I read Mr. Rosenblum Dreams in English as a member of the From Left to Write book club.  I was given a free copy as part of the book club.  This post was inspired by this book.

Mr. Rosenblum Dreams in English, by Natasha Solomons, is the story of a German-Jewish couple and their baby daughter escaping from Berlin just before the Halocaust. Jack formerly, Jacob, longs to fit in, to be a true Englishman, but can never exactly fool the English, no matter what lengths he goes to.

Jack believes a true Englishman should be a golfer and although he applies to several golf courses in London, finds that there are no openings for people named Rosenblum.  And so he decides to do what most everyone including his wife thinks is impossible and insane; he will build his own golf course, one where Jews will be included, and where he will be the one in charge of accepting or denying memberships.

Having chronic illnesses, I too long to fit in.  To assimilate into the “normal, healthy” mom crowd.  But somehow, it just doesn’t work for me either.  I don’t fit in. Not with the full time working moms, nor with the stay-at-home-mom crowd.  My child goes to daycare, now Pre-K, full-time, not because I am working, but because I cannot take care of my child on a 24 /7 basis.  It is always awkward at children’s birthday parties or at school functions.  Everyone wants to know what it is that I do. Since I stopped working due to my illness in March of 2008, I have made very few friends in real life.  I let very few people “in” to my world.

I want to fit in with the healthy moms for my child too, but some things are just impossible; taking walks, actually playing with him on the playground.  I stick out more than Mr. Rosenblum in my wheelchair or scooter when I take Tyler to museums or zoos.  People stare at me when I park in the handicapped spot.

And so, like Jack and his golf course, I created a place where people like me could fit in.  It is this blog.  Sick moms can come here and feel normal and say things like, “Me too”, “I cry over this too” or “Thank you for writing this.  You say the things that I can’t.”

I hope I have built a place of acceptance,respect and refuge for my readers.

But in the end, I cannot run away from my illnesses and my limitations any more than Jack could run from where he came from.  But I wish I could, oh, how I wish I could.