Adventure Mom

Free Advice for a Broken Heart Take it for what it's worth You know how, if you have a baby, you suddenly notice how many babies are gurgling, cooing and barfing out there? The babes were always around - just not on your radar. For me, it's been the same with the death of a husband. I knew one widow under age 50 before Sean died. Now, I know about a dozen. I've received several messages via Facebook from friends of new widows asking, "What do I tell them?" I remember asking the same question of my friend, Rev. Jeff. Jeff served as an Air Force Chaplain in Iraq (among many other places). During one of Sean's operations, he sat with me in the surgery waiting room and told stories about helping families after a son or daughter had died serving their country. I asked Jeff, "What do you say to them?" He said, "I believe God gives me the words. But mostly, I listen. Mostly, I'm just present."  Presence. If you know someone who's hurt

Marae Day Maori elder, Janice, and I press noses (hongi) At Home with the Maori I rubbed noses with several people today. It's how Maori – indigenous peoples of New Zealand -greet you at their wharenui, or meeting house. I took part in a visit to a Maori Marae (meeting place) arranged by Settlement Support (a program of the local YMCA http://www.migrantsupport.org.nz/ ). It was like being part of a class field trip, only we arrived in cars instead of a big yellow school bus. Also, no one got a time-out for being naughty. Adults from at least a dozen countries- including Germany, Iran, Italy, Poland and Japan – gathered with Kiwis to experience Maori culture. We met at the Wairoa Marae near Tauranga. Traffic from Highway 2 zipped past on the other side of the fence as we started the ceremonial entry. A few dozen women shuffled across a gravel courtyard for the karanga (exchange of calls), led by a Maori woman who responded to the song of another elderly Maori who was dressed

Identity Crisis Grand Canyon, July, 2010 I was sitting at Lindaman's cafe in Spokane about a year-and-a-half ago when a friend asked a question that's been following me around the world ever since. I'll get to the question later, but first, background: In early October, 2009, my husband, Sean, lay in room 549 of Sacred Heart Medical Center, after being transferred from the Intensive Care Unit. Sean was still battling after-effects of Necrotizing Fasciitis – also called "flesh-eating bacteria." The mystery infection (we'll never know how he got it) nearly killed him. He was pumped full of fluid (more than 20 pounds worth), drugs that knocked him unconscious, and placed on a ventilator for two weeks. He endured several operations, including two skin grafts. He was, as several nurses put it, "a train wreck." Sean re-learned to swallow, eat, sit up and stand – with heaps of help from hospital staff. His kidneys had shut down. He'd spend 3-4 hour

Short & Sweet – Kiwi Readers I'll always remember New Zealand as the place my kids learned to read. Fiona knew a couple or three dozen words before we arrived, but wasn't reading sentences. Finley knew the alphabet. These days, I wonder how long it'll take before Finn catches Fiona in reading. Both kids read aloud almost every night – it's their homework. Here's an excerpt of what Finley's reading, from Pussy and the birds : Pussy is hungry. Pussy is looking for a bird. Here comes a bird. Here comes Pussy. The bird is up in the tree. The bird is safe. The birds look down at Pussy. Naughty Pussy!... (3x,. I had to help with "naughty") Fiona read Good-Night Little Brother : "I don't want to go to bed," said little brother. "OK,"said big sister. "Just put your pyjamas on to show Teddy." "I don't want to go to bed," said little brother. "OK," said big sister. "Just get under the bl

Can you Relate? The NZ New Migrant Experience Group from "Relating Well in NZ" class I spent most of today in a room with three Germans, a Brit, a Latvian, a South African and a Kiwi. It sounds like the set-up to a joke. It's not - we were part of a class the New Zealand government sponsors called, "Relating Well in New Zealand." http://www.relate.org.nz/ It's designed to help migrants understand Kiwi culture and adapt to their new country. Even though I don't plan to make NZ my home, we're here now, and I want to learn as much as possible about this place while we're in-country. At the very least, I'd gather material for a blog entry. Something happens when you start planting roots in paradise - it starts to lose its luster. A young British woman, Joybelle, said she'd backpacked around New Zealand on holiday before deciding to relocate. "What you see when you backpack is totally different than when you live her

World Church Whatever Gets you in the Door The kids and I attended services today at St. Mary's Anglican church in Mt. Maunganui http://mountanglican.org.nz/ . We'd been worshipping at another Anglican parish in neighboring Tauranga (Holy Trinity), but I've missed the simplicity of the traditional service and decided, for today, to return to the smaller church. Also, St. Mary's is just 5 minutes from the house, and HT is a 15-20 minute drive. We were running late. Practicality and punctuality (if you count being 5 minutes late as punctual) won. Several dozen people sat on cushioned powder-blue pews for the 10 a.m. service at St. Mary's. It was a mostly white-haired crowd, sprinkled with a few under 50's and even a 15-month-old baby with a thatch of dark hair and gorgeous long eyelashes. He crawled around the carpeted floor, charming the crowd during prayers. Finley made friends with another 5-year-old boy – they ran to the parish hall to play ball. Fiona s

Just Mum For the first time in my life, here in New Zealand, I get to be "Just Mum." I'll need to return to the work world at some point, but for now my task is raising Fiona and Finley to be decent human beings (and prevent them from killing each other or destroying the house). I'm the only parent, and, bonus- at ages 7 and 5, the kids want me around. Shortly after Sean died, a friend in Spokane whose father died when she was 6 years old sent me an e-mail. In it, she told me her mother's way of handling grief was to bury herself in work. My friend wrote, "I needed a mother, not a worker." I read that last phrase over and over again. It made sense. So did quitting my job last year. I'd returned to full-time work when my babies were 3 and 4 months old. I was the primary bread winner, and Sean, the primary care giver. It worked for us, but I always wanted more time with the kids. This is not what I planned. Still, you do the best you can with the cr

I am Here I'm sitting on a wooden bench at a table in a large, family-sized cabin at McLaren Falls Park http://www.bayofplentynz.com/Tourism-Bay-Of-Plenty/McLaren-Falls-Park_IDL=3_IDT=1378_ID=9268_.html   I'm spending the night with 2 other widowed mums and 7 children. We've just celebrated Jared's 12 th birthday with a chocolate cake decorated to look like a soccer field. Jared would later vomit his dinner and the cake. Poor birthday boy. I played a game of flashlight (or "torch," in Kiwi) hide-and-seek with the kids. And I've downed 3/4's of a bottle of Gewurtztraminer I bought while in Hawke's Bay last weekend. A fire is burning in the stove – it's so warm I removed my souvenir "Australia" sweatshirt and sit here in a tank top and jeans. Another mum, Janet, tells me the cabin's made of wood called Lockwood...it expands and contracts. She says it goes "bang" in the night (thanks for the tip – I would've frea

Trail of 2 Shoes Now I've done it: Gone and bought 2 pairs of running shoes. I was only supposed to buy 1 pair, but I couldn't resist the allure of a second choice. I'm having trouble deciding which shoes to keep and which to return. Salesclerks said I could try the shoes on a treadmill. As long as I don't get them dirty, I can return them. It's a tough call. Either pair feels comfortable. I could probably run happily for hours in either shoe without blisters. This will be my first pair of trail runners. While I've bought piles of road running shoes, I've never bought a pair for off-road. I'm not a skilled trail runner. The klutz in me says, "Don't do it!" But where I live, in New Zealand's Bay of Plenty, you're hard-pressed to avoid trails. They're everywhere. I've given in, and found off-roading can be fun: You encounter new scenery, a challenge and the potential to become a better all-over runner. The choice, thoug

 Widow's Walk Denise Morse, Dawn Picken, Helen Stewart We're strangers, but I know you. We walk the same path. It was like I knew Helen, Denise and Siobhan before we met face-to-face. I'd spoken twice with Helen on the phone. We had heartfelt conversations - talks with substance - and we didn't know each other. We're widows in our 30's and 40's, raising kids. Say that in any language, in any country, and we'd understand each other. We're on the widow's walk. We met thanks to a grief counselor I've seen a couple times here in New Zealand. The counselor told me about a group Helen and Denise started several years ago called GAP – Grieving and Parenting. Helen's husband died in 2003 when she was 10 weeks pregnant and had a 20-month-old baby. Denise was widowed with 3 small children. The women met by chance and decided to create a support group for people with young children whose partners have died. Turns out, the group's not m

The Lonely Leaf I was driving the kids to school this morning when Fiona started whimpering. "She's sad about the leaf," said Finley. Apparently, a lone wet leaf had attached to the hatchback's window, and it freaked Fiona. I turned around to see her crying. Not pretend crying (which she does quite well), but real tears. Tears for a leaf? From the same girl who watched her 5-year-old Australian friend stone a bunny to death, then held the rabbit's lifeless body without a flinch or grimace? "Fiona, what are you really upset about?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer. Fiona said, "The leaf is like Daddy. He doesn't have his family, either. He's all alone." My heart sank as I continued driving Oceanbeach Road in the rain. "Oh, honey, Daddy's still with us. He's in our hearts," I said, in what's become one of my stock responses to Fiona and Finley's grief. There's not much I can say

Let Him Lead Lessons from a Dance Class "5, 6, 7, 8....you're going to push the lady over your arm clockwise...then take 2 steps forward, and back." I'm at the Papamoa Sports Centre, listening to instructor Paulina lead Ceroc dancers ( from Wikipedia: "Ceroc is partner dance best described as a fusion of Salsa and Jive, but without the complicated footwork...The name 'Ceroc' is said to derive from the French "C'est le roc" (it's roc). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ceroc   I've just finished my very first beginner Ceroc class. I'd never tried partner dancing before, not the kind featuring dance steps with names. The closest I've come lately to any kind of choreography was a Zumba (exercise) class. Part of the reason I'm a runner is it requires little coordination (and even then, I don't always get it right – I commit one or two face-plants each year when my shuffling feet trip me). You've got the premise: clumsy r

You Can't Get it Here 10 Things I Miss about Good 'Ole U.S.A. It's not until you leave your home country that you realize what you'll miss. Naturally, what (rather who) you miss most are people you left behind – friends, family, neighbors and acquaintances with whom you have a shared history. Those folks aren't replaceable. I won't include them on this list. Instead, here, in no particular order, are 10 items, features or systems either in short supply or nonexistent in places we've traveled: *Note: item #9 is particular to New Zealand and Australia. Large, straight highways America's famous for its multiple-lane highways (called motorways in many other English-speaking countries). The highway system makes long-distance car travel speedier and easier than other places we've traveled. The highways are lined with free public toilets (called restrooms in the U.S.). Bonus.       2. Plentiful petrol stations Americans have a knack for placing gas stati