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...........

Pancakes, Heaven, and Marriage

My husband is old.... his beard is turning grey, hes got bum knees.... I look at him and think, "how did this happen"? Meaning my life, my family, my health, my career, my 20's (gone). He's knocking on the door of 40 but Im older than him. We don't adopt any one religion.... Probably because I believe truths in each valid story of faith. I cant argue I was given an old soul, an old body. My outside appearance certainly doesn't match my insides....

Looking in the mirror now I have 45 more pounds on my frame, stretch marks from child holding, abdominal scars from a c-section, a chest scar from my pacemaker, black puffy eye sacks from Addisons/lack of sleep, and severe hand tremors like Parkinsons. In the background a stack of 18 boxes of girl scout cookies.... That Ive hidden from my children. YUP, for me. Cellulite is just a gold star on your accomplishment board I tell myself. I wear makeup maybe once a week, so I don't scare my students off. Yet I still get "You've got five kids???" or "You've taught ten years??" all the time.

I was hungry when I met Kevin, literally. Girls in college who waitress at sleazy bars live off Ramen noodles and Dr.Pepper. He was OH SO MATURE and could afford a few nights of dinner dates each week. I didn't really know we were dating, thats how experienced I was in the dating field. I had a boyfriend in college, and thats about it on my experience chart, and he was the kind of guy you were meant to be friends with too, not really date (for me).... I ordered the "hungry man platter" at IHOP on our first date, used the restroom with my girl friend, and then returned to a paid bill?? I turned to my friend with deer eyes, like "oh god do I have to kiss him now?".  Thats what age 20 does to your brain. Thank god the internet or social networks weren't around when I was in high school, even college really. Id really be into self loathing if I had to be a teen NOW. I hide the internet from my 13 year old but think "no the sheltered girls were the worst" in high school. Don't get me wrong. Most of the good girls were good girls. BUT some of the super strict homes produced girls with an eye for a wild streak. Luckily my brother paved the way with a tattoo by age 15 so I really didn't feel the need to get into too much trouble.

The night my water broke, the same night about five hours prior I wrote a farewell letter to my husband, to my kids. One I paid for to be delivered a month later, which happen to fall on my father in laws death anniversary. I figured I could intercept it if I had come through labor all right. I know it sounds so morbid, but the Pheochromocitoma tests they were running, and my months of bed rest made me more of a realist than a pity party person. I suppose thats my one huge complaint in life, my outsides dont match my insides.... I guess thats why heaven is so appealing to me. My water broke three days before my "emergency" test results came in, a test that would tell us if I could have anesthesia. But a baby stuck frank breach it was anesthesia or nothing really. Yet I was so calm, I had this faith that if the drugs reacted and I went into some cardiac failure that my only concern was for my family left behind. I imagine these throbbing lights of souls interacting with eachother in heaven. No judgments on figure, faces, income, makeup, race, or religion. I'm not knocking anyones religion here, but my best friend is Muslim, I had a Rabbi great grandfather, we were raised Catholic, and Buddhism/meditation has been around since man kind really. Somewhere in my head I hope I never have to see my old man husband die.... His light is the center of our house. The kids and I orbit around his calm stability. He can be a pain in my butt at times, but if anyone comes for him they are going to come through me first.

It was around seven dates, seven meals, and I realized I had fallen for him. Damnit. I had a job offer in San Diego lined up, this wasn't in the cards. He had baggage, like BAGGAGE. Here is the kicker, HE NEVER tried to kiss me, date seven??? Really?? I mean boys in high school were buying a frosty from Wendys and expecting more right? Gross.

"Remember our first date?" I asked him last night..... "Yup you ordered the hungry man platter at IHOP".... "And that did it for you huh?"..... "Yeah I guess plus you CLEARLY wanted me" he says now. "Yeah just remember who kissed who you big butthead"..... I guess Im just glad I ordered those pancakes.  

Swimming in the deep

Im not athletic, we've determined that. Anyone that needs a pacemaker by 30 is last on your dodgeball dream team, I get it. I wouldn't pick me either. My bucket list includes alot of items most people dont have, it usually involves a lounge chair...... But when a last minute cruise popped up I jumped on it to swim with some sting rays. You read that right, I jump into the deep end in most areas of my life. Stamp "WIMP" on me if its athletic, or has to deal with urine, as in animals that can kill and/or pee on you. Here's my theory, five kids, ive hit the pee limit. Plus anytime a cute Jamaican guy says "Hey MON we dont de barb them, they learn to trust you in five minutes" my first vision is Steve Irwin......so lets just say it wasn't a quiet "swim", my swim mates didn't have a jovial or come to jesus swim, my apologies. I believe the term "speaking in tongues" could apply to my fear level.

Our fourth child Bryce was born at 24 weeks gestation, on the floor of a kitchen that likely had never been cleaned. He weighed 1pd 2 oz and he was born to parents that didn't get to/want to visit him in the NICU. This is a sad thought but working my way through the weeds of Child Protective Services I have been able to create a vault in my head where all of those facts live. To be opened when demanded to by a licensed professional and/or my child when they are ready. I imagine an image much like the movie "Inception" of a huge doll house that cracks half way to show a vault of paperwork, steel trapped.

"We have an extra seat" he said in June 2011, driving our SUV that held seven, "Yes we do lets hope the social skills training kicks in and we get a friend up in here for these coo coo birds". Six weeks later I was pregnant, the man needs to start pointing at water and saying "wine" and a BAM for effect. Fast forward 7 months and we are at Banner Desert NICU since I was 3 cm dilated at 30 weeks. The nurse was pleasant, calm, smelled clean, soft hands, everything you could want for a sick child. She looked educated, but not tired of her job, early 40's, mature enough, but not burnt out. She showed us the three night rooms where moms sleep while babies are in the NICU, a breast feeding area, and isolets, baby incubators, all except one were empty. We walked silently up and down the rows and I was in the front. I could feel the lump in my throat build as each isolet passed me, vacant. I heard soft steps of the nurse and my husband close behind. It was time to turn around as I had reached the end.... I swung around to my 38 year old husband biting his lip white. I whispered to the nurse "our baby lived here 8 months alone, we just, um, I guess we just weren't prepared, he wasnt ours yet so....."  Tears fell down my husbands face as he nodded that was what he had been thinking the whole time. I could tell in his face. "Oh my, I will get tissues" the nurse said as she ran to a cabinet stocked with boxes that went on for days, as I imagine a unit like this needs. God, Grace, Kleenex, and realism fully stocked. I thanked her for the kleenex and she said "Im a bit teary myself, we never get to see if those babies make it, and the parents just dont come, they leave them here, so this new baby is a blessing since you couldnt....." awkward silence.... "No we could actually, we just didnt see the point I guess, Im 31 weeks so anything you throw at me we will be fine, if I have to live here or otherwise, I guess we didnt need to see this place, or maybe we did......".

Bryce will be seven this February. We were happy he hit 45 pounds and a size 4 outfit last month. He memorizes patterns, loves music, shapes, math, science, quiet, and dark rooms. He doesnt really have proper emotion yet but I think in time he will. If he doesnt that is OK. Bryce had been on tubes his whole life to eat so when we got him at 23 months they told me he had a slim chance to learn how to eat. I had a slim chance of staying sain in a house with a child who couldnt eat, AKA could die on anything in his mouth. We drove two hours each way to therapy in Tucson, while I taught High School Econ, while I was opening a business. Kevin and I were the only two that could feed him. Thats OK, its scary stuff, but talk about pressure. Phones stopped ringing.

Five years later and notes home include "Bryce did very well on his actual work today, but he spit on his classmate for no reason". "Bryce understood the second grade concept of regrouping but called everyone Buttheads at lunch", "Bryce is very responsive when we use the computer or smart board, but he has been grabbing teachers' breasts this week".

People may say we have a Le ze Faire attitude in life, maybe we do. That one baby in that one isolete that day I said a prayer for, it went something like this "Jesus, Buddha, Bretheren, Allah and all my grandfathers and fathers watch over this sweet baby, may the right home get this child, namaste, peace be with you, amen and Walakem Salam". My daughter was partially raised by a lesbian couple more committed than Britney Spears was at 1am in Las vegas, our other by a single mom with kids from different men "gasp living in sin". Our licensing worker has had the same boyfriend for 15 years or so. I will say this once, a baby wrapped in the arms of a loving, able, educated adult....... Or left lit by a bulb, effectively alone for 8 months, well its no choice for me, sorry. Civil/Equal rights that can save a few hundred kids from homelessness, helplessness, and GET a married committed couple that shows true partnership, Im in. LIFE and its lessons are so much bigger than some award show.

We have one picture of Bryce in his isolete, my husband hates it.... "Thats not my hand" he says....... We jump in the deep end. We swim with the barbs in, but dammit if I don't go down yelling. I might be small but weak is a state of mind..... My kid eats anything he wants, never tell me never. On to personal space and large crowd control next.................

"We have an empty seat now" he said last night looking in the back of our SUV that seats 8.......... I swear to God that might make TWO empty seats if you keep talking my love....... Shhhhhhh

Papercuts, pickle juice, presentless poem

Wrapping presents in my walk in closet
Hearing creeks from each invisible footstep
I realize there is nothing for him under the tree
Nor will there be any for me.....

You see... We race this race of waking up, feeding faces
Catching buses, checking underwear, taking date nights to costco
Counting heads, counting minutes to bed time some nights
Counting stars above our gorgeous house, counting snores at 9pm... Him
Because mommy can't do the morning shift....insomnia is inherent in motherhood

Two..... The cardiologist appointments I have missed
Three.... The times my heart stopped according to my last visit
Four whole months ago.....but Meanwhile
Five children call me mommy.....so time is not mine alone.

"The full sampler platter" all 98 pounds of me said
Sitting at an IHOP, barely 20, too naive to know I was on a date
"Cawfee" he said, waitress perplexed. "Coffee" I said and she understood
He called me Megan more than once, my 30 year old self would have left......
Pancakes, hash browns, and this journey was all on its way

I sleep in sheets that smell of pickle juice from a baby who looks like his dad
I have a paper cut from wrapping five children's gifts in one night
I will eat leftovers, nights like tonight realizing I make six plates, not seven
I threatened to throw out a few gifts a few too many times this month
Daddy made cookies for "Santa" in the mean time

I will have cards written in crayon, leftovers for breakfast
My husband will smile as kids tear apart gifts they will break in 48
We don't have gifts under the tree we sneak gifts daily
I give my children the gift of showing them two parents that respect each other

Professor Williams in Psychology had a girlfriend of 30 years
"We fight in the tub, literally" by the time you stomp to the "spot" the issue seems mundane
Modeling healthy communication to children who are at risk
It's exhausting..... It's present-less, in the present......

A decade will pass, my 40 year old self will see my daughter at 20
"I met this guy"...... She will say
Well what's he say, my mom asked back then...
He says he adores me, she smiled..... Good.

Ranking Up

Do you look young enough, or is too pretty also your doom, everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room. You laugh too hard, or not enough. Your kids are too polite, so you are too strict. My kids don't know what an iPhone or DS is, so I'm neglectful. I make too much income, and donate money, but for marketing only. My clothing is used, I have two outfits I repeat as much as possible. I sleep too much, my illness is made up to justify laziness....  Women, we are tearing each other apart. Dissecting the most intimate cores of our sisters. My cars too nice, so I'm a bad mom. I don't attempt baking so my kids suffer. What happened to Rosie the riveter, women empowerment. Being truly happy when someone does well. I can say I can, feel happy for others success. I'm not between you and your ambitions. I cant run, but I can pass out water bottles. I hate crafts, but I can balance a budget and negotiate a business deal like no other. If I were a man I'd be successful, not a "bitch". You don't hear men starting conversations with "did you hear what Tom said about Steve at that holiday party?" I'm no where near perfect, I've got battle wounds to prove it. But those are on all of us, in us, making us. My hard day is no harder than yours. My five kids aren't harder than your two. My laundry method isn't efficient nor a method. My house is a mess, I'm sorry if it doesn't meet your standard.

When I see another women struggle I help, if I see them succeed I rejoice. Haven't we come so far in humanity, rights, and we throw them out the door because someone's mom tweets too much, or refuses to buy her 12 year old a cell phone, wears too much makeup, or not enough.


Take inventory on what you hate and twist in others, it's lacking in you or you wouldn't zone in. I'm good at most things, I'm not amazing at anything. I'm a wife, mother, sister, daughter, so when you have a negative word on your tongue or in your mind you are degrading someone's child. Someone's mom, someone's wife...... 


Jealousy doesn't have to equal venom. I want my daughters to look at other women and learn their worth. Learn no one can speak down to them or about them. After all they will be looking for partners someday and what we model they seek. In friendships, in partners. Jealousy is normal emotion, it motivates improvement. But why caddy? 

We get one chance, let's use it wisely. Let's model our best. Let's value sisterhood instead of desecrating it because "she's wearing that?" Our grandmothers fought too hard for equality to allow their last days watching housewives pulling each others hair out, or worse smiling to their face to talk horribly later. Enjoy your vote, your right to a credit card, driving privileges, job opportunities, enjoy each other. I don't rank up, I didn't sign up to be ranked. I certainly won't rank you. 

Finding him, finding them

When you are young (20 young), and your only real boyfriend has left you, you feel like the world has collapsed. Obviously the cosmic forces have done you wrong and the vision of your super duper life (Disney, trips, college) is dashed. It's comical now really. When you are barely 20 your idea of the future is next weekend, what body part to pierce, what cool apartment to rent. Almost a dozen years later I worry about IRA's, college for five kids, property taxes, hurricane warnings. I was always kind of sickly so a mother hen if you will. My friend called as I was studying chemistry to tell me she was at a party by my moms house (I was living back home, boo). I declined to figure out the strand diagram of iron or some other element, "ok. I'm the only girl here, but whatever". This girl is crazy, I'm thinking, all these old guys hanging with a 20 year old, obviously psychopaths. I showed up in pajamas and intended to drag her out. I stayed about 20 minutes, met the group of guys.... Decided it was harmless, and went to leave through the garage. A garage full of old cars and racing motorcycles. "Wow nice car!" I said pretty loud, to no one. "Really?? You like it" a voice came from the end of the drive. A tall/fit man, like a man size man, no high school boy. "Ummm yeah!" I responded. "That's really cool, it's my dads 68 charger RT, you know Dukes of Hazard" (no I don't know since I'm a baby). "You want to drive it?" Tosses the key. "Heck no!". "Ok hop in then". Clearly the murder/rape plot is about to happen, I'm pre law people. "Ummm let me tell my friend". So that was Kevin. Tattooed, emotionally unavailable, super single, and not wanting kids or marriage. "Bingo" the brain said, he's perfect.

Now young girls don't do this! This usually ends horribly. The only reason it didn't fall apart was I'm stubborn as an ox, and smart as a whip. Must predict mans next move to make him think you don't like him tooooo much. It's a dance. 3 years later Kevin proposed on a Ferris wheel on a race weekend. We married (secretly eloped) to Vegas 10/8/05 because I had calculated ( now in my administration program) that if we married before tax end we'd get $7k back in refund, to help pay for our march wedding. Yes, I'm that romantic. The line of envious men is zero deep.

My husband is an attractive guy, who thinks he's average. He's the best dad, that second guesses every class/event we do, or don't do. My husband buries treasure chests in remote places at 11pm, plants fake maps he "stumbles" upon in his history book over breakfast, and spends a day treasure hunting with five kids to make them think they are explorers. I've heard him yell at our children (child) one time, and it was "you never, ever talk to my wife that way".  We've moved 4 houses in 4 years and 3 of the houses he saw after we offered, because he knows the kids need a special lay out, and he trusts my judgement. He forgets weekly routines, every week. We've forgotten a child once or twice. We've got a therapy fund going for that later in life.

I've seen him cry 3 times, the first time I asked about his fathers passing, the time CPS said to return Lilly and Theo (3 months in), and when I told him I was pregnant. He was double the size I was looking to date, double the trouble, double the convincing to marry me, and double at being a husband, father, and supporter of any dream I've ever had. He's double the sarcasm, inappropriate after 2 beers, New Jersey accent by 3. Marriage is this dance that involves ups/downs, routine, emergencies, surprises at every turn.

He's mine, he's taken. And we both lucked out finding them..... Although I still believe some heaven bound spirits set our paths on collision.