BFF Chef, BFF Librarian

Yes I am lucky enough to have TWO BFF's! One is librarian in Dallas (woohoo!) and one is a chef in Houston.

Today I had a visit from my BFF Chef, Tracie. She is the most relatable person i know, because I talk to her so much about my marriage and my kids and she gives great advice. T is not yet married. So today I'm sitting with her at Rao's, my favorite Bmt bakery, unloading on this small but scary little incident that happened last month.

I was sitting with Cass on my lap when Jack hurt himself somehow. Nothing serious, the kind of pain he would have shaken off if it wouldn't have been close to bedtime. Only this particular night he decided he was hurt, started to cry, and leaned onto my shoulder. As I was cooing to him (knew he wasn't really injured) I was shocked to feel tears fill my eyes and stream down my cheeks. Later lying in bed I was rigid with fear because the reason I was crying was because I missed my baby, my baby Jack.

What kind of ingrate holding her precious baby girl, cries for the baby she's already had? The baby she's had for eight years? I was so, so scared that this meant Cassie would not measure up to Jack in my heart. I was up most the night tense with fear.

I don't have to tell you, dear reader, how I've wanted Cassie--my heart child. How many times it would have been such a relief NOT to write another check we could almost cover, NOT to subject ourselves to hours of medical, psychological and social testing, NOT to explain one more time to well-meaning friends why the hell it takes so long and costs so much. By the time we actually went to Mexico to make her ours forever I resembled a religious fundamentalist, only my religion was my daughter. A tiny being who didn't even know me.

The next afternoon I needed to drop by the school for something or other. I remember looking disheveled and feeling as brittle as the rotted branches that drop from our too-tall trees. If someone learned how unworthy of this daughter I am I wasn't going to break, I would instead crumble and dissolve into dust from shame.

Cassie, typically, was staring at everyone with wide eyes and an unimpressed little frown. We were not cutie pies. I ran into one of my favorite teachers, Stephanie. Now I don't care if you don't believe in God, or if you want to call yourself spiritual and not religious. Whatever you do or don't subscribe to is none of my concern, or frankly, interest. But this sweetheart hugged me, played with Cassie's hand and launched immediately into a story about how she used to cry and cry missing her older daughter as a baby once her younger daughter was born. That was when Cassie began to grin at Stephanie, and when I hugged her again. I could tell she was surprised but, you know, she went with it. Teaching 5th grade you learn to roll with the tide to a certain extent.

So, to quote Young Frankenstein, I wasn't Abby Normal. I was a TYPICAL mom. A mom who will always remember how sweet and wonderful my babies are and were. One from my tummy, one not, but both who had always been in my heart. I just had to meet them.

This all brings me back to Rao's where I was relating this intense little drama to BFF Chef who forked a mouthful of chocolate mousse and said "Well, yeah." She so rocks.

Ugh, I should blog about Cassie starting daycare but honestly I don't know if there is enough alcohol in the house. Needless to say, I've been an incredible wimp about it all.

Okay here it is quickly. I was a total wreck with baby Jack. It didn't help that I was young when he came along, or that we moved every six months and I had a hard time feeling rooted and secure, and I had just had a scary health problem that was still unresolved. But I was always so fierce and intense about him. He never slept in his crib, he was either with me in bed or, more commonly, I just held him all the time.

So we bring Cassie home and I am in love with child, but I am congratulating myself that I'm not burdened by all the fear I had with Jack. Until we took her to daycare for the first time. Mike was with me, we would leave her for four hours so she could start to get used to this new place with new faces.

I have to tell you that when we pulled out of that parking lot I was already hyperventilating with tears and snot everywhere, one hand gripping the armrest and the other on the dashboard. So much for being the cool older mom.

It has gotten a little easier. I still hate it because I really want to be handing her toys at home on the living room rug rather than giving the best of myself each day to other people's children. She has only known me three months. I was home with Jack four years. I hate the whole thing. Maybe next year we can afford to make a change. This year we still have two houses.

Oh look--a whole post detailing how neurotic I am. Goody.