it’s not about you

Amy picked up her friend Jackie from the airport yesterday and they dropped by our house right after lunchtime. They wanted to go to the beach, so on the spur of the moment, we loaded up in Adam’s car and were off to Pacifica. We were planning to go to Baker Beach in town, but Mark, who was walking up as we were getting ready to go, convinced us it would take just as long to get through the city and to Baker Beach as it would to drive down to Pacifica. So we did. And Nicole, we will have to call you next time.

Judah got comfy.

Adam’s superhero pose. He is “A-Man.”

Burying Judah.

Amy and me trying to avoid the double chin problem that evolves during self-portraiture. I’m from Texas, so I’ve gotta represent.

Burying Judah again. This time you can see everyone. Those are Jackie’s legs.

We decided it was a good - no great - day to go to the beach. We went down Hwy 1 to Pacifica. Well worth the trip - it probably would have taken us just as long to get to Baker or China Beach across town. I’ll post more photos tomorrow when I have battery power.

Props go to Amy, for, um, holding the props.

Amy, Adam and I went to a protest rally in Dolores Park on Sunday that was put on by immigrant groups and community organizations in the city protesting efforts to stifle and criminalize immigration. SFPD estimated 10,000 attended the rally and ensuing march to downtown. Here are a few images from the rally.

So we are in the midst of potty training Judah. So far things have been going really well. She’s made it several days without an accident (until today, which was more my fault than hers) and no diapers except for naps and through the night. She still won’t poop in the potty, but that’s still great progress.

Lat night, I brushed her teeth and combed her hair, put her diaper on and put on her footied, zipper pajamas - you know the kind: all one piece with built in feet and a zipper than run from her knees to her neck - and put her to bed. No problems. She went down easily and stayed down. She slept all night, without waking us up at 5:30 like she’s been in the habit of doing lately.

She woke up at 7:30 this morning as Joshua was bringing me breakfast and showing me the clothes they found for me on their morning Running Club run. She stood up and said, “Good morning!” like she does every day, and them immediately a look of anguish came over her face, she spread her legs apart and started wailing, “Daddy, go pee pee!” Now, you also have to understand that while Judah’s been a great potty trainee, she’s also been overflowing her diapers and wetting the bed almost every night. We’ve even had to buy more sheets because she’s been going through them so fast. Joshua immediately felt her for wetness and said she was dry, so he started unzipping her so she could go in the potty. As soon as he finished, he turned to me with a look of disbelief on his face.

She wasn’t wearing a diaper.

Which means that sometime before she fell asleep, she took off her pajamas, took off her diaper, and then put her pajamas back on. She had wet the bed, her legs were clammy and cold, and her pj’s smelled entirely of pee, although they were dry. Her sheets and comforter were also wet.

I have no idea what she’s gonna do next.

Today is Bitsy Day - the day my family celebrates my mother’s going home and also grieves the fact that she is no longer here to enjoy this side of life with us. It’s been nine years now, which is kind of scary - that means next year will be ten years. TEN YEARS. I don’t even want to talk about that, if you don’t mind.

I’ve been a little weepy today, but so far not too bad. Last night, the Scandrette’s came downstairs and joined us and our housemates for our daily reading, and after we read the chapter, we spent a little bit of time in prayer together. After we finished, I mentioned that today would be the ninth anniversary of my mother’s death. I started to tear up. I don’t like crying in front of people, so I was doing my best to buck up. Mark commented, “Your mom must have been an amazing woman for you to still feel so much emotion when you talk about her.”

I just tried to buck up some more.

Joshua brought me my breakfast in bed on his way out the door to go to work (like he does every day - my wonderful, loving husband) and asked me if there was anything special I’d like to do today. I immediately teared up.

It’s always right there, ready to brim over on this day, making my eyes burn and my contacts cloud up. Remembering what happened on this day is still so raw…remembering details and senses and what I was wearing and how it felt getting soaked running across campus in the rain to receive bad news…what it felt like to go to a safe place to talk with someone, and then not being there…feeling so alone, even though I was always with someone…the pause on the phone at the airport when i called to ask how she was doing…how beautiful the sky was above the storms on the trip home and how it seemed surreal to be that beautiful when the earth was weeping with me…having to be led through the airport because I cried so much, so long, and so hard, that I could no longer see…walking in the house, everyone watching us, silent, with tears running down their faces and how shocking that was and how it made it real in that moment…

I was asked today what kind of things I think about when I remember my mom. It’s mostly every day sort of things. Having dinner together, what her closet looked like, calling her at work, her face when she would crack up at something Dad would say (I’m coming!), her favorite movies, how she encouraged us in our pursuits and taught us the things that were really important, cleaning the kitchen together, waking us up in the morning, getting mad when I’d turn the shower on and go back to bed, showing up at cross-country meets, swim meets, track meets…

Now as a mother, I remember her through Judah’s eyes. Singing me to sleep, holding me when I got hurt, attending to Band-aid sessions with the utmost importance, putting her foot down when she told me to do something, making me eat three more bites before I could get down, putting together an Easter basket even though I wouldn’t remember it, holding, hugging, tickling, cuddling, and loving me.

The life Judah grows up with will in many ways be very different from mine - we never moved until I was eight years old — we’ve already moved three times with Judah, and I’m betting on at least two more moves in the next couple of years. I grew up mainly in the suburbs, in a house with a big backyard and frontyard where we played baseball in the street. Judah is growing up in an urban environment, where you have to go to a park for grass and playing in the street will get you hit by a car or worse. I grew up going to a church building every Sunday; Judah’s concept of Church will be far different from what mine was.

But in many ways, her upbringing will be very much the same - she will be loved as much as I was, she will be surrounded by people who support and encourage her and direct her in ways that are good, who will help shape her and be who she is. She will learn to love and laugh and care about others and bring out the good in people and situations and to love God and follow Jesus.

When I freak out about being a mom or not knowing what to do with Judah in certain situations, I think about what my mom would have done, how she would have handled it. She wasn’t perfect - she messed up plenty and I saw that side of her, too - but she aimed for long-term consistency and always showed us love. And that is something I know I can do.

A couple of nights ago, we put Judah down to bed and watched “Million Dollar Baby.” It’s a good length of a movie. After it was over, I was in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, when Joshua opened the door and said, “You need to come see your daughter.”

“What’s she doing?” I asked.

“You just need to come see your daughter.”

So I came out of the bathroom and he opened the door to our bedroom. Judah was curled up in the middle of her bed, no covers, no pillow on the bed, with her arms and legs tight up underneath her and her butt up in the air.

Completely naked.

Amy, Judah, Nicole and I went to the Bernal Heights Public Library today for an ice cream social. It was part of a series of events the library put on commemorating the 1906 earthquake. There’s been a lot of that going on lately, considering the anniversary was this past Tuesday. After the earthquake, many of the city’s residents lived first in tent cities, then in shacks in parks all across the city. Apparently, Bernal Heights has one of the largest concentrations of remaining shacks in the city.

After enjoying her ice cream and a juice box, Judah decided she didn’t want to sit around for the lecture so we went to play outside on the playground. Before we left, we had to stop off for a potty break and photo shoot.

And then my camera battery died.

For photo friday. This was taken on the train to Waco when we went down for Thanksgiving last year.