A Costa Rican Family

I have had a hard time writing about Costa Rica. I have no wise words to say about it.  I traveled and related open, without my own agenda nor expectations, just listening to cues from within and without and all worked out.  This is just the beginning of something much more enduring that will take many years to unfold. 

I am spent my last days in Costa Rica back in San Ramon.  The first day felt strained between Jonathan (R’s dad) and I, but by the next day everything was easy again.

Ramona and I again stayed in Uncle Javier’s house.  Javier comes in holding a dead turkey by the feet.  He recounts catching a glimpse of his dog attacking the bird through his rear-view mirror as he turned the corner at the end of his driveway.  He couldn’t get to them before it was dead.   He had bought two turkeys, and this was the second to be killed by this particular dog.  He had bought the pair as pets and to make more baby turkeys, but soon found out the dogs were not going to allow for that. I didn’t care to see the defeathering or the chopping up of the turkey, but Ramona went back and watched for a couple of minutes.  I never saw anything like that when I was a kid.  She’s not squeamish like me.  I wish I were more like her in some respects.  I did take a few pictures of the birds head sticking out of a little box full of feathers and bones (I will spare you).  Then Jonathan chopped some up some turkey and put it in the white sauce for our pasta.  

It was so great (and daunting) going to Costa Rica.  Its good to create connections.  Our lives have been broadened, expanding our world through our relationships. Ramona and her dad foster a new relationship, she gets to meet other family members.  She gets to be welcomed by her Costa Rican roots. But, she had her own idea of the meeting, with high expectations and I think was let down a little.  She pictured a man with grayish long hair and a long beard.  Jonathan likes to shave his head and face.  He was also way to grabby and touchy with her, which made her feel uncomfortable.  I tried to explain how we in the US are more particular with bodies, and that Ramona connects through talking/stories, before touching.  However, though Ramona understands Spanish very well, she can’t tell stories is Spanish, so a lot was lost. She talked and talked in English and no one understood what she was saying but me.

Jonathan and I seem to have begun anew some sort of romance, we are just too attracted to try to control it all.  And I’ve changed so much in six years.  I am able to just let my relationships be what they are for the most part. We have a loving, friendly connection, we accept each other at face value.  Walking around as father daughter and mother felt so strange.  It was a first for me. He asked me if I would like to come live in Costa Rica, I said "Maybe someday." He asked me if I wanted to have another baby with him.  I said no.  He said we should get married for visa purposes, I said "It wouldn't help."

We are sooooo different is so many ways, but there seems to be this fundamental connection, this strange way that we are actually the basically the same. But the truth is that the vast distance between us may be the thing that keeps the good energy and peace between us. 


My friend says I am lucky because when the USA gets really shitty in a few years I will be happy to have somewhere to go.  I am working on establishing paternity for her as well as Costa Rican citizenship in the near future, then I work on my stuff. 

Two Loves

The emotional roller coaster has persevered. I was once so even keeled. I keep myself that way because I know what lurks inside my placid shell. But here I am, living and exploring everything in here. Drinking beers all afternoon to keep me from exploding.

Being Ramona’s mother has been the biggest privilege of my life. I love her so much it makes me cry sometimes. I am in love. Only the second time in my life. Over the last couple days things have gotten really hard. When she is complaining or trying to get her way, I have found myself wanting to do things and say things I am ashamed to admit. For the first time in my life I want a break from being a mom. I want a week off. I want to explore and groove alone. I don’t want to have a kid to take care of. I just want to be all about me and what I want. I thought it might happen, that I feel like this one day, but I hate the way it feels to want to escape my own child. I have always loved how we are a team and have generally always had such a good time together, talking things out, keeping our heads, keeping respect…not like those other families. Last night, after I turned off the lights to sleep, I told Ramona I was sorry I haven’t been the best mom, that I am just stressed. She said, “I know you’re stressed, mommy.” In such a sweet understanding voice. I feel so lucky to have her, just hours after wanting to throw her out with the trash. I snuggled the little cutey. Emotional roller coaster.
Of course I can’t take a week off. Today, thank goodness, I do get to take a day off. I think I will be getting to take a night off as well. We are preparing to try having Ramona take her first night without me, at my mom’s house. I am going to the next town over for a show. I hope to stay out past 10:30 for the first time in 5 years.

Oh and speaking of 5 years, I haven’t even told the world I lost my mama virginity yet. (I love the benefits of a semi-anonymous blog). He had been flirting with me and trying to hang for a couple months. Then I saw him last week and he started playing with my hands when suddenly he says, “Oh, wow.” And looks at me surprised. And to my surprise I realize that I had grabbed his hands, and was holding them and stroking them. I just went with it. That night he came over after I put Ramona to sleep. My housemates were out of town leaving their bedrooms open to exploration. The next night we did it again, and the next. Then I realized I may already be over him. He’s 24. I think he grew up on porn. I feel like if I keep hanging with him, I might wake up trapped in some weird fetish porn and wonder how I got there. And I guess I think he is cute, but he isn’t really my type. Like there isn’t enough desire in me to propel me to do the things II know he wants me to do. So I am a little turned off for him, but the experience has just made me hungrier for whatever this is that my sensual core is aching for.

After five years of nothing, what more could I ask for than a sex-crazed 24 year old? I guess my job is to figure that out. He didn’t quench my thirst, but stroked the fire. Opened Pandora’s box unleashing all sorts of chaos on the world. I want enough girlfriends and boyfriends to make up for the 5 years of starvation. I’ve never been into multiple sexual relationships, but I wonder if I am now. I am realizing crushes I have had that I didn’t know about. This is why I was hesitant to get involved in the world of romance. I knew what was brewing just under my placid shell.

I met a guy named Ryan over a year ago, when he approached me I totally screwed up and he left without me and I regretted it all year. He was like a magnet, and we had been catching each other looking at each other all afternoon. . I emailed a friend of his to tell him I want to talk to him (since I don’t know how else to get a hold of him). I was too shy to do it last year. A little loving can do wonders for a woman’s confidence. Still waiting for the response.
So do I tell my guy that I am done? Or am I done? I guess I am not sure. I like him, but if I don’t even want to kiss him outside of the bedroom, I think that says something. But if I am using him, then it is mutual I think.

And all the while this is happening, the number of days until I have to move are ticking, ticking. Nerve Wracking. Three weeks left. And Petaluma is prejudice against people receiving rental assistance. I am really afraid. Running around frantically trying to not remember that I don’t have a place to live yet. And my housemates weird, Marin, middle-class, nuclear culture is really making me uncomfortable and miserable. But that is another story that isn’t about love…not really.

I want to run around, I want to get crazy, liberate myself. Fix all this love stuff. Think I will go crack a beer and feel selfish for a while.