Sunday, July 22, 2012

Victory!

Well, sleep training worked. Léo has been sleeping through the night since last Friday. After that terrible 3rd day he cried for less than 15 minutes, then less than a minute when we put him in the crib. Yesterday he stopped crying all together. He just lays there, turns around a bit, puts his head on his pillow pet, and ta-da, falls asleep! And at night, he stays asleep until 5:30 -he's an early riser.

Sleep training was tough -but it worked for us. We all finally get good sleep.

Guilty conscience... gone!

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Colorado

My heart is so heavy. What happened in Aurora is just so incomprehensible. What a nightmare for these parents to know how their kids were killed. This type of events is unfortunately all too frequent in this country -and I'm not blaming the US as France had a similar mass killing (at a primary school!) a few months ago.

I could talk about better access to mental health and stricter gun control, but others have done it better (here for instance). I am praying for the family affected by this massacre. I am praying for peace and healing in the community. And I am praying for parents never to experience this type of loss, anywhere -due to a lone killer or wars.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

20 years

As I sit watching a Frontline about AIDS in the US, I pause and think that tomorrow is the 20th anniversary of my father's death. 20 years!

I am not overly sentimental about this date -or this anniversary. I am not emotional about what my baby is missing -because Léo has a wonderful grandfather (make that two as Joe's dad is an amazing Pa as well). Because I never lived with my father and because he died right before I turned 12 I never got to know him, really. I mean, I knew him of course , but I never got to talk to him about his childhood, his dreams, his thoughts. My relationship with him was good but not perfect. I remember dreading seeing him and spending time with him -mainly because he was so busy with work. I remember walking in front of him in the street, almost as if I were ashamed -oh, and I am ashamed now to even admit it, believe me! There's a French song that says "she cries when I'm here and laughs when I go away" and even when he was still alive that made me think me of my father. Of course I remember when he told me he had AIDS and how I was just like "you have what?" because it was 1991 and frankly I didn't know much about that illness -and also because he and my mom had gotten into a fist fight over me and I was a bit shocked about that. I remember bragging to my friends that my dad had AIDS, don't you know, and that I really wanted him to die. And then he did, a year after he told me about it and only 5 years after he was diagnosed and I bit my words and even as I was crying on my mom's shoulders the night she told me he died I scolded myself "well, you wanted him dead and he is dead. Why are you crying?" So mainly I remember what I felt about him, but I don't remember much of him.

(One of the reasons for this rapid health decline was that he had gotten malaria in Ivory Coast during a movie gig and the fever and other symptoms came back every month or so because his body was too weak to fight the infection. I have no idea whether he had anti malarial meds or antiretrovirals)

And I don't know if I miss him. Again, I have a really great dad. My adoption was final a little more than a year after my father died -because my mom was well too aware of her suicidal tendencies and didn't want me to be left an orphan and because he loved me and wanted me to be family. So I have a dad, who cares for me, helped me study, makes me laugh, walked me to the altar, and has been there every step of the way from age 8 on. So no, I don't exactly miss my father -much to my mother's dismay and anger. But I wish he were here right now. I wish I could introduce him to Léo. I wish we could talk about his life and his childhood and what it was like to grow up Algerian in France (you know me, the political mind!), what it was like to be in the movie industry, what it was like to be diagnosed at 30, just... what it was like to be him. I wish I could hold him and tell him I am sorry for not visiting at the hospital, for hating his family so much (because really, they behaved like douches when he passed away), for not going to his funeral (see previous point about his family), and for not being there in the last moments. I would hug him and tell him that I love him and that I tried to follow in his footsteps by studying film at UCLA but really, I was not cut throat enough. I would tell him that I wanted Léo's middle name to be Faouzi but that it wouldn't have been fair to Serge or Jeff. I would tell him that I might sound nutsy but I know he's watching over Léo. And I would tell him to go in peace and that he lives in my heart -and that he has been there, daily, for 20 years.

We're all the result of our parents' lives and choices. I carry all 3 of my parents' lives within me. And whether I really knew him or not, whether I think I was a good daughter or not, whether his family thinks I'm his biological daughter or not, whether I've known him dead twice more than I've known him alive, he's here, in me, DNA, temperament, and history. I am my father's daughter.

That is a picture that was taken in December 1989, a few weeks after my brother's birth. We all celebrated Christmas together and somehow two pictures taken that day collided into one, showing (shoving!) my parents together. Pretty neat, huh?

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Sleep training is kicking our butts

And we're back talking about sleep. After a week of terrible nights -he was up 2 or 3 times- we decided that we would start sleep training, for reals this time. We contemplated two methods -one where we stay in the bedroom with him and one where we check on him- and chose the latter, but after we checked on him once we realized it made things worse so... we let him cry. That was tough. it took 45 minutes but then he threw his pillow pet on the mattress, threw himself on the pillow, and fell asleep -just like that! He slept through the night!

Yesterday, things were EASY. He fell asleep after 3 minutes of crying for his first nap and took only 20 minutes for his second. At night, he was asleep after crying for less than 30 seconds.

And then today came, and boy... it was hard. Hhhhhard. We had to forego his first nap because he was still crying after an hour. We rocked him for his second nap (his first, technically) because he just needed to sleep. And tonight he cried for 1h40. That's 100 minutes. Straight. Joe had to leave the apartment and I relied on texting friends who had done that method successfully with their babies -and who thankfully answered right away (have I mentioned I love my friends?).

He's asleep now. Sleep training is a b*tch, lemme say that and excuse my French.

Speaking of which, it was Bastille Day on Saturday. We didn't do much but I craved crepes like crazy!

Monday, July 2, 2012

What are you willing to give up?

Last week my great friend and colleague Jen and I talked about the book written by our organization’s president. It’s a good read so far –quite well written and challenging. One of the main themes of the first few chapters is how he came to leave his job as the CEO of a luxury company (i.e., a gorgeous house, expensive car, really nice lifestyle) to become the president of a non-profit. He challenges his reader: what are you ready to give up to follow God’s calling for your life (in secular term: what are you willing to give up to follow your passion / what you know is right)? He gives the example of the rich man who asks Jesus what he should do to get into Heaven. Jesus says “Love god with all your heart and with all your soul and love your neighbor as yourself.” And then he says “leave your possessions and follow me.” The man left sad, knowing he wasn’t able to leave his possessions behind.

I realize I am like this man. I am not willing to give up my lifestyle to follow Christ. I don’t feel called to be poor or a missionary –so I don’t feel required to leave all my possessions. That being said, I don’t tithe, I don’t donate to charities and I am certainly not willing to give up my almost daily Starbucks. My excuse? Well, I already work for a non-profit, so that’s sacrifice right there. Riiight. That’s BS 101.

I really feel that I should give up more –donate more of my time and money. Ok, maybe more of my money because I feel quite stretched at it is, time-wise. I feel I should at least stop living life on the surface –never stopping to wonder what God wants from me or what I can do to challenge myself to be better to the world and to my neighbor. I need to be willing to leave some possessions. It's not going to be easy since Joe and I don't see this donation-thing the same way. I see it as a bit of a sacrifice and a way to follow God whereas he's more than agnostic and, if he doesn't mind donating money, doesn't want to make it something sacrificial either. We need to find a common ground -something that will challenge us both and meet us where we're at.