Unconditional Love

My mother and I had a contentious relationship while I was growing up.  I was a great disappointment to her, and she was quick to let me know that.  When I was 19, it came to a head and I was told to leave.  I did.  We then went almost 10 years without speaking.  Literally not a word, not a bit of communication, nothing.  When I was 29, we attempted a reconciliation but it was strained and awkward and didn't last but maybe a year before she told me she was right the first time and that I was more trouble than I was worth.  I didn't add enough to her life to make a relationship with me to be worth her while, and she thought it best if we resumed the non-relationship we had before.  I am now 49, so it's been 20 years since I've laid eyes on my mother or heard her voice or had any communication, at all, with her.  Every so often, I google her name with the word "obituary" just to make sure she hasn't died, but that's it.  That's the relationship we have. 

I say this, not to point fingers or cast blame or garner sympathy or pity.  I actually go months, even years, without really thinking about the bizarreness that is our relationship.  I've had 30 years of this, so it seems almost normal by now.  

Last week I, as no doubt have you, heard about a 15 year old boy in Florida named Davion Only.  He was born when his mother was in prison and he has spent his whole life in foster care.  About a year ago, he googled his mothers name and found out she had died in prison.  (That part stopped me cold -- other people use Google to see if their mother is dead?) He then decided to change his life.  The dream he had of his mother getting off drugs, getting out of prison, getting him out of foster care and finally being a family was over. He got serious about school, got serious about his health, took control of his emotions and his behavior and changed his life.

He then went to a church in Florida, stood before the congregation and said, "My name is Davion, and I’ve been in foster care since I was born. ... I know God hasn’t given up on me. So I’m not giving up either."  He asked to be adopted. The story, if you don't know it, will break your heart.  All he wants is someone to love him, forever and unconditionally.

http://abcnews.go.com/US/florida-orphan-davion-pleads-family-love-die/t/story?id=20601005&ref=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2F

I heard about his story, and I wept.  I literally broke down.  How sad, how pitiful, how terrible, that this precious child is so desperate for a family, for someone to love him.  I was lucky, in that while my mother didn't want me, I had someone who did.  I had someone who married me, gave me his name and his family and then, eventually, a family of our own.  I was, hands down, in a better place than Davion is now.  

But on another level, Davion and I are the same. Davion is all of us, for we all want someone to love us, forever and unconditionally.  Most people have that in their parents.  I hope and pray that my children know that unconditional love from me. My heart aches for Davion, though.  I want to wrap my arms around him and whisper to him that I love him, that God loves him and that he is a valued and precious soul.  He is worthy of love and deserves that unconditional, forever acceptance and security.

I am 49 years old, and my heart still aches from the knowledge that my mother -- the one person who is supposed to love me unconditionally -- found me more trouble than I was worth and that she could let 30 years (and two perfect grandchildren) slip out of her life so casually. I struggled (struggle -- present tense!) with the concept of God's unconditional love for me.  There must be something fundamentally and intrinsically wrong with me if my own mother could toss me aside so effortlessly.  Surely God will, one day, find the flaw in me that makes me unlovable. 

My heart breaks to think that Davion aches to find that same acceptance and unconditional love.  It is a universal human need, and it is so vital and important that the scars from not having it can last a lifetime.

So far, there have been thousands of inquiries about Davion.   He will find his forever home.  I found mine.  But what about all the other wounded souls who don't know they are loved?  

I have no answers. I have tears of empathy, and I have compassion and understanding and I have a heart that aches -- but what to DO with that?  What do we do for all the Davions (and the Sandras) who don't have a mothers love?

I'm praying on it.  Maybe out of Davion's courage and bravery, things will change, not just for him but for ALL the Davions out there. 

Texas RenFest

When I was a teenager, my friends and I would go to the Texas Renaissance Festival each Fall.  We would all pile into someone's car, drive the 80 miles outside of Houston and spend the day walking thru the woods, pretending we were M'lady and debating if it was worth $8 for a flowered headpiece. It was weird and wild and fun. 

The RenFest is now in its 39th year.  This weekend, Husband and I went. 

It was ... odd.  We knew folks dressed up, and we expected that.  We knew some of the costumes were skimpy, we expected that. However, we saw more cleavage, both male and female, than either one of us expected.  The number of shirtless men was staggering, and 99% of those guys needed to put a shirt on.  Man-boobs, everywhere we looked.  I did appreciate the people who dressed up, but the number of women who thought a bikini top and a henna-painted abdomen was "being in costume" just about equalled the man-boobs group.  There was one Viking, wearing nothing but a horned Viking hat and an itty-bitty loin cloth -- I can't imagine his "costume" was authentic. We also saw one guy in leather, being led around by his girlfriend via a chain attached to his nose.  Umm -- BDSM in Medieval Europe?  

We thought getting there at 9:00 a.m., as the gates opened, might lessen the freak show / alcohol factor, and it might have -- but the things we saw at 9:00 a.m. were surprising enough.   

Once we stopped gawking at all the boobs, the chain mail body suits, the leather bondage outfits and the strategically painted henna body art, we decided to check out the grounds themselves. 

There were things to see and do that did NOT involve beer, leather or boobage-exposure so we sought those things out.  I was going to buy a flower wreath, but they were $15 and I was too cheap.  

We did go to the petting zoo, where I saw a baby llama

and the Momma-Llama (yeah, I had to do that LOL)

There were also camels and elephants

We saw jugglers, both swords and fire, 

And, of course, jousting

There were so many artisans -- we enjoyed the glass blower the most.

Then it started to rain.  And rain.  And rain.  (Note the muddy jousting field in that last photo).

When the rain stopped, we'd dash out, get Something-On-A-Stick, and run back under another shelter while eating our sausage / steak / turkey leg / banana.

It kept raining. That green?  Heavy, heavy rain.

We figured we had seen everything we wanted to (and much that we didn't want to!) and it was getting muddier and wetter, so we headed home.

Am I glad we went?  Yes.  Do I want to go back?  Probably not.  It was just a bit too ... free spirited ... for my taste.  It was fun, tho, and it was awfully nice getting to do something fun with my husband. We walked around, holding hands, giggling at the oddness and eating fair food.  We enjoyed the shows, the animals, the artisans -- and we even enjoyed the people watching.  

I'm glad we went, but I'm equally glad the weather didn't cooperate so that we could leave early without feeling like we were old-school fuddy-duddies.  We are old-school fuddy-duddies, but I don't want to FEEL like we are. :)

Now I've got two weeks to plan our next EOFO, which are going to have to be on Saturdays, as I've got a commitment every Friday at 1:45 pm to mentor a kindergartener.  But that's ok, it's the doing something with someone I love that's important, not the day of the week I do it.

The goal is to keep me from falling into a rut, and to stop us from getting bored -- and I think looking at boobage and leather-clad BDSM participants, while jugglers toss flaming swords at each other and knights joust in the mud all in front of llamas and camels and elephants ... WITH a ginormous turkey leg in hand -- that would count as "not boring"!  

It's EOFO time!!

Back in April, I wrote about our EOFO Outings.  (Hey!  That was my first blog link!  Hooray, me!)  This being Houston, we had to wait until the weather became more tolerable before we resumed our outings.  I told my husband that I would plan another EOFO outing soon, and I have been online looking at taking a weekend trip to The King Ranch (second link!  Double hooray for me!).  Since Killer McSavage did so well with our in-home dog sitter, I feel more comfortable leaving her overnight.  Yesterday, Larry came home from work and said, "Have you planned an EOFO yet?" and I said, "No, I'm working on it, tho."  He said, "Let's go to The Texas Renaissance Festival this weekend.  It's Oktoberfest."  I, being me, started in with all my objections.  "It's too far.  It'll cost too much money.  It's a lot of walking.  It's supposed to rain."  (Those were just off the top of my head!).  He stood there, silently.  He didn't say a word, he just looked at me with a vaguely disapproving look on his face.  I gave my coup d'etat and said, "Besides, I know you wouldn't enjoy the Renaissance Festival, that's not your kind of thing."  (I may have imagined a St. Sandra the Martyr crown perched on my head at that point, I don't know).  He said, "Would we be doing something together?  Would you be with me?"  "Of course."  "Then I'll enjoy it."  (Aww, how sweet!!)

I don't know why sometimes I get so stubborn.  He's right, I would love the Renaissance Festival.  I've been before and had a blast.  It's not that far (80 miles or so) and it's not that expensive (discount tickets are available).  And as Larry pointed out, he'll have a great time as long as he can get a turkey leg and a sausage-on-a-stick.  I kept trying to come up with objections, but every time I started, he'd put up his hand and say, "Stop." 

So I stopped.

We are going to the Renaissance Fair this weekend.  I'll get him a turkey leg and a sausage-on-a-stick.  I may splurge and get myself one of those flower and ribbon headpieces they sell ... yes, I know those are most commonly worn by 8 year old girls, but I've always wanted one. 

And if it rains, it rains.  I'll deal with it. 

I'm actually looking forward to going, we don't do our EOFO's in the summer because I would melt, so it's been a long time since we've just hopped in the car and done something fun. 

Maybe I'll even make HIM wear the flower/ribbon headpiece for at least one photo.  :)

This is the upside of being an empty nester; we can do things like this -- we don't have to worry about the kids schedules or about if they'll be bored, or anything else.  It's just Larry and me ... and if I want to walk around with a ribbon and flower wreath on my head, I don't have to worry about disapproval from my preteen (who was mortified just by the fact that I breathed ... you parents know exactly what I mean!!)

I'm going to take a bunch of pictures, I'm going to hold hands with my sweetie while wearing my Mom Jeans and my comfortable shoes and my fanny pack.  I'm not going to care how I look, because my Sweetie thinks I'm cute even when I'm wearing a flower and ribbon headpiece while eating a sausage on a stick.  He'll make an inappropriate comment about my eating a sausage on a stick, and I'll smack him and tell him to behave, but I'll laugh at the same time ... and we can DO that, because we won't have young ears listening to us.

Let it rain, if it wants.  I'm going to go this Saturday and have fun, because we've spent too much time waiting for fall so that we can resume our EOFO's and it's time.  And I've bought the tickets in advance (yeah, I'm being spontaneous, but I'm also cheap LOL, and these tickets are over 50% off) and they're non-refundable tickets, so we are going to go, regardless, because I'm not going to waste two paid-for tickets.

Sometimes he has to drag me, kicking and screaming, out of my rut, but I'm always grateful when he does.

Adventures in Waco

 Last weekend, Husband and I went to Waco.  Our excuse in going was that we needed to bring, and install, a router in GirlChild's apartment (they provide WiFi, but you have to provide the router), but that was just an excuse to go to Waco. We needed to see our baby.  Us being us, a simple overnight trip to Waco involved two weeks of planning -- first, I had to figure out what to do with Killer McSavage.  We found what we hoped was an ideal situation, a dog sitter who would come to our house twice a day and let Shadow outside, check her food and water and give her belly rubs.  I had to interview multiple dog sitters to find one who wasn't freaked out by 95+ pounds of dog ... surprisingly, a ginormous dog can make some people do a double-take. LOL!

Then we decided we needed to rent a car.  The brakes in the car need to be replaced and Husband's truck is seriously high-mileage so we decided renting a car was the best option.  After numerous phone calls to find the best prices, multiple discussions on what, exactly, is a mid size, etc., and we settled on a rental car.

We could have stayed with GirlChild in her apartment, but I'm at an age where sleeping in the living room on an air mattress isn't all that appealing, so we also had to get a hotel room.  There is a very nice hotel we have stayed in before, but it's not the most budget-friendly chain, and since it was just the two of us, just one night, we decided to downgrade ourselves.  We found a well-known chain just a few miles from her apartment -- the chain itself can go either way; some properties are quite nice and some are extremely iffy, but we thought we'd give it a whirl.  There are parts of Waco that are "sketch", but we figured we'd gamble.

Dog care?  Check.
Rental car?  Check.
Hotel reservations?  Check.

My husband, being who he is, wanted to leave Houston Saturday morning -- at 4:00 a.m.  What?  Why?  "That way, we can get to Waco in time to take Michelle to breakfast."  "Sweetheart, she is not going to be awake at 7:30, not even for you and Cracker Barrel."  Just to double check, I called her:  "What time do you want us there on Saturday?"  "I'll set my alarm for 9:30, can you be here at 10:00?" 

We left Houston Saturday morning in time to get to Waco at 10. For the first 45 minutes or so of the trip, I obsessed about the dog sitter.  What if they didn't come? What if they do come but Shadow won't let them inside? What if they come, and Shadow lets them inside but they are really crack-heads who turn our house into a meth lab for the weekend?  (That last one was from an episode of Breaking Bad.  But it COULD happen!)

My husband distracted me by stopping at Dunkin' Donuts and getting me something sugary to eat.  Thus fortified with sugar and caffeine, we resumed our trip to Waco.  

Here's a whole lot of nothing between Houston and Waco. There are cows and more cows and more cows. There are three small towns that are notorious speed traps -- and not much else.  Being this scintillating conversationalist that I am, I was able to chatter the entire way and keep my husband amused.  We pulled into Waco a little after 10:00 and then proceeded to get thoroughly lost within the labyrinth that is GirlChild's apartment complex.  We finally texted her and said, "We are in the Serenity Garden, by the pool.  Come find us!" and thankfully, she did. (Yes, her college apartment has a Serenity Garden and a pool. My first college apartment had drug dealers and cockroaches).  

We visited some and then went out for lunch -- there is a local institution called Health Camp.  It's been serving greasy burgers and to-die-for milkshakes to Wacoians since WWII.  It's amazing. I ate myself silly. They had a jukebox in the restaurant, so GirlChild played us music while we ate.  

From there, we went to Best Buy to get the router.  She, keeping up the music theme from lunch, hooked up her iTunes to the Bluetooth in the car.  We listened to that strange "What the wolf says" song.  Repeatedly.  It's an odd, odd song. I was grateful to get to Best Buy so that we could shut that stupid wolf up.

From Best Buy we went to HEB because I needed to buy her food.  She didn't necessarily need food, but I'm a mom, and I buy food.  

We got back to the apartment -- go THRU the Serenity Garden and turn left at the Game Room, the elevator is just past the gym -- and Husband set up the router while she and I unloaded groceries.

Her roommate had decorated for Halloween in our absence:

The router wouldn't work ... our iDevices would connect to the wifi, but for no apparent reason would suddenly disconnect.  Husband would go back into her bedroom and the wifi would reconnect, but as soon as he came back in the living room, the wifi would disconnect. After multiple trips in and out of her bedroom, he realized the router was plugged in to an outlet controlled by the wall switch -- so when he would go into the bedroom, he would turn on the light switch, and the router would turn on. He would leave the bedroom, turn off the lights, and the router would disconnect.  He moved the router and voila!  Constant wifi connection!  

GirlChild had an hour or so of homework she had to do, so Husband and I said we'd go check in to the hotel, and she could call us when her homework was done.  There are parts of Waco that are ... iffy ... and as we GPS'ed the directions to the hotel, we realized we were in one of the iffy areas.  We pulled up in front of the hotel, and we both shuddered -- no, I realize we were downgrading to save money, but this was TOO much of a downgrade. He went inside to cancel our reservation as I begged Siri to find us another hotel.  We found a WONDERFUL hotel, very clean and more luxurious than I planned on, and it was only $10 more than Hotel Skanky.  We were thrilled.  

GirlChild called, said she finished her homework and if we wanted to come back, she'd cook us dinner!  How could I refuse? My child, cooking me dinner?  She made a lovely dinner of chicken and mashed potatoes.  And she cleaned up afterwards.  That was quite a treat. Several of her friends came over, after dinner, because they wanted to meet us.  I was flattered, until she said her friends thought we were Sasquatch. I asked why, and she said it was because she talked about us but they had never seen us.  I wasn't quite as flattered. But her friends were just delightful young people. I really enjoyed meeting them.  After her friends left, we went to Sam's. I'm still the mom, I still needed to buy her more food.

Oh, and while we were out, our meth making crack-head dog sitters texted me a picture:

So maybe they really are a responsible young nice couple who just wanted to come dog sit for me.  That reassured me.

The next morning, GirlChild gave us a tour of Baylor. We've seen the campus a bazillion times, but she wanted to show us the new parts of campus that we hadn't seen before.  I will just say, the new dorms that the kids live in today are way nicer in the prison cell dorm that GirlChild lived in her freshman year.

We ate a late breakfast, saw a little bit of Church Under the Bridge, which is a church service that ministers to the homeless who live under the bridge, and then we said our goodbyes.  

It was a wonderful weekend. It will have to satisfy me until Thanksgiving, as I don't expect we'll see each other before then.

I enjoyed every minute of it, and I loved seeing my child as an adult, and I'm so thrilled we went -- but I'm equally glad to look forward to a quiet, uneventful weekend. 

I'm already planning our Thanksgiving menu -- I'm excited to know I'll be seeing her again next month.

And if anyone needs a dog sitter, I've got a very reliable, very responsible, non-crackhead / meth-dealer couple I can highly recommend, without hesitation.