The good, the bad, and the ugly.

So, my college roomate, J., who I lived with for all four years, is pregnant again. For the 3rd time. In less than 6 years. The baby is due at the end of the year. I am happy for her...I am. She wants a big family, and she is very much into trying to be the very best mom she can be. She adores being a mom. She does a lot of attachment parenting...the co-sleeping, the prolonged breast-feeding, etc. And she has managed to do all this while keeping her career intact. She has two beautiful little girls. Whatever you think about attachment parenting and working moms, you'd have to admire this woman on some level. It's a pretty wild thing. That's the good.

The bad and the ugly is how all of this makes me feel. I am really tired of waiting for my turn at parenthood. I am frustrated that it often appears to go so easily for others. And I know it goes easily for J. and hubby, since the second she starts trying, she's pregnant...even she would admit that getting pregnant and building a family has been easy for them. So, I am envious. And yes, this makes me feel bad and ugly, even if on some level I realize these feelings are probably pretty normal.

In mid-August, my dear friends A. and N. will visit, with daughter A., who will be about 7.5 months old by then. They live in the South, and I haven't seen A. & N. since May 2005. I am really looking forward to this visit...to finally meeting the newest member of the family. But it occurred to me that A. and co. might want to get together with J. and co., since A., J., and I were all in college together and since Andy and J. are now both parents. So, I brilliantly suggest that perhaps J. and co. come over while A. & co. are here at my house, since J. and co. live about one hour away.

Wait, not so brilliant. Because I realize there's no way in hell I will be able to hang around two fathers, one new mother, one pregnant mom to be, and three children (all girls) for more than an hour without Tim (who is saving all his vacation time for China) without feeling really really BAD and really really UGLY. So, I have just written the following letter to A., which I have excerpted here and there...

J. and I have been corresponding a bit via email. I wanted to know if you have any interest in seeing her while you are out here...if so, I can invite her over one of the days. She, S., the kids, and Tim and I are going to try and meet up next Saturday or Sunday.

The other news is that she's pregnant again, and expecting right before Christmas. I want to be a big person here, but the truth is, I don't think I can really handle hanging out with you, N., A., and J., S., K., L. and Baby #3 for any prolonged period of time, especially since Tim will be at work (he is not taking any vacation days while you guys are visiting). Understand that I am happy you have your little ones...I just don't think I am up to being in a situation without Tim where the talk is inevitably going to be 100% about kids.

...I am tired of waiting for my turn at parenthood. The adoption experience will always be different from the childbirth experience, and while one might think that I'd be eager for advice, I really don't see the two situations as very similar, especially not at the infant/toddler stage. So, I am not up to being the only childless one for more than an hour or so, in such a big group, especially if Tim's not around.

...There's only so much big bellies/breast-feeding/look how smart my kid is /here's how to be a good parent advice that I can take right now, and I've found it best to limit myself to one set of birthparents at one time. I respect that fact that I have no idea what it's like to be pregnant, and give birth to a biological child. At the same time though, most people have no idea what it is to adopt.

I hope you do understand...know that I am trying to put it all out there to be as honest as I can be about where I am at.

Hopefully, A. will understand. And if not, well, then I will have to accept that he may be angry or think I am small. One thing I've realized through the last few years of my life is that I need to take care of me first. It's hard when doing that means potentially hurting or angering someone else, but I am trying to do it in a honest, open way. I am trying to feel good instead of bad and ugly.

Two years that feel like twenty...

Just kidding honey!



On Saturday, Tim and I went back to Nashoba Valley Winery and J's Restaurant to celebrate our anniversary. Yummy!

Playing Hard to Get

On June 27th, 2004, Tim and I got married at Nashoba Valley Winery in Bolton, MA, and had our wedding reception at the restaurant on the winery's grounds. It was, I dare say, a great wedding. By this I mean, the ceremony was outside, personal, and short, it was laid-back, it was small, the food and wine were good, and people laughed a lot.

How we got there is a funny story.

I met Tim in 1994, as we were both entering students in Boston College's PhD program in economics. At that time, I was seriously involved with, but not yet married to, my former husband, M., who I was with for 5 years before we married. In the last two weeks of August, all entering students had to attend a two week math prep session. So, I walk into the classroom on the first day...there are only a few people already there, and one is this guy who has a face that makes me stop and think "If I could pick what my husband looked like, that would be it".

Now, as you can imagine, Tim likes to tell this story, because he was the guy with the face.

It was not a GQ face. I love my man, but he is not going to give Pierce Bronson or Liam Neeson a run for their money. But it was a face that belonged to someone who was kind, gentle, smart, someone that smiled and laughed a lot. And he was tall.

But, of course, I do not announce this to the classroom. And I was very much in love with M., even though our relationship was hard. You see, I believed that when two decent people love each other, they can make it work. And so I worked at making it work. All the time.

One day M. picks me up from math camp, and we are driving down the road, and see Tim walking home. Tim smiles and waves, and I do the same.
M.: Who's that?
Me: Tim Murphy...he's in my class.
M.: Looks like nice guy.
Me: Yeah, he is.

So, Tim and I are friends. Weirdly, our class separates like jr. high schoolers along gender and nationality lines (Americans vs. everyone else, all of whom think Americans are stupid). Tim is much more mathematically inclined than me, and sails through. I struggle, but still love economics. We occasionally talk on the phone at night or on weekends, and joke about how we'll be ostracized if anyone in our class finds out we talk to each other. Life goes on with both Tim and I hating the program with a passion. I leave BC and eventually go somewhere else to get a Ph.D. in environmental economics, which BC does not offer. Tim wisely decides BC and a Ph.D. are not for him, earns a master's degree, and goes into the private sector as a consultant.

Time passes. Tim gets seriously involved with a woman, and considers marrying her...but can't figure out why he can't quite pop the question. I get married to M. in 1999, and Tim attends the wedding as my good graduate school friend, one of the few I have from BC. We continue to chat on the phone now and again. Tim builds his career, I get my doctorate, and start a position at Middlebury College in VT. We plan a visit that falls through because I am driving back from the Green Mountains in VT and my car goes off the road...several times.

Fast forward to March 2002. Tim and I finally meet for a visit...I am now at a university in Boston. My marriage is in bad shape...M. and I are in marriage counseling, which we eventually get kicked out of. I go to Tim's place after I've been on the road driving back from a visit in VT. with my female friend D. Tim opens the door to his apt., and stares at me like I have two heads. He does not offer me anything to eat. I ask how his girlfriend is doing, and he tells me they just broke up. Oh. Being the talker amongst us, I ramble on about nothing for about 5 hours. We go for a walk. I talk about having become a Big Sister in the Big Brother/Big Sister Program. I talk about my teaching, my research. I talk about why I go to church. I say that I think my marriage is over. Tim is not surprised. I tell him that I am getting a dog. Tim continues to stare at me like I have two heads. He continues to not offer me food. I figure he is shell-shocked from the break-up with his former girlfriend. I leave, immediately drive into the nearest Burger King, and get a Whopper Value Meal.

Fast forward to June 2002. I am, in short, a mess. I have left M., in a way that could only be described in a much longer post. An incredibly painful way. I have walked out of my home with a few plastic bags stuffed with random stuff, because I feel so bad about leaving that I can't bear to tear up the home in anyway. I think about what it means to have stood before your friends and God, and pledged your forevers to someone, fully believing that you will spend the rest of your lives together. I think about what it means to break a promise like that. I think about how I arrogantly believed I would never get divorced. I think about how I love M., but I am not in love with him anymore. I think about his family, which I adopted as my own, and how they will be gone from my lives. I am, in short, a mess. I am completely sleep deprived, I hate myself and what I've done, and I am somewhat manic. I am weighed by a medical professional and am astounded. I weigh less than I did in high school.

I stay with my friend Carla for a few days, and then I am in my big empty apt. But I am determined to make it mine. I spend loads of money in a few short days. I buy furniture, eating utensils, curtains, towels, sheets, toilet bowl brushes. I buy clothes that fit my body, which has become half the size of my normal body. Carla gets me through these purchases, by forcing me not to agonize over each one, by making me sit down in the stores when I feel like I am going to pass out. She, unfortunately, does not win the lottery for me. I end up with a lot of debt. But I don't care. I can't care. I am in survival mode.

June 9th, I call Tim from my cell phone. I am in a T-station, waiting to pick up someone that's going to help me paint my new empty place. I call Tim to tell him I have a new number, address, etc., and he says "Funny you should call today". I realize it's his birthday and feel horrible. I immediately apologize. He's alone on his birthday, and I've committed to this painting thing, so I ask him if he wants to come down and watch me and the other person paint, and then we'll all go out to dinner. Shockingly, he turns me down.

He comes down a few weeks later...I want him to help me pick out electronic equipment, and I don't want to get ripped off. We eat Chinese food. He tells me about some chick in Canada he'd met on the Internet some time ago and kept a correspondence with, and that there's mutual interest now that he is no longer with his former girlfriend. He met her in Canada in May. But the relationship is impractical since he's not ready to move to Canada, and she's not ready to move to the US. I tell him about how low I've sunk...and the whole ugly story of the week of my departure from M. He tells me that the person who helped me paint has a thing for me, an idea which I dismiss. His Canadian chick knows he is out with me, so she calls him on his cell phone under the pretense of asking him for advice about lottery numbers. He hangs up, telling me she's jealous. I am thinking, "Of what"?

He guides me through the purchase of a TV, a DVD player, a receiver, speakers. I end up with a big bill, but a system I love. We watch a few movies, one of which is "You Can Count on Me", one of my favorite movies of all time, since it seems it could be the story of my brother and me. I tell him how much I love the song "Pilgrim" by Steve Earle, which is played at the end of the film. He tells me "I would never listen to music like that". I think he's a jerk at that particular moment.

Tim and I see each other a couple of times over the summer. We realize we're in trouble. I think it's too soon to be seeing someone. I don't want to get my heart trampled on, because I am, in many ways, still a train wreck. One friend of mine tells me to cut him out of my life, because I am too vulnerable to have my heart played with. Tim thinks he doesn't want to be tied down. He's worn out from his previous relationship. He and Canadian chick continue to toy with the idea of a future. I decide there is no way I am going to try and compete with that. I tell him so. I tell him I don't want to be the local girl...the choice of ease. I also tell him I am a one-man woman, and expect a man to be a one-woman man. But we see each other now and then. And we enjoy each other. There's an easiness we've never known before. We fit. I can breathe. He falls in love with my dog, sweet Indie. She falls in love with him.

Suddenly the Canadian chick is out of the picture permanently. He hasn't seen her since May, and tells her there is no future for them. In August, we decide we are a couple. In September, there are declarations of love and there are tears of joy. In December 2002, I go to his hometown in Minnesota, where I meet his parents and siblings. His parents and sister wonder if he is rebound man. By the end of the visit, they know he is not. In April 2003, we move into a new apt. together. In December 2003, he proposes. Tim tells people that although we've only dated for less than two years, we've known each other for almost ten years. He tells them I played hard to get by marrying someone else. And of course, he tells them the first day of math class story, a story it took me eight years to tell him. In June 2004, we get married. In October 2004, we bring another dog, Buca, into our lives. In February 2005, we begin our adoption paperwork. In April 2005, we put an offer down on our first home and it's accepted.

That's the story of us. And now, we wait for the next chapter. Sometimes I am dizzy from the pace of it all. I am still astounded that we became a couple so quickly, that we married and decided to start a family so quickly, so easily. But in many ways, the last 10 years have been leading me to this path. Because although Tim and I occasionally want to strangle each other, it's an easy relationship. And I don't have to work so hard for so little. I work less and have more with Tim. I am me again.

So, two years ago, we exchanged vows. They were different than my first set of vows. I was scared, but not scared at the same time. And it's looking good.
I can honestly say I believe I am going to spend the rest of my life with Tim.
I could be wrong. But I don't think so.

We were married by my dear friend Andy, and here's how it went.

READINGS
Love by Roy Croft
Chosen by Tammy for Tim
I love you not only for what you are,
but for what I am when I am with you.
I love you not only for what you have made of yourself,
but for what you are making of me.
I love you for the part of me that you brought out;
I love you for putting your hand into my heaped up heart
and passing over all the foolish, weak things
that you can't help dimly see there,
and for drawing out into the light all the beautiful belongings
that no one else had looked quite far enough to find.
I love you because you are helping me
to make the lumber of my life not a tavern but a temple,
out of the works of my everyday not a reproach but a song
You have done it without a touch, without a word.
You have done it by being yourself,
my companion and comforter, guide and friend,
the one I love.

Married Love
by Kuan Tao-sheng, 14th century, translated by Kenneth Rexroth
Chosen by Tim for Tammy
You and I
Have so much love,
That it
Burns like a fire,
In which we bake a lump of clay
Molded into a figure of you
And a figure of me.
Then we take both of them,
And break them into pieces,
And mix the pieces with water,
And mold again a figure of you,
And a figure of me.
I am in your clay.
You are in my clay.
In life we share a single quilt.
In death we will share one coffin.

WEDDING VOWS
I, Tim, choose you, Tammy, to be my wife.
I will respect you, care for you, and grow with you,
through good times and hard times, as your friend, companion, and partner,
giving the best that I can to fulfill our lives together.

I, Tammy, choose you, Tim, to be my husband.
I will respect you, care for you, and grow with you,
through good times and hard times, as your friend, companion, and partner,
giving the best that I can to fulfill our lives together.

RING EXCHANGE VOWS
I give you this ring
as a sign of my commitment and the desire of my heart.
May it always be a reminder
that I have chosen you above all others,
and from this day forward,
we shall be united as husband and wife.

WEDDING PRAYER/BLESSING
May all that you are, always be in love;
May all that is love, always be in you.
May your love be as beautiful on each day you share as it is on this day of celebration. And may each day you share be as precious to you as the day when you first fell in love. May you always see and encourage the best in each other. May the challenges life brings your way make your marriage even stronger. And may you always be each other's best friend and greatest love.








Happy Anniversary, Darling. Thank you for giving me the life I've dreamed of...all except the wrestling and flexing parts. Here's to us, and Isabella, wherever she may be.

Anticipation and Expectation

The CCAA has confirmed that the next batch of referrals will include dossiers with log-in dates up to June 28, 2005. This means that there will be referrals for 13 days worth of log-in dates, which is the most we've seen in a while!

I am cautiously optimistic. There is a lot of speculation that the CCAA's goal has been to have a one year wait period between log in date (LID) and referral date. There is a lot of hope amongst us waiters that this means CCAA will now go back to referring one month's worth of LIDs each month. This would put us receiving a referral in November, and going to China in January.

I want to think this is going to happen, because that means that we would have a referral for Christmas. We would be packing, a few weeks away from finally having Isabella in our arms. Wow. Talk about a miracle!

I had an interesting discussion with my waiting mom buddies (Kikalee, Anne, and Sparky)over a delish Chinese food dinner in Chinatown Friday night. It was about expectations. When the stakes are really up there, when there's a big possibility that I can be seriously hurt or angered by the outcome, when I am not in control, I tend to self-protect...I keep my expectations LOW. Then there's no place to go but UP. So, I am nervous about believing that I will see Isabella's precious face in a photograph by Christmas. But I so want to believe.

Expectations are interesting. I am notorious for having HIGH expectations for myself (what I can achieve, what kind of person I should be, etc.)and HIGH expectations for my students (how much they can learn, how much they can grow, how much they can achieve for themselves, etc.). And in these cases, sometimes my expectations are met, but often there's no place to go but DOWN. It's a hard way to live with yourself and it's probably very hard on my students. So why do it? Because in these cases, I have the illusion of having control. I like to think that if I just try hard enough, if I just work hard enough, if I just want it enough, or if I just teach well enough, inspire enough, be there enough, then it will happen.

But it doesn't always work that way. Sometimes I don't have as much control as I would like. Sometimes I fool myself about how much control I have. Sometimes life gets in the way. I have a very hard time accepting this, and it's caused me a lot of heartache.

Yet, occasionally, there are these, well, moments. Moments when I can look in the mirror and be so proud, so amazed that I wanted it, and I did it or I was it. I was the person I wanted to be.

Other times I've not been the person other people wanted me to be, or even the person I've wanted to be. A long time ago (1993-1994 or so), I disappointed a friend badly. You know who you are, and I hope you know that I truly am sorry.

I think he thought I was a better, stronger, less selfish person than I really am. He was angry and hurt,and I remember him saying to me "You really let me down". And all I could say was that if you love and respect someone enough, they are going to let you down sometimes. Because no one can be all things wonderful all the time, and no one can hurt you like the people you love.

So, I am not sure what I am trying to say here. Maybe in the end, my life has been about being a turtle in a constant struggle over whether to retreat into my shell, hunker down, self-protect or to stick my neck out, and risk getting my neck cut off because I want to be known in the world, because I want to see the world.

Sometimes I want people to see my face, and I want to see the faces of others. I want to love, I want to do, and I want to hope. And hey look at me, I have something to offer. Sometimes I want to be anonymous and protected by my shell...Don't look at me, don't expect too much from me, because I am slow, I am not much to look at and I will fail you. Don't cut my neck off or step on me.

Maybe it's all about knowing when to do what, and you only learn that by trial and error.



Or maybe I should find a way to deal with my insomnia that doesn't involve the prescription medication I struggle to decide whether or not to take each night, stop writing nonsense and try to get some sleep.

Judgments

Today I have spent most of the day thinking about a disrupted adoption from China, which I read a bit about here. Here's what I can make out...A couple adopted their first child from China in February 2006. They named her Charlotte. Apparently, they recently decided to disrupt the adoption, and the baby girl is now living with another family in the US, a family that has two older daughters that were also adopted from China. Apparently, this family was looking to bring a third daughter into their home, and now they have.

Looking back at this blog's previous entries, it would appear that this couple wanted to be parents as much as we do.

So, the initial reaction is "What the hell happened?". It's not clear from the woman's blog, and I am not sure it ever could be...it's her story and as she had indicated, she doesn't have to explain herself on her own blog. She does talk about her post-adoption depression and spending her first months with Charlotte while trying to get over a bad sinus infection. She talks about expectations that were not met. She talks about not feeling as though this child was not hers.

If you are waiting for a child from China, as so many of my readers are, this seems almost unbelievable. Anyone who's done any reading on adoption from China knows that the picture perfect, smiling, happy baby, Gotcha moment is a rarity. Everyone knows that most babies are pretty damn distressed...And why shouldn't they be? They've just been placed into the arms of a woman that looks nothing like any of their nannies or their foster mother, a woman who is most likely uttering endearments in English or poor Chinese, a woman who may very well be crying herself. Of course, the tears are likely tears of joy, but the baby doesn't know that. And some babies stay distressed for quite some time. The bonding and attachment processes are different for each child, for each family. We hope that ours goes fairly smoothly, but we know it may not.

We know ... The thing is that it is one thing to know, and another thing to actually be in those moments. Those first months of parenting are something that I can only guess about right now. I have hopes, I have dreams, and I have ideas, but I know some of those things will be tossed out along with the dirty diapers. I will have to learn, I will have to grow. I am a person who loves and needs her space, her quiet, thinking time. I will have to adapt to not getting that at the exact moment I might want it. I hate feeling like a failure. I will have to accept that sometimes, as a parent, I will inevitably fail. I'll have to suck it up and move on. It won't be about just me and Tim anymore.

Isabella and I will have to feel each other out, get to know each other quirks. But life will be mostly about her needs, not mine or Tim's. I believe, from the bottom of my soul, that we will love her more than anything and that she will come to know that, to trust that.

This is what I feel, this is what I believe. I had to trust these feelings to begin the adoption process.

Part of me is angry that a couple could have been given such a gift, such a treasure from the Chinese people, and let her go. But another part of me thinks that this was perhaps the ultimate act of love. They couldn't be parents even though they initially wanted to be. So they gave her to people that could be the parents that she deserved.

If this couple's distress had resulted in abuse or neglect of the baby, the adoption community would be all over them...We've seen it before when adoptive parents have suffered from mental illness, and have hurt or killed their babies. We are all quick to shake our heads. I've done it myself.

"How could they?"

Right now though, I am trying not to judge. I don't think I'll ever understand, but that doesn't mean I have a right to judge. Because the job I want more than anything is still an unknown one to me. I haven't walked this couple's path.

This evening, I am praying. For Charlotte, that she has found her forever family and will know their love always. For the couple that gave Charlotte up, that they reflect on their path, and while they may not find answers, that they find peace. For Tim and I, that we never find ourselves unable to parent, for whatever reason.
That our feelings are true, and that while I know we won't be perfect parents, that we will be good parents.

And for Isabella, of course.

A little bit about Chicago...

Last weekend Tim and I took a long weekend to go visit Tim's older brother Todd in Chicago. I had never been to Chicago before, so it was a new city for me. It's a pretty city...I especially liked the architecture.

On Thursday, arrival day, we went to visit the Chicago Botanic Garden on the way back from the airport. Unfortunately, I left the battery to my digital camera in the car, so there are no pictures to be had from that stop. It was a gorgeous day, and I enjoyed just strolling among the gardens. Also, we got ice cream there. Ice cream. What more is there to say?

Todd's apartment building has a roof where you can check out the city...here's a pic of Todd and Tim on the roof. You can catch a glimpse of Lake Michigan in the back.



In the evening, we went for a walk along Lake Shore Drive.




On Friday, we went to Navy Pier. We rode the very overpriced, very slow, ferris wheel. Todd got teased a bit because he has a tendency to get motion sickness.
For a silly video of the ferris wheel ride, go to YouTube.

Then we took a ride on the Tall Ship Windy, and it was in fact, Windy. Again, it was fun watching Todd squirm a bit. Tim, ever the showoff, volunteered to help raise and lower the sails.







After the boat ride, we went to see Cirque Shanghai. This is an amazing show, and probably the best deal in Chicago. It's not quite Cirque du Soleil, but it's much cheaper ... $14.50 a seat for 75 minutes, and we were 4 rows back from the stage. Lion dancers included!

The night, we went to watch Todd play tennis. Todd has decided that he is going to be the first 40 year old to become the world's best tennis player, but I have been forbidden to post video of his match.

Saturday was a pretty low key day. We walked around the downtown area...there was a blues festival going on. Todd took us to see the Bean. And we saw some dancers in the park.




And don't you just feel better knowing that the nation's city parks are well protected?



Saturday night we watched two films...Capote and The Constant Gardener.

Sunday Tim and Todd spent most of the day watching the French Open. I wandered around by myself. Then it was off to the airport and back to Massachusetts.

One thing that really struck us was how much we missed Indie and Buca. It is strange to think that when we are in China, we won't see them for two weeks. I know we will have lots to keep us busy, but still. It's funny how a pet can become such a part of your life, almost without you realizing it.

Oh course, Buca decided to welcome us home by having diarrhea for about 3 days straight, while Tim left for a business trip. So, he was a real smelly part of my life for a few days, and I sure did realize it!!!

Some photos from Dad's Day

OK, so I feel the need to explain these photos. One of Tim's favorite things to do is pretend he has muscles, flex, and admire himself in the mirror. I WISH I was kidding. If you call him on this, he will claim to do it for my amusement, but trust me folks, that's just his cover story.

So, of course he had to flex for these pictures.





My only question is how is he ever going to carry Isabella with all this flexing?

Happy Dad's Day

Here's a shout out to all you dads out there...

New dads,
old experienced dads,
grandfathers,
and of course, all you dads in waiting.

Tim received a Diaper Dude Diaperbag. Inside was a board book called "I Love My Daddy because...", and a bib that with "Daddy Loves Me" embroidered on it. Back to the diaper bag...Tim asks me how to put it on. I am thinking "Huh? Isn't it sort of self-explanatory?" But I show him, and then he says "SO, WHERE DOES THE BABY GO?". No, I am not kidding. I think he thought it was some kind of combo baby carrier/diaper bag thingy. A little scary.
Mental note to self...time to order the Walking Rock Farm Hip Baby for him. I have a beautiful mei tai for me that's been folded neatly in Isabella's closet for months now.

In addition to today being Father's Day, it is also our 7th month LID anniversary. Woo hoo! Only ?? more months to go!

My most recent new name

You may have noticed a few weeks ago I changed my username on Blogger from "Tammy" to "Redheaded Chick". And I started using a Modigliani piece as my "photo". I love Modigliani's work...he painted so many redheads...What's not to love? Anyway, I am not sure exactly what prompted the name change...I think I did it on one of my sleepless nights...Unfortunately there are a few too many of those.
These are the nights where all kinds of random thoughts run through my head at breakneck pace. Here are some of those that prompted the name change:

There are A LOT of Tammys out there in the adoption world. God forbid one of them should have the misfortune of being mistaken for me! I wonder how many of their fathers decided to name them after the movie "Tammy and the Bachelor" like mine did.

I am not sure what the future of my blogging activities is. I've become increasingly concerned about two things. One is our privacy...this will become an infinitely more important issue once we see Isabella's face and have her in our arms. It isn't fair of me to expose so much of her life to the general public, even if I wanted to, which I don't. The second thing is that I want some space where I can express things honestly..the good, the bad, and the ugly. And of course, at times, that would conflict with my family's privacy. I am in a bind.

Tim would like me to keep at least one family blog public, and I expect our family and friends in distant places would too. Of course, this does not resolve the issue of exactly how much of ourselves to put out there...

I would like a personal blog, some place I could write about personal, professional and family issues without a lot of identifying details. Ideally, only my closest people would know that I was the author. A place where I could try out ideas, muddle through thoughts. Yes, I want to be an undercover blogger. Cue the dramatic music.

And finally, I'd like to do an economics blog. Are you excited yet? Seriously though, I think it could be a useful forum for my students.

So, that's at least three blogs. Yikes.

Should I move to Typepad and password protect? Is there something out there better than Typepad? Jeeez. I am tired just thinking about all of this.

I certainly did not know when I first started blogging a year ago that blogging would become a big part of my life. But it has. Sometimes I think it is possible overdo it...I'd like to think that I am out there interacting in the "real world" as much as I am the "cyber world". The great thing is that these cyber connections have lead to real world connections, and for that I am very grateful. Isabella's community will be much richer than it would have been if I hadn't begun blogging.

So, back to the name change. I've had a lot of names in my life.

My mother used to call me by my full name "Tammy Lynn". Giving me the middle name "Lynn" was her way of getting back at my dad for wanting to name me "Tammy" instead of one of her picks..."Robin", "Christine", or "Kimberley". Funny, because I cannot imagine being named any of those. My mom hated it when someone just called me "Tammy", and really hated it when someone called me "Tam" or "TamTam".

Eventually, my mom lost the battle ... she could never get anyone to call me "Tammy Lynn", including my teachers. Over time, I simply became "Tammy". Most of the time.

When I was four years old, my parents separated. I woke up from an afternoon nap, and Dad was gone. I never quite got over that. By the time I was eight, they had finally gotten formally divorced. Not shocking considering my mom decided to retaliate against my dad by giving me a middle name he knew nothing about until he saw it on the birth certificate. One of my biggest fears after my dad remarried, and my new step brother suddenly had a surname that was different from his mother's surname, was that my mom would remarry, and she and I would have a different last name. For some reason, this possibility really did not sit well with me.

When I was young, my mom got into CB radio and I chose the handle "Pussywillow". Hey, I was five years old, and did not consider connotations of "Pussywillow" amongst the CB radio crowd. I just thought they were pretty. My brother wisely chose "Skateboard". My mom was dating "The Chief" and chose "Little Feather". She later dumped "The Chief", and was with "Thunderbolt" for 17 years, after which they got married. Believe me, I WISH I was making this up.

Like everyone else, I had nicknames..."Pebbles" and "Cheer Bear" in high school, and then "Chainsaw" and "Tamster" in college. Interesting how someone can go from being called "Cheer Bear" to "Chainsaw". I also got stuck with numerous monikers as a result of being a redhead in a city that is predominantly Portuguese...
"Strawberry Shortcake", "Red", "Carrot Top", and "Duracell...The Copper Top Battery".

When I was married for the first time, I took my former husband's last name for that very reason. Even though women choosing to keep their maiden names was no longer an odd choice, I liked the idea that if we had children, we'd all have the same last name. But a piece of me wanted to hang onto who I had been until then, so I changed my middle name to my maiden name, and got rid of "Lynn". My former husband had a pet name for me that he used exclusively, and it bugged me. Funny at first, but not so funny after the 1000th time. I longed to hear him call me "Tammy".

Sadly, the marriage failed. He never called me "Tammy" until after I moved out. Fortunately, the marriage did not result in any children, which made the painfully sad divorce a little easier. I had the option to return to my maiden name, but chose not to. I had a doctorate with my married name on it, and had begun a career under that name. It seemed foolish to go back to my maiden name. And what was I going to do? Change my middle name from my maiden name back to my original middle name? Confused yet?

Then Tim came along. We got engaged, and the questions started.
"What are you going to do with your name?"
"You can't keep your ex's name."
"What about your career? You can't switch your name".

For a long time, I wanted stay with my name. My professional career started with that name. Students had been calling me "Professor _____" for years at that point. Of course, I also knew that some people would never understand why I might choose to keep my former husband's name. So, I asked Tim how he felt. And he said "I don't care. It's your name".

We eventually go off to get a marriage license, and I still have no idea what I am going to do. On the form where it says "Surname after marriage", I paused for a few moments. I wrote down "M". This was no commitment, since both my former husband and current husband have surnames that start with "M". More pauses. Then I look at Tim, diligently working away at his form, I take a deep breath, and I write "urphy". So, someday, Isabella, Tim and I will all have the same surname. And this makes me happy, even if it creates problems for me occasionally.

So, here's the thing. I used to hate having red hair. It is different. People tend to remember you. People think you have a temper. People assume you are Irish. People point out that you when you blush, which you do easily, you turn the same color as your hair People comment on it all the time.

Now, I am glad I have red hair. It's a much a part of me as anything has ever been. And I'm glad because it is different. People tend to remember you. I do have a temper. I am partially Irish. I do blush easily, and turn the same color as my hair. And people comment on it all the time. Most people think it's lovely, or at least claim that they do.

I don't know if it's lovely or not. But I do know this...I am redheaded. If my grandmother is any indication, I will be redheaded for the rest of my life. I also expect to be a chick for the rest of my life...I have no sex change plans, and I hope that when I am an old woman, some part of me, even if it's in my head, will always be young.

And so "Redheaded Chick" is a name that is a keeper for me.

What's the hold up?

Believe it or not, I am not referring to the long wait for my daughter. I am wondering why I cannot get my act together with the nursery. We painted it in the fall, and there are books and toys on her built in book shelves, and clothes in the closet. But I still have a bunch of boxes and other stuff on the floor of the nursery.. Old CDs. Clothes that USED to fit in my immediate post-separation, depressed stage. Some office/work related junk. Some of Tim's junk. A vacuum cleaner. It goes on and on.

I thought I would clean it out when our nursery furniture was due to arrive...the nursery furniture we ordered in February. But oh yeah, wait, our furniture company, Boston Baby, went out of business. I remember my friend Cheryl calling me on one afternoon and telling me...I laughed like a hyena. It was just so fitting that after all the delays, this should happen. So now we have a bunch of junk in the nursery, no furniture, and no furniture on order. No stroller, no high chair, no exersaucer, no pack 'n play.

There was a time when I bought baby stuff like crazy...a couple of bedding sets, children's books, clothes, etc. But I just stopped...because it felt ridiculous. I look at those 6-9 month summer clothes and my heart breaks. The weird thing is that, at that rate we are going, Isabella may actually fit into them...next summer. It's entirely possible that we may not bring our girl home until Spring 2007.

I don't know what my problem is. I still think I have the "crib fear" I wrote about before we ordered our never to be furniture...that seeing a fully set up nursery sit empty for months, with no clear end in sight will kill me. And the boxes o' junk? Well, they just make me look like a crappy housekeeper.