I’ve been cleaning out my office, lately.  It’s almost March and the mood for spring-cleaning is sweeping through me.  My small office is tucked away on the top floor of my house, nestled between two windows and slanting eaves.  As I sift through files, catalog books, and take down a former life from my walls, I come across a framed yellowed article about the death of my husband and the adoption of my daughter.

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Saturday was Elliott’s basketball tournament. We live in a small town, so her tournament was not an all day, all weekend kind of event. There were only four teams in her league with a single elimination tournament. Being from a small town, every team had at least one of Elliott’s best friends on the roster. Since the start of the season, I think she had played each team at least four times, so she kind of knew what she was up against.

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Like most Americans, I remember the images of Romanian orphanages under Ceausescu’s rule.  I was appalled by the pictures of starved children, rocking, sitting, and lying in wooden cribs.  At the time, I could only imagine how these children had survived…or had they?

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I saw something the other day that still has me scratching my…head. Elliott and I were out killing time by running errands, when we pulled into the parking lot of Target. Parked next to us was a Jeep Cherokee. It was nothing out of the ordinary in a suburban shopping mall, with the exception of one…hmm, two things. Hanging from the hitch and dangling below the bumper, was a set of balls. Bull’s balls. In our household, we refer to them as cohones.

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I am unbalanced. Not according to my therapist, or my husband…but according to my Wii. Like most, I started out with a goal for the year, not a resolution, but a goal to be healthier. I know it is a broad goal, but it’s vague enough that if I fail, I have no accountability.

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It was a dreary, windy, humid Sunday and I was tired of being in the house with the kids…for four days…and another school vacation day today.  Please…will these children EVER go back to school for more than three days in a row?  So, after watching two recorded episodes of What Not To Wear, I was primed to go shopping.

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I recently wrote in Castes and Prejudice that “children were not produce.”  Children are not a commodity to be bought and sold like bananas and brussels sprouts.  So, when I was skimming my Google Alerts regarding international adoption, I read an article about Korean adoptions, Korea Still Relies On International Adoption, from…

This isn’t a story about royalty, or a fairytale.  It is a story about friendship, the boundaries of friendship, and conflict resolution.  I promise it has a happy ending.

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Did you know there are over 5 billion cell phone users in the United States?  Neither did I.  I can remember the days when we didn’t have cell phones.  No texting.  No internet at our fingertips.  Hell, no internet.  Communicating was a little slower, and it was more difficult to find your husband in the mall, but we survived.

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Before I adopted Elle from Russia, I had a preconceived idea of what Russians were like.  I remember the high stepping soldiers of the Soviet Army marching in Red Square behind the tanks and missiles, the Soviet gymnasts who seemed more like robots than young girls, and let’s not forget Irina Rodnina and Alexander Zaitsev, the famous figure skating couple.  If it weren’t for Olga Korbut and her enchanting smile and bubbly personality, I would have assumed Russians were devoid of…

If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you know I’ve been struggling to find balance in my life. Last October, I made a solo trip to an Arizona spa for four days in order to reclaim myself. I spent the majority of my trip learning how to meditate and how the practice could enhance my life. Like any A-type personality, I took notes and attempted to schedule my day around meditation. If you have seen Julia Roberts in Eat Pray…

I’ve spent the weekend hiding from my family, under the guise of “writing.” I really am writing because…well, I am. The girls have been in school a total of three days in the last eight, and I am going crazy…so I am “working.”

Sometimes when I write, I need total silence. Sometimes, I need to write in a noisy Starbucks. Sometimes, I play classical music, and at other times, I watch television or movies. But since I don’t have cable in my office, I have to resort to my DVD…

When exactly did this happen?  I know I’ve technically been a “mother” for 12 years, but when did I actually become a mother, like my mom and my grandmother?  I don’t feel like a mother exactly, except when I have a five year old throwing a two-hour temper tantrum, but then I just feel like a crazy lady who needs to be locked up in the loony bin.

I love my daughters, and occasionally I even enjoy them.  The older Elliott gets, the more fun I have with her.  We talk clothes,…

I am a child of the early ‘60’s, and everything that implies. My parents weren’t the hippy types, but more the Mad Men type of parents…without the alcohol. They loved to listen to music when I was little and on special occasions they would break out the record collection and the crème de menthe.

The coffee table in our living room was actually a record player cabinet. It was wood with two marble tiles on the surface with mesh fabric covering the speakers. The cabinet had a drawer and…

I always thought I would reach a point in life when I had it all figured out. I would know who I am. I would know what I wanted. I would know what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Psych.

At 47, I still struggle with who I am and what I want to be when I grow up. It’s not that I am jealous of people who seem to have it all figured out. Maybe they really do have it figured out…or maybe they just fake it well. I consider myself a work in progress and imagine I…

I am watching the great blizzard of 2011 raging outside my window. There is a fire in the fireplace, homemade salsa simmering on the stove, and a glass of Irish whiskey within reach. Life can’t get much better. I had nowhere I needed to be today, and I have an appointment tomorrow, but if I don’t make it, it’s OK.

School was closed today and it has already been cancelled for tomorrow. I don’t think the girls have gone to school for a full week since before Christmas. I am beginning to…