Midnight Mass - OM

December 24 Christmas Eve flows warmly into December 25 Christmas Day, 2005 at Stanford Memorial Church. Midnight Mass is cool and the night is balmy. Incense brings it all back for me. Hard to explain but I spent many hours in church at St. Bonaventure in Allegany NY. Serene quiet hours in my best dresses and shiny shoes, performing ritual motions and emotions automatically, while my mind spun off elsewhere. Eventually, I followed it.

Party at my house Friday night December 23, 2005, so I get to sleep in. Saturday night we go to church to sing and pray and listen to a choir and tenor soloist with harpist accompanying. The church is lovely and crowded. My mom does not know why I am there, but mostly it is about her. My mom, my dad, and my aunty. I do what the rest of my family do; I pray, for what it is worth. I told C that we were banking some important religious parenting points that I rarely bring to the table.

The priest said we would feel better about ourselves by the time we left the service. He was right. But maybe not in exactly the way he anticipated. How could he have known what breaking out the special, classic incense would do for me. That was a rare rush. Worth doing it again next year but I would like to arrive earlier, to have more quiet time for meditation. That place inspires deep thoughts. Or is it the soft clink clinking sound of the incense burner chiming against its long chain. OM (AM/PM/OM)

Child Advocates

I've got to write about this now. Soon I'll complete the background check and finger prints and character references and court observation and training sessions. At some point in the spring I'll be sworn in and somehow make a choice; get an assignment as an officer of the court. Using my unemployment time to train for this volunteer position.

Not an adoption, but an alliance with a girl or a boy of a certain age, with a set of circumstances, a life with enough chaos to trigger the Santa Clara, CA courts to remove the child from their biological family. My new friend.

I wonder how long before my new buddy thinks I am their friend?

I think I can do this. I think I can do this well. I think I have done it for my own child. I think it is important to help each other. I think this life is all we have. All I have. Love is all I have to give this holiday season. I learned to take care of myself. I think I can teach another soul how to take care of themselves and learn to love. That is what this is all about. Passing it on and paying it forward.

Jack-Jack is ready for his mammogram

Markers in place, stuck on his chest where he might have had points, if he was not a Pixar character doll (swag), he laughs maniacally when his string is pulled. Maybe he laughs because he will never get his boobs smashed between two glass plates, while the clamps tighten. He doesn't have to hold his breath, as the technician runs out to flip the switch. Well, he can't breath period, but that is not the reason he laughs.

One of us forgot to carefully remove the markers when getting dressed. There is a drawing of a fruit tree on the dressing room wall. The mammogramee is supposed to wait patiently until the technician gives the all clear on clean shots, and permission to get dressed. If not clean, go back and do it again only clamp the glass plates tighter. The little markers from previous mammogramees hang like strange fruit on the drawing of a tree. Jack-Jack wears his markers proudly and laughs maniacally when his string is pulled, because he does not have boobs. He only pretends he is going to get a mammogram, because one of us was so excited and relieved when she got the all clear, she just wore them home.

Story of Amie

This is the story of Amie. Amie is the puppy I got for my daughter to keep my daughter from running away. She threatened to run and then brought home stray cats. She hovered over adoption events at the local pet stores. She hugged and kissed every dog she met and cried about not having a dog of her own. I was not a dog person but I became one.

We went to dog shows. We read dog encyclopedias. We discussed and negotiated and I bought her a puppy for Christmas 5 years ago. Amie. Somehow, through our ignorance, Amie became my dog. Amie is a Papillon. She is smart, loyal, tiny. She barks, she licks, chases cats, and she is always nearby. She has come camping with us and traveled across the country with me. Willingly!

She wanted to be with me every minute. We tried to make her sleep with C but Amie had a doggy mind of her own and dug in her paws; she protested, she rebelled. She growled and snapped and got more and more defensive of her position in my bed, on my pillow.

I was also phobic about snakes. No more. Learned to love them too. The story of Amie is a story about love and the journey of a mother and child. Something that happened because I let go and let my baby lead me. We take turns leading now and it is happy happy joy joy!