Stormy weather

The other day Lilah crawled into my lap and asked me to sing her a song. I started one of the usuals and she violently shook her head. "No no no. Don't say that. Sing Tables. Turning Tables." Leave it to my kid to want Adele as a lullaby. So I snuggled her head to my chest and we sang. She hummed along as close to on-key as one can manage at 2 1/2, and I sang a song that's very close to my heart. As I did, I got a bit introspective.

I love "Turning Tables" because of the quiet strength it exudes. It turned my memory back 6-7 years. Things with my parents had reached the height of their nastiness. I spent more time than not dissolving into tears at the daily heartache. My personal theme songs went from "Who I Am Hates Who I've Been" (self loathing at its best) to "Praise You In This Storm". It was even my ringtone for my parents. For those of you who have never heard it, the gist of it is giving thanks to God during the hard times (nice thought) even when he seems to be nowhere in sight (not such a nice thought). I remember sitting in the Kroger parking lot just to get away and crying while the words washed over me.

I was sure by now, God You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away,
stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen
and it's still raining
as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain,
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away.

And I'll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am

It helped at the time, but as I grew in who I was, I started to resent the song and what it represented. "Wait, so I'm supposed to stay here, miserable, and let myself get shipwrecked over and over? Without any hope of rescue or end in sight?" I couldn't keep it up. I got stronger. The magical help I was waiting for wasn't coming, refused to come. Was either incapable or unwilling. I was the only help I was ever going to get. So God was with me. Great. But I was still in pieces. 


The first time I heard "Turning Tables", it struck a chord in me. It was who I was, who I'd grown into. And I was so happy to be me.

Under haunted skies I see you
Where love is lost, your ghost is found
I braved a hundred storms to leave you
As hard as you try, no I will never be knocked down
I can't keep up with your turning tables
Under your thumb, I can't breathe

So I won't let you close enough to hurt me, no
I won't ask you, you to just desert me
I can't give you, what you think you give me
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables
Turning tables
Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior
When the thunder calls for me
Next time I'll be braver
I'll be my own savior

Standing on my own two feet

I would never have to rely on anyone else. I've saved myself a hundred times since then. A few times a year when things pop up that seem insurmountable, I take immeasurable comfort in the storms I've braved so far and the storms that can never knock me down again. But it took me every single one of those hurts to form scar tissue thick enough.

I rocked my sweet little baby and almost laughed as I sang "I won't let you close enough to hurt me." That line applied to nearly everyone in my life but her. I couldn't block her out if I tried. She is an ingrained part of my soul, the deepest and most personal part of me. I hope Lilah will be strong enough one day to shove away a relationship that could destroy her. I hope she realizes just how much in life is optional. You always have a choice. Some are harder than others, but one of the most liberating things in the world is to smile and walk away from a bridge you left burning. Even if it feels like you're burning a part of yourself, one day you can look back and dance around the funeral pyre that turned out to be just the cauterization of a wound.

Rootless tree

I'm feeling odd today. A unique combination of two profoundly different emotions. I seem to have drifted apart from the only older family member I had left, and it's left me feeling both apathetic and deeply injured.

There was no major fight or disagreement. Just life and the way we want to live it. Two very separate paths that finally forked left me yet again feeling orphaned. Simply put, I am not the kind of person she chooses to be intimately involved with anymore. I choose spirituality over religion, candor over censorship, and most importantly, I choose myself over approval.

While this doesn't directly relate to my parenting of Lilah, in a way it absolutely does. She doesn't share a single drop of blood with some of the people that love her best. Adam, Dennis, Mellisa, Erin, Ryan, Rob, the Bells, Avery, Mia, Kevin, Whitney, Bob and Gen. This doesn't even touch the aunties, cousins, grandparents, and uncles who are related to her. For her, I'm truly content that she isn't missing anything. She, like Dano, is entwined in a family with history, traditions, memories, and love and is beloved and adored for who she is.

I feel a strong sense of transplantation. I was taken from where I started and I have truly thrived elsewhere. Like the tomato plants on my porch, I put down roots and grew happily where I was planted. But it's days like today where I look at the Ball tomato plants that have flourished into a veritable jungle and I look at mine and realize with a deep pang of heartbreak that their roots have hit the bottom of pot. I could take the fruits I've grown and plant them in someone else's yard and they grow into amazingly tall, healthy miracles. But mine have gone as deep as they can go and the best they have to hope for is that the seeds they worked so hard to grow will have an easier time.

As silly as it is, it hurts on Mad Men every time someone looks suspiciously at Don Draper and says accusingly, "He can't be trusted. He doesn't even have any people." And for as easily as Dano can reassuringly tell me, "Sweetheart, the past doesn't matter," it does. All those buried, half-forgotten memories and wishes no one can ever grant are ever on the lookout for the slightest foothold to claw their way to the surface again. The history I desperately wish I had is non-existent and now with this one last family tie that was so neatly snipped, I can't even pretend anymore. In a sense, it's a relief. When I realized I wasn't who she wanted, all those old emotions rushed back. "What can I do to fix it? What can I change?" But they were brushed away like a dead leaf that falls on your shoulder. I just shook my head. "Not this time." It wasn't even tempting. I've had it with this constant process of self-modification to meet the standards of others. If I have to change who I'm comfortable being and sacrifice my sense of self to be a little more palatable for you, then I'm very sorry but you aren't worth the work it would take to make you happy.


Give me one decent reason that the "me" I grew into isn't good enough for you. It's such a racket and it's a hampster wheel I hopped off of years ago.

I have just accepted that some days are worse than others. 99% of the time I'm so happy with the life I'm living, I forget the one I missed out on. It's those 1% days that are like poison in my blood. Just a drop and a few heartbeats later, I'm septic.

But not Lilah. Never Lilah. Not as long as I'm breathing. For her it's pure air, blue skies, clear water, and unconditional acceptance from the people who made her. She was "good enough" from the moment she was born and she's exceeded my expectations ever since.

Family Reunion

This weekend has been one big giant gathering of Dano's family. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, children, siblings, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. Lilah has been greatly enjoying herself and largely well behaved. Considering the lack of sleep, over stimulation, constant activity, and optional naps, things have gone better than they could have.

I have felt displaced and odd. Not upset or sad. I just don't really know how to feel. It has been fast paced and busy. I feel like the gathering of people have been very focused on where we're going and what we're doing. The Alexanders and Balls (who are the normal Detroit area crew) are usually content to hang around, sometimes eat, sometimes do something, but the who is always more of a focus than the what or where.

While taking cover from the rain today, Ephraim was interrogating me and Larry about the different "baby songs" sung to each child. Lilah's was "Bandit Queen" and "Ida, Sweet as Apple Cider" (only we sang "Lilah" instead of "Ida"). EJ's was "Bye Bye Baby". I can't remember Zedd's. He asked what mine was. I didn't have one. "Well who sang to you?"
"Nobody."
"Why didn't your mama or daddy?"
"They didn't like to sing."
"Why not? Where are they?"
"Far away."
"Why aren't they here? Where do they live?"
"I don't even know anymore, Eph."

There are no members of Dano's family whom I dislike. They all like me and accepted me into the family. I have no in-law horror stories. I just truly don't know how to interact. I have gotten very comfortable with Kim, Adam, the boys, Ann, Larry, and Max. I feel like me around them. But add others into the mix that I have met once or twice or not at all, and I feel lost. They have the same blood in their veins that flows through the child in my arms, but they're total strangers to me. Yet people like Dennis (Adam's dad) share no relation to my little family whatsoever, but feel like blood. It's so confusing to me, who doesn't know what a normal family unit looks like, let alone all this extended family nonsense.

I would love to have one more day of my weekend to recover before going back to work tomorrow, but that's not in the cards. It's been nonstop activity since Friday at 6 and I'm worn out just from the business of it all. Flu season will be starting at work soon and I need all the time I can get before that madness. Labor Day is fast approaching and I have 5 days off. I'd like to go camping or something, but we'll see what happens. In the meantime, I am really enjoying the small, boring unit that is my family and learning to live and be happy in the moment instead of always looking frantically forward to the next thing I'm supposed to be doing. I'm content being unexciting.