Leaving the Nest

I suppose when most people hear the phrase "leaving the nest" they invision college, dorm rooms and a sense of pride (mixed with empty nest feelings). Our foster and then adoption journey has introduced me to experiences and feelings that I did not know existed until I was the mother in the story. Truth be told I thought I was a pretty good person before this journey, for a teen, but their are aspects of this world I knew nothing about before. I walked by moms loading kids in a van via wheelchair ramp and felt great pride that we as woman can conguer almost anything. I never fully understood what emotion that woman must be feeling... For me its a mix of pride, hope, joy, stress, defeatedeness and endless prayers. I wouldnt say im a religious person, but I completely believe. I didnt realize how many parents are walking around praying constantly for hope, help, acceptance, and support, they breath in air and breath out prayer. Its now my heartbeat.

I see posts of parents measuring dorm rooms and debating if their sweetums can fit in such small space, and should they set up a meal plan? Should they buy a car or use transit? Its becoming greek to me... Its not jealousy, its just I cant even relate on any level of it. Every 30 days I have to sit down with DDD and mental health workers and create a case plan (for three of my kids) and they ask me the "long term realistic goal for your child". My answers range from "He will be able to recognize a stop sign and safety parameter, and learn how to use crosswalks and maybe get a part time job someday", to "She will be able to recognize when a mood swing is controlling her logic and thus ask a trusted adult if what she is seeing/hearing is really actually happening". These are my GOALS, not even short term ones, these are my best/greatest hopes. (insert how do you get to be a "trusted adult" to someone trusting not even her own mind).

Today our son of 11 years, age 12,  had to move to a DDD group home due to severe PICA. His autism is expressed with oral sensory needs that hit a limit that no one could control, not his speciality teacher, his home aide, his parents, nor the specialty hospital. We knew that eventually this would happen but not this soon, we drug our feet because after knowing only us this would be so traumatic no??? The answer is NO. Autism is the gift that can keep giving. He is very black and white and is now "ready for my new roomates mom". After explaining it over and over again by my own choice the last few weeks the only question he ever had was "can I keep my daily schedule the same?".  Not the same people, just the same schedule. Its a blessing in disguise, for him only.....  For us I remember the 24 week premie that I was told would never eat, walk, or talk. I remember waking up every two hours to change his feeding tubes. I remember teaching him how to read, write, talk, walk.... I remember pouring love into him on full blast, constantly, for years. Praying he would eat someday. Boy god delivered but added a special twist.

Thats half of the story, we have had support in this move for him. People see autism and know its a disability. No one looks at me like I caused his autism, I mean thats would be nuts!   However, 7 months ago we went through this with another child, just for mental illness. Bi Polar is no joke, it is also genetic, and one we knew was a real chance in our case, and somehow even though its not my DNA even Ive had plenty of people judge our childrens mental illness, blame me even. Somehow it is taboo to talk about taking your kid for help for mental illness, I mean if you were just "better" as a parent surely mental illness would not occur. I had one therapist tell me "Mental illness is a slow burning fire, and hormones are pure gasoline". This was after I asked "why all of a sudden"? Autism is 24/7, whereas mental illness can convice a person to shape shift. They train themselves to wear a mask depending on the situation, and their mood can stabalize for periods. Telling your son he has to move to a lovely group home is much easier then telling your daughter that the conversation she just heard never took place. Seeing fear in the face of someone you love is terrible, especially when they are fearing their own mind. Its like dementia in a child. It changes you on a celluler level. It is watching your child drown and having not one option to save them.

If you know someone with a child that is struggling remember this:  Your judgement cant even touch the level of self doubt we already do to ourselves. Your ignorance speaks volumes only about you, and your lack of empathy makes me more gravely concerned about YOUR mental health than mine or my childs. If you know a parent drowning offer them a few hours to go get their hair done, even a hotel room for the night, a text or a phone call, order pizza, and sometimes you show up when they tell you not to and do their laundry. Last but not least, love their children. They didnt ask to be here, nor be born with this condition. They didn't ask for your indifference or your ignorance, they didnt get to choose their family, and in my case they didnt get to choose their forever family either, they need more people that love them, not less..... And if you know a mom of multiple special needs kids understand that they are walking on a tight rope constantly and if they seem different or unique, odd even, they are. They arent better, they have been forever changed. I no longer consider myself a regular human. I cried for the first time tonight, Ive been on auto pilot for one full month because if I allowed myself to break sooner my son would feel it in me.

What is harder then having your kids "leave the nest" on a regular schedule, is having them "leave the nest" with no real idea of the future. It is stressful to say the least. My husband had a dream last night and said " I had a dream that we made things better for her by convincing her that their are cameras everywhere and she has to play a  'role' during most hours, and then having a panic or freak out room for one hour a day so she can decompress". Heres the crazy thing guys, the "truman show" theory actually made me pause and think for a split second on it. Thats a DDD/ SMI mom for you, constantly thinking outside the box, and then some. You dream of a cure..... even if its truly crazy.

Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about, choose kindness, choose grace, grace wins every single time. Do what is right when no one is watching, because I truly believe God is... always.

8 days in Skala

A couple on holiday poses against the fishing boats that line the little harbor of Skala Sykamni. Its' a small town in Greece with a square that includes one mini mart, three restaurants, a bakery, two "rooms for rent" type hotels, and so far today by 11am...... 1300 refugees.

After being here 8 days I can see the locals are just as shell shocked as the refugees getting off the boats, bewildered at what..... Just WHAT is to happen next. The night before we sat and dined on custom meals made by lovely restaurant owners who are grateful to have business during this odd juxtaposition of small town beauty meets mass exodus.

The boats come in around the clock..... and if its picture worthy weather, so do volunteers. Larger groups sponsored by NGO's are smart enough to use eager independent volunteers as bird-dogs doing the tracking work. Once the boats are clearly lined up for a set disembark they snap their fingers and hired cameramen and photogs quickly squeeze right on top of you to get their photos, pushing some out of their way. Children in shock are strewn along the shore - not quite sure if they are to trust any person they ever see, again. Mothers search your eyes for translation, trying to trust their gut if they should allow you to feed their child, or even walk twenty feet to the car where you have clothing. They have been warned of the worst in humanity and for many, have never even seen anything close to the best.

Once camera lighting diminishes the independent volunteers who came using their holiday money seem to work overtime. The small sized NGO and teams of two-three seem to mesh fine, at least for now. Murmurs from locals get spread that if volunteers stopped coming then maybe the refugees might stop... A memo I doubt the people hiding in dense brush in Turkey are going to ever get. They have been hiding ten days now to escape when the authorities pass.... and possibly when the weather looks good, but the smuggler doesn't really care about the later. The night before we create a tent city with the help of 3 volunteers, and after spending my own money, feed them. The translator who I have met from Sweden quietly says that a boat is missing and the smugglers are separating families.... A father weeps quietly that his two sons, ages 7-9 are lost at sea..... and now the downpour of rain kicks in. I set off in my rented car to the other nearby shores to search. Those of us used to chaos at home, look around and still have no preparation for these third world problems. The genocide of our time..... and a scant handful of mothers, journalists, and paramedics are the ones here to help.

"Where is the church"? I hear a local say in broken English..... Its shortly off of the "Where is God?" that I think has slipped into my head at moments when I least expect it. Like holding a 8 year old girl who is shaking so badly from shock that she hasn't cared to look for her mom, for 40 minutes now. "Where is anybody" is more like it. I walk a half a mile into town to use the WC, and order a warm drink. I see parents walking through town quietly with their refugee children, looking for the next stop on their endless journey. The kids are my childrens ages..... the children are my children. "Thank you it tastes great" I say to the barista as I walk to the mini mart to pay for my breakfast tally for 300 refugees I fed. "What exactly is going on here" an older couple says to me in bewilderment..... exactly I think......exactly...

Weather will be turning soon, and the exodus will not stop. The smugglers will still sell cheaper tickets at inopportune times, and those without money will take that chance, as it is the only chance they have to survive. A woman only puts their child on the water at 2am if they know its safer then the land. At least, I think, God controls the tide.........

As I stumble to my car to make it to the airport I realize I have slept 18 hours in the last 6 days. Im sure my pacemaker report will send an alert to my doctor that something unusual has happened this week... Then I see a young boy I unloaded two days prior walking in town. Through a translator his mother says that when they saw me on shore at 5am they thought I was a cop to arrest them.... They had no warning that people may actually help. "She made me feel like a human again".... she says. I tear up for the first time in front of a refugee. Her six year old takes my family picture with him as he smiles coyly at me.... Huge smiles when he sees my five children... He makes me feel like a hero....And I know I will never be the same again....

My Grandma at Age 34

My grandma greets me with her hand reaching out for mine, gentle, soft, and trembling a bit. It resembles the tug a toddler will do on your purse strings, trying to albeit the love of his mother, a gentle tug to say.... "I'm here" while you exchange pleasantries at the grocery line. My grandma greets people the way you feel in your bones a person should. Meaning she resembles the image one raises in themselves of a past memory, only many we revisit latter with disappointment...... There are few that go in the opposite direction bringing on childhood memories like waves of yesterday, thirty years later..... that is my Grandma Betty.

"Little Missy.... Little Missy I know you hear me now.....Grandpas tired and real.... "OK OK OK I SAID JOE" Little Missy you must come down now Ive got to go on to get supper started."

And she'd wait at the bottom of the slide so massive that she follows you from ladder rung to the sliding ending, with true fear in her frail visage. Standing 20 feet in either direction dead center of two really needy beings...... and then you fly overhead this image realizing as a mom now, not really dead center, not really even close, her face hasn't left yours, 200 more feet in spirit. "Come now Daddy has to take his water pills, you know the Indian Dr, Dr Singh, Hes so good, did I say Daddy Little Missy, that's your Grandfather, fought in the War".

She greets me hunched over as if I am still 3 feet tall. And as I see her greet people I realize the curvature of her spine is in direct proportion to her need to pray you in. More tugging on that hand or your purse string, as the longer you have been in her prayers, waiting to see your chest rise and fall, in the flesh. Once during your visit she will appear to kiss your hand only to gently slide her finger over your artery on your wrist..... Only a glance away from you gives it away, as shes grown accustomed to using the second hand off her watch.....

I suppose that's how we choose our people, we meet standing up but in love we lean over to breathe them in. Some would say pray them in. I feel its a hard drawn out breath, like breathing life into your own lungs.... I don't suppose we all have this gift, maybe some of us are to righteous to admit that..... We are most in love when we are kneeling.... aren't we?

As I go I offer to take her shopping or fix her car "No No now dear, you just go make those babies supper, you promise you feel good though? You tell me..... I will say even more prayers you know sugar".  "I feel fine grandma, the baby tugs on me all night now". "Ohhh...... you sing to him, Little Man "


Little man, you're cryin', I know why you're blue
Someone took your kiddy-car away
You better go to sleep now
Little man, you've had a busy day

Johnny won your marbles, tell you what we'll do
Dad will get you new ones right away
Better go to sleep now
Little man, you've had a busy day

You've been playin' soldier, the battle has been won
The enemy is out of sight
Come along there soldier, put away your gun
The war is over for tonight


We sung this on nights before travel or seeing people for long times, it was cathartic and tumultuous, the feeling of Grandpas Talcalm powder as he chuckles to the sound of Uncle Leonards shaver every barber shop visit..... on the back porch. That feeling there, but in a song.

                                                                  Elizabeth Hands
                                                           Fan of Barney Feif, Judge Judy
                                                             Worlds best silent cheerleader,
                                                                      34 years running.

Wounded Puppies and Deepak

Xmas 14

A friend of mine came upon a 10 day old Chihuahua who had lost its mother. He needed twenty four hour care, and a "foster mom" was needed so I volunteered. All of my children are beloved, and have a space in the tiny cracks in my heart I didn't know existed, they mortar the holes made on a person's spirit when eyes role, a gossip spreads ill words, someone perceived by blood to be close passes unnecessary judgment. It patches the "picked last" or the "never asked", the "shes OK looking" and the more popular "she isn't one of us". They help the muttering of "she doesn't do enough" or "she doesn't deserve the success". These span three decades of my life, and I believe, centuries before. They limit me to some extent, and "they" often are "me".

Having children can best be described as an invisible wound, hidden deep beneath your skin, a knot of tension, and the moment a skillful surgeon presses down to open that unknown angst, in that one second, when release and fear, joy, and uncertainty all meet..... That one second is the removal of your soul to your extremities, your children. It should be the elevating of your spirit so fast and vast you feel you are levitating, and the only reason we walk around is the gravity of what these little creatures need to survive..... Mine had no words, no voice, no trust, they were wounded puppies.

We all are wounded puppies, aren't we? Masked in the cloak of "mother", "teacher", and "friend". I have had a job since 15, to my first car, my first college apartment, my first college degree, my first home, my marriage, my first teaching job, my first entrepreneur dream..... Ive always had to work. I find myself semi-retired now due to good choices, poor health, a need for a stay at home mom, and the need to pursue what I believe all children need most. A woman, spelled M-O-R-G-A-N, not only M-O-M.

That pursuit brought me to San Jose, to see Deepak Chopra, and to meditate. So I thought..... The Oprah weekend started on a Friday night, and I was one of the only people sitting in the stadium at 4:45pm. I thought traffic would be impossible, it was not. I thought the seats would be full, they were not. So I sat.....until 7pm, and then Ms.Winfrey came on stage, retelling the story of her upbringing, her possibility, her statistics, her truth, and her triumph. I went to the hotel ready to see Elizabeth Gilbert, Deepak Chopra, Rob Bell, and Iyanla Vanzant the next day.... Alas my Addison's disease hates early curtain call, and I woke up 45 minutes late. The Saturday parking had sold out, all parking structures full. I turned down a small street that had been coned off, with just enough space for a little car to pass through, and there sat 14 parking spots, free. I parked and ran in fast, hearing the roar of music, a sign that the speakers had changed.... I was bummed I must have missed the morning with Deepak Chopra. Luckily my seat was an aisle, and my replacement medicines, and heart medication were not working well yet and I was in the mens room throwing up. (Oprah took over all the mens rooms and put "womens" on them). The speaker quality was amazing, apparently guys need to hear everything in the leu. I sat back down and Oprah appeared, apologizing for the delay in starting, and she announced Deepak. I was so excited I had to run and throw up. I meditated in a mens room stall while trying to not get faint and be that girl found passed out on a toilet in San Jose.

I ran out at first glance of energy and Deepak was gone :(  I had missed all of it, but geez his voice is like soundwave xanax. Elizabeth Gilbert was on stage, riveting. Oprah sat front row dead center, with a blanket, watching every presenter. Im usually healthy by 11am and I was hoping for it, but again I was clammy and needed to go sit in the hall. Across from the bathroom sat three younger girls and they were passing out programs and water, so I thought. On my last trip to the bathroom they had gone away, but the water were all over, and I was for sure dehydrated. I was worried I would faint and so I just wanted to rehydrate so I could see Rob Bell and Iyanla Vanzant. I was in row 15 of the bleacher seats, which was pretty close, and the tickets were $599 compared to the floor seats. I went to grab the water and I grabbed a brochure that looked slightly different then the general program, but in my head I didn't care because I had been to sick to visit the O Town center next door, and I had missed Deepak. I ran to my seat to finish hearing the Eat Pray Love journey of Elizabeth, and the need to seek out elephants. In the brochure was a lanyard, it was very plain and had nothing on it but a sunrise. It was a lovely take home gift. Oprah graced the stage before morning break and spoke of God speaking to us in whispers, and if we don't take advantage then, who knows what will happen, good or bad.  I tried to eat something small and I was feeling a bit better when a young gal said "can you believe we are meeting Oprah for lunch?"

WHATTTTTT???"??? What the heck? Im just a teacher/mom of five, what drug are you on. I said "what" and she replied "the lunch pass on your neck".  Now people, anyone that knows me knows I would never steal something like this from someone, take something that belonged to another. I looked around like I had just been put in the cross hairs of Oprah snipers, security would jump on me for sure. I stayed cool. "Yeah its pretty cool". Play calm, this girl looks amazing, Ive thrown up ten times today, I dont belong, I dont deserve this, voices, voices, I might be speaking tongues...... As she walked away she said "see you on the floor". Ok now Im breaking the code.... The ground floor was meeting Oprah for lunch and somehow I got a pass- many were spread out on that table, and no "VIP" stamp or anything. Begin your life on the lamb, NOW. If you run no one will arrest you. You can dye your hair and be in Phoenix before they knew it. So I began to walk up to the 15th row when a group of ground people from the floor jumped the fence to use the ground restroom. Ummm, I jumped too, just in the opposite direction.

OK so "what now" you con artist, life of crime, sneaky person... NO CLUE, no clue. So I did what anyone would do, sat next to a security guard, we talked about his life a bit. Waiting for the rightfully chosen to take their seats, and then it dawned on me. The extra speakers had been sitting fifth row center, and they had never returned. I walked past 35 rows and sat down like I belonged. Thank god for my pacemaker, because I would have died. Oprah spoke and she was feet away from me. I kept asking those around me if I took their seat and they shook their head NO. The lunch line soon lined up and I fell in line like a baby duck. "God speaks to you in whispers, he opens windows, blah blah, Im back to tongues". Then I turned the corner and large men stood. The not so friendly staff was in line checking badges, so I hid back in line.... my inner dialogue was "say Smith is your last name, someone is Smith.... No that wont work they will take someones name off the list.... If I tell the truth they might throw me out..... My intent was not to hurt anyone....."  "MAAM Next in line", I looked up and saw a smiling young girl, no mean face.  "Hi my last name is Wehner". "Sorry Maam you arent on the VIP list" she looked confused. "Oh Im sorry I must be in the wrong" and I turned around. Hey I met her security team, thats enough. I sat on the floor for 30 minutes, thats enough. I turned to sprint out before they tazed me.  "Maam, Maam". I spun around "the computer systems were down this morning, perhaps you won a pass at O Town?" I dont know if she threw me the bone on purpose but I took it. "Yup". "I will have to manually put you in so your photo is printed with your information". (A Photo, a freaking PHOTO)...H-N-E-R. "Ok maam go ahead". Clue number 535 you might not belong:
1) you didnt comb your hair...... this week.
2)You smell like vomit
3) You didnt wear makeup, not even over the growth that could be infectious
4) you are sweating behind your ears, knees, toenails.

Everyone in line was super calm, excited yes, but creepy calm. Gearing up for "another" picture with "another" celebrity type feel. I was so happy I forgot to take off my wedding ring before travel. I kind of looked like I could fit in. I turned to tell the man behind me I might faint, or say weird stuff..... He whispered "I KNOW!!!!! Can you freaking believe this!!" in my head I thought "certainly God would send me a gay bestie at this exact moment. If this all wasnt on purpose it was for sure now". As I grew closer to the next curtain I wasnt quite sure if we had another security check, I just remember my purse being taken, all phones, and then a shove. INTO OPRAH.  I had only 40 minutes from the girl in line until this moment, I of course was the one girl shaking. Oprah broke from a smile to a very concerned face "you need to sit". She pointed to a staff who took me to the crying chair. Apparently they had fainters before. After ten minutes of other people coming through Oprah said "come on up honey, you are smiling now, I wasnt going to send you home with a crying photo". The rest was me floating, on air. I hadn't even enough time to call anyone before this.

 I texted my husband the photo and he said "God I sure hope she got your autograph". The thing is, he means it. I sat back in my fifth row seat and Rob Bell gave the most amazing speech on the odds in this life. I sat there in shock as he walked by me saying "You are here, right now, in this room, by no accident". His words moved me to no end. He wrapped up with the odds of being a thriving, living beings, on this planet, this country, this time. As a pastor he says he is asked "isnt that a miracle pastor?" he responds by saying "it is ALL a miracle isnt it?".

The puppy didnt make it. I wore him in my sports bra for 4 days to kangaroo and he did well. I tucked him away to his own bed for five minutes so I could take a bath, my one daily escape. I scooped him out after ten minutes and he was really warm. He wasnt breathing though. So I tried animal CPR on a puppy that fit in the palm of my hand. Then I rubbed him in between my hands for a few minutes, then I repeated it all. I cry if needed in private, or if Im really mad, which is an odd female juxtaposition we never asked for. Nonetheless, I wept.... Full blown snot and all. I wasn't supposed to care about a puppy after four days, and he was a foster dog..... But I wept. I thought I had the magic touch, I've done pretty well with all my children....... I think it was god whispering....... a different whisper. "Life can be taken away, in a blink my child". It was a blink, the table was a blink.... this lifes a BLINK. Your footprint on this world is a small dot.... But damnit I want mine in glitter red.

"Something smells like vomit, is her ring real?" - Mama O

My treehouse

I find myself now-a-days thinking how different life has become than the hopes and dreams we played out in our first grade heads. So many of you have these amazing kids, with awesome talents and it's fascinating. It's a blessed life. Three of our five kids are considered mentally/emotionally disabled, which leaves a very slim to none chance of full recovery. It's a truth I've embraced while laying plans for their first grade brains, because honestly I don't know that they can for themselves. We have mandatory 504-IEP-DDD-ALTCCS meetings in our house. If you don't know any of those terms thank the stars above. Last week I had a meeting with five highly trained/educated professionals and upon gathering my things to leave the Dr said "I have to ask what your long term goal is for your child, realistically given the data".... I paused and breathed in strength and said "a GED, not homeless, and safe relationships, a trade job most likely".... The dr responded "not many parents have your training, nor foresight." I nodded and left..... Those days you wonder if your interjection, your life has helped the process that was already set into place....

Tonight I'm sleeping in a tree house. It's my first time. I had those 1st grade dreams, but then 3rd to 6th grade reality hit our family with cancer, I was the youngest always, so I just grew up quick. Having kids on the spectrum I can tell you I'm a bit Aspergers. Loud places, loud music, the smell of coffee, burnt eggs, I literally twitch. I've had a whirlwind career and life, but I don't think I can say I was ever child like. In all fairness this tree house has wifi and a small AC unit, but.... It's my first time?! Yikes.

Upon selling my business I returned home and for the first time in 17 years I don't have a "job". I have income, I contribute, but no schedule. I would have this situation with or without my husband, with or without kids (we all know kids make you money right). My husband and brother went out to get me dinner the other night and came back 5 hours later talking about pirates and "life changing sushi" and the guy who hit on my brother (my brother wears pink way too much, I think it unfairly puts him on the market). They were kids, they still play. In the last two months I find myself seeking out my first grade dreams, as much as I can while keeping my feet on the ground. My closest friends know I've been studying a new career, and I'm such a nerd I just love to immerse into things, study people, watch them..... I've been taking some improv classes and I watch these kids (20's) being asked to weep, lose a loved one, show joy after seeing your child for the first time. Don't get me wrong, they try hard, they ARE good, but my gut jumps, leaps, wanting to say "go do it, please live that first". They seem like babies to me, playing dress up. We had one minute alone to create a scene with little dialogue, but something that would touch the class. Mine was about our mentally ill child, getting another call from another Dr., and another request to move her. I heard someone cry in the back of my class..... I can't act, I can relive, re tell, recall.

I don't know if everything will play out ok for my kids, for me, for the rest of our lives. I've learned to let that go. I try to let little things go. Those that are close to me and know me well, and LOVE me and are supportive know my journeys. Others may watch on Facebook and judge..... Judge away, it's sad you have time in your day to judge little ole me.

In 1st grade I wanted to be a lawyer, a mom, an actress. No law degree but basically I am one, so I check the first two off. The biggest gift you can give your children is the opportunity to show them you love their father, and you live your dreams. If my kid comes to me wanting to backpack and stay in hostels, or a tree house to travel the globe I will be happy they are able to do that...... Because right now our retirement plan includes at least two kids living with us long term. I'd tell my kids to find a partner who can grow up with them, because we are still children inside, especially if you meet at 21. Sure grow old too, but grow up as well, learn to change and become an adult together. Honestly you are just sitting across the table paying bills with a 8 year old boy who misses his dad, and that damn bike someone stole from him in 1st grade.

So I ask you, have you found your tree house? Or did someone tear it down ;)

Losing Ant

Some of you called him Ant, some Antoine, Tony.... We all called him our friend. Anthony Basilo sent me check "yes" or "no" type love notes through most of elementary. He liked the ladies, what can I say? When we were back at high school together we spent a ton of time together. We lost Anthony too soon, we will never have answers because the question in itself is too hard to answer, no answer will ever do, ever. No answer is sufficient.

People will use the term "life of the party" quite a bit, but really that was Anthony. Whenever I walked into a room, just like all of you, he would be so excited to see me. "HEEYYY Whats up??". In high school we had different paths, but Anthony was one of the few who could care less. I was a nerd, he still invited me out, I didnt date, he still asked me to dances. I was always speaking at some debate tournament or DECA tournament and Anthony was always a supportive person. I remember over the years he would come to me for advice. "Tell me how to do this business idea, I trust your opinion". Looking over the memories I have with Anthony there really were so many, yet not enough, not enough.

I had just moved back to AZ last month and the first person I wrote was Anthony. Its weird how things play out, but I had Anthony in my house in July of 07 days after becoming a mom for the first time, to two toddlers. He rushed my job so the kids could have grass to play in. He would come inside to chat after dark and just stay to eat fascinated about "foster care" and our two new babies, He would talk to my husband about business. With Anthony if he was with you, no one else was around, he could focus in and make you feel amazing. I was shell shocked, instant mom of toddlers is a crazy scenario. He was transparent, he wasn't the guy who said "you have this its OK" he was the friend who was with you in the trenches. "Holy cow, Ok that kid just threw up, WOAH she just fell over" blowing smoke wasn't his deal. But he would be the first to help fix it, or compliment you when it was all better.

Anthony was coming over two weeks ago to see me and last minute cancelled. I had asked him to do our yard again, but as friends I was excited to see him again. His text was "Morgan I am so sorry but one of my jobs just grew and I would never want to disappoint you. Please use my friend instead I have told him about you. Im so sorry for flaking out on you really Im so sorry". That week I went out with another friend and we were retelling our high school days, our DECA trips. Our friend casually mentioned that I never dated in high school except Anthony to his fiance. I started to laugh audibly, Anthony for me was just a friend, we spent alot of time late in Ms.Frahms class, or grabbing food at Floridinos, hanging out with Jake, Eric, Phil, or Will. Traveling on field trips. "So He never ever tried to kiss you?"" Umm NO" I said like, that was my friend, like my brother. I never was a healthy person and Jake and Anthony use to give me piggy back rides around. You could never really stay mad at Anthony for anything he did because he never had an ill intention. If he hurt someones feelings unwarranted he was translucent and shame would just go right across his face. If people teased me he would jump in and say "Ok, Ok, we were kidding, right come on guys", he was the game changer. He could set the tone.

Anthony and I kept in touch over facebook and texts. It was an annual lunch or 3 hour long conversation out of nowhere. Going over my texts from him they read "I need your opinion on my business plan please call me now", or "I see that you had surgery you must call me tonight, I can come out there", or "I screwed up and said something that could upset you later on please call me, Im so sorry". He always had a  sense of urgency. Through high school and even after he would show up and text me "Im outside". He was a deep thinker in his non "life of the party" moments. Maybe I was just on the other side of that life, I let him deep think. All I know is that no matter what whenever we saw eachother we just picked up from where we left off. His laugh was contagious, and moreover he cracked himself up. Many times I would find myself buckled in laughter because he found himself so funny, his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. I'd stare at him and shake my head with a grin.

I laughed on the way home from dinner that night, "I dated Anthony Basilo I guess" I said to my husband. "Oh Yeah whens he coming over next", "not sure he got a big job"..... and he didnt want to disappoint me. He wouldn't want to disappoint anyone. Normally, prior to five kids I would have totally given Anthony a guilt trip and he would have showed up to meet me. Now in our 30's I let it go. Im sorry that I did. I know we would have talked for hours. And thats the crux right, thats the jab? We all have that feeling right now that we missed our chance. Ive never had a sudden loss of a friend and it feels like a rug pulled. No we weren't daily friends, we were lifelong friends. We were emergency friends, we were "Im in a ditch and need a sidekick friends". We will meet again, and if anything I know for sure, I know regardless of who is waiting for me in Heaven Anthony will be the happiest, loudest, most boisterous greeter of them all. Because, Anthony, you could never disappoint me. Your light was just too bright my friend to disappoint. I can say in the 33 years he had with us he had more laughter, sweetness, fun, and living than most of us can ever obtain, even at 100 years. He just did. He lived joyfully, and thats how I choose to see him forever.

Home is where the ......

In July of 07 two sickly babies came into our lives via a phone call. A phone call that was a kin to someone placing a pizza order. They were sick, really sick. A year later Bryce came to us in Oct of 08 never having lived in a home, we had to gain a medical license to keep him. Six days in I realized I'm not a nurse, he could die, so we lived at Phoenix Children's.... June of 09 our 8 year old joined us, and what entailed was 3-6 years of therapy. All kinds really, sandtray, art, talking, sensory, physical, speech, occupational, feeding. In April of 2012 I sat at my kitchen and heard "we can close their services". After 5 years in the system it was as if someone yelled "you're free". So we ran, to find a beach town, boats, and small town people. A place we wouldn't have to associate our kids with "former foster kids", in a state they were never hurt, with people and doctors who never had to ask them about anything bad in their life. We escaped, with a five week old on a plane, I saw ocean and freedom.

Some might argue a hasty decision and its a valid one. Some might argue a fresh reset, no old haunts, and that's valid as well. As the weeks and months went by we made our businesses grow, made some friends, made some enemies, and laid our own boundaries for our family.

The thing with a mom of five kids, four delivered with diagnoses and medications, we are lions. We may hibernate for some time, but the line in the sand is drawn. Mess with me all day long, mess with my kids and Momma Bear comes out.

I think what I learned on our little adventure is we had nothing to run away from. We had teachers and staff that loved our kids, knew our family, and knew our kids' history. We had communities full of large families, all adopted, "five kids only" was a thing. I have friends with 17. We had a school district that people answered your call on spring break, and questions like "what is easiest for your child's needs" and "you know best, tell us" were said. I never felt on trial.

Had I not moved to Florida I would not have met some amazing women. A wonderful team of doctors willing to look further into my heart condition and save me with a pacemaker. Had I not moved to Florida I wouldn't have realized that home is where you belong. Where your values belong, your kids belong, your weirdness belongs.

After some tough nights I realized my purpose in moving to Florida was to give my kids a better life, not a rougher one. So we had a year at disneyworld, we rented boats, went on cruises, saved my heart, and we were here to serve Martin County. If anyone needed anything we gave it, because that's what we had come from. Helping others, no judgment. A little boy from my sons special Ed class was arrested last week, age 7, for hitting his teacher. It shook my bones, but what was worse? The women and men posting "hooray" and "obviously no consequence at home" under the article. Its painful having a kid with processing disorder, low IQ, and Oppositional Defiant disorder. Their brain is in fight or flight all the time. God forbid any of these facebook adults have kids, god forbid if those kids ever fall off their bike and hurt themselves enough to cause frontal lobe damage, delays.

I befriended the mom, told her I was sorry, and she cried quietly. No one had said that to her. "I'm sorry they took him to jail, I'm sorry he doesn't understand what he did wrong, I'm sorry because I know you try, Ive seen you try". Sometimes when you are in ditches, caves, illness, or despair the only thing god gave us to combat it is empathy. Home for me is wherever my kids thrive, home for me is where empathy is on tap, home for me is no longer here. I never got the memo that a mama bears spirit and love for her son has less or more value based on her zip code, income level, color of skin. I never got the memo to "stay out of it" either. I tend to walk right up to help....because we should. We all should.

To my friends here in FL I will miss you. To the people we met here may you remember we were a family of service, philanthropy, and empathy. No one has ever stepped over my threshold with a shred of judgment in my soul towards them. If all I remember from Sunday school is to love your brother/sisters in this lifetime, then I am good. Home is where empathy abounds. Where me saying "yeah shes totally pulling one over on you teach" is valued, respected, and not judged for being too tough. Home is where we might run into people who took our kids on court visits, maybe an old family member, an old cop. And while that is not a great thing, its just likely, so its our reality. Home is there. Home is not here...........