Childless

 

How it started... 

I've never really used this space for politics before. If you know me, if you're friends with me on Facebook, Twitter (nobody calls it "X"), or in real life, you know there is NO doubt about which way I lean.

But when I became a teacher at a small private school, I was asktold to tone down my rhetoric. I had pretty much blocked and deleted everyone who called me a "Libtard" by then anyway, and it was about the time there was a change in office, so there were fewer arguments to be had. 

But now we're in another election cycle. I still haven't missed some of those rude people, but, sadly, there are new rude ones to take their place. And more politicians who are being stupid out loud.

And they really pissed me off this time.

According to them, I am a childless woman.

More than that, I am a hopeless childless woman destined to be a weird, lonely old cat lady with no stake in the future of America. And I don't count as much as women who actually gave birth.

If you're a regular reader of this blog, or know me in real life, you know that I have poodles. I also have two awesome stepchildren. In 1994, I became a Bonus Mom, Semi Mom, Extra Mom, Stepmom -- whatever you want to call me -- to Daniel and Courtney when they were 8 and 6, respectively.

Then, in 2001, Marty and I were extraordinarily blessed to be asked to adopt a baby girl, Lora Leigh. She came to us after six years of trying, bouncing from doctor to doctor in search of answers, and a couple of science experiments. We stopped short of IVF because it is an outrageously expensive procedure that our insurances did not cover. I wrote a book about the whole experience, too.

We also had more than one heartbreak when we were not the chosen couple, and another in which we were chosen but had to say no. It's a long story for another blog post.

Thanks to those three human beings and my husband, I have spent the last 29 3/4 years doing all the things parents do:

• diapers, burps, and bottles 
• nightmares and ghosts in the closet
• stomach aches and sore throats (both real and fake ones)
• trying to get the car seat in and out of the damn back seat of the car
• carrying all the baby gear like a pack mule 
• plays, practices, concerts, games, birthday parties and school Parent Nights
• one season as a Brownie leader
• homework and last-minute science and social studies projects
• nearly 1,000 mornings and afternoons waiting for the bus
• 12 epic Pinterest-worthy birthday parties
• Halloween costumes, an annual Boofets for family and friends, and hundreds of miles walked while Trick-or-Treating
• thousands of hours watching Pocahontas, The Wizard of Oz, The Little Mermaid and Grease
• countless pediatrician visits with nice doctors, mean nurses and all those shots
• one terrifying 7 1/2-hour surgery
• one nasty case of head lice
• countless hours of rocking, reading and Linda Ronstadt 
• a small fortune spent at Disney World (not including the anniversary one just for us)
• SIX graduations
• I don't know how many dorm move-ins and outs
• so many tears ... and laughs .. and memorable moments... 
• one daughter-in-law
• one future son-in-law
• two beautiful granddaughters
• one grandbaby born sleeping

But, according to the man who is trying to be the next Vice President of the United States and the woman governor of the state just north of Louisiana, none of that matters. They say I'm not a "real" mother. The Governor of Arkansas even said I have nothing to keep me "humble."

Well, Sarah, I do have children. And I want you to know, that my children do not keep me humble. My body humbled me by failing at its major biological function and I have no idea why. Being a stepparent humbled me. Praying for and asking another woman to allow me to raise the baby in her arms humbled me, as did understanding the enormity of it all. 

My children, Mrs. Sanders, have made me incredibly proud. They are good, kind, nice people who care about their family, each other and me. They have a wonderful mother, whom I consider a friend, and a terrific father, whom I love dearly. They are smart and successful, make more money than I do on Social Security and are wonderful humans with successful lives and careers.

And I would die before I let anything happen to them. That makes me a parent -- and a real mom.

Because they are mine. They belong to me even though all three have another mother. They are the people I root for, cheer for, cry for, and brag about on my Facebook and Twitter pages. And even though they are now grown and on their own and don't need me like they used to, they are still and always will be my children. And they have brought me their in-laws and their siblings and stepbrothers, and we all are a great big happily blended family. And I absolutely am invested in the futures of my children and my grandchildren -- especially my granddaughters. And I will fight for their rights, not sit idly by while they lose them.

So, whether you like it or not, J.D. and Sarah, I am not a childless woman. And I don't have a cat.

Our BIG blended family. 

My children

Two Peas in a Pod

 What do you do when you're officially retired, have a husband who is bored out of his mind and you're a blogger with a blog that only a handful of people read and you're game to try something new?

You start a podcast of course!

Yes, The Coach and I have started our very own podcast -- That Sports Couple Podcast, a weekly show about high school sports in the River Parishes and other things. 

Each week we'll talk about the previous week's games and the players that stood out, then we'll preview that week's upcoming slate of games. I can tell you all about the history of the games, the rivalries, what it's like to cover The Big Game. Marty will talk more X's and O's because he likes to talk about that stuff.

We also hope to have other cute sports couples like us on the show -- coaches and wives, coaches and husbands, former players, etc. 

We hope you'll check us out! Like, share and subscribe please! We also are on Spotify!

Read The St. Charles Herald-Guide story about us! 

Retirement training

 

Does anyone know if there is a support group for retirees?

If there isn't, there should be. Maybe I'll start one.

I think I need help.

My name is Lori and I don't know what to do with myself.

It's been more than three months since I tore down my paper palm tree and packed up all my beach gear from my classroom.  On the last day of school, The No-Longer-A-Coach (not by choice) and I walked out of Riverside Academy hand-in-hand with no idea what would come next. We just kind of threw "retirement" out there in case nothing else came along.

And I spent the summer months like most teachers do -- relaxing in my pool, reading, staying up too late, and watching TV. 

I also had a fun little summer gig covering a collegiate league baseball team called the Baton Rouge Rougarou. I didn't have to go to the games. Every night I'd watch them on a livestream then write a little account of how they won or lost. Once a week the owner suggested a player to do a feature on. I got to dust off my rusty sportswriting gears and earned a little extra paycheck to help pay for my upcoming cataract surgery.

I made my annual summer vacation trek to Natchitoches, Louisiana, home of the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame for this year's induction ceremony.  The first thing I did was check to make sure my name was still on the wall from my induction last year. It was.

We were all very excited that former Saints quarterback Drew Brees would be joining us for his induction, but alas, he punted at the last moment to go to Japan. Or Alaska. Or wherever he went that wasn't Natchitoches. We had fun without him and he'll never know what cool people he missed out on.

I still had fun because one of my local coaches, Frank Monica, was inducted for his extraordinary career. He showed up and had a blast. 

And we've found out that just about any opportunity to get out of the house is worth taking.

We went to the grand opening of the new funeral home that just opened across the street from our house. 

Sadly, we also went to two funerals for people who left us much much too soon. 

And I've done my 6,482 hours of online training to become a substitute teacher again. 

But sometimes I don't know what day it is. I barely can keep track of the time. It doesn't really matter anymore. Fridays mean nothing anymore and I no longer dread Mondays on Sundays. Hump days are just another day after Tuesday.

But I can't shake this overwhelming feeling of guilt! I always feel like I'm playing hooky from something, like there's something I should be doing instead of whatever it is I am doing. 

I need someone to tell me that it's OK to not have anything to do or any place to go for days at a time.

I need someone to tell me that I've earned this right to not have to get up, get dressed and go to work -- like I've done for most of my life.

I need someone to tell me that it's OK to stay up until 4 a.m. watching all the old movies I've never seen and reading all the books I've been meaning to read. And it's OK to stay up all night if the inspiration hits me to work on that book I always said I would write.

That it's OK if I want or need to take a nap in the afternoon because I stayed up too late the night before.

I need someone to tell me that all these things are OK because I'm having a really hard time believing it, even though there are a lot of t-shirts telling me otherwise.

"Retirement is wonderful. It's doing nothing without worrying about getting caught at it."

Yep.

"Retirement sounds like fun until you realize you're too old, too broke and too tired to leave the couch."

This is true too.

But after only two weeks, I'm getting kind of antsy. 

"The trouble with retirement is that you never get a day off."

Maybe I need one.