We are family.

I was on the phone with my mother not too long ago. Catching up with Mom when one lives in another country usually means a very long conversation full of random facts, maybe even some gossip. As the topics of our talk switched from one to the next without any link, she mentioned that she had gone to meet my ex-boyfriend’s (and dear friend) newborn daughter. “What a precious little girl, and his wife is such a wonderful mother, what a beautiful family they are!” –she said-.
As I heard her pronounce those words, and felt the joy and sincerity in her voice, a very important fact dawned on me: We are not considered a family until we have children.

 I started thinking: Are those of us who are not sure if we will ever have children, or those who don’t have any, and never will, any less of a family than the one with the baby, the little house and the car?
 Unfortunately, according to our society, we are. Obviously the extreme amounts of time, energy, emotions, decision making, not to mention money that are involved in raising a child (or more) are factors that bond a couple (married or not, divorced or separated) in indescribable ways. The joy that a room full of their son or daughter’s laughter brings to a parent’s heart is comparable to no other gift in the world, and the connection between brothers and sisters, mothers and daughters, fathers and sons and all the other possible combinations, priceless.
So to some extent, it is understandable that people don’t consider a childless married couple, or two people insanely in love who are sharing their lives as a family. However, to those of us who belong to one of those categories, things aren’t that black and white.
  I never thought I would get married. Not because I don’t believe in marriage, but because I am too much of a romantic and I don’t believe in divorce. From my experience in matters of the heart, which for my very young age is not too bad, I figured that there wasn’t another person out there whom I would truly feel and most importantly, believe that I could love in that way for my entire life, and share all of it with him/her.
In true romantic fashion I will say, at the risk of sounding extremely cliché, that once my husband and I really looked at each other, we just knew.
  Everyday that has gone by since then has only reassured us that choosing to share our lives was the best decision we have ever made.
We look forward to spending time together, his smile is to me the most fantastic sight of nature, and my happiness is in his own words “The most important thing in the world” to him.
We share laughter, we share sadness, we take care of each other, we worry about the other, learn from one another: We are a team. He helps me slow down, I help him speed up, and coming home to one another is always the high of our day. And the truth is that we both spend a whole lot of time, energy, emotions, decision making, and also money on this relationship, every day of our lives.
 So who is to say that the two of us are not as much of a family as my ex-boyfriend, and his beautiful baby and wife?
Our society dictates rules and defines relationships in ways that sometimes go unrevised for too long. Nobody remembers them on a daily basis, and they aren’t written anywhere, but they remain in the back of most human’s minds, creating automated responses and reactions to some important questions and situations.
When it comes to family, I believe that some of those definitions are not as much outdated as they are simply incorrect.  As an immigrant to the US, my parents, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents have been in another country for over nine years now. Some of the friendships that I have made here (as well as some of the ones I made during childhood ) are as special and strong as are all of those loved ones who are biologically bound to me by blood. Therefore, they are my family.
  In my eyes and in my heart, the concept of a family is a group of people who love and support one another timelessly and unconditionally.
 I share a home with my husband and our Garfield-like cat, my brother shares his with his wife and their two restless dogs. My brother in law and his wife are childless too, with two new kitties and a loving adult dog.
I can assure you that we all have a beautiful family.  Not even a drop less perfect than the one with crying baby next door.

The bliss of a crowded room.

Last week, I went to New York City for a few days.  My best friend, Laura, her beautiful 8 month old baby boy, her husband, his sister and I, all shared a hotel room in Manhattan.  Late summer last year, Laura, her husband and I had all been in New York at the same hotel.  There had been some issue with the reservation, and as an apology, they had upgraded us to a giant suite. It had a big bedroom with a king size bed, a super spacious bathroom with double sinks, separate tub and shower and double doors. The great living room had a large sitting area with a couch that comfortably sat three adults, a desk and a chair in one corner, a kitchen table in another, and still plenty of floor space for a rolling bed and for me to practice yoga in the mornings.
This time around, Laura made sure to request a suite with separate living room, and specified it would be four adults and a baby.  As we planned the trip, and enjoyed the excitement of anticipation, we all pictured our fun weekend in that fabulous room.
Unfortunately for us, all hotel rooms are not created equal. When we checked into our room, late at night, with an overtired baby, we were unpleasantly surprised to find that our magnificent suite, was less than half the size of the one we had enjoyed last year.
The front desk was very sorry, but they were fully committed and there was absolutely nothing they could do for us.
However, as Hector noted, the truth was, the room was great.  We just couldn't see that, because we had seen better.
The weekend transpired in the crowded room. Bags everywhere, towels hanging from the door knobs, baby bottles piled up in the living room, pants on the floor, diapers on the table, pacifiers lost under the bed, and barely any floor space for walking, let alone doing yoga.  Whenever the baby crawled we had to closely follow him, because there was so little floor space, every corner had plenty of unsafe elements for him to explore.
For those of you who don't know me very well, a cluttered space is one of my least favorite things in the entire world.  In the words of my dear friend Kevin, "Clear station, clear mind".  And for me, consequently, an unclear station, or in this case room, translates into a very frazzled me.
But the days went by, and I found myself not as bothered by the clutter as I usually am.  I was not only clear headed, but so very happy, to be sharing this crowded room with these four lovely people. 
I still managed to keep my crap organized, so, I could still find what I was looking for (which is the main reason I need things to be uncluttered).
We were on top of each other, and I didn't feel like I needed any privacy.  We were smelling each other's poop and I didn't wish I had my own room. Our first night there the baby barely slept (meaning we were awake all night) and I wasn't even that tired the next day.
It might have been a messy crowded room, but it was a happy, joyful space, because we were all so happy to be there, and so grateful to be together.
On the day I was returning home, I got a call from my husband letting me know that our friends who were visiting with their baby from Northern California, might be staying with us for the night.  Our apartment is rather big for a San Francisco apartment, but if we shared it with two more adults and a three month old baby, it would be cramped in no time.
Normally, after four days away from home, and long plane rides and airport delays, I am usually looking forward to being back in my own space, and enjoying a little peace and quiet.
As I walked home from the bart station, I still didn't know if our friends were staying with us or not.  I didn't have their cell number, and my husband was at work, so it was just going to be a surprise either way when I got home.
When I opened the door I found a quiet, dark apartment on the other side.  My cat was excited to see me, but there was no clutter, no crowd, no people.
While I settled in and got some dinner ready, I felt a little sadness inside of me: I had actually been hoping to come home to another crowded room, of another set of friends, and another baby nephew.
As I enjoyed some alone time, I thought of how much fun we had in New York.
The thing is, when we are spending time with loved ones, we are sometimes so happy and present that we can even let go of some of our biggest pet peeves.  Maybe love can conquer anything after all.

A strange joke from the technology Gods.

We have been in San Francisco for a month tomorrow.  It has been somewhat hard for me to settle into our new home, as I am finding that all the times I said: " When we left, we were ready to go, I don't think we should go back" I meant it. 
The city, although as beautiful, colorful and delicious as I remember it, is louder, dirtier, and more hectic than I remember it.
I was ready for lower rents and larger homes.  For a quiet yard and a place where I could see the stars.  I was ready for Sonoma, and I have been slow to let go of the fact that we, as a family, were not quite ready yet.
So while I worked on my inner peace and practiced acceptance, I focused on searching for jobs, as that is one of the advantages of being in the city: food establishments abound, and jobs are always available.
I kept my habit of searching craigslist everyday, and found that here, there were a lot more options than in wine country.
 I screened through the adds and decided which ones were worth my while, and then I carefully composed a different cover letter for each one, selling myself by listing the specific skills that would make me wonderful for every position.
 In spite of my husband's advise to not even interview, I decided to stage at a new restaurant in the Marina. It's a cupcake place that is also a full service restaurant, and let's just say they don't have a full grasp on things quite yet.  Giving them the benefit of the doubt, I worked in their kitchen without judging, and found that it wasn't as bad as I had expected.  I decided that if I was offered the position, I would accept.
The day after, I went out of town to beautiful Auburn to visit my great friends and their farm.
In the meantime I wondered why I hadn't heard back from all the other jobs I had applied to. Time had gone by, and no one had contacted me. I started wondering if the economy was as bad as they say after all. I have a decent resume, and was overqualified for some of the jobs I applied to. How come not even one had called back?
While in Auburn, the owner of the cupcake place called me, and for the two following days, we played phone tag with no luck.
The day after I returned to the city, I got a call from an old friend.  He just had a baby and was wondering if I would be interested in taking care of her for a few hours a week.  I gladly accepted his offer.  Although it wasn't in my field of choice, and it was only a few hours, it would be fun, stress free, and I would make more money than I was currently making (hum... $0).
Minutes after we hung up, I saw I had a missed call from my father in law.  No message came through.
As I waited for Dave's message (he always leaves messages) I started thinking about how I had a few missed calls in the last week that hadn't left messages either, particularly two from my friend Nichol, known for leaving ultra long messages.  So, while I had lunch, I decided to reboot my phone.  I had gotten it a few weeks ago, so I didn't see why anything would be wrong with it but you never know.
A couple of minutes later, my phone delivered 24 voice mails. 24 fucking voice mails!!!!!!!
There were countless numbers I didn't recognize, and none of these calls had come through at any point.
Some were from two weeks ago.
I decided to listen to the unknown numbers first.  My heart started racing.  I had just finished my yoga practice and instantly lost all my inner calm.  Message, after message, I heard unfamiliar voices calling back about jobs I had applied to. One of them had called more than once.
My lovely new iPhone 4 had eaten 24 messages.  How was it possible that only about 4 of those calls even came through? The calls were not made while I was out of town, so cross that one off the list.
There is absolutely no explanation.  I started running around my apartment.  My husband was at work, we were going out for cocktails and dinner that night with some friends.  I needed to vent, someone to talk to, someone to help me figure out what to do.  I called a few friends that I knew would understand my anxiety, none answered. I kept breathing, telling myself to calm down.
I sat down and wrote down the names and numbers.  I called one.  She was on the other line, could I call her back in ten minutes?  I called another one. He was in a meeting, could he call me back in ten minutes?
Are you fucking kidding me? Now I was going to have a double call in ten minutes?!
Over fifteen minutes had gone by.  I decided to call the first one, knowing that as soon as I did, the second would call me.  I dialed the first number, 8. Right then and there the second person called me.
I answered and apologized as much as I could for the insanity that had occurred.  He joked that they wondered if I had stopped loving their company, since I hadn't called back, and then told me that although they had hired everyone they thought they needed, he had just realized there were a few holes in the schedule and they would need one more person part time.
After a long pleasant chat, we scheduled an interview for the next morning.
I called the second one. We spoke for almost an hour and I felt she was a bit unorganized.  She gave me a bad feeling, which was confirmed when she asked if I could cancel my morning appointment to meet with her instead. No thanks! Regardless, I scheduled an afternoon interview with her.
I decided to not call anyone else back, as I already was meeting with these two potential employers.
I needed to let it all go and start getting ready for dinner.  I didn't want to be late.
The next day, I went to the first interview, which, had it not been for pure luck, would have been the second one. 
I have always loved this company and when I was younger, fresh out of culinary school, I had a bit of an infatuation with it, and hoped to someday work for them.  The interview went great, I loved both the chefs, and as it came to an end, I hoped I was offered the position.
I decided not to go to the second interview.  I would trust my instinct. Regardless of whether I was offered this job or not, I didn't want to work for miss frazzled.
I still kept thinking about how crazy it all was.  Had I not been out of town, I would have spoken to the cupcake lady and taken that job, even though I knew was not the best thing for my career, and by the time my phone decided to deliver the messages I would have been employed.
Or, by the time the phone delivered the messages, everyone could have filled all the positions, leaving me in the disappointment of knowing I could have had them, if only...
A few hours later, I got a call back from the first interview offering me the job.  I gladly accepted.
A few days after I started, I got offered a full time position.  A few days after that, a small raise.
 However, I still had to figure out what to do, as I had agreed to watch my friend's daughter.  Five days before my first day on that job, he called me to let me know they had found someone permanent who was going to be a better fit for them.  Just like that, it all worked itself out, on its own.
I can't help but wonder what kind of trick the phone Gods were playing on me. But looking back on it, I see the beauty in the irony.
When it comes to technology, I have always been a bit old fashioned.  This experience has only confirmed my beliefs.
The lesson I learned is to turn off our smart phones once in a while, because if we don't, they get tired, then angry at us for not giving them a break, and they decide to keep things to themselves, that they really should share with us.
 So, people: be good to your phones!