Coming of Age

Intermission

2009-02-28T17:50:00.000-08:00

Too much to say that couldn't be said here.
At least not now.
My words have been working elsewhere.
I am working on getting them up somewhere else, private, where maybe they will touch even one person in need of them.

An intermission on this blog doesn't mean I have gone away. I may move it to another name at some time, but for now, I'm around still.

Keep checking.

It Wasn't Me

2008-11-26T23:26:00.001-08:00

It wasn't me talking the other day. Or now. I swear. Alter ego taketh over and here she goes!

The girls are at their dad's.

I hate saying that. There it is. I said it. I hate saying it.

It is raining and I am awake but refusing to do work or chores no matter how behind.

Yup, said that too.

Wish I could sleep. What will it take to get one to sleep sans nightmares? (Other than a new history which obviously isn't going to happen)

Ahhhhhhhhh

So much has been going on and I have been so far away from my writing place. Speaking of which, it is about time this girl gets published. SDFM contacted me and elated with joy I am awaiting the reply from the editor with the go-ahead for one of my ideas before I just go there and slip an article in their layout. Kidding. Seriously though, it is about time. I'm officially in my "thirties" now and DAMN I've been through enough to know I what I want and I want to follow my dreams.

I look around my partially empty house and shiver at past memories. I take a second look and only see a positive and fulfilling future. It is mine because I will work for it.

If I am really quiet for a moment, I can hear the tiny sounds of my not-so-baby-but-always-my-baby breathing in the other room. I get up and check on him occasionally and see the tiny curls frame his face. He sleeps with his mouth slightly open with his plump lower lip (oh how I am jealous- botox, restilin (sp?)- when the money comes I want you!!!) just like his daddy.

All three kids sleep in similar positions but so different. It is so amazing that these small people grew inside my body for thirty-seven weeks and now are real people that are going to grow up and contribute to the world in some fabulous way (because their souls will be raised to want to be fabulous and fabulous excretes from their pores).

T senses you are close to her and the moment you collapse into the cool sheets and pull up the blanket she is on you like butter on toast. Melting to your form and discontent with anything less than full coverage. She is almost as big as me, yet when she sleeps she is still a baby to me. I wonder when she is my age and I look at her asleep (if I am so lucky) if I will still see that same form- that baby in her always. Will I remember the way she leisurely nursed as if all my time was for her? I held her constantly, as this was her needs. She was slow to crawl, tentative to walk, but had no problem running. Her brain works fast. She takes in every detail and remembers everything. Quiet at first, she astonishes me with what comes out of her once she opens up. Even our little girls must grow up and we hope we are teaching her the best and being the role model we need to be. Baby, I tell her, don't rush to grow up. Enjoy this time. Enjoy your youth. It will never be this way again. She, as the oldest, as been through the most and seen too much and heard too much. Still she flourishes and we battle wits and I commend and respect her because she is HER.

Little L. Petite and tiny I almost forget she is a Big Girl now and not a baby. After a hard and terrible morning, she asked me to pick her up out of the car and carry her to the classroom as I dropped her off to preschool. She snuggled in like she was the only one and had my world in her hands. I kissed her tiny toes as I convinced her to change her shoes because of the rain. My fashion Diva has such a mind of her own when it comes to getting dressed. Did I battle my mom in such a way? Her outfit perfectly blended in a trendy way, mixing her hand-me-downs with her own clothes in the most fashionable of ways. She was set and ready and cried when I left for work. Tears fall from my eyes sometimes as I too am not quite adjusted to the full-time work/full-time mom thing when I always planned on staying home with my children.

But times change, situations change, economies even change and so we must too change with them and do it with a smile. I am proud of what I do. I know it will benefit them someday although I ache and ache to be back with them living every moment and being their number one. That is now lost and can never be returned. I know what I am doing is best for them, for me. But it still hurts as oftentimes change does.

Little L, the artist, wanted to "change" my bathroom. You know, in all the remodeling done to the house one of the last things on the list was the master bathroom and painting of the bedroom. So it has remained (like so many other things) unfinished for about two years now since the collapse of our "empire". Yes I said it out loud. We had a downfall. I'm still alive. I have learned so much. I can even talk about it. But that is another (long) story.

So, in a mere three minutes she pulled out a horrible Hunter Green paint and decoupage glue from my pre-kids days when I used to actually have talents including crafts and proceeded to paint the bathroom.

Her three minutes took me another two hours to fix (and of course, it will never be completely fixed until the cabinets and counter are refinished or replaced because I may be a mom but not a total miracle worker) and I followed that clean-up with a nice hot shower because really, there wasn't much else to do.

T's intelligence and L's creativity remind me of the biggest parts of me that I do not always now how to control. And so when they do certain things, I am OHSOMAD and ready to teach a lesson but deep down- shhhhh don't let them know yet- I get it.

Tiny D is growing and exploring and learning mischief from his sisters. He can climb from the floor to the chairs and get on the table and dance to the cartoon music. As much as this makes me want to laugh out loud, I know I must put it to a stop before I am cleaning baby brains up and I immediately reprimand him in the way one can discipline a one-year-old and pray he finds something less dangerous to discover. Or less disgusting than the toilet...

My last baby. I was so happy to get my tubes tied, so ready to say never again, I am done. But now that most of my cervix is, well, gone and all that other stuff I cannot have kids in any way ever again and a small (sick?) part of me is sad. I grieve.

I am in a state of excitement and grieving all at once over so many things. That is why I have not been writing. That is why tonight I am not writing well. My mind moves too fast. My body too slow. I don't know when it is appropriate to laugh and when to cry. This also will change with time (or meds) but for now, it is a day by day approach to taking it in and being real while still putting on the game face.

Yup, I said it. I put on the game face sometimes. And I hope I do it well. I hope most of you have no idea which is the real thing and which is the one for show.

I never want to be a downer. I never want to be "that girl" no matter what I go through. No matter what I survive (did you see my purple ribbon added on to the site? speaking of survival... it speaks for all cancers and domestic violence and is my favorite color. talk about having it all!).

I write tonight knowing I am saying things I normally would not.
I write tonight knowing I am not saying much at all.
I know by not saying much sometimes it says a lot.
These things I know to be true.
Like laughter and bubbles and nature's intentions.

I take a break and then return to the blog to write some more. I don't remember my intention in posting this tonight. I don't think I had one.

I hear in the back of my head Peter, Paul and Mary singing.
"Lemon Tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet. But the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat."

I hear Cat Stevens whispering to me.
"I never wanted to be a star. I never wanted to travel far.

Robert Frost says to me:
Two road diverged in a yellow wood and I, I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.

Somewhere else I hear a whisper from Johnny Cash, "I walk the line"

Don't we?

Laura Roppe reminds me "To hold on for just one more day"

And so I will.

Sometimes I have something to say. And sometimes I have something to say about nothing.

Much Ado About Nothing

2008-11-26T00:27:00.000-08:00

So, a month has gone by and I haven't posted a thing on this blog. I have however blogged my brains out on my work site (if you haven't been there lately- shame on you, click the link to the boutique below!) and added some personal writings on my other two blogs.

I got some fantastic news early this month (and still didn't post). Results from my surgery are in. The margins are clear and the doc is pretty certain nothing spread- meaning no further surgery for a while and no further treatment necessary! Yahoo! Who's ass did I kick this year? Cancers. Hmpf.

Yet, I've still had a troubled month and an overworked, overwhelmed mind. I feel like I'm kind of in a mixed state (meaning rambling thoughts covering a deepening depression) which I am vehemently fighting off. I'm even (shock) looking for a psychiatrist to get my meds adjusted after my many years of banning one. Luckily, this will fall under state funding I am eligible for since I still have no health insurance. I am also returning to a chiropractor (http://www.activeposture.com/) and working on getting some of this pain under control. Of course, with everything I have (including arthritis of the spine) it isn't a cure-all but really, really needed. And I'm hoping to finally have some migraine relief. More on that as it goes...

However, if all goes according to plan it looks as though MB might have FINALLY gotten a job- and one with benefits in 90 days so we'll see how that goes. That all however is another long story and my head is not up for it at all.

My sleep is still totally fucked up but I guess that is just a symptom of so many other things. I have gotten (with help) some really long nights of sleep but afterwards I still don't feel "rested" and I am longing for this fatigue to pass now that I have fully recovered from my surgery and it has been over a year since I was pregnant.

The little ones are getting bigger and more mischievous. They surprise me daily with their antics and make me smile with their love for life.

Business is well, going.

Taxes are getting filed to be followed by finally the BIG filing I don't like to talk about but it has to be done and I want it done now. Like everything else, I wonder where I will fit it all in but I know I will because it must be done.

I am in a state where music moves me, little things are big, and my mind is too fast to curl up with a book.

It is raining. Hard, beautiful rain on a cold pre-Thanksgiving night. The last time it rained, a beautiful rainbow found its way outside our bay window. The two little ones were asleep for their nap but I called over to T to take a look and it moved her in such a way she cried and said she had never seen anything so beautiful. Her breath was taken away by this thing that all children know about and draw but in her five years she had yet to see and really take in. This was the real thing- the full round dark rainbow that only shines here every now and then. We got a great couple pictures and cuddled under the blanket on the couch and turned back to watching Hannah Montana. I'm too tired to upload the picture but I'll try and edit the posting another night.

*Here it is*

So, lots and lots of other news. Lots to say. But being one AM and all and the downpour of rain taunting me- I think I'll go to bed...

Insomnia: Part III

2008-10-30T01:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, so....
last night I slept pretty good, considering everything. Pretty good for me at least.

Yet I was still tired today. So tired I could barely think. I contemplated wishing I had the kind of job I could call in sick while the Nanny watched the kids and I slept twelve hours.

This morning, I could not even practically move enough to pour some cereal for the poor children attempting to put on a Ballet for me before I dragged myself into the shower.

I expected tonight as soon as they went out, so would I. But I had a few chores to finish up and I'm about to fold my last load of laundry and would you look at the time?

Ugh. I'm going to get through this in one piece.

I always do.

Insomnia: Part II

2008-10-28T21:26:00.000-07:00

(Hint: Reading Insomnia first would make more sense of this entry...)

Or maybe it is because we know what the reality of the morning and tomorrow brings. And that is what gets in the way of our sleep.

A human can only survive so long without sleep; sleep is necessary like food and water.

So eventually I know, my mind and body and soul will break and sleep will wash over me like the blue waves of Bora Bora.

Eyes so tired they can not read a book, see a computer or watch TV can suddenly pop open when they hit a bed knowing tomorrow brings new challenges to face and old ones to surrender and deal with.

XOXO

Insomnia

2008-10-27T23:36:00.000-07:00

Deep breath.

Anxiety sends shivers down my spine. Nights and nights of sleep deprivation, worry, and pain have left me in a thick fog.

Pain not only keeps me from sleeping and awakens me during the night, but distracts me throughout my day. Thoughts of things undone burden me at times when I am unable to tend to them. Taxes due, unfinished inventory, appointments to make and attend, phone calls not returned, things to post, a dishwasher to unload, laundry piling up, etc. We all have a clear picture of our unfinished tasks.

My personal life is in shambles and my finances are sickening.

I worry about the children.

Not only do I feel emotionally destroyed, but my appetite is at its best a minimum and what does go in rarely wants to stay. Migraines come and go as they please. Muscle spasms- probably due to unusual movements of doing too much in different ways to avoid the pain after surgery- seem to not be healing.

I have no health insurance.
My children have no health insurance.

I try and keep the most positive, upbeat attitude and demeanor possible. But inside I feel the monster ripping up my insides and at night I lie there writhing in pain no amount of medicine seems to cure. Subside a little perhaps, but no better than that.

My coffee pot is broken.
And that is the least of the worries.

Balled up disgust comes out as the random leg cramp. When I do sleep, I suffer from disturbing dreams and nightmares I am aware I am having, but cannot awaken from.

I long for a lengthy, uninterrupted, healthy, healing and refreshing sleep.

Almost midnight and I am not even there yet. My day starts in just under seven hours. I never needed much sleep, but night after night of rarely any at all (and certainly no actual good sleep), I have no idea how many hours it would take to get me to the place where I need to be.

The problems never go away. If not these, than that. So really I should not focus on those "things" as being reasons.

My eyes are tired and this computer screen seems far away. A lot of things seem very, very far away right now and others seem too close for my liking.

I know I will get into my bed and at least lie there in an attempt to rest my soul even if my mind does not cooperate.

Insomnia has made me beyond mad before. Back in the day before I even new there were things to take to help. And then, even after.
Night after night would blend into some sort of dream. Sometimes it would be days or even weeks before a real sleep would come. Even when they started me on meds and sleeping pills this did not change. The hallucinations become so vivid after enough time. Sometimes you feel as if you are sleeping with your eyes open in odd places. Time passes unusually. Things happen that you are unsure are really happening and will never really know if they did.

Sometimes our stress leads us to oversleeping and an unwillingness to wake up and move on. I am not in that place. If I just go through the motions everyday, maybe something right will happen. Tempers are short when we are tired. We don't look well. Eventually others notice. They comment as if we do not know. As if there is something we can do about it.

Advice is given unwanted and freely like when you are pregnant in a public place and some stranger comments about what you should be eating regularly or how to wear the right shoes to support the baby. As if someone with any common sense does not know these things. Whether or not we do everything perfectly and correctly, for the most part we already know. And when we don't, probably we are reading about it, asking, looking it up.

Sleep.

I long for you.

I feel your blanket covering my cold, small body like nothing else can. I shiver thinking about it.

We want each other in a comforting way.

The mind spins so fast we cannot even concentrate long enough to sleep sometimes, some weeks.

Like a bowl of hot soup, I know it will feel good and I should feel better after.

Such chaos surrounds me and my game face is plastered on. I do not know what I feel.

Exhausted. Three syllables that don't do true justice when we truly feel it. Exhausted is not just a night of up late talking or too much wine the night before or even a hard day of work or dealing with our children. It is a true physical sensation that only coincides with a lifetime of sleep deprivation. Fatigue after weeks of lacking proper sleep hurts our brain, compromising our decision making and ability to do our best. That is exhaustion.

So many word are overused- or should I say misused? As they are some kind of verb or adjective to describe something simple when actually their meanings are much more complex.

TBC

Where did she go?

2008-10-25T23:05:00.000-07:00

Where has she been they ask?

Or perhaps they have not noticed that I have not been to this place in about six weeks.

It is interesting how the time flies by as we age.

If you read them all, you would have noticed that I have been around some. A little Live Journaling and a little Fresh Picking but not really a lot of writing about me and life. Have I been avoiding because I am afraid my flowing thoughts might put words on this page I might not want to see? Or did I just not want to talk about it? And what really is "so busy, you know, and all"?

And still I am not saying anything at all yet.

If we made a chart of our life that included everyday we would every live and could put a bright dot on what we believe would make it to the top one hundred weeks in our existence and a dark dot on what we believe would be the toughest/hardest/saddest, this week would have a dark dot.

And I don't say that a lot because I am one of those people who truly believe that we are thrown obstacles to overcome regularly and that is what makes us who we are and who we become. But weeks of recovery and hardship finally led to a spiral of difficulty that was not just an obstacle, but in fact another discovery (light bulb on) that we were not looking for at all. Discoveries and realizations during these obstacles along with a feeling of helplessness that no matter what we can do in the face of this hardship we CANNOT fix or change it and have to sit somewhat on the sideline while we do what we can as we watch something painfully crumble.

So after one too many sleepless nights and anxiety, I finally reside on the couch to lose myself in a movie and go to bed. Vow to do nothing but, once the kids were all down. And so what did I pick? Bridge to Terabithia.
This reminds me of weeks such as these as a child when I would finally want some ending to the tough week when I would pick up the book and read it one more time. Because we cannot always make sense of things and the reasons for tragedies and hardships are never clear in the midst of them. And I know when it nears the end and the tears tremble uncontrollably down my face, I can just say they are for this wonderfully tragic story.

I just don't exactly say which story they are chasing.

Ecclesiastes Chapter III

2008-09-08T22:43:00.000-07:00

I debated going to bed like I should and drinking a glass of wine and writing. Guess which won? Maybe I am more upset than I should be or maybe I am just so in denial and shock I need to write because that is what gets me going, gets me through. I'm so private and different in my shell but my writing opens me up. I guess only another writer or musician could understand exactly how that works but somehow it works for us.

One thing I really don't talk a lot about is my belief in God, my views on religion, my interpretation of the bible. Sure I will get into a good debate with anyone over anything great and speak my mind, but that's different than talking about it. So sometimes I write about it. Not so much directly, but as a writer. Which I guess is one of the things God intended or at least enabled me to do, to become.

And so, as I have done before from so many other writers, I quote:

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck
up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build
up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth?
I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men
to be exercised in it.
He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end. I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life. And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the
good of all his labour, it is the gift of God. I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it: and God doeth it, that men should fear before him.
That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past. And moreover I saw under the sun the place of judgment, that wickedness was there; and the place of righteousness, that iniquity was there. I said in mine heart, God shall judge the righteous and the wicked: for
there is a time there for every purpose and for every work. I said in mine heart concerning the estate of the sons of men, that God might manifest them, and that they might see that they themselves are beasts. For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them:
as the one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that
a man hath no preeminence above a beast: for all is vanity. All go unto one place; all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spirit of the beast that goeth downward to the earth?
Wherefore I perceive that there is nothing better, than that a man should
rejoice in his own works; for that is his portion: for who shall bring
him to see what shall be after him?
And so I end quote.

What now, what next in our life to look upon to make us stronger to form our
being? Seems so silly to wonder why when there never is a why to the way- or so it
has always seemed to me.I believe in things we can't see. Sometimes its good things and sometimes it is not. Sometimes we only see what we want and sometimes there are things we cannot see.(side note- why can't I fucking unblock the font? Stupid smarter computer. Or did I unblock it? Hmmm... Anyway.)

I am a little angry tonight. A little pissed off. A lot sad. Even more so in shock. And I feel- get this- ashamed for having these feelings.

I had my biopsy today and things were worse than anticipated and so in one week from today I'm going to go to the hospital and have my entire cervix remove. Press Delete Here.

I feel guilty because things were worse and maybe a little on the bad side (to me at least) but not bad in comparison to the possibilities. I feel guilty because so many people have much worse news and actually have something to be sad about. I spent the earlier half of the day rejoicing and thinking "oh is that all?" In some sort of stupor, denial, drunken-off-news-state-of-being.

1. It's just pre-cancerous cells, otherwise known only as Stage 0 Cancer. Get that 0 there? 0.

2. It's just my cervix- I am thirty-one, married, and have three beautiful and perfectly healthy children. I don't need any more. Was not planning on having anymore.

3. Thank you God for giving me Little D so much sooner than anticipated. I could have missed out on such a beautiful thing if we would have waited as we were trying to. See you really do know what is best. What is to come. And why we deal with it when we do.

Which then later turned to

4. Omigodyouareremovingmywhatandwhy and how exactly does that work?

5. Um, Insurance please?

and finally

6. (Pearl Jam/Drum roll here) I'm still alive.

And I will see my children get older and wiser and bigger than me so what do I have to complain about? Take the damn thing. I don't need it anymore. If I was not trying to run, you know, a business and all and like, I didn't have three young children I would encourage you to take the other half (the Uterus) with it now instead of later.

The doctor held my hand and acknowledged this was scary and his eyes promised he would take care of me and I lightly skirted around the real subject and started asking every question but. I danced on home (well, limped a little the biopsy fucking hurt and yes it still hurts why am I sitting in this chair- eat and go to bed already). I went through my night. I eventually let things sink in and then I got slightly angry. And so the story goes and so here I am. And here I go. Off to eat. To bed. To cuddle with two or three of my offspring while I pray I sleep through the cramping and try not to think about what Monday brings. For there is a time and a purpose and I have to believe that and so I do.

This Week In History

2008-09-06T21:49:00.000-07:00

So, it's been a week of new beginnings, inner discoveries, growth, change, and the usual hardship.

One ending leads to another beginning and again change has occurred before we even realized it. Perhaps before we accepted it, but yet it still comes.

T started Kindergarten, L moved up to to the "big girl" classroom, and tomorrow D will turn one.

I remember one year ago today. At this moment I was counting the minutes of the contractions as the regularly came after months of denial that this time was coming. After weeks of full bed-rest. After days of denial turned to joy turned to fear, the time was coming. And just like the previous two labors it was exactly thirty-seven weeks to the day and I knew this was it. I also knew I had time. I had the night.

I did not sleep at all, although I knew I should. I knew I would need the energy for the long hard labor to come- considering it would probably not be any easier than the previous two. Little did I know it would be even harder. I lied quietly on the couch, alternating between that and the rocking chair when the contractions were too tough to handle. I wanted everyone else to sleep through the night because I knew a long day waited ahead.

I had the TV on random channels because I could not focus on any one thing between the bouts of pain. The lights were off in case I was able to doze off here and there, which I was not. I cried. I cried because I knew none of my best friends would be there this time. I cried because my marriage had been in such chaos (little did I know it would get harder before it got better). Tears fell knowing this was different. Even though I had the same amount of time to prepare, I did not prepare. Money was tight. Everything I had for this baby boy was given to me out of the love and kindness of others- some who barely knew me.

The days before my mom and sister got me some small necessities like beanies and diapers and even a little blue brush in anticipation that this little gift would also come with a headfull of hair. Only one little thing was purchased by me in the entirety of the time I was pregnant. On the way to the hospital to get rehydrated one of the times I stopped at my favorite nearby boutique and bought a tiny preemie sized beanie, onesie and pants knowing this baby too would be early. Little did I know he would present himself at 7 lbs 12 oz. However, like the others he quickly lost weight and was down to 6 lbs exactly in less than a week and his "coming home outfit" was the only thing that fit just right for the first few weeks.

I was thankful my oldest daughter had started her new preschool a few days before. I was strong in my decision that my younger daughter should wait another few weeks before starting preschool for the first time so she did not associate it with the new baby coming- should he present himself early like they did (and he did). I was glad that day I took myself off bed rest to spend the day alone with her and my mom to buy her a new pair of shoes (her feet had grown) and had lunch together at our favorite pizza place. Little did I know months later I would be opening a store across the street from that same pizza place specializing in baby stuff! The surprises that are brought to us!

That night as the tears fell out of sorrow of lost friendships, strained relationships, financial hardship and fear of "would I be able to love this surprise little boy and support him?" I felt something inside me strengthen.

Things were going to change. It was not going to be smooth or easy but things had to move in a new direction and I began to gain a confidence I had not felt my entire pregnancy. I suddenly did not care if I had tiny blue socks or a co-sleeper or anything material. I realized that this was real, this baby was coming, he was a boy that I would raise to be a man to be proud of.

By three AM the contractions were starting to get to me and I got in the bath. I sat in the water until it cooled staring at my huge belly for the final time. This would be the last time I would see a bump in my belly and wonder if it was an elbow or a knee. I would never again feel the tiny kicks inside or hiccups and hold my head up proud knowing I was hard at work "growing people". I also realized soon I would not be constantly throwing up and crazier than normal.

I got out of the bath, dressed for the hospital and finished packing my bag. By five o'clock I awoke MB to get ready and my mom to come watch the kids and soon after we pulled out of the dark driveway listening to the Mikey show and arrived at the hospital for them to confirm "yes she's back and yes this time doctor said go ahead and get her an epidural- the baby is not waiting any longer".

Twelve hours later I was just getting to nine centimeters. Exhausted and in pain beyond words, I felt the shivers of transition begin. Sometime after nine that night, after hours of pushing and a special crew of delivery staff awaiting because of the complications, a tiny, squirmy baby boy was vacuumed out of me elbow first, head up after too many hours of labor and only two or so hours of pushing. I still don't think my pelvic bone ever healed.

As the morphine needle was pushed into my IV, I held my baby boy for the first time and knew I loved him before I ever accepted how much I loved him. Immediately he took to my breast and snuggled in for a meal. He has been the perfect baby ever since. After two wild girls who had their own agenda, this baby fell right into our crazy routine and made his place in our family immediately. He'll always be the most special surprise I have ever had and when he giggles with his beautiful sisters I know I am doing something right in the world.

Tomorrow we will celebrate the year we have had together with him, but only I alone will celebrate the year and thirty-seven weeks we have shared together.

I feel different emotions as I proudly walk my five-year-old daughter to her Kindergarten classroom. She clings to me as if she wants me there but I know after I leave she is confident and strong because I raised her to be. I never let her see the tears fall down my face as I got her bag ready for the first day of school and carefully lay out the outfit the night before. I held on to something special for months so she would have it for the first day no matter how tight money would be (little did I know how tight it would get!). I wonder how many moms are walking away each morning this week feeling a little loss, yet a little proud, just like me? I know some are not as emotional; I know some are.

I raised her to be proud and strong and confident. To speak without fear (although now we have to work on the back-talk as a result). She sings and learns and is brilliant like her parents which scares the shit out of me. I know ignorance is bliss and was always jealous of those less "there". Yes I sound like a stuck-up bitch saying that but you know its true so shove it! We will battle throughout our life. Our agreements and disagreements will be bountiful. One day she'll have her first kiss, her first love and her first heartbreak and I will be there for all of them.

She is the reason I made it this far as she is my firstborn. She came out hand first, head-up and she is always reaching out in need of something I hope I can help her find. I won't give her what she wants. but instead give her the skills she needs to do it herself and she will.

L is my little girl/big girl. Sometimes she too forgets which she is. At three she attempts to conquer the world, while still attempting to retain some sort of "baby" behavior. She has no fear. She sings, dances, falls and jumps right up. Smiling and excited she just as quickly will scream and fall to the ground kicking.

As the middle child, there is always a special place for her. I love them all equally but different. Their ages and personalities enforce that. She will never be left out. Never be forgotten in a crowd or left behind in a group or not heard when speaking. She is also strong. I know both girls inside like myself sometimes have a doubt about what is right and what is wrong but they always persevere and survive and I love them for that.

Her blue eyes pierce right through my heart, and her tiny curls are just beginning to form so much later than her siblings. But she is different and proud and artistic. She dances to music she can hear wherever she goes. She does not give a damn what anyone thinks, nor should she. At times she is quiet and snugly and then quickly reminds you of her fiestiness at the first chance she gets. Her imagination is strong and her will stronger. She was born with the cord around her neck and she fought that off too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVam-fshUgw

Listen. And not to forget D. He is the original start of this posting. The song may be about daughters but think about your little ones in general and it fits them all. Listen. Listen again. And then hear the song.

There is something about this post about my three babies on the eve of the youngest turning one (technically twenty-three more hours but we will celebrate in less than twelve) that helps take my mind of the other things that matter in my life so much right now.

I have so much fear and anxiety and confusion. I am being open and honest and guess what? I will be okay for doing so. I disappear sometimes. So what? I don't always talk about what is really wrong. And? Sometimes I talk and talk about me. Sometimes it is important and sometimes it is just chatter to avoid what I really need to talk about. The point being? I am just me.

I had my babies and intended to stay home and raise them and be "my kid's mom". But things have happened and changed and I am not home twenty-four hours a day for them like SO MANY other moms. Some don't care but I know a lot of them, like me do. They want to be there for it all but they cannot be there for it all and take care of them. All of our choices, decisions and actions have consequences and we just do the best we can. Yeah, being a working mom SUCKS even if you absolutely love what you do and are fabulous at it (oh and I am fabulous at it)- you are not a full-time "mom". But it is what you have to do to do- the BEST for your kids- and you have to what is BEST for them no matter how it feels for you.

I have to be strong. Independent eventually. Teach my children what has been taught me and more. They too will teach me. No matter how successful I become (and dammit I hope I become successful in my business also) I will always be MOM first. And I'd like to be a damn good wife too if circumstances are right. And fuck after all this I hope it is right because I am giving it my all.

We have to sometimes do it all and still be good at it all. We don't always have the choice. For those of you out there that have a choice, I hope you choose to raise your babies yourself. And for those of you who don't- I hope you gain the confidence I am trying to find and realize by doing what you are doing you are being the BEST MOM and it is okay. It is different and sometimes it does suck when you miss out on things but never let your children suffer because you think its better to be with them than to take care of them however you have too. It hurts me, it pains me every time I walk out that door. But I took every step in ensuring the love they get when they are away from me is the next best thing to my love and I know they won't resent me for this after they get used to it. When they are adults they will understand I did what I had to do to ensure our stability and THAT IS WHAT IS BEST FOR THEM.

I believe in God and I believe no matter how angry I get, he would never give me more than I could handle. So he's raining it down on me. Shit it is pouring in every direction of my life and those around me. I am going to get something out of this. These experiences can only make me stronger because I am not letting them break me down. I might not want to talk about them but I will not let them get me.

I am surrounded by light and friends and love and family even in the ugliest of times and there must be lessons learned and lessons taught and I will make it through another week in my history. And that is the story for tonight.

Answers to a Prayer

2008-08-24T00:02:00.001-07:00

Mr. God,
Me instead?
Thank you.
No seriously- no sarcasm.
I'm young and tough
and it does not scare me.
This is simple and early
and will be taken care of.
Thank you for putting it
somewhere else.
I CAN like so many other woman
Beat the odds.
Leave my daddy, my family alone.
I'm a fighter
damnit
and I can do it.
Thank you.

Mom, Dad

2008-08-23T23:36:00.000-07:00

Mom, Dad- I'm Sorry.

I'm not supposed to be where I am.

Mom, Dad- I'm Sorry.

I snuggle my baby boy

My breast no longer nourishes him

I feed him his milk from a cup

He's full now but is that enough?

Mom, Dad- I'm Sorry.

I cannot make it on my own.

Mom, Dad- I'm Sorry.

You raised me right,

You did your best.

What happens next

We can only guess.

My daughter cries

In the middle of the night.

I pick her up,

I hold her tight.

She throws up

And I clean up.

Mom, Dad- I'm sorry.

My life is in distress

And I am a mess

Does it hurt you

I can only guess?

I told you news

Maybe I should have kept to myself.

Words like these seem so final

But I promise you guys

I will take care of us.

Mom, Dad- I'm sorry.

I need your help

Can't do this alone

The word is scary

and my life is hairy

I thought I had it all taken care of

But I know now

I am not where I am

Supposed to be

No don't whoas me!

Mom, Dad- I'm sorry.

I'll take care of this I promise.

Three babies depend on me and

You raised me to be a strong woman

That I'll be

I'll give back to you

What else can I promise you?

Oh, no.

Words.

Words are just words.

But for real.

Mom, Dad- I'm sorry.

Stage 0 isn't the end

I'm so lucky I still have friends

They will be there

Even if it is not fair

to them.

It'll all be over soon

I'll be back to my old moon.

Mom, Dad- I'm sorry.

Thirty-One and three kids later.

I should be better able

But I'm not and I have done my best

What happens next

Is only a guess.

Mom, Dad- Thank you.

Baby cries

I might sigh

It might sound mean

When I scream

I am only doing the best I can

With what I have

My three babies mean the world

For them I have taken more than I probably should

I want to be

a family

I want to be

free

My apron strings are loosening.

I told him all these things.

My little girl wakes up again.

I put her back to sleep once more.

I look back and then

Realize all the shut doors.

Mom, Dad- I'm sorry.

I am doing my best this time to do it right.

Won't give up without a fight.

You know I'm strong.

Never meant to do you wrong.

I could leave and do this on my own.

But you are my world and my home.

And so until you say

Otherwise

I'll be here

Surprise

Doing my best

No matter what others think

Mom, Dad- I'm sorry.

I hope I did not disappoint you.

I hope you are proud of me.

The things I do.

I hope you see.

But still.

Sometimes I think I should be more

and standing tough

On my own floor

and for that I say

Mom, Dad- I'm sorry.

I love you both

Hang in there tight.

We love you with all our might.

This isn't a silly rhyme to me

But something from reality.

Wish I was more than I am

But who you made me

DAMN

I know how proud, how you see

But for everything still,

Mom, Dad- I'm sorry.

Give me time

I'll make it right.

Eventually I will shine

Brighter than the moonlight.

Final Thought

2008-07-09T00:28:00.000-07:00

Baa Baa Black Sheep Have You Any Wool?

Yes Ma'am, Yes Ma'am, Three Bags Full.

Is that what is over my eyes?

Heart

2008-07-08T23:15:00.000-07:00

Come on and take a, take another little piece of my heart now baby
You know you got it,
Shit,
Cause it makes you feel good

Janis Joplin

Do you think that when a little part of you dies, your heart gets harder or softer?

Night Falls Fast

2008-07-08T22:11:00.000-07:00

Night Falls Fast, yes it does Mrs. Jamison.

But dawn sometimes falls faster.

My stomach rumbles. My heart rattles. You all said you would be here with me, yet I am eerily alone.

Crickets twirp in the red sky that is supossed to be a black blanket to keep us cozy.

I sigh. There is no one awake to hear me. Shhhh. Don't wake them.

Everything is changing. Moving so fast. My mind spins. You call me crazy. You don't remember me crazy. None of you even know me anymore.

False accusations and cruel words. Are your intentions such or is life just that fucked up right now? The sickness. The pain. Yet we go on.

I come from a line of strong women and I too, am a strong woman. But sometimes, I cry. I cry until I shake. I used to turn down the lights as if that would make it less real and the next day I would say "I feel better after my good laugh" because I DID NOT CRY. But now I admit it, I cry. And you know what? I don't really feel any better.

Who is the final judge and why does everyone think they have the "in" on him? Who is to say what is right or wrong? What happened to support? Those closest to me have failed me in that way. Betrayed me with their put downs. Have I put you all down in some way without knowing? Have I disappointed you with my family and my dreams? Supporting your dreams was always a priority but I feel stepped on lately. Locked out of my own life.

My three year old screams in Terror. MOMMY. She shakes and cries and I hold her until she is calm. She can even feel my agnst tonight. I have failed her.

I want this dream, this store, this new life. I long for my old one where I had more time for boo boos and kisses and I cry again just thinking about it. We cannot have it all. I have always known that.

So many changes. So many mistakes and ambitions and failures. What is right and what is wrong and what happened to just being at someone's side through it all?

I have raised three kids alone and started a business in the last seven months all while my heart was breaking with so many, so many things. Am I that bad of a person? Do you guys really feel that way or are you just treating me that way because you don't want to look at your own life and disappointments?

One more question, Mr. God

2008-07-07T08:46:00.000-07:00

So, I thank you. You answered my prayers and it is not the big C. That stupid doctor should have kept his mouth shut. He had no right to diagnose something like that from just an MRI when he is a back doctor. Not an oncologist.

And I thank all of you that have prayed.

But, God? One more question?

He is not doing well. When the Patriarch of such a large extended family is down, everyone kind of collapses beneath. Sure we work harder to compensate but our spirits are broken because his is.

What can I do God? That's my question. What can I, little me, do?

Dear God

2008-06-23T13:39:00.000-07:00

Dear God,

We do not always agree you and I but I think we have a decent repertoire. Okay, so sometimes I yell at you and get angry. But I'm only human. And I don't ask for much. At least not material things. I pray for health and comfort and survival tactics. I have been poor and barely able to feed my kids for over a year and a half and I have not asked for things. Just survival.

I have not used a credit card in over two years. I almost lost my house, my husband, and more. But I did not ask you for any special favors.

I am asking you now.

You need to inform the doctors that they have made a GRAVE error. It is not CANCER. The mass is just due to the childhood tuberculosis and it can be taken care of and everything is okay.

My daddy will watch my children grow up. He will be at their college graduations and their weddings. This will bring joy to all of our lives.

You do not need him. Cancer does not need him. We do however and this is my request and prayer to you. Please fix this and make it okay. I will not give up. I take whatever you throw my way and live with the assumption it will make me stronger. But I will not lose my dad. Not now. No, not now.

My positive thinking will radiate around him tomorrow when he returns to the doctor and everything is going to be okay. Right God? You can do this favor for me, can't you? Whatever you need from me, whatever I can do to be a better person you can have.

You gave me three wonderful, beautiful (inside and out) children but this is not a barter. You cannot take my dad in return. Tell the doctors it was just an error and there is no cancer and I'll owe you big time.

Please God. I just want happiness and health for all those around me. I don't need meaningless shit, I need my family. He is my world and sunshine even at his most difficult. I am the closest to him and him to me and after all he has done for others in his lifetime please give him the chance to do more.

Give us all the chance.

Dear God, I pray to you. Please hear my prayers. Amen.

Top Ten Reasons Life is like a load of laundry

2008-06-17T23:37:00.000-07:00

Life and Laundry have a lot in common.

1. It's never ending
2. Some stains come out and some leave their marks forever as reminders
3. No matter how often we work on it, there is always more to do
4. Washing it is easier than putting it away
5. It doesn't always fit right on a hanger and so it gets shoved in a drawer. In the back.
6. Again, there is always more to do even when you think you are finished.
7. It is impossible to put it all away all the time
8. It can be heavy at times and light at others
9. Everyone uses a different method, detergent, etc. yet the goal is the same.
10. It can be both euphoric and depressing simultaneously

My Mama Said

2008-06-12T22:10:00.000-07:00

Mama said there would be days like this, there would be days like this my Mama said.

Shirelles

The uncertainty of each day is both what keeps us going and what keeps us from wanting to go. Swirling confusion can get in the way if we let it. People try and knock us down with their negativity and disrespect.

GOOD BYE

While others are Angels in our lives, guiding us and cheering us on. Believing in what we believe whether or not we are wearing our masks.

Each new day brings on new complications and new things to be proud of. It is so true that we learn something new every day. Sometimes it is good and sometimes it is not, but we do learn it if we open our eyes.

We cannot let the things that are bad get in the way of our dreams and our family. Washing the blood off someone elses hands (literally) brings us up to another level of being. In the next moment we can get brought down by ugly words. Don't let it get to you. Don't let it be a fallen tree in your path you cannot cross.

If something is in the way,

walk around it

jump over it

swim through it

plunge ahead

but never, never stop.

It is life's uncertainties of circumstance that makes us who we are. Every day we live a life only we can control. Even the things we cannot control, we control how we react even when we feel out of control.

Every night, the kids and I say the Serenity Prayer.

Dear God,

Please Grant Us the Serenity to Accept the Things we Cannot Change

The Courage to Change the Things we Can

And the Wisdom to Know the Difference

and we add in our blessings, thanks, or other prayers followed by our AMEN.

There is something out there that is bigger than all of us. Let's embrace it and hold our heads high even when our hearts are heavy for our hearts will not be heavy every day and we should give our thanks for each and every lesson and hardship so we become stronger, better human beings.

And we will succeed.

Call me crazy, but I never doubted for one minute that I would not succeed and look what is happening in spite of all the hardships I have endured- especially those in the past two years exactly.

There is days like this but there are also days like that.

Like I said, if God wanted us - he would have taken us by now. We must have some other purpose because damn it he won't let us go with him. Let's grab the here and now. Its hard sometimes, its easy others but its always there for the grabbing.

Sometimes I do want to go where everybody knows my name and sometimes I don't. I loved more than anything being a wife and a mother and staying home with my kids. I have to move to something new that also works. I can still be a wife and a mother and be good at all three if I want to.

It is all about me and that's alright.

Death Be Not Proud

2008-06-01T22:11:00.000-07:00

Death Be Not Proud: John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so:

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death; not yet canst thou kill me.

From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be,

Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow;

And soonest our best men with thee do go-

Rest of their bones and souls' delivery!

Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die!

V: Elegy: Edna St. Vincent Millay

Let them bury your big eyes

In the secret earth securly,

Your thin fingers, and your fair,

Soft, indefinite-couloured hair,-

All of these in some way, surely,

From the secret earth shall rise;

Not for these I sit and stare,

Broken and bereft completely:

Your young flesh that sat so neatly

On your little bones will sweetly

Blossom in the air.

But your voice . . . never the rushing

Of a river underground,

Not the rising of the wind

In the tress before the rain,

Not the woodcock's watery call,

Not the note the white-throat utters,

Not the feet of children pushing

Yellow leaves along the gutters

In the blue and bitter fall,

Shall content my musing mind

For the beauty of that sound

That in no new way at all

Never will be heard again.

Sweetly through the sappy stalk

Of the vigourous weed,

Holding all it held before,

Cherished by the faithful sun,

On and on eternally

Shall your altered fluid run,

Bud and bloom and go to seed:

But your singing days are done;

But the music of your talk;

Never shall the chemistry

Of the secret earth restore.

All your lovely words are spoken.

Once the ivory box is broken,

Beats the golden bird no more.

XVI: Edna St. Vincent Millay

The doctor asked her what she wanted done

With him, that could not lie there many days.

And she was shocked to see how life goes on

Even after death, in irritating ways;

And mused how if he had not died at all

'Twould have been easier-then there need not be

The stiff disorder of a funeral

Everywhere, and the hideous industry,

And crowds of people calling her by name

And questioning her, she'd never seen before,

But only watching by his bed once more

And sitting silent if a knocking came . . .

She said at length, feeling the doctor's eyes,

"I don't know what you do exactly when a person dies."

Because I Could Not Stop for Death: Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death,

He kindly stopped for me;

The carriage held but just ourselves

And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,

And I had put away

My labor, and my leisure too,

For his civility.

We passed the school where the children played,

Their lessons scarcely done;

We passed the fields of gazing grain,

We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed

A swelling of the ground;

The roof was scarcely visible,

The cornice but a mound.

Since then 't is centuries; but each

Feels shorter than the day

I first surmised the horses' heads

Were toward eternity.

O Captain! My Captain!: Walt Whitman

O captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done;

The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting

While follow eyes the steady kneel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O Heart! heart! heart!

Leave you not the little spot,

Where on the deck my captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O captain! my captain! rise up and hear the bells:

Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for you the bugle trills;

For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores a crowding:

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

O captain! dear father!

This arm I push beneath you;

It is some dream that on the deck,

You've fallen cold and dead.

3
My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will:

But the ship, the ship is anchor'd safe, its voyage closed and done;

From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won:

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with silent tread,

Walk the spot my captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

It is What We Make of It, Right?

2008-05-18T23:09:00.000-07:00

So, writing tonight in my other journal I couldn't stop the following from running through my mind.

Featuring...... Robert Frost!

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

That was the first poem I memorized, you know? The first real adult one anyway. I guess I was probably 9 or 10 or some weird age where I should not be so into Robert Frost, but I was and I memorized it and I remember reading it out loud to the class, by memory for some reason. And being proud. The second was a much sadder one that I had memorized. I must have been a little older- closer to 11 or so when the first darkness began. I think of this to tonight. She was of course manic depressive and therefore impressive...

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.

So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned

With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.

Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.

A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,

A formula, a phrase remains,- but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,-

They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled

Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.

More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave

Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;

Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.

I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

And so that's all for tonight. Later.

2008-05-16T22:51:00.000-07:00

I cannot stand those who do not take control for their own actions. It is unhealthy to justify one's actions and anger by blaming others. Putting another person down and/or name calling is not adult behavior and should not be tolerated by anyone.

Life is short. It can be good. We have that right. And damnit, I deserve it because I give it.

2008-04-02T23:08:00.000-07:00

I go to take a sip of my Sauvingnon Blanc and notice the blood still on my hands through the glass. I have to take a few sips before I can wash it off. The lime scented soap smells old and unattractive and I wish I could buy more. Instead I added water and cheap soap to try and find the right combination that can only be bought in a store that I can no longer afford to shop in.

I really can no longer afford to shop. But I have a warm bed and loving people surrounding me and stuff really is just stuff. I have my books. Someday I will even get around to reading them all again and indulging in new ones. My children will grow older and time will be found and I will be lost without them and long for the days when they were younger and times were harder.

Clutter surrounds me inside this home that I have known for the past ten years. Ten years of cleaning leading to ten years of accumulating and I look. I look and I wonder how it started and how to start fixing it. I wonder when. I know how. I do not have to wonder how to fix the clutter.

I wonder how do good people get cancer and brain tumors and bad people go on and on? I wonder why the bodies autoimmune system sucks one persons body and leaves another alone? I wonder a lot of things. A lot of things I don't wonder I know. Or I just don't fucking care.

He said he needed help. They both said they need help and they want help but I have heard so much from them I do not believe they will get help. I am not there yet. They have given me no reason to. They disappoint me and scare me and take care of me all at the same time. They are frustrated by me and annoyed and then love me more than anything in the world. I hold on to what I can and am learning to let go of what I must. I try and let less tears fall.

The less crying makes me wonder if I am growing. Growing up? Growing numb? Or going back? Far to the place I once was for many years... The place where things like this didn't touch me and love was a notion for fools.

I dread the morning chaos that is to be tomorrow. I long for a night to numb the pain and pass out only to awaken on my own terms to do what I want with the day. I spent weeks on bedrest agonizing and crying, frustrated. We humans make no sense.

I want to stay up late and dance alone to music with my curtains open and not care. I want to sing loud and not awaken anyone. I long to be tired and curl up in my big bed with all of my kids early and stay there all night. I am conflicted and confused and confident all at the same time. I try and fill my mind with trivial thoughts such as what I might wear tomorrow and will I be on time to anything and what will I actually get done?

My other mind is screaming questions that have meaning and purpose if only at the moment or for the moment. Will this work out? Will he grow up? Did The Other One stop bleeding? Will there be hospital visits and work for me? Who will pick the kids up from school tomorrow? Is it necessary to have such expensive parking when those of us using it are obviously not in good situations? Do I have time to get to the store? Will blue-eyes continue having night terrors? Is the baby constipated? And do I still have thrush?

Are my best friends okay or just pretending to be? Do we all wear the mask and wear it well? Is happiness a real feeling? Does it only last seconds or just to those of us prone to our moods? Who loves me and who is sick of me? Who calls me out of duty or curiosity and who calls because they want to? Why does going to the dentist cost so much money?

I wonder if I make sense to you. I care and I don't. I'm passionate and curious and intelligent. I feel forgetful and stupid like I have got this all wrong. I wonder if I am a bother and I wonder if I even care. Some of my doors are open and some are closed. Once they were all closed. Am I making progress or just going through the motions?

I came home the other day, both overwhelmed and frustrated. I am trying not to smoke, not buying cigarettes. I broke down sobbing over something I don't even remember. Maybe its because it is late or maybe because it is something that did not really matter. I weeded the area around the trash cans with my bare hands. I broke all my nails and put sores on my fingertips. I cried hysterically as I pulled the greenery from the soft soil. My tears slowed as I finished and I felt accomplished. The physical pain was trivial in comparison. I write and I think back. This happened two days ago and I do not remember why I was so hysterical. I came back into the house and the baby was crying.

My husband was here for his visitation and I did not leave a bottle. I was scatterbrained and upset. My head hurt from the tears. He came an hour earlier than expected but it was suddenly over an hour later.

I talked briefly to an old friend. She said good-bye to me for an entire four years after over twenty-something years of friendship and then she appeared again at a time when I hope we can both do each other good and help one another through times like these. I hung up the phone, baby at my breast and proceeded to sleep for an entire two hours.

Except, I had horrible nightmare-ish lucid dreams which I attributed to a conversation with one of my best friends the night before. I could not awaken and I knew I needed too. I cried in my dream and I eventually woke up crying. Although visitation hours were to be over by the time I crawled out of bed, he held me while I cried and left me alone to shower and find myself while he put the kids to bed for me as I was in no shape to do so. Why weren't things like this before?

I believe in it all at one moment and the next I laugh at the promises and believe them to be just a farce to win back the life we once had. I don't know what to believe mostly. I miss talking to my trusted therapist. My longest relationship ever with one therapist. Over four years and considering I have been in therapy sixteen years I am amazed. And then the new insurance comes and laughs and doesn't want to pay. I cannot pay out of pocket. She says to come anyway. I can't. Or at least I have not yet. I see another one on the side, like a cheater. Its not the same. It won't ever be the same again in a lot of ways.

This story began with the blood that needed to be washed off. I worry. I picture in my head the bleeding and I argue once again with God. We have that sort of relationship. I feel if he is going to come back into my life, we should be able to talk however. I mentioned that in my last meeting with my favorite Deacon and he agreed. If we can't disagree with God, than what sort of relationship do we really have with him? I think I need the Deacon now. I wish I could go to Mother's Group tomorrow.

But tomorrow is school drop-off and domestic violence therapy. Its Family Justice Court and Famiy Court Mediation. Its finding my way around a downtown I once was totally confused and afraid of but now walk around confident. I am no better; I am no worse. No one can take anything from me because I have nothing to give them in that way.

My mind drifts. I want the baby to have his own room and my little girl to have a big girl bed. I want the remodel finished. And then I feel foolish and selfish because no truck went through my house. Because my kids are healthy (for kids and all...) and wise and beautiful. I know beautiful people with beautiful families. I am so lucky in so many ways. Sure I complain and bitch but I know how things really are. I never forget and I never look over.

Good Night.

From the mouth of Babes

2008-03-31T23:45:00.000-07:00

"How did Donovan learn how to blow- what did you call it again mom? Peachberries?"

Tifffany

Quote of the Day

2008-03-22T08:15:00.000-07:00

Fred Allen - "I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me."

On Parenting

2008-03-19T13:19:00.000-07:00

So, it took me over ten minutes of bawling my eyes out (I am sensitive lately and haven't been sleeping so maybe that's why, maybe I was just moved) to figure out where to place this journal entry. Is this something for here, a story? Or me talking, for my LJ? I decided since there is a moral I'll talk about it here.

I was coming home from the store, listening to Dr. Laura as usual during the time frame of 12 and 3. I was debating whether to take my sick kids on more errands while they slept in the car and hoped I didn't fall asleep at the wheel, to go home and shower and relax do some laundry, or more work stuff. Then the commercial ended and Dr. Laura read a letter that related to a caller yesterday that I did not hear. The story moved me in such a way I had to run to my computer and write.

As soon as I figured out where anyway.

So, Dr. Laura has a new book I want to read (along with how many other books on my list right?) "Stop Whining, Start Living" and she said this letter summed it up nicely. So I turned the radio up and listened.

The short version of the story is about a lady who found out early in her pregancy her baby had something wrong and would not be able to live. The baby could die any day or even be born and live for a few days to weeks but no longer. The lady and her husband decided to keep the pregnancy regardless.

She named the baby.

Got ultrasounds and watched the little one grow.

She wore her maternity clothes and talked about her little boy.

Even had some layette clothing just in case I assume.

Each day she ate well and acted, well, pregnant.

She didn't do what I would have, which is for sure suck up some strong anti-psychotics, valium, alcohol or any other pain numbers. How about some cigarettes? Hey, my first baby is DYING!!!

Nope, knowing NO MATTER WHAT SHE DID this baby would die, she went through her whole pregnancy just like the rest of us doing the things she was supposed to and talking about her baby and bonding.

Her little boy was born and on his one week birthday they celebrated with a cake. On his three week birthday he passed away. I got from the letter she now has a beautiful healthy little girl.

I know of three other people who lost their babies in utero. No heartbeat at some point in the third trimester. Not exactly like this story but similar in that they labored and delivered a known stillborn baby that they went on to name, take a picture of, and mourn. I know at least two of them were followed by normal healthy pregnancies and the other one I think had twins after (she was a friend of a friend and I don't remember all the details but there was a baby after).

My cousin had her third baby boy and just after birth found out he was dying. He only made it eight hours. She too eventually went on and had a fourth, healthy as could be, boy.

We think we are going through so much and we ask why. Why me? Why now? What am I going to learn from this? Why do I want or need to be any damn stronger? God is tricky, right?

Losing ourself is bad and hard and wrong and we need to do what we can to make things right.

But, sometimes, we lose our children and there is absolutely NOTHING we could have done differently.

Somedays we need to reflect on our life and see if we are doing everything selflessly for our children. And that is parenting. That does mean taking care of ourselves, I am not discounting that in anyway. But sometimes it is easy to look at our wants and needs and what makes us feel good. We have to remember that they depend on us in every single way. They couldn't survive without us for the most part. And if things are not going according to plan, we don't flush them away.

Gotta get it all out NOW

2008-03-17T00:02:00.000-07:00

Words and Lyrics by Elton John

Blue jean baby,
l.A lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now shes in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand
Jesus freaks out in the street
Handing tickets out for god
Turning back she just laughs
The boulevard is not that bad
Piano man he makes his stand
In the auditorium
Looking on she sings the songs
The words she knows, the tune she hums
But oh how it feels so real
Lying here with no one near
Only you and you can hear me
When I say softly, slowly
Hold me closer tiny dancer
Count the headlights on the highway
Lay me down in sheets of linen
You had a busy day today
Blue jean baby,
l.A lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, youll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now shes in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand

Tiny Dancer, Elton John

2008-03-15T23:58:00.000-07:00

'The words she knows the tune she hums"

Can't get it out of my head.

And She Was

2008-03-14T22:40:00.000-07:00

They told me she was fucking crazy.

Off the hook. I didn't really believe them though because I do not really think they even know what crazy is. She needed help. A lot of help. People here, people there and I needed to be strong during all this. I was tired of people telling me things. Yet I kept asking.

I walked there. It was cold. The sun was out earlier but the cold ripped through me, making me want to walk faster but never warming up. It made my nose run and my lips chap. After a sniffle and reapplication of my Laura Mercier Lip Gloss Glace I felt almost a little better. I buttoned up my jacket and kept walking.

Maybe I should have worn socks like he told me to.

But I didn't want to wear fucking socks. I hate socks. I don't wear them unless its early morning and the wood floors beg my Karen Kane fuzzy socks to call my name. Otherwise, I just have a drawer full that I use to take up space so I have an excuse for more clutter or something.

I think I left the kids at home with a sitter. I rarely did that and it seemed very unreal. What if I didn't? What if I just left them home? What if I didn't even really have kids? Or what if the sitter was an incompetent shit? Or abused the kids? OR what if it went well and everyone had a good time? I knew nothing about that.

Why didn't I drive my car?

I think I was drinking. White wine. Australian with a bite? Or old fashioned Chardonnay? Maybe I had a little of both. I was getting very confused. I pulled my jacket tighter in the wind.

They told me she was totally crazy.

I really wish I had straightened my hair. My hair was frizzing in an unusual way due to the weather. The kind of hair that looks great peeking out from under my beanie, all wild and curly but just looked funny and poofy when I took the hat off. I closed my eyes for a minute and felt like I was back home. Things spun a little and I felt pale.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Where the hell was I going again? I think I need my car. Heater, defroster, you know.... seats. Maybe I would go back. I started to turn around.

I was still in my driveway.

Something was not quite right but I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe it was the chill. I needed something from the house but did not want to disturb the little ones inside. Or the sitter.

Did I have a sitter?

I think I did. I think I knew her from somewhere in the past. An old teacher walks by with his dog and I notice his familiarity after a few minutes of talking about dogs and children and the Ranch. He remembered me too with a laugh.

"Trouble! Hope I wasn't too hard on you! Good to see you turned out well."

I looked around. Me? I nodded and smiled and made some more short conversations before saying good-bye. Turned out well? If he only knew.

I dream at night. I dream about kissing and hockey sticks and getting lost in my own backyard. I wake up sweating. Crying. Confused.

But right now I was cold. Too cold for the weather here. Something was wrong. Springtime was here. Maybe it was going to rain. That's it. Explains the pains in my legs. Oh how they ached. Especially when it rained. Or maybe it was from the walk. No, I don't think I got very far. God things fucking hurt. Why was that?

SUCK IT UP.

Keep going. Okay- car, walk? I had some sort of keys in the pocket of my new but used jacket. It was warm but thin and worn. But the kind that never went out of style. And it fit me like a glove and asked for compliments when worn out. Looooved it.

Crazy is as crazy does.

Do I know her?

I got into the car, turned on the heater and wished it was in my garage. Vvvroom Vvvroom. I love loud engines, big cars and Fords. I popped a pill. Maybe if I put my head back for a minute and rested... No, not in the car. "Normal" people don't do that. Okay. Hands on the wheel.

I totally forgot where I was going.

At first. Then I remembered. I got out of the car, which was still cold anyway, walked into the garage and shut the door hoping it wasn't as loud as it sounded in my head. I sat on the floor. It was dirty. About a glass of wine remained in the bottle and I drank it. Followed by a cool bottle of water. Things were becoming clearer.

I went inside quietly and put on my prettiest pair of pajamas. I weighed myself. Almost, I thought, almost. I threw on my un-sexiest robe made from the same material as baby blankets along with my cool socks. Okay, at least my nightgown was pretty. I took off my hat and convinced my hair to get into a ponytail.

I broke out a big dish of cookies and cream ice cream and another bottle of water. I watched some meaningless TV and tried to forget about what was going on.

But I could not.

I finished my ice cream, took another pill and got into my cool bed with lots of blankets. No one was there yet. They told me she was totally crazy but they didn't even know her. I can't remember if I met her tonight. It seemed like a sick memory that made my stomach turn in the way you aren't sure if you need to get up and run or roll on your other side and pray.

Pray.

I pray a lot lately. I started praying a lot a little over a year ago. Sometimes I don't pray. Sometimes I yell at God. I get mad at him. Sure I thank him every day for this and that and the kids and I say our Serenity Prayer at night. But after that and when I am alone I talk to him and it is not always nice.

Make me understand. I want to see more. I want to know more. What am I supposed to be learning? And what was your point here? I'm angry at you God. I'm angry at me and life and being confused.

They told me she was crazy but they didn't know the first thing about her.

OLD Writings

2008-03-07T22:44:00.000-08:00

As never published before, by yes this here blogger: (Note writings over ten years old)

There is a man with a vision who cannot see
And a girl with a pain who cannot feel
A child with a spoon who has no food
And a baby who has died that has not yet been born

There is a dream that falls before you awaken
And a smile that fades before you can see
A treasure buried deep within that has not yet been found
And a hope that gets crushed before it falls

There is a why to every what before the how
And a see to every saw before the totter
A wish that is forgotten to every candle that is blown
And a because to everything that has happened

There is a key to every locked door that cannot be found
And a gun for every bullet in every wound
A loser to every winner at all the games
And a reason for every tear which has been cried

There is a way that AI feel which i cannot explain
And a day for everything that must be done
A moon for every sun on each day
And an end for all that has begun

*********************************************************************

A dress hangs from a bed post
As a reminder of the hope
That once was
Curtains shield the room
From the full moon
That seems to stare inside
At the fan that spins
As if it can never reach
Its destination
The mirrors on the wall
Reflect the room
As it is to be seen and
Not as it is
Forgotten hopes strewn across the floor
As if they are ashamed
The clock changes every minute
A reminder of time that has gone by.
**********************************************

Music Playing- no radio on
Don't remember what
They were saying
To me about
The time when
Things were different
Wind whips through
My delicate skin
As if to punish me
For wrong doings
I stop and it and stare
They don't care
You know where
The leaves turn colors
And fall gracefully
To the ground upon
Which they lay
Kaleidoscope of colors
Fills my vision
Why are you following me?
I have not got anything
To offer you.

Other Writer's Words of Wisdom

2008-03-07T20:35:00.000-08:00

Yelling at living thing does tend to kill the spirit in them. Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words will break our hearts...

Robert Fulghum

Crazymaking: "A form of interpersonal interaction that results from the repression of intense aggression and which seriously impairs its victim's capacity to recognize and deal with the interpersonal reality"

George Bach and Ronald Deutsch

If you love something set it free. If it comes back to you, its yours. If it doesn't, it was never meant to be.

Unknown

"What a drag it is getting old. Kids are different today,I hear every mother say. Mother needs something today to calm her down. And though shes not really ill, theres a little yellow pill. She goes running for the shelter of a mothers little helper. And it helps her on her way, gets her through her busy day.

Things are different today,I hear every mother say. Cooking fresh food for a husbands just a drag. So she buys an instant cake and she burns her frozen steak. And goes running for the shelter of a mothers little helper.

And two help her on her way, get her through her busy day.

Doctor please, some more of these. Outside the door, she took four more.

What a drag it is getting old.

Men just aren't the same today,I hear every mother say. They just don't appreciate that you get tired. They're so hard to satisfy, you can tranquilize your mind. So go running for the shelter of a mothers little helper. And four help you through the night, help to minimize your plight.

Doctor please, some more of these. Outside the door, she took four more. What a drag it is getting old.

Life's just much too hard today, I hear every mother say. The pursuit of happiness just seems a bore. And if you take more of those, you will get an overdose. No more running for the shelter of a mothers little helper. They just helped you on your way, through your busy dying day."

Rolling Stones

"I never Promised You A Rose Garden"

Joanne Greenberg

"DOCTOR GORDON'S WAITING ROOM was hushed and beige.

The walls were beige, and the carpets were beige, and the upholstered chairs and sofas were beige. There were no mirrors or pictures, only certificates from different medical schools, with Doctor Gordon's name in Latin, hung about the walls. Pale Green loopy ferns and spiked leaves of a much darker green filled the ceramic pots on the end table and the coffee table and the magazine table.

At first I wondered why the room felt so safe. Then I reallied it was because there were no windows.

The air-conditioning made me shiver.

I was still wearing Betsy's white blouse and dirndl skirt. They drooped a bit now, as I hadn't washed them in my three weeks at home. The sweaty cotton gave off a sour but friendly smell.

I hadn't washed my hair for three weeks either.

I hadn't slept in seven nights.

My mother told me I must have slept, it was impossible not to sleep in all that time, but if I slept, it was with my eyes wide open, for I had followed the green, luminous course of the second hand and the minute hand and the hour hand of the bedside clock through their circles and semi-circles, every night for seven nights, without missing a second, or a minute, or an hour

The reason I hadn't washed my clothes or my hair was because it seemed so silly."

Sylvia Plath

"My clothes were bought at the flea market, always too big and laughted at by the other children in school. I can still hear them say 'It's all up in your long laced boots, ha ha.' The first new garmet I ever wore was a coat that I bought when I went to work. This I wore with great pride."

Rosemary Delaney (Memoirs of my Nana, to be re-written by none other than yours truly someday)

Simple Discussions

2008-03-04T21:55:00.000-08:00

"Did you see the dishes in the dishwasher are clean honey?"

"How the fuck was I supposed to know? It's not like you ever do anything anyway. Then the one fucking time I put a dish away, you fucking bitch because they were clean. If I leave it in the sink you break my balls about that. Should I just throw it a-fucking-way?"

"No, I didn't mean it that way. I didn't even know you put anything in the dishwasher sweetie. I just wanted to make sure you didn't put anything in the dishwasher because I had not had a chance to empty it yet."

"You know what your fucking problem is? You're never happy. You say I don't do enough and then you bitch because I put a FUCKING DISH AWAY."
He sulks. The TV suddenly gets even louder even though it is quiet in the house.

She feels confused. What did she do wrong? She was just asking a FUCKING question. She pauses. She will not cry and tries again.

"I just meant not to put any dishes in the dishwasher because it was clean and I was going to empty it in the the morning when I was not so tired and it wasn't, you know, after midnight." Sarcasm begins to drip to cover the hurt.

"You are so fucking lazy you can't even empty the dishwasher? You are home all day doing absolutely nothing. Sad."

He gives her the silent treatment. How did a discussion about dirty dishes turn into her being lazy when the dishes were done except for his late night snack???

"I said I meant not to put any new dishes in the dishwasher." Not like he ever did anyway. Why did she bring this up? Why did she start shit on a seemingly good night? Crap.

He louders the TV and makes mocking gestures with his hands that are supposed to resemble her mouth.

She leaves the room in tears. Determined he won't see her cry for the 1,038th night. Unfortunately, she is not quiet enough and he mimics her.

"Whaah. Grow up whore."

She cries harder into a pillow.

The little girl awakens in a 'random' night terror.

"Tend to the fucking kids Mrs. I do Everything, but yet lets the kids cry."

She slowly goes to her little girl. She holds her through the twenty-minute session of hellish night terrors. Sometimes she has 'only' one. Though usually four to six a night. She fools herself saying her little girl 'just' has random night terrors. Overtired. Heriditary. Whatever makes her feel okay at the time.

But that is not the case is it? "IT'S YOUR FAULT" screams the voice in her head.

The baby settles down. The girl walks back in the other room.

"Hey baby," he sings from across the room. "How come you don't want to cuddle with me anymore? Don't you love me like I love you? Come watch this show with me..."

On being naive

2008-03-04T19:33:00.000-08:00

The less you know, the more you believe.

Bono

Oh so true. Innocence truly is bliss. Intelligence takes us places we never knew existed and perhaps never wanted to.

A Whiter Shade of Pale

2008-03-02T23:01:00.000-08:00

We skipped the light fandango
Turned cartwheels cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick
But the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
As the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
The waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly,
Turned a whiter shade of pale
She said, there is no reason
And the truth is plain to see.
But I wandered through my playing cards
And would not let her be
One of sixteen vestal virgins
Who were leaving for the coast
And although my eyes were open
They might have just as wellve been closed
She said, Im home on shore leave,
Though in truth we were at sea
So I took her by the looking glass
And forced her to agree
Saying, you must be the mermaid
Who took neptune for a ride.
But she smiled at me so sadly
That my anger straightway died

If music be the food of love
Then laughter is its queen
And likewise if behind is in front
Then dirt in truth is clean
My mouth by then like cardboard
Seemed to slip straight through my head
So we crash-dived straightway quickly
And attacked the ocean bed

Procol Harum/Keith Reid

The Days Following

2008-03-01T22:49:00.000-08:00

She held my hand and looked straight into my teary eyes. I could barely look up at her. For the first time in a long time, I trusted someone new. There was something about the way she spoke to me. The way she could not let me leave without another round of words.

I suddenly felt close to her. Closeness in a way as if I needed her. Perhaps I did. I eventually looked up and so she spoke. Sternly, but quietly.

"One of the hardest things you are going to go through right now is the loss of the dream. No one, no one here at least, will tell you to stop loving him. He is the father of your children. For some reason you fell in love- probably with someone that is not even recognizable at this moment. He will always be part of your life whether you want him to be or not. Coming clean is hard. Letting go of the old dream is harder.
"Accept that someday he might get better. More importantly, accept that one day he may not. You may not. But you will get through this. There is nothing wrong with you for falling in love and falling apart. It happens to those we least expect it to. There is no profile for the victim. It is okay to still love him. But for now and maybe for always- it has to be okay to be without him.
"You look so young, so lost, so confused and so undetermined. You are doing all the right things, going through the correct motions, but your heart still is confused and that is OKAY.
"We are all here for you. People you know will be there if you talk. Others won't want to be bothered. Others will come out from places you did not know were there. It is okay to still love him. It is okay to cry for your dream, your family, your past and all the years of hurt you bottled up, belittled, and pushed under the bed".

She said these things I did not want to hear.
She made me listen.
As tears streamed down my face. My Face. I don't cry in public. I have allergies and mascara in my eye. But I don't break down in front of strangers. Or at least I never had until that day.
And she's right. I do still love him. And I don't care what anyone thinks of me. I might be scared of him. I might be terrified of us. I might despise what has been done. But I love him. I love the idea of us. The memory of who we once were.
I love the "me" that never cried and never failed- just misjudged. I miss the girl who was innocent enough to believe that enough had already happened in her life.

Silly girl. Don't you know what they say?

Life begins at Thirty.

Says Joan Jett

2008-02-29T19:17:00.001-08:00

Joan Jett Lyrics

Nana's Song

2008-02-15T21:49:00.000-08:00

Micky Mouse is Dead
He Died Last Night in Bed
He Cut his Throat
With a Ten Dollar Note
And These are the Words he Said:

"Red, White and Blue,
My mother was a Jew,
My father was a Scotchman,
And I am a dead Kangaroo."

Trying Something Old for New Again

2008-02-14T23:04:00.000-08:00

Writing in the 3rd person?

He woke up this morning and blinked. For a moment it was forgotten. Then the heavy blanket of thick fog rushed over him. It was as if the sleep could never be removed from his eyes. He rolled over, heart heavy. Although it was early still he could not fall back asleep.
All of his problems and worries and fears were lying next to him. A chill went down his spine and he got up to use the bathroom.
He thought "Fuck it"
Another day.
He showered and went through the motions. Shaving, eating, going to work. He still could not see clearly. But he couldn't tell anyone because he knew they wouldn't be able to understand. If you start to talk about the pain and frustration, nevermind the depression, people look at you as if you have a third head.
The day goes on. He goes through the motions but feels nothing. The pain is deep inside and isn't releasing itself at the moment. It just feels dull. Nothing gets better.
Nothing good happens.
He promised he would not drink anymore. He promised his wife of forty years and his beloved family that it was a new begininning and things were changing and getting better and he would not drink.
Starring at the fridge by his desk he thought "maybe just one"
And one turned into two.
Instead of feeling dead, he felt something. He had no label for it. It was not a buzz, he was not yet numb to the pain but he felt differently.
Maybe he could conquer another night.
He arrives home and attempts his usual chores. The only problem is he doesn't feel "his usual self". He feels worthless and pathetic and better off dead.
How could he survive another day? Another night even? He felt a scream from deep within his throat but it never came out.
He sat at the kitchen table and waited for something to happen. He knew he disappointed his wife and family by giving in to those beers. At first he didn't care but now the guilt kicked in. When his wife walked in the door after another day of her stressful job he tried to pretend everything was different and normal but she knew better.
Frustrated he went upstairs without his dinner. Pushed his insulin in as if he was going to eat and lied in bed waiting for the numbness he craved. He longed for the removal of this feeling. It was uncomfortable. It was different. And he could not control it.
But he could try and make it go away.
Things got kinda funny for awhile. He rolled over in bed. Eventually unconscious he started moaning. Although his brain believed he was ready to go, his body knew it wasn't his choice.
God gave us life. We didn't ask to be born. And he decides when it is our time. Selfishly we believe we can control otherwise and make bad decisions and hope for the worst or best- depending on who we are and where we are in our life.
God decided tonight was not the night and made his body groan loudly in pain, begging for needed nourishment. Not just from complex carbohydrates, but from love for the soul.
Everything went blank.
For a brief amount of time he felt the nothing he craved.
Suddenly lights every where shining on him and needles being poked into his body. He shivered from the cold.
"What was happening?" he thought to himself but his dry mouth couldn't form the words.
The room was full of people drawing blood, inserting an IV, asking questions.
He saw strangers.
He saw his family.
Why were they all here? He was finally in his bliss, in his quiet place and they took him away and he was angry.
Right?
He was pushed around and repremanded like a child. He remembered the time they took him and he couldn't leave. He didn't want that again- that much he was aware of and he kept trying to speak and say it was okay and it wasn't on purpose and other mumbles.
Quietly without questions family members began performing duties they had done before because this was not new to them. Perhaps before it was by accident and they hoped this time it was too.
Not all of them saw it that way.
One daughter began cooking.
The husbands tended to the children.
The wife answered questions and told as little and as much as she could because in her mind she still hadn't decided what was best for him and if this was on purpose and if he should be taken again or if this would end up okay like the other times.
He refused treatment. He refused to eat.
People started leaving and he questioned what happened.
His younger daughter understood; having lived with the blackness on and off for almost twenty years.
She hand fed him the food he was refusing to eat, while threatening to call the people back to take him away again which he did not want.
He ate and drank just enough to satisfy everyone and they went away.
But she couldn't. She kicked off her shoes and lied next to him and put her head in the welcoming shoulder he had ready for her.
She cried. She spoke. She came clean without coming too clean and giving more ideas. She stated the facts and he realized he was not the first nor the only person to feel this way.
They cried together for the first time.
She prayed to God for answers; not just for her daddy but for herself. For she didn't know where she would be in an hour or a day or a week. Giggling they compared the same medication. Crying they discussed the same fears. Nostalgically they discussed the children.
She had to go home to tend to them so her husband wouldn't get angry at her for something else. She knew she couldn't take that tonight.
She kissed and hugged him good night. Made him promise that we only have to take it minute by minute because looking any further ahead brought bleakness, despair and frustration. And if we make it this minute we can make it the next.
She went home crying alone. She drank to numb her pain. She drank some more and drew a warm bath. Somewhere she heard someone putting her down and she drank some more. After all the lecturing on staying sober she hypocritically polished off a bottle of wine and read old poetry.
Another night has come. Midnight is about to post. A new day will begin.
What will it bring? Where will we be?
She brings her daughter's magnetic Valentine's to his house and places it with his work stuff to put on his fridge at work to maybe keep him from one day of drinking at least. She plans on going and checking on him tomorrow.
Who will check on her?
And why isn't the spell check working?

2008-02-13T22:12:00.000-08:00

He's yelling again.
So am I.
The kids look around and pretend that this isn't happening. Again. The baby begins to cry. Begs to be nursed because when being nursed all is secured.
Why are things this way?
What happened to the love that was felt? Where did it go? Where did we go wrong?
I'm back to a bottle or so of wine a night. I still don't sleep well. I take something. I still hear the baby cry and I comfort him with my breast. I hear my two-year old scream with night terrors and I hold her so she doesn't hurt herself until she gets back to sleep. I can still function. For now.
But what happens on other days? All the times I was suicidal and didn't succeed or wimped out or got caught? So I got smart, I went to the doctor. I upped my medication and started frequenting my psychologist again.
When they took my daddy away I could only think "It should have been me"
Maybe I am a selfish bitch.
I don't want to live in a loveless marriage. I want passion and hope and dreams. I want love for not just me, but my children who deserve the world.
I am a good wife.
I'm a fucking fabulous mother.
I would do anything for this family. And I am.
I pray to God. I argue with him.
I drink some more wine. I pray. I eat ice cream and watch crappy TV and sometimes I cry.
It pulls me. I want passion and kind words and children that are not afraid of yelling and of their mama crying over something they don't understand.
Children should not ever have to suffer from Adult Problems.
My babies are everything to me.
I will become everything they need me to be.
I may need stuff to survive but SO FUCKING WHAT? I will not feel guilty for having endometriosis or fibromyalgia or bipolar disorder. It is who I am and I will take what I need to and talk to whom I have to and I will be a good person and great mom and they will depend on my stability.
I will always be there for them.
I wish we could say the same for eachother.
I don't want to be hurt anymore. I'd rather be alone than put down and unloved. I think, perhaps stupidly, "why would he stay if he didn't love me" and "maybe this is all he knows?" But maybe I just hang on to the hope that this love is meant for me and things will get better and my children will have a good life.
God, I will do anything for my children.
Anything.
Why can't I seem to find the right answer? Or have I?

So Therefore,

2008-02-11T22:47:00.000-08:00

I send regrets to all those I've failed. To the things I have not achieved. Tonight I attached myself to a cold bottle of inexpensive chardonnay and forced myself to stop halfway through. I know I can drink it all without the hangover and next day regrets. I also know I won't feel anymore than I feel right now so why bother?

Psychiatric institutions are too good for me and the general public is below what I can feel, sense. Who are you and why are you infiltrating my life? I questions quietly as I look into the eyes of those I know well and those I don't know at all.

Can you hear my cries for help or are they lost in the sea of madness?

Draft 1, Part 1

2008-01-29T00:02:00.001-08:00

Her name was Amelia and she had the kind of hair girls longed for, unless of course it was their own. Long and curly, no frizz, no coloring, just the natural blonde that is only found in states like California. The curls seemed soft and natural as if she had just stepped out of the shower. She was smart and wild and everything I was and was not all tied together. The summer was 1994. We were fourteen years old and she kept playing the song:
“Don’t you want somebody to love; don’t you need somebody to love?”
over and over until it was so worn through my brain I had to change the tape.
Music from the sixties and seventies seemed to intrigue us more than most music from the eighties and on but I insisted on “Depeche Mode” and she groaned and rolled over on her wet towel. We had barbequed by the pool (yes, two girls could do that sort of thing back then) and went for a quick swim before lying out and deciding what to do with the rest of our long summer day. We woke up at eleven and it was already two o’clock but back then, the days did not begin until after dinnertime anyway.
I still wince when I hear that song on my ipod but I refuse to delete it from my itunes library as if it is a part of me that cannot be deleted that easily.
I was torn between taking a short nap in the midday sun but was afraid that my oh-so-frizzy curls would end up looking like something from the eighteenth century and could not relax. I eventually got up pretending I had to go to the bathroom so I could really put some product in my hair before it controlled me. I lied back down loving the smell of coconut oil (sunscreen was not a requirement in those days) and cigarettes we had left behind. I was fourteen years old and we had our whole life ahead of us.
Part of me wanted to reach over and touch the curls that sprawled across her towel but that was not me. I liked boys, I loved boys but there was something so intriguing about Amelia that made me think if I only could simplify things and become a lesbian it would be her.
As if she read my mind, she asked me
“Who should we call to play with tonight? My parents are going out to dinner; you could maybe invite some boys over?”
It was always me. I was friends with all the boys and at the same time, they all wanted to make out with me. They could not decide which girl I was. I had ever-changing hair colors, hazel eyes and barely looked up to their chest at a mere five foot three. They knew I was cute; they just also knew I could hang with them like one of the guys. Maybe that made me just as intriguing. As a result, it was always I, Olivia, who set the plans up for the night.
Sometimes we stayed home, drank White Zinfandel and danced. Other times we went wherever the party was, wherever the crowd was and played our game. I never told anyone anything about me but made sure it was known I was there. Amelia always found her way surrounded by a group of seemingly interesting people. We were apart yet together.

Chapter 2

That was ten years ago. Speed forward to 2004. We no longer road Thunder Mountain at Disneyland together, smoked pot or went for a swim in her parent’s pool. I went off to college to get some meaningless degree so I could get some sort of job that “suited me”. My parents had hopes for me they could not accomplish for themselves. My sister, two years older, got pregnant out of high school and it was left for me the “Smart” one but the one with a C average to get her ass to college and pursue some kind of dream.
Too bad my dream was not at the University. The University crawled with democrats and people with dreams and promises and goals. I floated like a bubble a three-year old decided not to pop because it was prettier landing on the grass. I made my way through school, upping my C average to a B and only doing cocaine on weekends; when drinking was not enough satisfy me. I was alive and yet lonely all together. I never thought I would say that.
I flirted with my professors and even bedded one. I made sure to call Amelia that night. We promised to exchange “war stories” and I thought doing a guy twice my age (and twice that night) fitted nicely into that category. She could not talk at the time because her daughter was screaming like a maniac and in 2004 not everyone text messaged. I got drunk and told my friend Patrick who was appalled that even I would do that.
Patrick was the friend we all had through high school or college that hoped for an eventual marriage and so stayed our friend even though we really actually saw them as a true friend. Patrick was cute and tall and loved taking walks around the city at any time of day. He was always up for a drink; probably because he expected something might come out of it. He had to hear all my war stories because he pretended to be my friend.
He is married now but he is still the first one I called when the news hit. Its 2008 now and everything has changed. However, so much has stayed the same. I know, I know, you have heard that line before. It is true though. We were all in such a rush to grow-up and now floating a couple years away from thirty, I wished I had taken more time to enjoy the life I had instead of running away from it all. Hell, I still run away from it. Being grown-up is well, for grown-ups. And I was not one of those yet. On the other hand, was I?

Here goes nothing

2008-01-26T22:28:00.000-08:00

The song keeps playing in my head over and over and I wonder if I hit my head hard enough if it will stop. Or perhaps I already hit my head too hard and its just the tingling of my brain.