there was a bunch of things i wanted to say here...
but I kinda forgot.
keep thinking... i need to be writing.

ill just say I had the craziest 36 hours omg, someone kill me. I left the house sunday at 2pm. Took dinner to a friend that just had a baby. went out to get school clothes and uniforms for the kids.... got home, neighbors were having a party so we went over there.... then I left for work at 930PM. Took the guys I take care of to work, went by my son's new school and picked up registration forms and school uniforms.... came home, changed clothes, picked up kids and took them to school, went to work.... left work and picked up kids from school, came home and picked up husband, left for back to school night.... and then finally home. i was in a crabby mood.

daughter said her vagina hurts... so I suspected uti... went back to store to buy her cranberry juice which she now calls the vagina drink. i told her to share the juice with her brother... she said he could only have some if his penis hurts.... haha.
then she wanted milk... i told her no milk with with cranberry juice.... upset tummy. Son doesnt listen and drinks both. Daughter tantrums and whines bc she didnt get both, I said, dont worry, your brother will regret it later.... sure enough, a bit later he complained of an upset tummy. daughte and i have a good laugh.

also, son said earlier that his sweat smells like potatoes. random. he is sleepy and takes nap in the car... my blanket from my overnight job is in there... he says it smells like me as he dozes off.

switching to full time is wearing on me... and i just started my second week.. and i work 7 days a week... 40 hours 8 to 4 and then 30 hours overnights on weekends.... i need my weekend overnight job bc it is paying for my kids school... I pay 1000 a month for them to be in school. that is actually a really good price relatively speaking.... but i need two jobs to do it.......

dominic is going to a fancy private school. they gave him financial assistance. we went to back to school tonight... he was already making friends and playing.... he is really excited about starting on weds. i was worried maybe theyd be snobby or something... but the kids were very inclusive....
one mom from d's class introduced herself.... that was nice of her. that was a nice gesture as well. hopefully it will work out. there was this charter school i wanted to send him to.... but we dont live in the right school district.... we would have had to lie.... i wanted to.... but it is just too risky...... at anytime they could have checked our residence and pulled us- then i would have lost the really good deal at the private school. masha Allah this is what god wanted. so there he is.

so glad to know I am middle eastern. Persian. many people have asked just in the short month that I have known. it is really good for my self esteem.... I have had a better appreciation for why i look the way i look when i look in the mirror or pictures.
i want to learn some farsi phrases.... there is a professor at my work who is iranian... he is going to teach me phrases...
my first... is .... hale something chetore.... how are you? he says he thinks farsi is easier to learn than arabic. and he is going to bring me persian food and recipes.

(no subject)
So I have been corresponding with my cousin on my paternal side... well, I still don't know how he is related to me, but we are thinking either second cousins or first cousins once removed (that would mean his mom is my first cousin). He is very open and happy to help me find my bio dad. I hope that if and when he and his mom do that the biological father will be honest with them, and open to talking to me.
I have asked myself, what I want by being in contact with him... I am hoping that at the very least to know his name, have a picture of him, and know if I have half-siblings. I would like to hear as much about the family as possible. I would like to have a relationship with possible half siblings.

Anyway---- some things that have been confirmed.... I have a surname. I also know that the family originated from Tehran, Iran. My father likely immigrated here due to religious persecution of his faith... Bahai.
Last Sunday and today I attended a Bahai service. I brought my mom with me today. The odd thing is that my mom was Bahai. So much so she married my social dad in a Bahai ceremony. So I wonder what the connection is between my mom and bio dad (anonymous sperm donor) is. There isn't suppose to be a connection... and what are the chances that they both would be???? Not very likely. Though my mom's OBGYN that helped with the procedure was Iranian. He was not Bahai though (I believe this because I am told his surname is not a Bahai last name).

Hopefully I will get an anser to that question.

My cousin said he would be seeing his mom over the weekend. I sent him some pictures of me as a child. He said his mom will call her cousins in Las Vegas and look for answers for me. I didn't hear back from my cousin today... I want to give them time and space. 

And then I have a cry again...
Because I finally look at myself without judgement. I look in the mirror and understand deeply and profoundly why I look the way I do and it fills me with joy.

I am looking through all the pictures from childhood until now. From my nose, chin dimple, thick eyebrows, long face and forehead that my parents tried to hide.... and I can accept it all now, because it is a testament to my roots.

And I am discovering beautiful things about my family. They are of the Bahai faith. They are very humble. 

A Non-Fraud Fraud.... Or Already Am What I Already Am
What is in a name? Scratch that. What is in a DNA. My DNA says I am Persian. Am I Persian? What is it to be Persian? Can I say I am a Persian American... am I a Persian American? I woke up this morning... still don't know a word of Farsi, I don't know what my paternal grandma's favorite dish tastes like, I listened to some Iranian pop music... it was nice at first, but started to drive me crazy after 30 minutes. I go into the bathroom, wash my face... and I see me. And I see my eyebrows, and I know it is true.
I am loving myself in a way that I didn't before. Finally understanding why I don't meet the standard of beauty in this country. My unwanted hair... is now, understandable. I Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaated my eyebrows as a kid. I thought I looked like oscar the grouch. They stayed hidden behind a thick crop of bangs. I think my mom didn't like my tall forehead.
And omg do a lot of Iranians have chin dimples! A lot of them do!!! It's crazy.

And then there was this. I thought about my bio dad. I don't know him, but I already know a lot of his story, just be knowing he is from Iran. And the story goes.... he came over as a refugee from religious persecution in Iran. He is of the Bahai faith. He didn't speak English. He needed money. An Iranian obgyn offered to pay him for sperm donation. And here I am.

But I cried. I cried for him. I cried for whatever he lost in Iran. I cry because of the hardships he must have faced in coming to the U.S. But then I stopped myself. He is not my father, why am I crying for him?

Then another feeling... a feeling of forgiveness.... a feeling of compassion for him. Before knowing him I was mad... I was angry at him... how could he not care... the doctor who was just doing his job, and my mom... no one thinking that this baby  would grow up and want to know.
But I don't feel like that now that I know. Now that I know, I don't feel like that. I DID need to know. I am not angry anymore. I am not angry at him, or at anyone anymore. Now I feel thankfulness and gratefulness. It seems like a weird way to help someone. But I am thankful.

I have even found a great deal of relief from the pain of my social dad. Of being angry about not helping me on my journey. About how he treated me and raised me. But now I feel much more distanced from it. I can even find some respect and appreciation for the years that he did raise me and treat me okay.

So am I Persian? Can I call myself that..... next time, I want to talk about my intuition on the matter and how, in many, many ways.... already am what I am.

to be continued....

Lost Soul No More
For a long time, I have wanted to know who I am. When I was 18 and learned that I was donor conceived, I didn't think much about my race or identity. I guess at the time, I didn't know for sure. My social father lied to me and told me the "rumors" weren't true. It took until I was 27 that he finally told me it was true, and we took a DNA test to confirm. Despite knowing it was probably always true... I felt that we share so many characteristics. Black hair, brown eyes, dimple on the chin, gain weight in the belly with skinny arm and legs, even we were left handed. He was a lot taller than me, and my mom is too.
Smaller differences that I overlooked but others didn't was my olive skin tone and high forehead. Overhearing my social dad's mom and my stepmom scratching their heads, trying to figure me out..... isn't there French in the family... yes, I think there is, well that explains it. Maybe even a litte Cherokee indian, I am pretty sure. ... hairy, like an Italian.

Then there was just being in the world. Where are you from? Me: I am from here. Them: But where are you from originally? Me: Here? I never really even understood what they were asking until after the DC confirmation. Then, of course.... I wanted to know my origins more than anyone else.

Maybe Latina. Maybe American Indian. Maybe Italian. Or maybe just a white girl from Scottland or something. Couldn't be could it? Because I don't burn..... though I am pretty damn white...  but once I tan up... I look 100 percent NOT European white. A QUESTION that I just could NEVER ESCAPE. Burning... burning.... in my head...... HR voluntary racial reports..... check the box for white, black, asian, hispanic, etc. I was always relieved on the few occasions there was an unknown option. People always wanting to know... honestly... I loved being asked the question... because it always got me thinking again. I started using the opportunity to talk about donor conception. I was honest. It helped me process. It propelled me forward. ..
Then I took a graduate level diversity class for counselors.... and we got into small groups..... group question: What do you identify as? Everyone except one identified as white..... and then it was my turn. And I just blurted out something that I had never even once articulated in my head let alone outloud.... I don't identify as white. I am white (aren't I), but I just don't fit in at all.
A very heavy thing to just blurt out to a bunch of strangers. That class made me hyperaware... but it also helped me form my identity... a new identity for me--- biracial. I definitely fit pretty much all of the characteristics of a biracial person. I decided I was racially white and racially unknown. Identifying myself as biracial helped me conceptualize a lot of my feelings and troubles.

Finally, I learned about 23&me and Ancestary DNA. I decided to test. I had to wait. Bc a while ago they could only test paternal lineage if you have a y chromosome, which as a female, don't. But finally, autosomal DNA testing made it possible.

I got my results back on Friday.

So much conjecture and guessing would get blown out of the water and let my DNA speak for itself.

I am 53% West Asian.....

to be continued

Koshari Dish
This is a vegetarian dish from Egypt. I have made it before, but used this recipe to help remind me how to make it. It turned out well! I didn't have tomato paste, so I used a bit of ketchup. I didn't have regular vinegar, so I used rice vinegar. I also used Kafta spice mix bc I was too lazy to follow the specific spice mix directions. Also, I added a squeeze of lime at the end. Yes, this is tangy!

Notes to myself...
So I am in one school counseling program... Ill call it MO but I am becoming more and more dissatisfied with it and I am thinking about transfering to another.. Ill call it KS.
To start in the middle.... I talked to the KS advisor... she set up a meeting with me right away and we got together and we talked.. I got a lot of information... but the MO advisor I requested info from her and she said... oh sorry... cant meet, we will cover that in class. How can one school that I am not even a student in be totally open to meeting with me and the school where I am a student won't meet with me? Huge red flag! And the wonky thing is the person that should be my advisor isnt... I should have a school counseling advisor but instead I have a counseling psych advisor and when I met with her she knew little more than me about the plan of study for a school counselor than I did! So another red flag. There are some others.
Why go to KS----- tuition is cheaper, the program is shorter, i perceive the teachers are more experienced, it is CACREP certified
Why stay at MO----- I am already there, I have a cool grad assistantship I'd have to leave (but they already love me, I could probably get hired on for some position there), they don't do online classes and I might have a licensing problem in Missouri if I go to KS whose program is half online.
Why leave MO---- more expensive (the grad asst. only pays 3 credits), more time, more classes, and despite all of that... their reputation is not as good or better than KS.. they are not CACREP certified!

So I wrote her back, maybe she will take me more seriously since I let the cat out of the bag... I didn't want to express my doubt about the program through email, but if she refuses to meet with me face to face, I guess I must.

over and out.

shrimp coctel!

best ever!

2 lb de camarones limpios y desvenados
1 taza de jitomate picado
1/2 taza de cebolla picada
1 taza de pepino picado
1/2 taza de cilantro
El jugo de 5 limones
3 cucharadas soperas de aceite de olivo
1 cucharadita de aceite de ajonjoli (0pcional)
1 1/2 de salsa catsup
1 taza de salsa de Tomate
1 taza de jugo clamato
2 tazas de agua donde se cosieron Los camarones o 3 si lo quiere mas jugoso.
2 cucharadas de sal
1 cucharadita de consome de Pescado si no tiene puede usar de pollo.
1 aguacate grande picado (1taza de aguacate)
2 chiles jalapeños o serranos picados

I Can Always Turn to You, LJ

When I just have to let it all out, I can always do it here. Those who still read probably aren't getting a very balanced diet of me, but oh well!

Today I feel like I have to put on tough skin....
it is really stupid petty stuff really. I am lucky to have what I have. I appreciate more my husband. We have our health. We have our kids. We own our house (paid in full this year!)

Hani's first birthday party is coming up and when I sent out a group message to my in laws about their availability about the weekend in question, I get responses back asking if it can be a "group" bday party. Um, no! Have your own party don't mooch off mine. I think it would be a fine idea if it wasn't her FIRST birthday party. But I felt like I couldn't say no, so I said yes. :-/ They can't afford their own party, that is exactly why they are latching on to mine. I felt if I said no then there would be bad vibes or they just wouldn't come.
The whole family has fallen on really hard financial times.. and we have loaned out a lot of money already.

My neighbors. My neighbors are great for the most part. Yesterday though I felt like my next door neighbor took advantage a little bit.. sometimes her son stays and plays with mine while she goes to a karate class with her older daughter. Yesterday he was in my house and she asked if she could leave him, but I told her no, because it was my husband's bday and I was going to decorate with my son. I also was feeling sick, and told her so early in the day, I guess she forgot. But her son was upstairs and wasn't responding to her calls and she was running late, and so I said fine, he can stay. She probably just wasn't expecting me to say no. She is nice, so I doubt that she will do it again.

There is a sign up for a neighborhood meeting on Sunday. That makes my heart beat fast. I've never been to one but I've heard they can be pretty ugly.

Testing Testing, 1 2 3?
Hello.... heeeeeeelllloooooooooooooo! Is this thing on? Can you hear me?

I haven't posted in forever. I am sorry. Looks like a lot of my flist has done likewise as well. It's too bad. My excuse is that I have found some online freelance work writing and translating so any freetime I get I have had to dedicate to that.

But I feel really moved to write an update now. This is about the one year anniversary of when we moved back to Mexico. The year has gone by incredibly fast!

I have to say that I am really feeling at home here. Even to the point of never wanting to move back to the U.S. ever. Even if Iajia and I ever seperate, I've decided that I rather move further south in Mexico, to the state of Chiapas, or perhaps along the Oaxacan coastline.

It's a really nice feeling, to feel so sure. What are the reasons? It's really hard to put my finger on why. It's especially hard without first casting the U.S. in a really unfavorable light, but I do appreciate my American roots for the most part. Maybe I can talk about what I do like.

In no particular order.

I love Christmas time in Mexico. The last 12 days of Christmas there is a party almost everyday! We went one last night, there is one tonight, and there will be one tomorrow. And then it will be Christmas Eve after that, the biggest party of them all. There also isn;t the same kind of materialism associated with it. I think for two reasons... there aren't the sales here that there are in the U.S. and people just don't have the expendable income as they do in the US. Moreover, Christmas, besides the "true reason for the season" is about spending time with family, eating and drinking. Gift exchanges are something new, and optional. Gift giving for children happens on Jan. 6th, 3 Kings day.

It's so family friendly. Mexico still has family values. And when I say family values, I am not talking about gay rights or abortion rights. I mean... family stick together. No matter how damn inconvenient it might be to you, you don't, under any circumstance, turn your back on family. That woman who wrote "I am Adam Lanza's Mother" booked her kid into a mental hospital over an outburst. I don't know, that seems really harsh to me, and wouldn't doubt it causes her a snowball effect. My own father tried to leave me in the hands of the criminal justice system. 1


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