Guess who is moving?

We've been living in a two-bedroom townhouse for a couple years now. I share a room with my seven year old daughter. Let me repeat that, in case you didn't get it the first time: I share a room with a seven year old.

It is cute, and we have a killer pool, but townhome living has its drawbacks. Like the fact that my children are not allowed to ride their bikes. You read that correctly. They have to walk their bikes a block away before they can climb on and ride. The place is billed as a family complex, yet there is no bike riding, skating, skateboarding, running, or playing allowed.

That, and the fact that our new neighbors must really, really love each other. And I think they have a pet elephant.

So, thanks to Facebook, we are moving into a darling three bedroom house. I will be able to walk through my bedroom without stepping on a Barbie shoe (everyone knows they are so small as to be practically invisible, yet can do more damage than a machete.

We're moving in a few weeks. Come on over for a barbecue.

"Biology is the least of what makes someone a mother"

I have been thinking a lot about families lately. What makes a family, and what makes a family work. How our family shapes the person we become. How my family is very nearly entirely made up by choice, and not biology.

Grandparents? Died before I was born.
Aunts and uncles? Died before I was 10.
Parents? See aunts and uncles.
Siblings? Two died before I was born. One died in 1991 and one in 1994. My remaining brother is my only tie to biology, though we share only the same mother. We were not raised together (he was 16 when I was born). We were separated when our mother died. I found him 14 years later.
Husband? Divorced (should I say failed?).
Children? Adopted.

Yet I rarely feel the lack of family. Not because I am a loner - that is far from the truth. I have friends closer to me than I see some sisters. I have connections with so many people that I value so much - it feels inadequate to call them friends.

Though I divorced five years ago, my ex and I remain very close. We see each other at least once a week, and talk more often than that. We have built a relationship completely around our children, and it works very well.

He is recently remarried, and I have to say - he marries really great women. I was number two, and remain friends with his first wife. We met and built a friendship while caring for her daughter, now a woman, and one of the coolest people I know.

I went to my ex's wedding reception on Saturday. And I didn't even pull a Shelley Long on "Modern Family." Haven't seen it? Watch it - it is funny. I felt welcomed, and my kids were thrilled to have "all" their parents there. But there were some parents missing.

Mother's Day is coming up, and I am thinking of the women who bore my children. Unable to care for them, the children were removed from their care. They weren't able to pull their lives together - at all - and I was able to adopt these amazing kids. Could I love them any more if they came out of my body? I honestly, truly could not imagine so.

On Mother's Days past, I have cried. I have locked myself in the bathroom. I've rejoiced. Most years, it's a combination of the three.

This year, I hope it is mostly rejoicing.

Happy Mother's Day.

Adult ADHD Symptoms/Signs: You Know You Have ADD When | ADDitude: Attention Deficit Disorder Community

I'm just saying....life is fun in my house.

Adult ADHD Symptoms/Signs: You Know You Have ADD When | ADDitude: Attention Deficit Disorder Community

I double dog dare you not to smile

156 Countries Sing Together for the Starbucks Love Project

How I've spent my kids' Christmas vacation

Holding my darling daughter while her foot was stitched and her toe "reduced." That's fancy talk for "grabbing the end of her toe and pulling it as hard as humanly possible until it pops back into alignment, while she screams her freakin' head off."

Holding her again when she got her stitches out. And finding out that if it hasn't started to heal in another week, she gets to have a pin put in. It's a toe. Who cares if it falls off, really?

Watching "Alvin and the Chipmunks, the Squeakquel." And being durn-fool enough to BUY. THE. SOUNDTRACK.

Finding out we DON'T get to move into my ex-husband's THREE bedroom house (after he moves out, of course)...but we get to stay here in our two bedroom apartment with the world's best neighbors. Too bad they are a couple buildings over, and the ones right next to us have a bad habit of banging on the wall when they think my kids are too loud. Never mind their baby who cries at all hours or their two horse-sized dogs who run up and down the stairs several times a day.

Having the crud come live in my chest, and then giving it to my wonderful kids, so that their coughing could keep me awake at night.

Crying and swearing I'll never date again, ever. Yeah, right. I've said THAT one before...in fact, I think it was on my resolutions for 2008.

I did make one resolution this year. One. Of course, I can't remember what it was, because I can't find the back of the envelope I wrote it on.

Wait, that's right.

Annie's 2010 New Year's Resolution:

To be more organized.

Pffft.

Happy New Year!

Obsession

Hello, I am Annie, and I am an obsessive.

Obsessive about "Glee." Have you seen it? Of course you have. If you haven't, you should. You'd be obsessed, too.

When I was in high school, the small town I lived in had one radio station. One AM radio station. The evening air personality (ok, ok, they were disk jockeys then) was named Capri. Like the car. She was a friend of mine, and I'd listen every night. Didn't like the music she played, but she was my friend. The song she'd sign off with was "I Am...I Said." Every. single. night. I couldn't stand Neil Diamond then.

Glee has converted me...at least to "Sweet Caroline." How could one not love it? Especially as sung by Puck.

Ahhhh. This would be my sign-off song. But then, when I hear "Don't Stop Believing" I'm reminded of meeting Steve Perry in the airport in Kona. And again on a corner in Old Sacramento. Coincidence? I think not.

Do I have to choose one "Glee" song? How could I?

It seems appropriate

I know I haven't been here in a while.

In order to write, one must actually make the attempt. To sit down, to put pen to paper (or more appropriately, fingers to keyboard). Haven't felt like doing this in a while.

And this morning, when I set out to write of my mother, it didn't come easily. It's been 41 years today since she passed away, and I miss her every single day. I am so sad that memories dim, but thankful for the ones that remain. Watching Alfred Hitchcock movies late at night. Making snow angels and lollipops and Barbie dresses. Being held.

She was beautiful, and smart, and courageous, and strong. When I was a baby, I'd cry when she'd sing me to sleep (so she wrote in my baby book). Now I'd give anything to hear her voice.

I wrote about her a while ago. If you haven't been following long, you can read the post here.

In loving memory of
Yvonne Marie Wilson Bakaleinikoff Oakley
June 3, 1919 - December 5, 1968