India will be there

They say life happens when you are busy making other plans. In my case, that couldn't be more true. 

More than a year ago I decided to go to India for what was sure to be a life-changing volunteer trip. I was working a stable job and my family life was peaceful, so I looked at the calendar and selected November 1, 2014 as the date to report for service in Chennai, India. 

My plans were made, little did I know, life would happen. 

I got laid off from my "stable" job at the end of June, found a new job and truly couldn't be happier. It was a blessing, as now I am doing what I love with people who support and inspire me. I was incredibly fortunate to have a boss who supported my already planned trip and being out of the office for three weeks. 

Then court happened. As you know, we have been fighting a difficult system for two years for our foster daughter. A severance trial was scheduled (with no input from foster parents for obvious reasons) and it was scheduled for the week before I was to be traveling to India. One can imagine my horror when the culmination of two years would all come to a head when I was supposed to taking the trip of a lifetime a world away. 

I know myself, I live and breath anxiety, there was no way I could go to another country while the fate of my family was being decided thousand of miles away. 

I agonized over my decision; I cried on many people's shoulders. I was and still am terrified to let the people down who supported me in my journey, both emotionally and financially. Could I possibly postpone my trip, would they forgive me, was I making the right decision? 

I will never forget the words of my friend, she said "you are a mom now, your choices will be different" and that is OK. 

That brings us to today and my decision to postpone my trip to India. I will more than likely leave in a few months, when business at my office is slow and the (god willing) adoption of our little angel goes through.

I want this trip to be everything I have dreamed it to be. I want this trip to be a time for me to find myself, sit in solitude and to help others - and I need to be fully present in mind, body and spirit for that to happen. 

So I have paid a penalty fee and am starting to feel OK with my decision, and this week the universe confirmed I made the right choice.

Last week we received the news the boys would be transitioning home on the day I was set to fly to India. I am sure to be devastated and being away from my support systems at that time wouldn't be good. 

Then, I learned on Tuesday my dear grandmother passed away. My sadness requires support from so many and being away wouldn't have helped the situation.

So in all, no matter how much it sucks and how disappointed I am, I know I made the right decision. 

I promise all my friends and family who have supported me, I didn't make this decision lightly. I have lost sleep, shed many tears and feel many pangs of disappointment - but I will make it to India very soon and when I do, I know it will be the right time. 

I will always love you

Yesterday we received the news we knew was coming, our two sweet boys will be leaving soon - very soon. We knew it was coming, but once you see the date the reality of it all sets in. In just a few days the boys you have held while they cried, left constant night lights on for, taught to walk, talk and dance will no longer need you.  

They will be gone. 

Getting into foster care these truths are something we are well aware of, but it doesn't make the goodbyes any less heart-wrenching. For 18 months we were his everything, we amended our license and amended our home for the last 12 months to bring in his brother. Now, they will be gone and I have a hole in my heart. 

The fact that they are going home, where they belong, to a good and decent family is more than we could have hoped for. My hope is that they look back on this time with us as a respite from their life, a chance to be safe, learn to smile again, trust others, have fun adventures, and feel the warm pull of a truly loving hug.  

In the next few days I will do what I always do, make a photo album, write them each letters from my heart, kiss them goodbye and hope that one day I can see them again, one day I can remind them how much I loved them and how many times they made me smile. 

In a few short days the crying, tantrums, endless basketball games and sweet kisses will end, and I will no longer be there mother. In a few short days my responsibilities cease to exist for them, I will no longer need to worry if they brushed their teeth, have a wet diaper, ate a healthy lunch or need their nails trimmed. 

The nightlight will turn off and the darkness sadness and scares me. 

We're not really going to stay here, are we?

A few words of advice, don't come up with a girls trip five whiskey and absinthe drinks in. That happened to me a few months back, when I thought it would be fun to get all our best girls together and hit the woods for some good old camping. So there we were, two girls in a bar, puffing up our chests, ready to conquer the great outdoors. 

Then the buzz wore off. We weren't really going to do it, right? Good god, I hope we didn't tell anyone else about this crazy plan. Yes we did, and yes we were - I was screwed and I had a headache. 

So last weekend, all my best excuses to get out of it aside, I packed a bag and a minivan, along with five great girls and hit the open road to a campsite. 

You see, I am not a lover of the outdoors. Sure, I can appreciate the beauty, but I like to do so from the comfort of my couch in the AC. And plus, we were camping in Southern AZ, does anyone know how hot it is in AZ right now - hot! 

Regardless, it was one night, I can do anything for one night - right? No, I was wrong, I am weak, weak, weak, and can't do anything I don't like. And my friends, camping is one of them. 

Let me preface this by saying the company was great - I definitely had lots of laughs and will look back on that part fondly. But let's be honest, we could have giggled and talked about sex at a 4-star resort sipping frozen drinks. We didn't need the bug spray to bring us closer. 

The thing about camping I just don't get is all the work. Good god, the work! And our friend set up our tents for us - we arrived and it was already done. Sweet baby Jesus in the manger, if we had to do that, I would have b-lined for my mom mobile and hit the road. 

Then the dirt, the dirt...it is everywhere. Did I mention the heat? I was sweating from places I didn't know possible. Usually the only sweating I like to do on vacation is caused by hoisting my room service tray into the hallway. 

I found it shocking how everyone managed to disconnect. I was the only nut who kept looking at her phone every three minutes hoping Verizon Wireless got their act together and that cell tower suddenly began working. Now that I think about it, I don't even know if anyone had their phone on them the entire trip. I was that lunatic holding my phone up shaking my hands wildly saying things like "F, how can there be no service?" and "I can't live like this!". And yes, I did cry over the phone situation -moment of weakness and too much vodka. But I digress. 

One major thing I learned about camping - time stops! Literally, it was 12:15PM for about three hours. At one point at dinner I was standing while everyone was sitting, hands on my hips and thinking it was well into the midnight hours. It was 5:30PM! That is when I said and it wasn't met with a great reception "we aren't really going to stay here, are we?" You see, all day I thought it was just a joke, get Erin out to the AZ woods (which really is a small cactus that provides no shade) and then surprise her with a wink and a nod to the van - headed back to civilization and the nearest bar. Nope, we were in it for the long, long, night. 

But I survived, and there were fun times. Laughing with my friends as the $500 rented pontoon broke, being unable to hoist our sloppy selves into the boat that had no ladder, sending a friend back to fetch the vodka - and almost capsizing, swimming in the lake at sunset, s'mores and girl talk by the fire. 

Would I do it again? Can a really dirty, heavy under-the-tent tarp fold and clean itself? Nope! 

The M Word

I'm not going to lie, it's been hard. When things get hard for me, I tend to bubble down (my term)- meaning I shrivel up, into my bubble. I cancel plans, I stay in, I self sabotage, sit and sulk and hate the world. Which is odd, as that isn't my personality, but sometimes talking about it is just too hard - so bubbling down is all I can do. 

Hard times make me think about the little things, the things we take for granted and the things we want so desperately. As I sat last week, tears streaming down my face, in a trendy Tucson restaurant I cried to my husband - as I kept repeating "I just want someone to call me mom for good". 

I don't know if that will ever happen for me, I hope beyond anything it will. I feel I have a lot of love to give and I can be a great mom. 

Just today I was in a back-and-forth with powers in my foster daughter's case as to whether or not it is offensive to the bio parents that she calls me mom. The children we care for can call us anything they want to, if they select to call me mom, I can't control that. 

So tonight, when your kids are tucked into bed and they say "goodnight, mom" please hold that close - cherish that. I do, no matter for how long. And I yearn for that to one day be spoken without an expiration date.

India or Bust

In less than five months I will be in Chennai, India. In less than five months I will be taking my version of the "trip of a lifetime". In less than five months I can cross "visit India" off my bucket list. 

I have a lot of emotions around my trip. When you build something up in your mind for so long, it is hard not to get anxious. Will I like it there? Will the smell be that strong? Is there really no AC? They want me to urinate where?

I received an email last week from Global Volunteers, the group I will be volunteering with. The email contained some Frequently Asked Questions. I immediately opened it and then immediately closed it.....I wasn't ready for the answers. I like my comforts, I like my routines, my espresso, my phone, my Golden Girls. I was worried the FAQs would be filled with answers I wasn't ready for. 

For some of you hemp seed eatin', flint carrying, know-how-to-set-up-a-tent people - this may seem silly to you. But for me, a day without my Clarisonic is just about as close as I have come to Naked and Afraid style roughing it. 

One of my biggest concerns is not what you may think - traveling alone to a foreign country; but rather, sharing a room with a stranger. I barely like sharing a room with my husband. I can't possibly deal with small talk, snoring, night gas and a lack of Investigation Discovery soothing me to sleep. When I first considered applying for the trip my first question to the agency wasn't noble, "What can I do to help?", it was "Can I pay more for a single room?". The answer was no, I considered turning my dream trip into a shopping spree at Nordstrom instead.

Another concerns is the laundry situation, which is to hand wash and line dry. Um, really? That sounds exhausting. I will just be dirty and/or buy new clothes and leave my old ones there. I don't have the upper body strength to hand wash. 

Water - I barely remember where I parked my car, in the driveway, let alone remembering not to drink the water when brushing my teeth or dining out. I'm already worried about the constant Indian food killing my stomach, I can't possibly add water to that list. 

Lack of phone/Internet service - apparently the closest Internet service is 3+ blocks away at an Internet cafe. The only cafes I like to be in are those with chocolate pastries. How can I possibly survive two weeks without regularly sent snarky texts to my girlfriends? 

No matter my concerns, I know this trip will be amazing and I am doing it for the children I will be working with - but leaving some of the comforts of home is slightly terrifying. 

But then again, when is checking anything off your bucket list easy? But you know what, my pencil is sharp and I'm ready to go. 

Question everything

I am an inquisitive person; maybe that is why I majored in Journalism in college (don't do it kids!). I question just about everything and today it occurred to me, I may not be the only one. 

Here are a few on the top of my list:

• How I could have purchased thousands of bobby pins and hair ties in my life, but seem to only be able to find one or two at any given time.

• How people can smoke on a motorcycle. Hello, ash-eyes anyone?

• How Starbucks' baristas manage to misspell my name every time - it's ERIN!

• How without fail, white pants or shirt = stain before leaving the house.

• How I can be 34 and still have pimples. 

• How anyone with a penis can possibly think its OK to cut a hamburger, order a fruity cocktail or wear glasses without lenses. 

• How I can always - and I mean always - be hot!

• How people can go an entire day without using the F word. 

• How anyone can possibly like reading to their kids. 

• How I can still manage to quote Seinfeld at least once a day. 

These are just a few - what do you question?

Confessions: General

I love self-actualization tests; I get excited when people tell me things about myself, observations and the way that they perceive me. I have been kicking around the idea of doing a confession series, things that I can get off my chest about myself - put out there and be free of. So today, marks my first post. Forgive me father, for I am neurotic.  

1. I follow Kim Kardashian on Instagram and silently curse every time she posts pictures of herself. Which is basically every 30 seconds. 

2. And least once a week I try to listen to NPR, then I realize this 'S sucks.

3. I have far too many Pitbull songs on my phone. 

4. I am a really good tipper, not out of generosity, but because I am bad at math and rounding up to a high amount is the easiest thing to do. 

5. I can drink just about any guy under the table. 

6. I check my email, Facebook and Instagram on average about 20 times an hour. Yes, I am obsessive. 

7. I often go to bed without washing my face - then wake up and wonder why I have a pimple and curse my skin. 

8. I hate the sound of typing, food chewing, gum smacking, anything that makes a noise - I hate. That is why I wear headphones at work all day long. 

9. If we just met, I probably hate you. It takes a while for me to warm up to you - if I don't hug you goodbye, we probably should never speak again. 

10. I have never spelled maintenance or exercise correctly in my life. 

11. If my dogs pee in the house I pretend I didn't see it until my husband walks in the room - "oh no, what happened?" I say as he picks it up. 

12. I will never forgive you for not writing me a thank you note. 

13. I cheat on being vegan every once in a while with chocolate that I know has dairy in it. 

14. I hate other vegetarians; I don't want to be in the same group with those hippy nut jobs. 

15. I will take a nap over quality time with my husband any day of the week. 

16. True crime TV lulls me to sleep - and I fall asleep on my couch most nights of the week. 

17. If you say you are busy and you don't work, don't volunteer and have no kids. You are not busy, you are lazy and I hate you. 

18. If you haven't responded to my text in 20 minutes I consider writing you off my list of friends and sending out a search party to locate your remains. 

19. I am highly organized but lose my cheaters and cell phone at least 5 times a day. And I force my kids to look for them as I sit on my chair blind and shaking without my connectivity to the outside world. 

20. I will throw away hard to clean things (such as sippy cup lids and straws) and just buy new ones, nothing is worth the hassle. 

21. I have never once rinsed out a peanut butter jar, I figure they can send a man to the moon, we can figure out a way to rid my PB from the jar before recycling. 

22. Whenever the workers at a coffee shop/restaurant etc start to recognize me I stop going there. I don't need that type of commitment. 

23. Small talk makes me hate you. I don't care how your day is going, or to share what I am doing the rest of my day. Just bag my groceries and lets get moving.  

24. If I put something in the bottom of my cart and the cashier doesn't ring it up, I ain't saying a world. I consider it Christmas for adults. 

25. I probably hate you if you have a bumper sticker. If you have a Jesus fish or something about abortion - I definitely hate you. 

Yes, every song is about love - deal with it

Last night Old Man Marshall and I headed up the boring freeway to yet another concert. You all know my recent concert experience wasn't the greatest, so needless to say I was a bit worried this one would be chalked up to another fail. But alas, it was a good night. But not without some incidents. 

1. Why does it take so dang long to get to Phoenix? I am over it already. And can't an artist just come to Tucson for goodness sakes? We all hate Phoenix for good reason, remember? 

2. Normally a chick-filled concert would require my bestie to accompany me, not my NIN loving hubby. But my normal sidekick is gallivanting in Europe and was unable to be my partner in crime. My dude had to do. 

3. A big room, no seats: OK, I am in my 30s, it isn't fun to stand up for long periods of time anymore. When I get to a concert and realize there are NO seats I think two things; 1) I must get out of here, no one singing is worth this misery 2) Can I fake an injury that would give me a chair, someone has to have some seating around here. I should really carry my old broken foot boot around with me to use in situations like this. Or a rascal, I must invest in a rascal. 

4. Too dark for a selfie: We all know if I can't document something on the interwebs, frankly, what is the point of doing it?

5. Weak drinks: spare the ice honey, there is plenty of room in that cup for more Jack Daniels. 

6. Seriously - we are still standing? I am beginning to sway and not from feeling the music, my dogs are barking. 

7. Concert make-outs: Do people come to concerts for the tonsil-hockey? I put my arm around Derek once during the show and he jumped like he was being robbed. 

8. E-cig dude: We get it, you can smoke indoors, you are so cool. Now seriously, your vapor is annoying me. 

9. Kids: In recent years I have gone to more "adult" concerts, NIN, Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie, Tool, etc, yes, bad ass. But last night was Christina Perri and there were kids there. But don't think just because you are under 5 feet tall I will give you my spot so you can "see" better. Sorry sweetie, pull that underage crap somewhere else. I once punched a girl at an Ani Difranco concert because she tried to steal my spot. I will do it again if I have to. 

10. We can't stay: I have never stayed for the end of anything. I always leave before the end, get out while the going is good. And last night was no exception. 

In all, it was a good concert. Albeit I had a stuffy nose and coughed the entire time due to allergies kicking my butt, but it was worth the price of admission. What wasn't worth it was driving around the s-box known as Tempe to 5 gas stations before I found one that would let me pee. Seriously people - bathrooms are a must, let us use them. I have been standing for two hours, have some sympathy! 

Move it or lose it

You'll know how much I love the Tone it Up girls. Their lifestyle and workouts have changed the way I feel about my body and moving it. In the last few months I have tried to put fitness in the forefront of my mind. So today, I am sharing my thoughts on converting to a fitness lover - instead of a couch sitter. 

1. It sucks. Yes, sitting on the couch always feels better. But I know after a workout I will feel good - but during, it sucks. 

2. My shoes never seem right. Either too loose or too tight. Are my feet swelling? My socks suck. Seriously, annoying. 

3. Am I the only one who can't pull off headbands? There aren't enough bobby pins in the world to hold this baby on. 

4. Does shopping for workout clothes count as cardio? Because I tried on some tight leggings and I'm pretty sure my heart rate elevated. 

5. Yoga mats can have the same feeling as a bathroom floor after a night with too much tequila. 

6. No matter what time you choose to workout, your kids will need you urgently. 

7. Zits, really? I'm 34 - this comes from sweating? OK, maybe it's time to back off the workouts. Can 90 seconds with my Clarisonic count as a spin session?

8. The Olympian sized pep talk required to convince yourself you aren't too tired to shower as you drive home from the gym. 

9. Seriously, are my legs this weak? And how many days does "being sore" stick around for? Because I am thinking I may have a disease. 

10. I hate runners, you make it all look so easy. My boobs hurt, my hamstrings feel like they are going to snap and my mouth has this excess spit I can't figure out what to do with it. 

By no means am I an athlete, I may never be able to love working out - to feel the rush from a good sweat session. But damn it, I will keep pushing and maybe one day be able to not trip in front of my neighbor as I am attempting to run by him. 

Forget the risk and take the fall

One thing I can say about myself is I am a worrier. I remember being a little kid and walking up in the middle of the night to study my spelling words. I worried kids wouldn't like my Valentine's cards, my outfit, my hair (which they never did). I worried my sister would leave for college (mind you, she was 8 when I would worry about this), I worried I would die fat, alone and zit faced. 

As I have grown up, I am a bit wiser, but the worrying never stops. I now know how to "focus" that worry. But some days, around certain things, it consumes me. I read something the other day that stopped me in my tracks, it said that if you want to know what someone worries the most about losing - see what they take the most pictures of. 

When I get into my funk of worrying, I shut down, close out the world and just sit in my head of anxiety. I replay potential outcomes, try to create lists and control the situation and ask the most important few people in my life, the same questions over and over again - until I hope they give me the answer I am seeking. 

So what has brought on all this worry? The unknown, the potential of loss and the realization that I may not be strong enough for what I  know can happen. Court tomorrow - just breathe. 

Someone told me the other day I was too attached, I needed to protect myself and not be so out there with it all. It hurt me incredibly, and perhaps it hurt because it held truth. But I will not apologize for loving until it hurts. I will not close myself off because I am afraid of the outcome. I will face each day with hope and a head full of what ifs. 

Down in front, sir.

Last night my main squeeze and I ventured out into the night - sans kids. You see, this is a big deal. As foster parents you need more clearance than a secret service member to have someone approved to watch your rug-rats. But alas, we have an approved (took months of background checks, disclosures, etc) babysitter - which means old man Marshall and I can paint the town red. 

But then it hit us - we are 34 and our paint brushes have dried up bristles. 

But we tried to rally, and we were off to see Tool, sure we knew we would be rubbing elbows with a bunch of black tee-shirt wearing lame'os, but we didn't care. We missed them when they came around when we were (sigh, 22), so we weren't going to miss them again. 

I immediately regretted my decision to attend; here is why:

1. The concert was in Phoenix (insert eye roll and an audible YUCK). Which meant we had to drive 90 minutes. Mama gets car sick. 

2. $20 for parking, um...seriously? That is like a cocktail and a half. 

3. Section 200 - how many flights up? I guess this is my cardio for the day. 

4. Enough with the pot smoke. We get it, you smoke pot - we all had our day. Now you just stink and I worry I may get a contact high which will cause me to get disoriented and fall over the railing and down to the "pit" and being near those losers is more than this girl can take. 

5. Please sit down people, we have seats for a reason and I'm still out of breath from that stair climb. I need to rest my dogs. 

6. How long is this thing? I thought I liked Tool, wait - this is the same song, but its been 10 minutes? 

7. Drunk, drugged out chicks. You are in your 30s, do people still trip in public? 

8. $8.50 for water, and you then put it in a soggy paper cup? Hello, the dude with drugged out chick in #7 could dose me and I am way too old for seeing trails. 

9. Can we go? I wonder if Derek is liking this? We do have a drive back to Tucson. God I am tired, am I the only one yawning? Seriously dude, down in front! 

10. I am pretty sure I could listen to this album in the car on the way home and it would sound better. Isn't Scandal on tonight?

One reason I love Derek is we are a perfect match of "yep, got the gist". We have left more concerts, plays, baseball games, LegoLand trips than I care to admit. I don't need to see the end and fight that crowd.  

It was nearly 12AM when we got home and I did more nodding out than a heroine junky in the car ride back. Our kids woke us up at 5AM this morning, reminding us that we are far too old for arena rock concerts, especially on a work night. 

Can I label your label?

I am an obsessive label maker. My cupboards tell me where to store my beans, q-tips are marked in pink in my linen closet, and even my pen holder at work has been branded. The best present my husband ever got me was a fancy, $100+ label maker. I cried when I opened it and show it to people more than anything in a Tiffany's box. Which coincidentally I keep on my desk to store used post-its in (before recycling). 

However, I hate to be labeled. And as foster parents that is something we must deal with all the time. I find it insane. It is 2014 for goodness sakes (even though I still feel like the 90s was a decade ago, but that is beside the point). Just yesterday at the grocery store the clerk asked if my three African American/Hispanic children were mine? And she then remarked about how she thought Derek was "just my new boyfriend". Seriously, do I have to discuss my procreation with someone bagging my kale? 

I have been asked if I was infertile, a teen-mom, watching them for someone else, etc. The list goes on and on. I know many people who have adopted, families are more blended then ever - so why do these stupid comments make it into my day-to-day life? 

One of the hardest things for me as an FP (other than the thought of saying goodbye), is the labeling. Every time you call to make a doctor's appointment, "I am the foster mother", or the in-person, "and you are?" question. I feel like I have to constantly validate my role in my children's lives. Even our family members have asked "and what do they call you?" I am there mother, Derek is their father - that is who we are. 

Just last week I received a text reminding me to make a dental appointment for our former foster son. He has moved to VA, nearly a year ago, but the text still brought me to my knees. You go from being their parent, their all, their everything to nothing. I never hear from some of our former kiddos. And when I do talk to our former son, it is just strange. As we are no longer there, and the label of parent has been removed. 

One thing I wish, what people take for granted, is the sharing of pictures. My kids are damn cute and they have a wardrobe that a Kardashian would envy - and I can't show them off. They live in the shadows of back-of-the-head shots and boxes over their face. 

People label us, we label them, and they continue to be held back from being normal children, with normal happy/silly/awkward pictures of themselves shared for the world to see. They have been labeled as foster children, identity confidential. But really, they are just kids. They have big smiles, wide eyes and huge hearts. And I label them perfectly adorable.  

Another year older.....

I am not a hopeless romantic. I cringe at couples who hold hands. I would rather stick a fork in my arm than sit on the same side of a booth as my significant other and PDA's will always be Personal Digital Assistants to me. 

However, I am inclined to write about my husband (he is rolling his eyes - I can just feel it), today on his Birthday. 

First, let's get this straight. We hate being married. Not for the reason you may think - lack of love, money problems, all that jazz. We hate being married because it was always something we both felt very strongly against. We don't need the Government being involved in our relationship. A Marriage License (which we signed on my lunch break from work) is simply a piece of paper filed away somewhere in my house. Don't get me wrong, more power to you if you are married and love it. But for us, we just didn't need it. I was content being a woman in my 30s with a boyfriend. It was fine. 

Then we became foster parents and a little boy who had his life turned upside down, Elbert, came into our lives. Elbert was kind, funny and impossible not to love. He was also alone, his adopted mother died while in our care and he had (what we thought) no one but us. In order to adopt in AZ, and have both parents be listed as just that - parents - on the adoption paperwork, we needed to be married. If not, Elbert would only have been "officially" my son, or Derek's - whichever name we selected. So after many talks, we acquiesced and decided to get married. Well, really it was just on paper. We had no ceremony (I would rather die than walk down an isle in a hideous dress with my family and friends fawning over me - no thank you). We actually had a friend of our licensing specialist sign the marriage license at a movie theater. Immediately after I took Elbert and our then FD, Amanda, too swim lessons and Derek went to volunteer. No cake, no pictures, no 1st dance - it was the wedding of my dreams. It didn't work out with Elbert, a family member came through at the 11th hour - but it was the right decision for him and us in the long run. 

I share this as it sums up my relationship with Derek. We are unconventional. We bust balls more than any other couple I know, he never hangs out with my friends, he doesn't wear a wedding ring and I don't even think we are Facebook friends....but we laugh often and about everything. For us, it just works.

A story that sums us up perfectly: I was in a car accident about 8 years ago, nothing serious but my car was totaled and I had to go to the ER in an ambulance, just to be safe (it was very dramatic and I hated it). Derek was at work at I couldn't call him because I was in a neck brace. The kind EMT guy dialed my phone and told D what hospital I would be at. Cut to 90 minutes later Derek arrives in the ER - seeing me for the first time - I am all banged up and the first thing I say to him is "Are you wearing a jean jacket?" You see, it was raining (odd for Tucson) and he had a jean jacket in his classroom that some student left, so he put it on and came to see me. I couldn't get over it. So for 10 minutes we discussed the jean jacket, where he got it, why he was wearing it and how stupid he looked in it. All before we discussed why I was in the ER and why my car was totaled. That my friends is our love.  

So there will be no fanfare, no balloons, presents or cake for his birthday. But know that he is the kindest, most selfless man I have ever met. He spends at least 25 hours a week volunteering, on top of his demanding teaching job. He has taught me to be strong, confident and to do more for others that I may be inclined to do. The love he shares with our kids is deep, profound and moving. He is never too busy, too cranky or too tired for them. I know years from now, all the kids we have had, and will have, will always look back at him and call him dad. And for that I am grateful. 


I have this saying in my living room. And it is perfectly fitting. 

Happy Birthday, Derek. I love you. 

Work It Out

Do you remember years ago, in that famous missing person's case, the woman's husband said she had went out for a run and never came back. Well ladies and gentlemen, if I should ever go missing, (first, check under my desk as I might just be napping) your response to authorities must always be: 

"She just left for a run, like she always does, and never came back."

Then everyone will think that I am fit, health conscious and must have great calves. None of which are true.

As I get older I reflect more on the changes I want to make in my life. I have always struggled with my weight, up and down, obsession after obsession, and eating disorders. Everyone who is close to me knows my love of vomiting (but that is neither here nor there). 

So this year I said I wanted to get back into fitness, really, I was never in it, but what the hell - getting back into something sounds a lot better than starting it. So instead of my normal weight lifting, which consisted of lifting up the handle of vodka, I decided to join a gym (I actually joined three, but again, another story) and start working out. 

As I began my journey I recalled my friend from high school who said "just because you're a vegetarian, doesn't mean you don't eat chocolate". This was in response to someone who was shocked she wasn't a size 2. I face this problem daily, I am not a size 2. I have never been and probably never will be. 

I have always eaten well, we don't have chocolate, chips or soda in our house. We do have snap peas, kale, Kombucha, light almond milk and diet soda stream grapefruit (this is like crack to me, but I limit myself). I don't eat white rice, white bread, fried food (hardly ever), meat or dairy. But what I do like, is carbs. I have never met a potato I didn't want to marry and I crave pasta more than sex. 

Most of my friends are super skinny, which makes me think I need to get new friends. But I have recently found new (as Wendy Williams says) "Friends in My Head", Karena and Katrina from Tone it Up http://toneitup.com/. I have been religiously following their workouts and they are amazing. Plus, super hot, which doesn't hurt either. A little eye candy when you are pushing yourself never hurts- way better than that P90X creep. 

So far, it has been great. Successful and somewhat painless. But seriously, I would kill someone for the ability to eat a pound of mashed potatoes. 

I hate when people notice you have lost weight. I often think "Geez, how fat was I before?". And don't get me started on when people DON'T notice you have lost weight. You want to scream "I am basically wasting away here, damn it!"

So that brings me back to running. I won't run, don't ask me...but if anyone asks you - I am always at the track running and the time I broke my foot, that was simply from a long hard run....not a flop over in my wedges after a shopping trip. 

Ready to break a sweat? Ugh, me neither - sweating makes me break out. And I am way too old for acne. 

Excuse me, I'm on business

I have always romanticised business travel. I grew up picturing myself jetting off in a pressed business suit, a designer laptop bag being pulled behind me. Staying in classy hotels, ordering room service and a second cocktail on the company. New cities, new experiences and frequent flyer privileges. I was in love with the idea. 

Then, I started traveling. 

Let me break it down for you:

Airports - we all know them, we all hate them. When you are on business travel you hate them even more because you aren't putting up with the lines, handsy TSA agents and bitchy passengers, to get to your island getaway. The entire time you are waiting, ushered through security like cattle and scrutinized for your eye cream being more than 3 ounces. 'Hello TSA, I have to prevent wrinkles and it takes more than 3 ounces to look good.' 

Food - Being a vegan basically means I have to eat ice berg lettuce, baby carrots stashed in my luggage and Perrier for 'that full feeling'. The cities I travel too aren't the big ones, so being a vegan comes with an eye roll and search for my ubiquitous hacky sac. 

Hotels - here it gets fun. Some hotels are fine, they have decent beds, a TV to watch the local news (seriously, why don't hotels have better channels?) and workout rooms. Then there are the dreaded hotels, the ones you have to stay in because all others are booked. Case in point, the picture below. Taken from a hotel I immediately checked out of five minutes after arriving. Don't get me wrong, my employer is great and does attempt to get me in decent hotels, but it isn't always possible. And sometimes you have to step over a couch or two. 

Here are my rules for putting up with the woes that may come with travel. 

• Always wear ear buds (in the airport, on the plane, in line for the rental car and in the gym), never take them off or people will assume you are interested in chatting. And you NEVER are. 
• You might as well cancel the trip if you are in the middle airplane seat. Enough said. 
• Protein bars are your life line, and so is vodka.
• Just be lucky you have a job that requires mobility. You could be stuffing lettuce bags on an assembly line. 

So until the next trip.....

Scared to Death

Yesterday was one of those days, weighted down by uncertainty. I kept trying to remind myself that my life is good, I am fortunate and no matter what - we can't control the outcome. 

Any foster parent knows the heavy chest feeling. The feeling that you kiss your kids goodnight and you aren't sure how many more times you will have that chance. You try not to play out the last moments, the inevitable goodbyes and the tears that will flow. 

I often don't share the ins-and-outs of what is going on, as it is to painful to hear "they can't let that happen." and "I would never put up with that." The real answer, we have no voice. We have no say, it isn't up to us. 

If you are reading this you know I have the perfect daughter. She is everything I have ever wanted; smart, sassy, full of attitude and a killer fashion sense. She is my everything. However, it is unknown how the case will play out. For 16 months I have been her boo-boo kisser, her tickle monster, her big hugs and kisses - I have been her mommy. Each day we hear things that in a normal world would make all the difference in the case, but for some reason it doesn't work out that way. 

So we do all we can do - wait, hold our breath and try not to let the tears well up in the thought of a possible future without. 

Foster care is very lonely. Not many people in your circles are licensed foster parents, and it is so hard to know the ache, frustrations and highs and lows of this area without having lived it. I have met only two lovely ladies who I have become friends with, who we can curse and share our stories with - while others sit, gripping their toddlers hands, thinking "I would die without my child." Yes, we worry the same thing too.

I question my strength everyday. I question whether this is the right journey for me, surely there is something easier. I could just get pregnant, have my own baby and hold him/her so tight no one would ever take them away. But I have never been one to take the easy route - I like to do things that scare me. 

And frankly, I am scared to death. 

First Look

Let's recap, we all know I have OCD, I am Type A and hate to be without my chapstick and hand lotion for more than 30 seconds (think I am joking? try me). So when I wrote in a previous post I had a few questions about what conditions I would be dealing with in India, to say I was anxious about the answers was an understatement.

I know, I am volunteering, I know, millions of people live in awful conditions around the world and I should thank my lucky stars for a roof over my head, clean drinking water and the fact that I can sleep at night without a mosquito net. But let's get real, I am not the Peace Corps joining, hemp harvesting, natural deodorant wearing type. So in theory "disconnecting" sounds fun, but one must ask - how disconnected does that really mean? And will there be a panic button that I can push which will rush me back to a place with a 90-hr DVR and a SodaStream?

My Answers: 

AC - only in guest house. Yikes, don't care for this very much. Especially since I make my husband and kids layer up as I chill down my abode. Mama doesn't like to sweat. 

Internet - in guest house, yes! Thank god. I am not sure I can be without a steady stream of celebrity news. I consider informing the children of Chennai about which Housewife is off the rails - the true humanitarian work. 

Toilets - Ugh...this is the kicker. Many emails went back and forth and a definition and Google search followed of "non-Western" toilets. To be honest, I had to first Google if USA was Western or not. I am not very bright. Let's just say, the house I will be staying in has a flushing toilet and some of the orphanages do to - but not all. So limited water intake and a lot of "walking it off" will be taking place. 

In all, I am pretty happy with my answers. Especially that I was told it will be the rainy season and to pack a raincoat. Which in my mind, means "you can now purchase those adorable Hunter rain boots you have been lusting over - but couldn't justify buying because you live in the desert". Thanks, India. 

Here are a few pictures of the house I will be staying in. It looks nice and who doesn't love to sit in plastic patio chairs? I feel they put that fan there just for me. I wonder, is the box of tissues in the bedroom for me to use, as I silently sob over how I hate my roommate? 

Is there electricity?

I'm about to let the cat out of the bag, I am a bit high maintenance. Growing up I used to joke that my family's idea of ruffing it was staying at an Embassy Suites. I recall leaving a hotel in Florida once because my mother saw a lizard in the pool area. I do not come from hearty stock - I bruise easily, don't like to be dirty and have never had a "good sweat". 

I like things a certain way when I travel; I have expectations. Room service is a must, and a bellman who can bring my bags to my room and stand awkwardly while I search for the lone dollar bill I have floating around my purse and a hotel bar - because seriously, I like to drink. 

Call me naive, but it just dawned on me that I will be without certain things I have come to expect when I travel to India. Sure, I knew I would be out of my comfort zone - but they clearly must have WiFi, right? Hello, how else am I supposed to keep up with the Kardashians? 

So today, like a stuck-up American everyone in the world hates, I emailed the country manager for Global Volunteers with my questions. It went something like this (insert hair twirling, gum chewing and valley girl cadence - as I am sure that is how he pictured me while reading my email). 

Dear XXXX, 

Please don't think I am a stuck-up American, I am not, well, kind of, it really depends on who you ask. But I have a few questions about the accommodations while I will be in India.

• Plumbing - will there be a toilet? And one that I can flush? I am not about to go in a bucket, dig a hole or go outside in an outhouse. If no such toilet is available I will attempt to "hold-it" for two weeks. 
• AC - how freakin' hot is it going to be and will there be AC at every turn? If not, I may need to reconsider this trip all together. 
• Internet - mama likes to stay connected, so what is the likelihood I can check my Twitter feed every 2-3 minutes? You know I only do things so I can post them on Facebook? 
• Cell phone - is there someone at the airport I can give money to so I can have a cell phone to use while I am there? I have never gone more than 5 minutes without holding one in my hand and I fear I will go into some sort of seizure. 

Thank you for your time - gotta run, someone just posted something on Pinterest I must repin. 

Erin 

So now I wait for the answers. Many people think this forced culture shock will be good for me. I on the other hand worry about how many shows my DVR will be able to record for me while I am gone. 

I'll Always Be With You.....

A question I was recently asked keeps circling through my brain, it is a question any foster parent has been asked many times over. It's a question spoken with good intentions, from a place of general inquiry. However to you, the answer is so universally clear that you can't imagine the question having merit. 

How do you not get attached to these children?

I truly hate the title "foster parents", it is cold, distant and lacking of what we truly are - parents. I often feel that people look at us as specimens, you can see their brain doing calculations on ages, looking you and your children over, doing a mental inventory so it makes sense in their brain "curly hair (check), brown eyes (check), dark skin (no check), WAIT - where did this baby come from?" 

The inevitable questions begin right away, were we not able to have our own children (I have been asked many times if my eggs are bad), are you going to adopt, and how can we can stand to let them go. The last question really gets me, it insinuates that our heart does not ache like theirs would, that our tears must not flow as freely, that our family is simply made up of a boarding facility to which children siphon through. 

Nothing in my life has been as hard as being a foster parent, for me. It is not to say that others haven't had strife in their life, that their journey isn't filled with more struggles, despair and anguish. Don't get me wrong, I am truly lucky, my life is pretty comfortable - when I look through it with the rose colored glasses of optimism. But it is hard, it hurts and there is little appreciation for it. 

So the answer to the above mentioned question is simple. You must get attached, you can't help yourself from getting attached - it is your job to get attached. It is your job to kiss the ouches away, wipe the tears, hug tight, look under the bed for monsters, tell them you love them and let them call you whatever the hell they want to - mom, Nana, Mimi, or just Erin.

I fear the day they leave, I cry a lot over that moment - any foster parent does. But it doesn't make the daily joys less joyful. The moments when these amazing children realize food will always be available, hugs are limitless and love is unconditional. 

There is a quote I have in my kid's room, it truly sums up the journey perfectly. 

To my fellow foster parents - I know that look in your eyes. The look of court not going the right way, of case workers calling you "placements" one too many times and the fear that hides behind that slight smile. But years from now, when that child has grown, is strong, healthy and successful - at some point they will think "I was safe, I was cared for, I was loved." 

The Ask

I have been wanting to travel and volunteer for years, it has been on my "bucket list" (even though I would never call it that as I hate that name). What has been holding me back you ask? Money! It isn't cheap to travel internationally, heck, I can barely afford to get to San Diego and that is just a few hours away. 

In the last few years Derek and I have spent any expendable income on preparing to become foster parents. We traded in our old, unreliable cars for more fuel efficient family trucksters. We remodeled and updated our rooms to accommodate many different age ranges and bought many beds, cribs and strollers. 

The funny thing about being foster parents is there are no baby showers, no time when your family and friends sit you down and shower you with gifts of things you so desperately need. No congratulation gifts, baby games and sugary sweets in honor of your bundle of joy. It is all on you. 

So deciding to spend two weeks vacation time, $1700 service fee, plus the $1600+ airfare to India - well, that was a lot to plan for. Many people have said "wait, you have to pay to volunteer?" Uh, duh, yes! I will be gone for two weeks, staying in Chennai and helping abandoned and orphaned children. They don't just let you do that for free - it costs. And quite frankly, a lot for this girl. 

But I am determined to get there, and here are a few "resolutions" if you will to help me:
1. Limit Starbucks intake - I can save a bunch of money drinking (gasp) store bought coffee.
2. No eating out - unless in the weekly budget. 
3. Drink at home - do you know how much a night of pricey cocktails can cost?
4. Realize your children don't need a new outfit daily (this is hardest for me).
5. Ask for help.

I am struggling with #5. I realize my trip to India is for me, and asking for others to help me get there - that isn't easy. Some of the best people in my life have said they wanted to support me, and if that means they would like to donate to my trip - I would be more than grateful. But please know, I am not expecting anyone to care or help me get to India. 

If you are so inclined, the volunteer group (501c3 non-profit) has set up a donation page for my trip. I encourage you to take a look (link below), no pressure to donate, just read about my trip and what I will be doing. 

http://donations.globalvolunteers.org/erinschmidt

1, 2, 3, 4...repeat

I'll let you in on a little secret, I am power hungry. But not in the way one may think - I have tried to climb the proverbial corporate ladder and slipped on a few rungs, but the power I seek is much more personal - the power of control, to make outcomes what I truly believe they should be. For that hunger I can not be satiated. 

My entire life I have struggled with OCD. Not the everyday kind that many think they have where they must check to see if they locked the front door or turned off the stove - mine is the kind that keeps me up at night. The kind that forces me to count in 4s, walk a certain way, repeat a saying (more times that I care to admit), touch something just right, the list goes on and on. And if I don't do these things - well it is obvious, someone will die, there will be a car accident, shooting, hurricane, tsunami - you name it - it will happen. 

In my 34 years I have found some relief to my "madness" and many of the treatments I have sought have worked - but my desire for control is never fulfilled. Perhaps that is why I seek order in so many different ways. Why my quest for organization will never be achieved, why my spreadsheets, planners, lists and calendars will never have the correct method of clarity. I am and will forever be an obsesser. 

So how does this pertain to my journey? Because I have picked one of the most insane paths to walk down for someone who craves control and power - foster care. Last night sitting at my dining room table were two key planners in the case of our little girl and no matter how many times they repeat it, no matter how many times I hear it, I just can't seem to grasp it. We have NO control. No matter how many meetings I attend, emails I send, how much I love, fight, claw my way to justice - it is out of our control. The outcome is left for others to decide and I can't handle that truth. 

I am not religious, but I do believe in karma and the power of good. I must believe that someone will see this little girl deserves stability, love and us. I must let go of the need to control the outcome, because as I have been told - I can't. 

So until then, I will count, repeat, and pretend it all makes sense - because that is the only power I have. 

Can I get a witness?

I've spent much of my late teens and adult life attempting to avoid court. I cross at the crosswalk, refrain from selling drugs, pay way too much for cabs after a night of drinking, and always bring my shopping carts back to the return carousel. But when you are a foster parent court seems like a second home to you. A home where the lighting is dim, the decor is stale and the house guests haven't showered in days. 

Court is always nerve wracking and so much goes into it. Let me break it down for you:

• The outfit: Seriously, what to wear? You want to look cute but not too cute. You need to stand out from the low-life's who are there trying to right the wrongs of their past. God help you if you get mistaken for a defendant. You also want to appear that you aren't broke and give half a kidney a month to your student loan lender. Heels must be worn, but not too high, or too on trend. Makeup must be done, but not too done like you are hitting the club. It is a whole process. And frankly way too involved when I am already a nervous wreck.

• The walk-in: Without a doubt the bio parents will be sitting within an arms throw of the security desk. Which is always fun as you must pretend you don't see them and aren't wishing they lose custody of the amazing little one you spent your days/nights caring for. Now remember, look good while getting screened for explosives - smile but not too big as your face is huge already (theme of the blog). 

• Waiting: Who says things start on time, no one in juvenile court. Without a doubt there will be the sitting, waiting and pretending you aren't about to throw up your grande Americano with a few shakes of cinnamon. Talk weather, show pictures of their way-too-cute-to-have-come-from-them kid, look at your phone, smile, phone check again, smile, phone check, it goes on like this forever. 

• It's time: I am a cross my arms over my chest type of girl. It makes me feel better, but any manners freak will tell you it looks like you are closed off and aggressive, so I always sit demurely with my hands in my lap....which is never easy. And the hardest part, no phone for 60 minutes. I know, I almost faint from being cut off. 

• Walk-out: Without a doubt, if you are a foster parent court is never what you expect it to be. No matter what, you will be hurt in some way and it won't go in the direction any normal person would expect the world to turn. So the walk-out is always tricky. This is where I usually resort to a quick rush to the door, cover face if emotion is on it and head straight to the bar. Yesterday was definitely a double Jack & Coke type of day. 

I can't be too candid as to what actually goes on in the court room, but just know, we will fight and do what is right for the children we care for. We may not always be heard, but we do make a difference somewhere. 

So, until the next time I must appear in court - here is to getting through it without cursing, fainting or sitting next to a lawyer.