My Dog is my Hero

Three years after I received an acceptance letter from a little publishing agency, the anthology My Dog is my Hero has just been released. My story, "Our First Child," is on page 147. Most of my earliest attempts at writing now make my stomach churn, so I give props to the editors for making the article as good as it is - and it's really not bad. Here's a sample:

Shortly after Lucy came home, a debate arose between my wife and me over how she would refer to us. While Laurie already saw herself as the matriarch of the household, I had always felt weird about people who didn’t have children but referred to themselves as "mom" and "dad" to their pets. We mulled it over for several days until she finally said, “What about when we have kids? We can’t have the kids call us mom and dad and the dog call us by our first name.” Although, I couldn’t imagine the dog ‘calling’ us anything, eventually I gave in. So we became Mom and Dad.

Lucy was the first child Laurie would play dress up with on holidays. For her first Halloween, she bought Lucy’s costume in the middle of September. By October, Lucy had outgrown it. Laurie shopped unsuccessfully at multiple stores looking for a bigger size. When she couldn’t find it, she switched costumes. I’d come home from work to the dog in a loose-fitting pirate costume one day and a tight Superwoman costume the next. By the 31st, my wife had purchased and returned four costumes.

She repeated the same process the following month as the weather got colder and Lucy “needed” a winter coat and Santa hat for the Christmas family portrait. “Look at your daughter, Honey,” Laurie said as she attempted to position the dog in front of the fireplace. “Isn’t she adorable next to her stocking? Is Santa going to bring Mommy’s little doggie a present?” Lucy gave me my first Father’s Day as a Dad. Laurie woke me up that morning with breakfast in bed, a present, and two cards – one from her and one from the dog.

A Smaller Version of A Smaller Version of Me

My article, A Smaller Version of Me, has been published in this month's issue of Adoptive Families Magazine. Here's a link to their website if you want to read their version. Or if you want to read mine, here you go.

Love is a Verb

A few weeks ago, a piece I wrote called "Trials and Errors" was published in the anthology Love is a Verb. This piece is special to me because it's about infertility and, to date, I have yet to read any good works on this topic from the perspective of the husband. Most of the men I've met in support groups don't have a clue what's going on with their wives. They wonder what happened to the woman they married and how their lives got to this point.

Here is an excerpt from the piece:

About a year into the treatments, my wife and I were invited to a marriage retreat. We would be sharing the intensive counseling experience with two other couples. Our first assignment was to each create a Life Map of our experiences leading up to the present. Then, the next morning, we had to present the Life Maps to the group. When my wife’s turn came, she shared her story growing up and how she and I had first met and fell in love. When we got to the part about our current relationship, she shared about our struggles with infertility and, as usual, began sobbing. The leader asked if I had been there for her in her grief. As I sat back and waited for her to proclaim my sensitivity to the group, I heard her say no.

“When have I not been there for you?” I asked.

“Lots of times.”

“Like when?”

“Do you remember a month ago when I couldn’t sleep? I had been crying for several hours and you just laid there and pretended to sleep. Then when I tried to wake you up so you would talk to me, you huffed and said, ‘This again?’ Then you kicked the sheets off the bed and stormed out.”

I sat back stunned. “I did that?”

I tried to remember the incident. If she said it happened it must have. I was certainly concerned that I was capable of treating my wife with such brutal impatience. But what concerned me more than anything was that I had absolutely no recollection of this incident. I racked my brain trying to remember when I had been insensitive toward her grief. I recalled evenings I had been watching TV or working on the computer when she wandered in and asked, “Whatcha doing?”

“Busy.”

“Do you want to do something together?”

This question had always irked me. It implied I never spent any time with her. Also it irked me that I felt trapped by the possible responses. If I said yes, I’d just be spending time with her out of pity. I’d be distracted by what I really wanted to be doing, I’d resent her for taking me away from it, and I’d do a terrible job of hiding it. If I said no, I’d feel selfish for not wanting to spend time with her. One night I finally got tired of it and said, “You’ve really got to get a hobby.” Now I realize the message I had sent. Your pain, your misery, and your identity crisis are a nuisance. You’ve got to get over this and move on for my sake and get a life. Was this the husband I had become?

The piece doesn't end here (I don't want you to think I'm a complete tool). But you'll have to buy the book to see how I became the calm, sensitive, understanding husband I am now. And for my immediate family reading this, the publisher didn't send me any free copies, so you're on your own.

Dream Job

"Things move from order to chaos."
-The Second Law of Thermodynamics

The transition from working a traditional job to a stay-at-home mom is tough on anyone. But for my wife who worked as a nanny before having kids, she had a particularly difficult time. For over twelve years, she mothered other people’s children. She changed diapers and cleaned up toys full time. These may have been long days but at least she had a paycheck and the end of the day to look forward to.

Her first job after college was working full-time for a wealthy family of lawyers. This was before we had met and she’s mentioned this experience to me several times. “The husband was horrible. He turned me into a housekeeper. Every day I had to run the dishwasher even if there were only a couple of things to clean and then empty it before they came home from work. I had to fold all the clothes and towels a specific way and position them in the closet facing the same direction on wood hangers. In the winter, I had to vacuum the ashes out of the fireplace every day. He would yell at me if I didn’t do things exactly the way he wanted. It was the worst job I ever had.” Despite being offered a raise to stay, she quit after working for this family for a year.

My wife has a family of her own now – a toddler son, an infant daughter, a fifty-pound Australian Shepherd, and a little Pomeranian/Chihuahua puppy. She’s been trying to cope with the fact that cleaning the house is a losing battle. I came home from work the other day and all the children ran to greet me, including the furry ones. My wife was sprawled out on the couch and was the least enthused to see me. “Sorry about the house,” she groaned. I surveyed what was left of the living room. It looked like the cave of a pack of wild animals. The floor was littered with toys, granola bar wrappers, and clumps of black dog hair. The coffee table was strewn with the day’s mail, multiple board books, and overturned sippie cups. Sitting next to my wife on the couch was an unopened package of diapers. I put my keys on the kitchen table and noticed several used diapers next to the laptop.

I headed to the bedroom to take my shoes off and get comfortable, I saw a layer of toys on the floor and another layer in our bed, along with some folded laundry and a few snack wrappers. I made enough room on the bed to sit down and took off my socks and, as I threw them in the hamper, I saw the dirty clothes piled up to my waist.

My wife walked into the bedroom. “Honey, I know the house looks bad and I don’t want to hear it,” she said.

“I didn’t say anything.” But I couldn’t help but think back to the obsessive lawyer and his dishwasher and wonder what he did right that maybe I was doing wrong. I decided to say, “I’m sure you’ve had a rough day,” which I thought would be a neutral statement. However, she received a different message – You are not doing your job – and felt the need to defend herself.

“I have had a rough day. The baby’s been crying since she woke up this morning at 6am. She cried anytime I wasn’t holding her. When I picked her up she either thrashed around or hit me. The dogs got into the trash again. All your son ever says is, ‘Can I watch a show?’” She paused for a moment. I thought she might have been done but she was only considering how to go on.

“I know I should straighten up when they take their nap but I’m so tired I just need a break. You get to leave your job and come home. I never get a break. Even when you’re here, they’re still constantly all over me. They start before the sun comes up and don’t stop until bedtime.” She took a breath and put her arm over her forehead and lay on the bed quietly.

I waited a few moments to make sure she was done. When I thought it was safe, I said, “I’m sorry you’ve had a hard day. What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know. Just keep everyone out of the kitchen so I can make dinner.”

She got up and headed to the kitchen. I sat on the edge of the bed for a few moments. I thought about what she said and tried to sympathize. I’d worked a long, hard day but I had something to show for it. I felt bad for her because the house was in such bad shape that I couldn’t even notice what she had done.

I realized the difference between the lawyer’s home and our home was that she was being paid for her work. Keeping their home clean was her job. Mothering my children was not just her job, it was her whole life. It’s futile to think that I could pay her an adequate salary for the tireless work that she does or the endless hours she puts in.

I remember a story my wife told me about another family she had nannied for. She had been taking care of the boy, Jarrett, who at the time was probably three. The two of them had had a perfect day together. They played games and read books all day. He hadn’t had any tantrums and she hadn’t lost her temper at him once. At the end of the day, they were watching a show together when his mom came home from work. My wife and his mom debriefed the day while Jarrett went into the next room. After a minute or so, Jarrett’s mom and my wife looked over and saw that Jarrett was naked from the waste down and lion-taming the family dog with his step stool. My wife said, “So we just looked at each and laughed. Then I grabbed my keys and said, ‘See you later.’”

I would think incidents like this as well as things like diapers and the countless hours without adult engagement as a nanny would have worn her out before she even became a mother. But it hasn’t. She’s so glad to have kids that she rarely complains about that stuff. It’s the clutter that stresses her out. And it’s not because she doesn’t notice or care. That’s what I love about her. She does notice the pile of laundry and the dishes. But she’s just one person who is drastically outnumbered. I may be home only a few hours everyday, but even I see the children pull toys out of their toy bins just to pull them out. They don’t even play with the toys, they just move on to emptying the next bin. I think about the lion-taming incident and consider how my wife took for granted her job as a nanny where at least she could look forward to going home at the end of the day.

We got our copies today

My article that I wrote about Vivi's birth is on page 23 & 24, titled Grief and Joy. It's about the grief and loss when we were going through infertility and the effects they had when we adopted our daughter.

Our son, Isaac's picture is on the Family Album page 47.

And our friend Debbie's daughter, Isabel is on page 30.

My wife will be keeping Isabel part-time for the next couple months and is really looking forward to it.

If you do not have a subscription to this magazine, get one. It is full of really useful information. You can also have your local Barnes and Noble order as many copies of it as you want.

Chicken Soup for the Moms

Here's a link to the publisher for Chicken Soup for the Soul: Power Moms which will contain one of my stories. She's got a post and a you tube video about the upcoming book which will be released March 24th.

For anyone in my fan club, don't get your hopes up. I'm not in the video. But I'm okay with that. The authors featured in the video are famous celebrities and NY Times Bestselling authors. Now I know what you all are thinking. "Billy. You're just as talented as they are." Of course, you're right. But I have yet to attain their status or receive their accolades. At present, I can only claim to have read a NY Times Bestselling book once. However, I can't remember what it was called or what it was about.

Nonetheless, the publisher has also put in an author's bio link on her website. There you can view bios like "Starred in Emmy-winning" this, or "Won the National Book Award" for that, and then see my "Works at Starbucks." She had to change the heading (and men) just for me. Yeah, baby! Take that, Stephen King!

Coming March 24th

So I'm going to be published in a Chicken Soup for the Soul anthology due to be available at bookstores on March 24th! I've been having a lot of fun talking about my "book deal." It's pretty crazy. I wrote a story, called Dream Job, about Laurie being a stay-at-home mom and submitted it back several months ago. And now it's going to be in print. I have two more stories coming out in two more anthologies this year. Until then, here's the description from the website:

Wendy Walker, author of Four Wives and The Queen of Suburbia, has become the go-to media expert on women leaving the workforce to raise their families and run their homes. This book contains 101 great stories from mothers who have made the choice to stay home, or work from home, while raising their families and becoming active members of their communities. Stories from grateful husbands and children are also a fun read. These multi-tasking, high-performing women have become today’s Power Moms. Every stay-at-home and work-from-home mom will view this book as having been written just for her. Perfect for book groups, it will also contain a reader guide.

Black Sabbath has been published!

Hey all

Just thought some of you might be interested in checking the Jan/Feb 09 issue of Adoptive Families magazine. My article, Black Sabbath, is on page 20. I haven't received the issue in the mail yet, so I have no idea what their edit looks like. But I thought y'all could be on the lookout. This is so far my fourth published work and my second paying one!

The Temp

So here's the story, originally title The Temp. A friend sent me the link to Fostering Families Today starting on page 56. Thanks Debbie!! I can't believe how big it is. I didn't know it would be a feature!!

Hello Readers of Adoptive Families!!

Welcome all you adoptive parents!! You probably got this site from the Adoptive Families Blog page. I'm so excited because this affords me the opportunity to vent my rage to a whole new group of people!



A little something about goggy (me) - my wife and I became foster parents a few years ago. Some were removed and were placed elsewhere. But our second foster child became our son just after his second birthday. As the ink dried on his adoption papers, we began the process with a private agency. Three months later, our daughter was born.



I began this blog almost two years ago as catharsis - too many funny stories about my kids and inappropriate things said by friends, family, and even total strangers. Being a multiracial family never has a dull moment. People openly stare at our African-American son, then look at us, look at him, then look at us again and ask, "So is he adopted?"