a concert or sporting event.  The movie was called Chenni Kum and starred Amitabh Bachchan, it was a taboo love story about an older man falling for a younger woman.  The movie was easy to follow even in Hindi, and maybe we didn’t catch all the same jokes, though we were laughing the whole time.

Credit to Jesi for the pic.

Following the movie we ate at a restaurant in the mall appropriately named Starstruck.  We were able to order pasta and garlic bread for lunch then devoured Baskin Robbins ice cream, resemblance from home which was much needed then.  My instructor even bought a cake for after dinner, I brought my own candle (a scented, stress relieving one I brought from home) down to the cafeteria.

This is the fifth post in my series about my adventures in Kolkata, India five years ago.  Feel free to look back on previous posts or check back for on-going recollections from places visited and lessons learned from this trip.

May 23 https://inspiredlivingkc.wordpress.com/2012/05/23/my-indian-summer/

May 27 https://inspiredlivingkc.wordpress.com/2012/05/27/step-one-assimilation-to-traffic/

June 2 https://inspiredlivingkc.wordpress.com/2012/06/02/india-maintaining-sanity/

June 3 https://inspiredlivingkc.wordpress.com/2012/06/03/lessons-in-love-the-mother-teresas-homes-kolkata/