To Johan on the Occasion of Your Fifth Birthday

Dear Johan:
Today you turn 5 years old! A whole handful of years. You are smart, funny, quick-witted, kind, empathetic and the joy of my life. You bring laughter and music to our home. Even sitting in traffic is more fun with you as we tell jokes. I love our time after school when we sit on the couch and snuggle. We talk about our days and shares hugs. I love bedtime when I read you books and then sing Woody Guthrie songs to you. I love it even more when you join in the singing. I love sitting at the dinner table with you talking about little and big things. I love watching you learn new things—recognizing letters, doing math, understanding presidential politics, swimming, taking care of Gonzo, managing feelings, and making friends.

My greatest happiness and my greatest challenge is being your mom. I mean that in the best way. You make me think about the things I do and the words I use. You make me determined to make this world better- because I want it to be better for you. You make me feel full of hope. You have a keen insight and a warm heart.

We just elected Barack Obama to be our president for a 2nd term. I am so proud of the way you were involved in the election. You watched all the debates with us, learned about the candidates, and formed opinions. We voted no on marriage discrimination and we voted yes to Barack Obama. You came with me to the polls and helped me put my ballot in the counting machine. This is such an important part of our lives and I’m so glad we shared it together. You wore shirts and buttons proudly, standing up for what you believe in. Keep those convictions, honey. They will take you far.

Our lives have changed a lot in the last year. Some people have gone. New people have come into our lives. These are big changes that sometimes are hard. It’s hard to miss people we care about. It can be a challenge to be part of a new household where things aren’t quite how they used to be. I want you to know that you have handled these challenges with love and in such a big-boy way. But, as you know, change can also be good. It can bring us new people, love, and a whole lot of fun. Welcoming Andrew into our lives is a way that we have changed and grown for the better. He loves you so much and I know you love him. It is such a joy for me to see you and Andrew having fun, goofing off, and being pals. You amaze me every day. Your bright and optimistic spirit inspire me. I want you to know that no matter who comes or goes, it’s always you and me. We are the best team ever and I’ve always got your back, kiddo. Our family may change again as the years go on but what will never change is that you and I are a family.

I am so excited for what age 5 will bring. You will start Kindergarten. You may even ride a school bus! You will lose a tooth, gain more knowledge, and continue growing up to be a wonderful kid. I am so lucky to be your mom.

Happy Birthday, my little (getting bigger) sweetie. You are my favorite kid in the whole world. I love you up to Pluto and past all the galaxies and stuck to the very furthest star.

Besos,

Mama

Back to Blooma

Blooma was born (I think), right around the time my only child was born, in the fall of 2007. I first discovered Blooma in early 2009 when a friend invited Johan and me to try a BYOB yoga class. Johan was just about 1 and we had a grand old time. While at the studio, I saw that Early Bird Yoga was offered at 6 a.m. Because I have to work at 7:30 a.m., I thought this class was perfect for me and began attending regularly on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This worked out because Eduardo would stay with Johan while I was at class. I found my time at Blooma physically, emotionally, and spiritually fulfilling. I was a healthier person and better mom because of it.

Then life, as it does sometimes, threw me a curve ball. In the fall of 2010, my marriage was ending. I sought solace on my mat at my Early Bird classes. I sometimes crumbled into child’s pose, weeping. The amazing instructors helped me through a most difficult time. They didn’t ask questions or pry, just lingered a bit longer during hands-on adjustments and communicated their support non-verbally. My time at Blooma on my mat was respite during that difficult journey.

Some months later, my parenting situation made it impossible for me to continue with Early Bird classes. I was a single parent with no one to watch Johan  in the early morning hours. I continued my yoga practice at another studio and at home, but always missed the early class. Arriving in the dark, watching the sun come up to greet the Minneapolis morning in a space that I found supportive and non-threatening, and that helped me grow in my practice, enhancing my life in every way. I was sad to walk away from Blooma.

Then, something wonderful happened. A new person entered my life. I told Andrew about Blooma and the ways it had been there for me in good times and in bad. And, because just when you think life is done twisting, it finds new ways to surprise you, today I returned to Blooma after over a year hiatus. It was emotional for me to return. My head was flooded with memories: the first time Johan and I entered the studio; the wonderful music during the early bird practice; the tears I cried in front of other yogis as I navigated divorce and single motherhood. As I unrolled my mat and began practice, it was like meeting an old friend. We’ve both changed, but not too much. We recognized each other at once, greeted each other warmly, and fell back into our familiar dance. My body and mind and soul feel rejuvenated after the class this morning. I can’t wait for next week. We have some catching up to do.

Moral Test

Today when leaving the grocery store, another driver hit my car. I had backed out and was stopped, and he hit the rear of my car. My back bumper is pretty scuffed up. I got out of my car and a kid came over and said his parents don't speak English. He was Latino. I walked over to his parents and said I speak Spanish. The woman was crying. There were a couple more kids in the back seat, including a baby. The man who hit my car told me he and his family were tourists (not true) and so he doesn't have a Minnesota license or insurance (probably very true.) Knowing plenty about insurance, car accidents and immigration, I was pretty sure that this was an undocumented family driving without insurance out of necessity. If I called the police, the man would get a ticket for driving without insurance and possibly be turned over to immigration authorities. He would likely face deportation or voluntary departure. His wife would be left alone with 3 kids until she could come up with the money to reunite the family. It could take years. Over a minor scuff on my car. So, I told him everything was fine and we went our separate ways. It will probably cost $800 to get a new bumper but it just seems wrong to risk tearing a family apart over a car bumper. I would have always wondered what happened to that family if I had forced them to interact with the police. For me, it's just money- a minor setback in saving for my next trip- but really just a blip on the screen. And this, my friends, is a great example of how broken immigration laws are. Undocumented people can't get drivers licenses. If you don't have a license, you can't buy insurance. If you get in an accident, you face criminal sanctions and huge financial consequences for not having insurance. I, for one, won't be part of it. Now. Anybody know of a good body shop?

Rock the Garden

More to come on Africa, but for today, I want to remember Rock the Garden 2012 that Andrew and I attended last Saturday.  It was an Ode to Minneapolis.  A perfect summer day- it started out hot and humid, and transitioned to this wonderful cool breeze by sunset.  The Minneapolis food trucks were all around (hello Korean BBQ Banh Mi, will you be my best friend?) and local vodka was served with fruit punch. 

Andrew and I spent much of the day with Dessa and her boy, at least during the part where she wasn't kicking ass and taking names on stage.  After Doomtree's performance, we toasted the fact that they "won Rock the Garden" with some of that Vodka and fruit punch.  And then some more.  Aaaaand maybe a little more.

Just as afternoon turned to dusk, Trampled by Turtles took the stage.  Beautiful sounds with a beautiful backdrop.  We could see the Basilica, the Cherry and the Spoon, and much of the downtown skyline as we sat on a blanket on a hill in my favorite city.

The couple sitting directly in front of us most of the day was probably 65 or 70 years old.  They wore jeans and Chacos and the man had a Jansport backpack with buttons like "Save Darfur,"  "End Human Trafficking," and "Vote No on the Anti-Marriage Amendment."   They were happy and affectionate.  I kept wanting to tell them that I hope I'm just like them when I'm old, but there didn't seem to be an appropriate way to do that without creating much awkwardness.  So I just told Andrew and our friends.

I've been loving this video that the Walker Art Center put together which captures this lovely day so well. 

Under African Skies

It’s hard to believe it was almost a month ago that we left for “A Walk on the Wild Side: Los 4 Hermanos.” It would be a 300 page book to tell every story in detail (or one blockbuster movie coming to a theater near you in summer 2012.) Over the next couple months, I will share some highlights.

There was one afternoon in Kruger Park that we went on a game drive. Those of us not driving had imbibed just a couple beers. It was Sarah’s birthday. It was unseasonably warm and the sun shone bright. We drove through the Savannah listening to “Graceland.” That album, by the way, is an Opus.

I looked out the window, saw different varieties of antelope leap through the grasses, felt the warm wind whip my hair around, and reveled in the yellow-orange glow of the sun surrounding me. I looked into the car and saw my three best friends all around me. We laughed, talked, and made merry.

I thought to myself, who in the world is luckier than me? Pretty clear that the answer is no one.

Here are a few photos from that extraordinary afternoon.

10 days!

Cultural Weekend

This weekend was the highly anticipated (at least by Andrew and me) Cultural Weekend. Two evenings, two shows, two music fans.

Friday started with a quick dinner at Salut St. Paul before heading to St. Catherine’s to see Dessa and Company. I remember seeing Joan Baez at the O’Shaughnessy Theater in high school. That was where I first heard Dar Williams. It’s an awesome venue, and full of good memories from that concert so many years ago. As everyone who reads this blog already knows, Dessa was one of my closest friends in high school, long before she was Dessa. I own her cds but have not seen her perform live since one of the talent shows at Southwest. (Aside: What the hell were those musical talent shows called?) Well, at the risk of sounding cheesy, her performance was breathtaking. When she took her heels off early in the show, I found myself chortling that she always has preferred to be barefoot and her feet look just like they did in the mid-90s. Yeah, weird, probably, but we spent a lot of time together and I remember her feet. The girl is undeniably talented and I feel so happy for her.

Another highlight of the evening was Alexei’s performance. He was at the O’Shaughnessy as a special guest. It had been a long time since I’d seen him on stage. However, it felt less nostalgic than seeing Dessa since I spend time with Alexei off stage on a fairly regular basis. He performed two pieces, one of which was a beautiful but haunting, and emotionally charged dedication to his mom. I felt myself let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding when it ended. The other was a collaboration with Aby Wolf that was whimsical, funny, and fun. I think it’s called “Boom box.” I couldn’t find it on YouTube but I’m sure it will be up at some point and highly recommend finding it.

The only part of Friday’s night’s show I didn’t love was Black Blondie. Some of it was ok, but didn’t fit with the tone of everything else going on. Some of it was, frankly, terrible. One member of the band is also a Southwest graduate and I’m not trying to be a hater, but to my ears it was a blemish on an otherwise flawless evening of music.

After the concert, we went back to my house, where I made Brianna and Andrew look through the Southwest 1999 yearbook. Don’t worry- I also provided them with booze.

On Saturday night, we went to see Counting Crows, which was a mediocre show. With a band like that, I expected them to play at least half the tracks from “August and Everything After.” Instead, they played a lot of songs I’d never heard and did not put on a particularly inspired performance. I did enjoy the Amaretto I drank during the show. Andrew pointed out that we might have a different perspective on it had we not seen it the night after such an incredible performance by local artists who also are friends of mine. Sarah called me out for bias. The best part of the CC show was this blonde girl in the front row who danced with total uninhibited joy to every single song. I kept looking at her (not in a creepy way, I was all the way in the balcony!) and smiling. It seemed like she must feel about the Counting Crows the way I feel about the Bangles. At least, I hope so. I hope that was the best night of her whole damn life, seeing her favorite band in the front row.

It’s pretty fantastic to go to shows on a regular basis. Next up is likely a Mariachi band at the Cinco de Mayo festival, which will not be reviewed on this blog, but will surely be accompanied by some noteworthy tacos.

*Update: City Pages disagrees with my assessment of Black Blondie.  While it's true the crowd really loved the gospel singer, and he certainly has a great voice, the show stealing belonged to Dessa and Alexei.  No bias whatsoever.

Good Friday

One thing I always think about on Good Friday is how, if you are Christian, that Jesus Christ's conviction and crucifixion is the first recorded wrongful conviction. It would be the first record of an innocent man being put to death; proof of the inherent and unavoidable imperfect administration of the death penalty.

I can't wrap my head around how a person could support the death penalty anyway, but the fact that many of the states that impose the death penalty are full of "Christians" seems to me quite ironic.

Anyway, we are dyeing Easter eggs tonight. And I suppose that creepy bunny might bring Johan some chocolate on Sunday.

Food Blog

My firiend Roisin is one of the best cooks I know and is absolutely the best baker I know. I have great news for all of us. She has started a food blog called Cracking the Egg. Check it out on the side bar..

Cheers and happy eating!

Johanish

The things he says are so funny...I've got to write them down. Some material previously published to fb.
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Me: Johan, why is your window down?

Johan: I was pretending I had a baby and it threw a fit, so I threw it out the window.

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Me: What did you learn in school today?

Johan: If Europe crashed into Earth, that would be a big problem.

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Johan: Mom, what planet does Sarah live on? Still Arizona?

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Uncle David: Johan, do you know anyone named John and Evelyn?

Johan: No.

Uncle David: Maybe some people who live with Bergen?

Johan: Oh, BERGEN! Yes that's right, John and Evelyn live with Bergen.

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Johan: Guess what, mama?

Me: What?

Johan: They have soy milk at school!

Me: Wow.

Johan: Actually, it's not milk. Soy is not a mammal.

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There is no map.

It’s easy to feel solidarity with other people who are getting or have been divorced. The commonness of the experience, as with any common experience, makes people feel close, like they understand one another, and that it must be similar circumstances that brought them to this point. To a certain degree, that’s true. Divorce is the culmination of two people who used to want to be together who no longer are able to be together. That’s about all that’s guaranteed to be the same across all (at least most) divorces.

Sometimes I find myself trying to draw more similarities between myself and my situation and other people’s. I don’t quite know why. Perhaps it is because there is an element of the unknown. I grew up a divorced kid but my situation now is very different than that one. My dad never left me. Ever. There was no long distance parenting. There was house switching and complicated scheduling. I don’t have any of that as a divorced parent. So, I wonder if part of what I’m searching for in trying to find similarities to other situations is to get some kind of a rough guide as to how this can and will work out. It’s like wanting something akin to advice, but more like proof that people in same or similar circumstances can make things work, find new love, be happy, raise well-adjusted, loving, caring children.

I met a woman a few weeks ago who has a 12 year old son. She lives in Florida. Her ex lives in Illinois. The kid has a great relationship with his stepdad and sees his biological dad once in a while. Not exactly the same as my life, but a little bit, maybe. I felt close to her- like we had a bond over this experience. She was thankfully willing to share with me how her life came to be what it is. It wasn’t advice about what I should or should not do, but just reassurance that even non-ideal divorced co-parenting situations can lead to great, empathetic, intelligent, emotionally sound kids.

Other times, trying to find too many similarities is less helpful. I don’t consider my marriage to Eduardo to be a “mistake.” Others might. I don’t really care. 22 year old me loved him and we had a great connection. I was not mature enough to realize that the ways in which we connected were not permanent or long-lasting enough. I was not mature enough to see that the ways where we differed were ways that people need to connect in order to be compatible for the long haul. I changed over the years and so did he. We became incompatible. That doesn’t mean we were wrong or it was a mistake. We were together for 11 years or something, to varying degrees. We had Johan. That’s not a mistake.

Friends of mine who were married for much shorter times have described their marriages as mistakes and lumped mine in with those. There are certainly similarities- finding and marrying partners who lack some key compatibility factors. But there are also differences- ages, time together, length of marriage (maybe that doesn’t matter since, if something was a mistake, it is a mistake from inception and cannot be anything but a mistake), length of time people in marriage were satisfied and/or happy, and of course, the child factor.

I’m not sure what all this is meant to say. Sometimes comparisons are good and comforting; other times they feel forced and inapplicable. I think that one thing that is incredibly common among young divorced women is analyzing their situations. We’re trying to figure out where we went wrong and how to go right this time. That’s probably where all the comparing stems from, and seeking and finding similarities to others who have been down this road is completely ok. At the same time, each life is a unique set of people and events. So, I can’t decide what to do next based on what someone else did. I’ve got to take the information I have from what I’ve learned in the past , what I know about myself now, and what I believe I want my future to look like, and do the best I can with that.

On Parenting and The Lion King

A few weeks ago, Johan and I had the opportunity to see the Broadway production of The Lion King. It was phenomenal. Johan has always loved the movie, but since seeing the play, he is absolutely obsessed with it. He makes me call him Simba and he calls me Sarabi. He licks things (yeah, gross, I know but we pick our battles) and fashions manes out of scarves. If I say “Johan, you’re such a nice boy,” he says “You mean, Simba, you’re such a nice lion.” You get the idea.

Anyway, so Eduardo has decided to remain in the Dominican Republic indefinitely. This is an unfortunate decision. While it probably makes my daily life easier, it’s certainly unfair to and hard on Johan. Johan misses him. I’d been struggling to figure out a way to discuss it with Johan. I’ve been honest with him that his papa is living in the DR now, but that his papa loves him and will always love him. Those words are not particularly comforting to a 4 year old who doesn't understand why he's gone.

Yesterday morning, Johan woke up sad and somewhat tearful. He climbed in my lap and told me that he missed his papa. It occurred to me that maybe I could take this Lion King interest and help frame the issues for Johan. I told Johan that his papa is not gone in the same was Mufasa was gone because Eduardo is not dead, but that the sadness that he feels is probably very similar to the sadness Simba felt when Mufasa was gone. I went on to point out that Simba still had Sarabi, and that he found other animals to be his family. They took care of each other and were happy. It wasn’t a replacement for Mufasa but Simba was able to find happiness even though he missed Mufasa. Johan said: “Yes! He found Pumba and Timon!” Exactly, I said. “So who could be your Pumba and Timon?”

“How about Andrew and Uncle David?”

“I think those are perfect ideas. And you always have your Sarabi.”

“I love you, Sarabi.”

“I love you too, Simba.”

And that was how it went. My tearful boy hugged me tight and smiled. It was sort of a proud moment for me in parenting for a couple reasons. I was kind of impressed with myself for being able to frame it in a way that was interesting to him and allowed him to identify with Simba, since he’s doing that anyhow. More importantly, I am impressed with Johan for being able to appreciate and understand the metaphor, identify people in his life that can bring him happiness even though he misses his papa, and that he was able to have a quite mature and complex discussion about feelings.

I don’t pretend the issues are solved. They never will be. But, it seems to me that’s ok. The goal isn’t to have a problem-free existence, but to be able to have open and honest communication about how we feel. Sadness happens but so does joy, if we remember to look for it. Hakuna Matata.

Happy Valentine's Day

This is the one time of year I get crafty. Sunday afternoon, my brother, Johan, and I sat at the table while sun slanted in through the windows. We designed, traced, and cut 30 valentines for Johan to bring to school today. We joked and laughed. We listened to Dessa. Johan knows the words to "The Chaconne."

Life is looking bright. Happy Valentine's Day.

SA + The Air

I’ve been meaning to write for quite some time about my upcoming trip to South Africa. There are at least 4 major reasons why I’m excited for this adventure set to begin on May 17, 2012.

1) I’ve never been to South Africa or Mozambique and I love being new places as well as marking off notches on my travel-the-world belt.

2) I’m going to see Moira’s (not so) new life and finally meet Gabor, her fiancé.

3) I’m going to spend 10 days with Sarah, Sylia, Moira, and for a few days Susie. These are 4 of my favorite people on the planet. Sarah, Sylia, and Moira have all gotten engaged in the past 6 weeks. I will be bringing along a video camera to document the new reality series, “Bridezilla: African Adventure.”

4) This one might be the most important. I used to take off to new places at the drop of a hat. Nothing could stop me from jetting off to explore. My life has changed a lot since my early 20s and so, at least until I’m retired and Johan’s in college, I’m not going to have the same freedom of movement. Responsibilities are good. I have the most amazing kid and a job I love. I wouldn’t trade them in even for free round-the-world travel until the end of time. But, once I ended up on my own last year, I realized that I had fallen away from many things that were once important, or even defining, for me. One of those was international travel. I realized all I ever did was go to the Dominican Republic to see my in-laws. Not a bad trip, but not an adventure. What about what I want to do? What moves me? When Susie moved to Mozambique, just a 4 hour drive from Moira’s home in Johannesburg, I thought to myself, the old Kristina would have been on a plane straight away to have a new adventure. (This is not “ The New Adventures of Old Christine”). After talking with Sarah about it, we decided to go. And, of course, take our 3rd brother, Sylia, with us. So, I feel like this trip represents something bigger than the actual days or dollar amount. It’s me reclaiming, if only a little bit, some pieces of me that I let fall by the wayside while I was married to Eduardo. I’m still a lawyer and I’m still Johan’s mom. Those things haven’t changed and they never will. But this lawyer who is Johan’s mom sometimes is going to go on big wild adventures with her best friends and never stop pushing the limits.

So, yeah. South African and Mozambique. I can’t wait.

As referenced above, there must be something in the air, since 3 of my closest girlfriends have decided to tie the knot (knots?) since Christmas time. What lucky fellows these guys are who get to spend their lives with such extraordinary women. I better start shopping for dresses soon. And in the same vein, I’m feeling hopeful that I just may have someone to bring as my date to all these upcoming weddings. Something is in the air for me, too. I’m not engaged or even close to that, but I’m seeing someone. As that someone so concisely and wonderfully described last week, “we’re together.” And I’m sure happier than I’ve been since I can remember. I’ll take this air any day.

SOTU

Tonight is the State of the Union Address. In college, we used to have big SOTU-watching parties with much argument, fervor, and shaking fists emphatically at GWB. I've never felt more engaged in something bigger than myself than when I was in college.

Tonight, Brianna, Addie, and a new great person in my life are coming over to watch the SOTU with Johan and me. It feels extraordinary to again feel surrounded by people who are engaged and who care about important things. You know, important things like healthcare reform, war, civil rights, and panini sandwiches.

And yes, I know this is the first time I've written in 2 months. Sorry, Emily Cooney. I'll be back again soon.