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If you have a few minutes, please peruse Katie’s blog over at The Journey. She’s just your average 20-year-old who moves to Africa and adopts 14 children. On her own.

I read things like this and I wonder how much more I could do, how much more we are all capable of. As R and I wade through adoption and foster care information, I think of Katie, mother to fourteen, and I wonder how much more we can do as partners. Frequently we see families with many kids, or with special needs, or with extraordinary circumstances, and our first thought is always: “How do they do it?” Sometimes, my teaching, my two kids, and a husband who’d lose his head if it weren’t attached are all I can handle. I remember when I was sick sick sick with my second child, face to the ground, unable to stay on my feet, gasping into the dirt: “No more. I can’t do this any more.”

And yet somehow, something intensely human inside of us moves aside when faced with extraordinary circumstances. We do what is in front of us. We do what must be done and we, and those around us, are a little bit better.

A tiny bit.

More.

#3

I promise I remember the days of hyperemesis, when my body cried out for nutrition but always heaved it back up in a matter of minutes, halfway digested. Salad was the worst: those green, crunchy leaves would wreak havoc on my esophagus. I remember the ligament pain, the waddling, the stretching, the lack of sleep.

But somehow, I’m still thinking about you.

I’m thinking about those short, pixellated moments directly after birth with you sobbing on my chest, and me heaving in exhaustion. Feeling in real time what I’ve been feeling for the months before within my belly.  

Yes, I still want another head to wash in the bath at night, baby curls encrusted with the day’s leavings. I want to rock with another sweaty head on my shoulder in the wee hours, to calm the fears of another sleepless one. Most often I think of my favorites: swaddling, nursing, and the burbles: you know- that gelatinous sound you’d make, trying to talk to me.

I am still thinking of you. Imagining who you’d be, what path you’d take. What disaster you’d be in my life, what sweetness, what exhaustion.

And I think: there are not enough reasons not. And so many for.  

And I think: I hope you come soon.

Because I was loved

It might just be that easy…

5-year-old: Mommy, I have found the perfect boy for me.

Me: Already?? I mean- you have?

5-year-old: Yes. His name is Max. He sits in front of me.

Me: And how do you know that he’s the one for you?

5-year-old: Well, he’s my best friend.

Me: That’s good.

5-year-old: Plus, I can spell his name. M-A-X.

Me: Yeah, he sounds perfect.

5-year-old: He is.

Storytelling

Ok, some explanation about recent events.

Remember the dilemma? Please to review. I’ll wait.

Up to speed? OK. So Big State University is low on enrollment, and since I gave up the temporary, full-time offer they…um, offered, hoping for a permanent, full-time offer at Smaller Private University, they are less than happy with my begging for a few classes. They’ve honored me with one, but mine will be the first to be cut should the student numbers not be there.

SPU, meanwhile, had approved two full-time, long-term positions, which I was hoping for. I mean, only one of them. I wasn’t hoping for both. Jeez. A coworker (and, I believed, friend) who had been at SPU in a full-time, short-term position there said she wasn’t in the running, that her position was still good.

And she lied. To my face, nonetheless. Harumph.

So they gave her one of the full-time, long-term positions, and she knew this, and she kept chatting with me like she was on my side.

But I’m not angry. NO sirree. At least not until this point in the drama…

My boss at SPU calls me into his office. Great candidate, blah blah blah, but the long and the short of it is that they don’t have the numbers to justify a second long-term, full-time position. We can offer you two classes (a quarter of what I had last semester). Have a great break.

Nice, huh?

But wait! A ray of light shone forth. A university to which I had applied several months ago and interviewed with by phone unexpectedly calls the day after all the SPU unhappiness. They want to offer me a job, they say. Benefits! Tuition remission for a doctorate! Your hubby can study for free! We’ll help you move! Can you come and work with us??

…in OHIO?

And this is what I imagine that Ohio looks like:

(You can’t see it, but off to the right there’s a buckeye axe murderer waiting to pounce)…

So to undo any strange misconceptions about the state, R and I flew up on Monday. And back down on Monday night. I know, we are such jet-setters. And the people were great, the place was beautiful, the offer is kind.

But it’s freakin’ OHIO.

Granted, it currently looks more like this:

…but come October, see above. And worse.

Not that I don’t like snow. I love it- I’m originally from New York. The kids would love it. They have seasons in Ohio, something we don’t get down south.

So you see my new dilemma.

Thoughts? Has anyone made significant moves like this, without a family/friend base to lean upon? What were some of the benefits? The challenges? Do dish.

And send nice thoughts/prayers our way. Down south.

For now.