Some Words...

I know today is half nekkid Thursday but for some reason I've been running out parts of me to show. I come here to this place every day and I reveal pieces of myself to virtual strangers and yet somehow - you don't seem like strangers at all. You know what I've realized the older I get? It's hard for women to create and maintain friendships. I have some really good friends and for that I'm thankful but when I look back at all the people, women and men, that have carried the label of 'best friend', it saddens me how many of them have disappeared from my life. A few, hang on not by being present on a daily basis but by keeping me in their heart and every now and then reaching out and telling me 'I'm still on their mind.' I remember when I was younger, before puberty, when friendships seemed so much easier. Your friends were determined by who lived on your block, who you went to school with, who had the coolest toys or the most laid back parents. It's only when you reach puberty that the mind begins to complicate things. In high school friendships were created or broken on popularity - either you had friends because everyone liked you, or you had friends because no one liked them either. As adults it's less of a popularity contest but it still seems that somehow the friendships are so much more complicated. There's still the 'she said this, and they said that' component which I'll never understand. I've always been the type of person to say what's on my mind rather than play a cat and mouse game. Once not so long ago someone I considered my good friend told me that she wasn't getting anything out of our friendship so she chose to let it go. At the time I had just had a baby which was in itself a life altering event but I still tried to send emails asking how she was...apparently it wasn't enough. I didn't go out drinking all night, I didn't want to pick up 'boys' at the local pub, I wanted to be a mom and that ultimately ended our friendship. The thing is, I've always thought that friendships were not supposed to be about what you get from someone. Friendships should be about people coming together because of some like circumstance, some like feeling, some like pain, some like...something. What keeps them together is the willingness to keep them in your heart even when your 'like' changes.

Anyway, I'm rambling...but today while the rain falls heavily upon the streets washing away debris left behind from careless passer bys, my mind wanders back to places and times when things and people - were simpler. As I start a new journey I want to take the friends I have now, with me. That's all of you...I'm learning that sometimes if you want to create friendships, keep friendships, you have to be willing to reveal a little nekkidness.

When I was 27 my whole outlook on life changed. I remember thinking at 21 that the things I believed to be true were exactly what I'd believe for the rest of my life. I got married when I was 23 to the man I thought I'd love forever...well actually I do still love him but I'm not married to him anymore. I thought I was seasoned, 2 years past my 'official' birthday of becoming an adult, I knew everything I needed to know for the remainder of my life. I knew that I wanted to be a writer, I knew that I wanted a big house with a nice car and two cats and one dog. I knew that I'd have children when I was 27 and they'd be beautiful and they'd love me unconditionally. I knew that my parents would live forever and that some day my dad would realize he was an alcoholic and he'd apologize for all the pain he put me through in my childhood. When I was 23 I believed in things that I thought mattered. It's amazing how something can seem so significant at one stage in your life and at another fall clumsily to the lowest priority on your list. I remember people telling me that getting married at 23 was too young because I'd change, things would look different in a few years, life really had just begun and I needed to live it for awhile before making such a life long commitment. I ignored those people because I knew what I needed to know, I was grown up. At 27 I realized how ignorant I really was. When once I believed that love was enough to survive on, I now slowly realized that love is really only the consolation prize. Love can bring you to a certain place but it cannot keep you there. I had no tools to build the foundation that I needed to make my marriage survive so at 28 I got divorced. I remember on the day that I signed the papers to end my marriage feeling like a failure. I was convinced I was doomed to repeat my parents history and that my own future was already mapped out by the mistakes of my past. For a long time I believed I would never get married again because no one would ever love me enough, have enough faith in me, or want me to be their forever. I chased away so many men fearing that if I didn't break their heart first, my own heart would be the casualty. And then one night I sat in a smoky bar watching a man I deemed a 'good friend' play the guitar. My heart fluttered, my stomach flip flopped, and everything I knew, everything I believed - changed again. It wasn't an easy road to get here to this place I am now but as I finally let out the breath I've been holding for so many years, I can breath more easily. I'm going to get married in 3 more days. I'm going to have faith in someone, in something...that I stopped believing in so long ago.

I'm 38 now. Ten years after realizing that everything I thought I knew was really not much at all, I realize that not having all the answers is what keeps you humble. It's what keeps you real.

Every morning I ride the El train smashed in between dozens of self absorbed people. Did you know that it's an unspoken rule that you can't talk to people while riding public transportation? If you do speak, everyone stops and stares at you as if you've just broken commandment number one. People read their papers, listen to their Ipods, stare out the window at a tunnel of darkness and absolutely never ever make eye contact. I suppose that may be the reason that no one seems to notice the belly protruding from my cute maternity dress. It must be why not one single person offers me a seat because if they actually looked at me they would have to realize that I'm pregnant and pregnant ladies hate standing on their already swollen feet. I have to believe it's because they don't see me because if I did actually pass through their field of vision, wouldn't that make them....well...arseholes? I'm not sure why I keep expecting some nice young man to offer me his seat because honestly it never happens. When I was pregnant with Alice and my stomach was out to -------> there...I was only offered a seat twice and both times it was a woman who graciously gave up her comfy germ infested seat. I want to know why? Why are people so afraid to make eye contact? Why is it against the rules to say hello to your fellow passengers? When the hell did we become so self absorbed and who let us continue to be that way?

You know honestly it's not so much about me needing a seat as it is about realizing how invisible you can actually be in a city of 3 million people.

I had a bit of a scare on Friday with a tiny bit of spotting (sorry fellows for the slight graphics) and I decided instead of waiting patiently for the doctor to call me back that I'd head to the ER and have things checked out. I have to admit that I was calmer than I thought I'd be but mostly because I had a bit of the same thing with my first pregnancy. But, still my heart wrapped itself up in knots worrying about the tiny life inside of me that had only just begun. As I sat there waiting in the ER with a homeless guy with thoughts of suicide, a teenage girl under the care of DCFS (department of child and family services) who tried to get rid of her unborn child by overdosing on birth control, I could only pray that God protect this child I was carrying and give them a chance to find out for themselves how screwed up this world can be. So after about an hour I'm taken to a room and after another 1/2 hour a doctor comes in with an ultrasound machine. He chats briefly as he's rubbing cold jelly on my stomach and I tried to be cheerful but inside I'm wishing he'd hurry up and show me my sweet little baby. He places the wand on my belly and in an instant the screen captures a tiny little being with arms flailing and legs kicking...and at that moment everything was right with the world. "He's a fighter," the doctor says. I didn't even pay attention to the fact that he called 'peanut' a boy...we still don't know that yet, I could only stare at the life dancing gloriously around the screen. Before the doctor removed the wand he listened for the baby's heartbeat which was strong and healthy. I have to tell you that a beating heart, especially when it belongs to your child, is the most beautiful music your ears will ever hear. As I sit here typing this I can still hear the faint echo of that heart and it calms me like nothing else could.

So it turned out that everything was fine. Baby is healthy. They have no idea why I spotted but said it's actually more common than most people think. I have to wonder if I ended up in that ER with those two people who were both trying to end a life to remind me how precious life really is. It's not that I forgot that life if is a gift, it's that I rarely remember to be grateful for it.

There is nothing I hate more than being backed into a corner. If that happens, I'll kick and scream and my claws will come flying out...well not literally but I can be one stubborn Irish lass when I feel that I'm being bullied. So last night my soon to be inlaws came over for a brief visit and I knew I was in trouble when my sig. other's father tried giving me financial advice. First, I don't mind financial advice from people that can actually manage finances but this man...cannot. As he sat there trying to tell me that I needed to buy a house in the suburbs and that on my salary I could afford a nice place...I started to fume. I have no desire to move to the burbs which would make my commute to work longer, would prevent me from having a nanny since most of them won't travel outside of the city, would make me have to give up the various kid friendly friends I've now developed. As I sat there fuming and listening to my sig. other agree with his dad I just about lost it. "I will not discuss this," I quickly responded. That didn't shut him up but my walking away did. After he left I was so pissed off I could hardly speak. I've asked my soon to be husband before not to involve me in any advice financial or otherwise that he wishes to seek from his father but somehow he either forgot that little tidbit or completely ignored it.

Eventually my sig. other apologized for backing me into a corner an applauded me for retracting my claws as his dad droned on about what he thought was best. I love this man and I want to marry him but does that mean I have to invite his father into my personal affairs? I never put my sig. other on display for my own parents out of respect..and my parents never offer him advice because they know it is not their place. Part of me knows it's mostly a cultural thing. His dad is Palestinian and in their culture the women are not part of any decision making but he's seriously underestimated my willingness to abide by his 'traditions.' I thank God every day that my sig. other is more like his Filipino roots where women are strong and independent. Every once in awhile he falls into his dad's bully trap and it takes all my strength to pull him free.

Now that's out of my system I hope you all have a fab weekend...it's going to be a hot one so stay cool.

My belly is protruding quite nicely. When you are pregnant it doesn't really seem real until your stomach starts to round and pop out. Even through all the morning sickness it was still sort of 'far away'...the concept that is. But now as my clothes are getting tighter and it's becoming quite apparent that there's someone inside there...I smile because this is the part I like about being pregnant. The part when your belly button stretches, your tummy becomes round, and soon...I'll feel the flutter of the tiny life growing inside of me. God life is amazing isn't it? Ever since I had my first child I've never had to ask "Is there anybody in there," because I've discovered that the somebody in there, is me.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

I'm so glad you are all still here...I've been having serious withdrawals not being able to post...but I'm back and hopefully this blogger thing will stay on track.

I spent the weekend back in my hometown visiting my parents and my brother. I'd like to say that going back home isn't stressful but that's rarely the case since my parents fight over who gets to see me more...in a way I guess that should make me feel good. I was able to spend a little time with my niece which is always nice because even though she has the usual teenager attitude of knowing everything about anything, I relate to her so well. We talked about life like we often do and yet again I'm surprised at her clarity about a world filled with chaos. She asked me if growing old was as hard as growing up and although part of me wanted to shout out...who's growing old...I decided to accept my label and offer a few bits of wisdom. I had to think about it for awhile because we're taught from the time we're little that the 'growing up' part is the hardest part of life but now that I look back on my life I have to wonder if that is really true. In a way, the two things are very similar. When we grow up it's usually against our will. We fight against the inevitable task of becoming responsible for our actions. We hold on to our childish hopes and dreams until reality no longer allows it. There are parts of us that never want to be 'grown up'. If we are not grown up, people expect less from us. When we grow old it's always against our will. Growing old means we already grew up and that in itself is scary. When we admit that we're growing old, we admit that part of our life is past us - good parts, bad parts, parts we may not be ready to let go. When we're growing old we're supposed to know more things, make better choices, set good examples - sometimes that's just too much pressure. Growing old means that an end is closer than a beginning.

So when my niece asked me which was harder I had to answer that they most times they are equal but the most important thing to remember is that neither are inevitable. Not everyone grows up, not everyone gets old, but all of us die trying to accomplish both. "I wonder if I'll ever finish being grown up," she said. "Probably not," I replied. "I think if you ever finish growing up, you stop growing old."

The funny thing about being a techie is that I actually hate fixing techie things outside of my normal daily scope. I let my computer at home sit quietly gathering dust because quite honestly I'm all techied out by the end of the day. But...I got so sick and tired of Blogger not showing my posts that I had to pull out my hat of tricks and dig deep in my reservoir to try and fix it. Now...the true test is if you all can see what I write so please....comment and let me know. If all is good I'll be back with my mildly amusing words tomorrow.

I'm not sure what's up with Blogger lately but comments have dwindled to about nothing and some people say you can't see my template anymore. Here I thought people didn't like me any more...boohoo for me. But really, is it still screwed up? I tried republishing it but I'm seriously considering moving it because Blogger has so many issue lately. Has anyone else had problems?

This really isn't the way to start a weekend now is it?

I hope you can see me....I still see you. Happy Friday.

It's only 8:45 a.m. and already I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. Do you ever have those days when the minute you walk in the door it feels like the rest of the day is going to be spent chasing your tail? Well this morning I decided to kick off the sandals and prop up my feet on my desk and take some well deserved slack time. Give yourself a break today...kick back a little.



Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

I've been busy lately rallying for causes. I'm not sure what's happening to me but lately I've felt compelled to open up my mouth and shout, "I don't like this and I want it to change." That statement alone is nothing unique but for me, it's out of the ordinary because I usually grumble a bit, stomp my feet, and deal with whatever comes my way whether I like it or not. I decided yesterday that I was sick and tired of the idiots speeding down my street, running stop signs, acting like my quiet little side street is the Indy 500. You see I have children and dogs and I like to walk with both of them without the fear that I'll be run over. No one seems to care that children play on that street and whether they've been taught to stay out of the street or not, sometimes kids just don't listen. No one cares that every time you cross the street you have to do it with the fear that someone will decide that a stop sign really isn't meant to actually make you stop, so they roll through half way until they realize someone is trying to cross the street in front of them. So I'm mad and I decided to stop being that person that complains about something being wrong, and actually take action to change it. So I searched the Internet, I called my Alderman, I did research...and I found a committee that helps people get these sort of traffic woes changed in their neighborhood. Woo hoo...someone actually emailed me back and applauded my efforts and told me they'd be happy to organize a committee, get the alderman involved, get the neighbors on board...and now I feel wonderful. I feel like finally I'm taking charge of the things that matter to me. So I'm riding in the car this morning listening to the normal radio show that amuses me on my short commute to the train when the hosts start making fun of the little boy from China with 3 arms. Have you read about him? Anyway, I was completely offended by their comments. Now I do not offend easily but as a parent I thought the last thing that would offer comedic effect is the plight of a child. I was quite pissed off actually, so much in fact that when I arrived at work I sent an email to the radio host...here it is:

Eric,

I normally listen to your show every morning and usually enjoy it as a start to my workday but this morning I was particularly offended by your discussion about the little boy with 3 arms. I found it very disrespectful and not humorous at all. Now I understand there are medical anomalies that are in fact funny but the comments made by you and by Kathy really were out of line. As a parent, I'm sure you can understand how if this were your own child, the last thing you would want to hear is a couple of radio hosts making jokes about your child's unfortunate situation. I know you were not serious in your comments and were probably just going for the comical effect, but really, was it necessary to use this child's handicap as your inspiration? One particular comment from Kathy about using the child's arm to hang jewelry was extremely insensitive and had no humor effect at all.

Like I said, I do enjoy your show but I felt compelled to speak up about this morning's show because as a person that does not offend easily, I was in fact offended. I'm not sure my complaint or opinion will urge you to choose your content more carefully in the future but my sharing it with you lets me start my day with a little more piece of mind.

I'll wait to see if they respond but either way...I feel good about speaking up. You know there are so many things that happen in our lives, things we don't like, things we're truly bothered by, and most of us let it slide. We deal, we cope, we stop listening, we run away....and I'm guilty of all of these things. But for today and hopefully tomorrow I want my voice to be heard. I'm no hero, I'm just a normal every day human being that's somehow found her voice.

My baby is growing up. Last night my sig. other and I spent an hour putting together Alice's new castle 'big girl bed'. I've been putting this off for awhile mainly because I didn't want to admit that my sweet baby girl has grown into a sweet little girl. There's something about your first born growing up enough to leave her baby crib that makes your heart ache. As we took apart her crib the tears sprang from my eyes, it wasn't so long ago that she seemed like a tiny spec of life in that gigantic bed. I remember laying her in the crib, wrapped up like a cocoon, thinking, she's too small - she'll get lost in there. But now she's grown out of her cocoon and it's time to spread her wings. A small part of me can't help but wish that I could keep her small enough to hold in my arms forever and keep her safe from the world, but I know that's impossible. Still, the tears fell as I realized how fast time moves past us. We live each day with little notice of the small things that shape who we'll be tomorrow or next year. I've tried really hard these past two years to remember every tiny detail about Alice, and now they are tucked safely inside my heart. So, I gave my baby space to grow. She was so excited about her new 'Big Girl Bed' that it took her awhile to go to sleep. Most of the night I slept in partial consciousness waiting for her to cry out to me - but she didn't. This morning I snuck into her room to watch her sleep and her little legs were pulled up under her belly, tiny butt sticking in the air, and I smiled. She had her Raggedy Ann and her stuffed Elephant tucked safely beside her where she could hold on to them. I suppose she learned that from me...

When Alice woke up she smiled at me and giggled. "Mommy, I'm big girl," and then she ran to me and cried "mommy hold Alice, mommy hold Alice." You see...even big girls still need their moms.

I sat and listened to a college graduation speech over the weekend and it had it's usual message of go far and achieve much but something that was said at the closing of the speech got me thinking (and that's always dangerous), "Be less cynical in your lives, say yes more often." I kept mulling those words over in my brain long after the speech had ended because most of the time I don't consider myself cynical but I do find myself saying no quite often. Do those two things go hand in hand? I thought maybe my definition of cynical was wrong so I looked it up, "Negative or pessimistic, as from world-weariness." Hmmmm, world weariness? I suppose I've been that many times in my life. It's hard not to be weary when you've experienced so much pain in your years of living, but I've always had a "I'm a survivor attitude," at least on the outside. When I'm honest with myself I have to admit that parts of me resemble a cynic. I've been cynical about love most of my life an although I've found what I believe is true love, I struggle on a daily basis to actually trust in it. There's some part of me that lays quietly waiting for it all to be a fantasy, for the love to be a lie so that the cynical part of myself - wins. Isn't that crazy? I often boast on the fact that I'm an optimist, always believing that in the end things will turn out better than when they started but now I'm discovering I'm kind of a hypocrite because while I'm painting my walls pretty with hope, on the inside I'm doubting that any color would be bright enough to chase away the gloom. And so then comes the word No. I say No more often than I realized. I say No to letting people see the real me, they may not like what I show them. I say No to trusting people enough to rely on them, they may let me down and then I'll be left the fool. I say No to letting people see that sometimes I'm not strong, they may feel pity for me. I say No too often. There in lies the heart of my cynical self.

So how do I change? How do we all become less cynical? How do we trust in the love we find to be exactly what it reveals itself to be? How do we stop expecting the worst to happen and start believing there is nothing worse than losing faith? How do we live our lives being less cynical and start saying yes more often? I suppose it begins right here...by leaning on the people stronger than we are. We're all teachers in this place right? Someone told me once that knowing where you need to be is half the battle of getting there.

It's that time of year again...Graduation time. Last night my niece graduated from 8th grade except they don't call it graduation anymore, instead it's a 'promotion'. I suppose the lingo is more fitting since really that's what she's doing, being promoted to high school. A week before her little step sister 'graduated' from pre-school and they call it graduation and nothing else. I have to tell you I'm a bit put off by the whole concept of graduating from pre-school. Being raised by an English professor has instilled in me the notion that in this lifetime we should be rewarded for accomplishment not for simply existing from day to day. Now I know it's quite popular to have these sort of 'graduation ceremonies' for these tots but honestly what are we teaching these children? It's not that I think that at age 4 or 5 you have not accomplished something...in fact these kids have accomplished a great deal, it's that when it comes down to it who are we having these ceremonies for - the kids or the adults? I believe that when a child stands up on a stage and receives a diploma they should know exactly what it means. Why not call these 'ceremonies' a celebration, a party, or heck...a promotion? It reminds me slightly of those parents who enter their children in beauty pageants, dress them up like dolls and place them on a stage to perform. It seems that so often we spend so much time having parties and graduation ceremonies that we forget to teach these kids the more important things in life like values and morals. Maybe I think about this a little too much but when I talked to my niece last night and she down played the importance of her own 'graduation' because her 5 year old sister had the same ceremony a week earlier - I saw exactly what we're teaching our children. It's like if you give someone a present every single day and then their birthday rolls around and you give them another gift, the present has little meaning because one - they expect it, and two it happens too often so there is nothing special in the gesture.

I tried to make my niece realize how important this day was for her. It's a passage from childhood into young adult hood, a chance to begin a new. She left me with some very wise words that I wish more children heard and believed..."I want to be rewarded for the things I accomplish not the things I fall into by circumstance." My sweet darling niece has already become a wonderful teacher.

Happy Friday all....

Are diamonds a girl's best friend? Well I wouldn't go so far as to say they are a best friend...but they can make you feel pretty darn...special. The thing about a diamond is that in one moment it can make you feel all sparkly and special and in the next it can remind you that even the hardest stone on this earth can crack in a million little pieces if it's not properly taken care of. I try so very hard to pamper my diamond on a regular basis.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

I'm back and I survived which is no small feat considering my very stressful camping weekend. Let me share a few snippets...

Camping is stressful when:

-It's 90 degrees and your campsite has no shade until 3 in the afternoon
-You take a 2 year old out of her normal element and she refuses to take a nap for two days.
-You bring your Chocolate Lab with you that has two bad legs and can't walk far so you end up carrying him most of the time
-You former best friend brings her 2 year old and a puppy and doesn't watch either one
-There are ants everywhere...even inside your tent
-You see the biggest spiders you've ever seen in your life and your significant other refuses to kill them (whimp) so you are left with the task of smashing them silly
-You have a queen size mattress to sleep on but you also have a toddler who thinks 3/4 of that mattress belongs to her so you end up with her sleeping on your chest...in 90 degree weather
-You are camping with 3 'almost teen girls' who roll their eyes every time you tell them to clean up their dishes, help pick up trash, or do anything that doesn't involve sitting on their duff talking about boys
-You have to watch your 'former best friend' give her toddler Mountain Dew or play with the fire or carry big sticks around or do all the things you've been taught that good parents never never do...and you have to keep your mouth shut 'cause it ain't your kid

Needless to say I've had my fill of tent camping and if I ever venture out into the woods again it's going to be with a big honkin' camper that has electricity and a bathroom and at least 2 beds so my sweet girl Alice can have as much space as she wants. Alice did have fun camping...so I suppose the weekend wasn't a total bust...I swear the things we do for our kids...

Hope you all had a fab weekend.

Hooray for Fridays...Hooray for long weekends. It seems like it's been forever since we had a long holiday weekend doesn't it? We're taking my daughter camping this weekend...with a tent, and a campfire, and smores...I'm so excited. As much of a princess as I am I've always enjoyed camping. I'll admit I can't sleep on the hard ground so I take my lovely queen air mattress along - but hey I'm preggy, I'm allowed a few luxuries right? It's kind of funny because my sig. other always claims I'm a city girl and I can't get dirty but he's actually mistaken. I grew up in the country with horses and a cow named Teebone. Most summer days you'd find me weeding my mother's gigantic garden or pulling fruit from the trees in our orchard. I learned to make jam and can vegetables at age 6. Every night I spent at least 30 minutes scrubbing the dirt from my knees and getting the grime from under my fingernails. I was no city girl. I've never been afraid to get dirty and you know what...I think that has saved me from a hell of a lot drama in my lifetime. There's something about a woman that knows how to take care of herself from fixing her car to canning her own vegetables that is so very appealing to most men. It's funny when you think about it, we women sometimes play the game of 'needing' a man when in reality all we really need is some good company.

Here's to all you self sufficient women out there...Hail to the princess.

Have a wonderful long weekend.

My daughter loves American Idol. As we sat watching the idol wannabes perform, Alice decided to get her guitar and show them how it's really done. She danced, she sang, she shook her tiny 2 year old butt. Little does she know that I'm already her biggest fan.


Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

I started writing a post about how much I hate Wednesdays...mostly because it's in the middle of the week, not too close to the beginning of something and still too far from the end of it. I hit backspace over my words because I started thinking...how negative am I? I'm letting the upset stomach I have dictate how I'm going to feel about the rest of this day. I suppose it's not unlike the many times that I let one event dictate every moment that follows it. So, I'm here...munching on saltines and hoping that I will be strong enough not to let this morning sickness ruin the enjoyment I should be feeling from this pregnancy. I can do this right?

Remember, each moment owns itself. Let the lease on the bad ones expire quickly.

Happy Wednesday.

Someone sent me one of those chain emails yesterday. I hate chain emails and most often I delete them before giving them a second glance but the one that landed in my inbox yesterday caused me to read further than the subject line. Maybe you've seen it, it's titled "I wish you enough." The story it tells isn't a fantastic one, it's not well written, and even the meaning is a bit weak but the word 'enough' sparked something in my brain and I pondered the word most of yesterday. The word itself means sufficient to meet need or desire. Wishing someone 'enough' means you wish their needs and desires to be met. It's a nice thought isn't it? But does that ever really happen? Do we ever have enough love? Enough happiness? Enough peace? Enough money? Do we have enough of any of these things that we actually feel 'sufficient'? I think sometimes we convince ourselves we have enough, we find someone we love that loves us back but at some point we've probably all thought or said, I need more. I need more attention, I need more understanding, I need more space, I need more time, I need I need I need. So will that love, pure and simple, ever be enough?

I think it's a wonderful wish to cast upon someone, to wish them 'enough', but I have to wonder how often that wish is ever fulfilled. Can life ever give us 'enough' to fill our desire and help us feel that what we have - is sufficient? God I hope so.

My dad came up to see me this weekend; he drove 3 hours so he could help me build a landscaped wall around my patio. I know to some it may not look like much, father's are supposed to help their daughters with things like that, but to me it meant the world. My dad has always tried to help me with things as much as he could but between the endless parade of women through his life and the bottles of booze lining the walkway - I somehow always came last. When you are a kid you cannot understand why drinking stops your dad from being the person you can rely on, you just know he is not the father you need him to be. We do that a lot don't we - need people to be a certain way? It took me years to learn that people are who they are and you either need them the way they are - or you don't. There's nothing in between. I forced myself not to need anyone for so many years because it was less disappointing that way. Even now, I'm careful about what I let myself need. I guess old habits die hard. This weekend as I watched my dad haul blocks to my backyard even though his back hurt and his knees are shot...I let myself need him, a little. God it was scary but at the same time it felt like coming home after a long journey spent running away. My daughter couldn't get enough of her grandpa. As I listened to her call after him, "come on Grandpa, come with me," and watched him obey, I realized that I've actually needed my dad more than I was ever willing to admit. Maybe the trick to balancing need and disappointment is to love the parts of them you do need more than the parts of them you hate.

I'm not a child anymore but this weekend I felt like daddy's little girl and somehow that helped me be a whole lot more grown up.

Another week has come to an end. Time passes so quickly when you don't want it to doesn't it? When we're in pain and we wish for it to pass quickly, time lingers as if it has nowhere else to go. When I was a child I wanted to be a grown up and I wished my time away. Now that I'm forced to be a grown up I wish often that I could be a child with much less burden. Do you remember when the biggest decision you had to make was which friend to invite to a sleepover? Remember thinking that doing your homework every night and studying for tests was the most stressful thing in the world? And if you failed a test, it seemed as if the world was ending. When you are a kid time seems endless, one hour feels like an eternity...now that I'm a grown-up it feels like 60 seconds.

Here's hoping that this weekend your minutes seem like hours. Make time linger...

Some say a smile is worth a thousand words...I tend to agree. A smile can melt even the coldest of hearts. A smile can send a heart a flutter where once there was only stillness. A smile can dissolve anger or initiate peace. It can cause confusion or answer many questions. A smile is free as long as you expect nothing in return. It can be the reason someone comes home every day or the reason they never leave. A smile is beautiful no matter who's face it belongs to.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

Finally after many many days of rain and gloom, the sun is actually shining. This morning after I finished my daily routine of dressing sweet Alice and making her breakfast I took a moment ( a few actually) to step outside and soak up a bit of the sun. I'm guilty of taking that sunshine for granted. Most days I rarely stop even for the briefest moment to revel in its greatness and it takes days of raindrops soaking my spirit as well as my head to remind me that nothing in this life is a sure thing - not even sunshine. I walk through this life of mine with thin shades of gray pulled over my eyes hiding the true colors of the elements that make-up this existence. I'm sure some of my color blindness comes from the need to protect myself. Without color life can remain safer. Color causes us to linger in moments and lingering too long can be dangerous. But I'm changing now - actually I have been for the past 2 years. There's something about seeing life through the eyes of a child that gently pulls you back into the rainbow. Although I still do it, take things for granted - at least now I can admit it. The first step to changing something is admitting that it needs change, right?

Somewhere....over the rainbow....blue birds fly...birds fly over the rainbow....why oh why can't I? I can...I just have to flap my wings a little harder.

I read a post yesterday about how people 'make' us feel a certain way and it struck a chord. I remember in my years of therapy sessions being told that no one can make you 'feel' anything. It took me a long time to agree with this theory and sometimes I still fall prey to that old way of thinking. You know it's much easier to blame someone else for the way you feel isn't it? How much better do we feel if someone else is to blame for our mistakes? It's instinct isn't it? I've spent so much of my life blaming someone else for the way I feel that I've often forgotten to focus on how to 'feel' differently. We all have choice, whether we admit it or not. Remember, the search for someone to blame is always successful. I try every single day to blame no one, not even myself. No one is to blame for the way I am except me and that's not really blame it's responsibility. A favorite quote...If you could kick the person in the pants responsible for most of your trouble, you wouldn't sit for a month.

Sorry for the hiatus but I took a much needed extended weekend. I hope you all had a wonderful mother's day by either treating your own mom to a special day or having one yourself.

I've learned so much since becoming a mother and I wanted to share a part of my journey with you.

Being a mother has taught me...

- that I had no idea how much love my heart was capable of
- there is no pain that cannot be eased by tiny arms hugging your body tightly
- my kisses can make boo boo's feel better
- that before - my life was not full
- it's not about sacrifice it's about not being selfish
- I can still be beautiful and sexy
- having someone depend on you makes you a better person
- someone can depend on me and I can let them
- I cannot sleep without getting butterfly kisses first
- my child's eyes are the windows to my soul
- my life is worth more than it was before
- love is forever

Before I had a child I had sort of given up hope that I'd ever become a mother, partly because I didn't think I'd find the right man, partly because I was too selfish. I didn't do things the 'proper' way, I found the man but didn't marry him, and then I got pregnant. In a way, having his child made me realize no man was more right for me than he was. Now, I'm going to marry him and I'm going to have another child. Some may frown on not doing things the 'proper' way but really, what's more proper than true love? I consider myself lucky - I found the child that led me to the man.

Here I am in all my 17 years of glory. Way back then I used to think I was pretty cool but now I'm thinking I was pretty 80's. Darn my hair was big...but back then everyone's was. This picture was taken at my senior prom or actually at the after party. That bowtie around my neck was my boyfriends...the very last man I ever let treat me badly.

My high school reunion is coming up in September so my wonderful friend sent me this picture as a reminder. Now I'm just trying to figure out what she's trying to remind me of. You know it's a wonderful thing to be able to laugh at yourself...quietly.



Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

Lately I've been scared. Not scared of the dark or monsters under my bed. Scared that when I have another child my dear sweet Alice will somehow feel left out. I know my fear is not unique as I'm sure many parents feel the exact same thing but still, it's there in the pit of my stomach every single day. When Alice was born I remember saying to myself, "I will never love another human being as much as I love this child." I love Alice with every fiber of my being and so I'm slightly confused as to how I will welcome another child into my life and love them just as much. I know in reality that things will be fine, I will love this new child every bit as much as I love Alice but will she know that? Will she question whether she's been replaced or that she isn't as special anymore? My heart breaks inside when I think of those things crossing her beautiful mind. People tell me that I'll need to pay special attention to her and make her feel needed - which I'll do. But can I ensure that she will always know how special she is to me and when I do that will I be taking something away from my new child? So many questions. I know people do this all the time...have multiple children, but for me it's a first so forgive me if I'm still trying to figure it all out. Will I be as full of love for the second child as I was for the first? Will I be as scared that somehow I'll mess them up like my parents unknowingly messed me up? I thought that having your first child was the toughest part but now I'm not so sure, so far this doesn't seem easier.

I wonder at what point I'll have it all figured out? Does that ever happen?

I've read a lot of posts lately about relationships and how scary they are. I've noticed confessions about how some want to be in a 'couple' but they are too scared either because they think they've forgotten how to be in one or because they are afraid of being hurt. I've been in that 'place' more than once in my life, you know - the one where you keep shouting "leave me alone," and then suddenly you wake up one day and realize everyone actually listened. The worst thing about being alone is that it never happens when you really want it or need it to. Some of us get so good at pushing others out of our life that we completely forget how to let them back in. Once, I got so good at telling everyone that I didn't want a relationship and that I enjoyed being alone, that I actually started to believe it myself. I believed it so much that when the right man came along, the one who actually treated me like the princess I am, I ignored him. I even went so far as to set him up with all my friends and even when they asked me why I didn't keep him for myself I'd reply, "I don't want to get involved." The real truth was that I was scared to death of being hurt. If you never let people close enough to actually touch you in the places that matter most, those places stay safe - don't they? Not really. The funny thing is that every time I'd meet a great guy I'd find so much fault with him that it was damn near impossible to like him. My mother used to tell me that if you look hard enough and long enough for the flaws in people - you will surely find them.

So how did I stop being so 'single'? I stopped being so scared. I told someone yesterday that the scary part is not letting someone in - it's keeping them out. You have to let yourself be loved, first by yourself and then - by someone else.

I really love the song playing on this blog so much in fact that I have a hard time taking it off here. When I first discovered the song Into the Light by Alice Peacock I was in a bad place - emotionally. I know that many of you know exactly how it feels to live your life with the burden of not knowing where you belong. But this song, each and every time I hear it I'm reminded that all the searching I've done, all the paths I've explored trying to find my place, have led me exactly where I need to be - right here right now. It's accepting that you are in the right place that's the hard part. Some say it's the journey and yes that can be hard too but do you ever notice that when you get to the 'right place' it seems camouflaged in the mistakes of our past? People always tell you to 'live in the moment' but I've done that many times and it's not always the right thing to do. Sometimes we live in the wrong moments. We get caught up in what someone says, what they do, the pain in the here and now, that it becomes all we can see, all we can hear, all that we are. Last week I lived in a moment where my s.o. said something that hurt my feelings and I wallowed in that moment far too many hours. Instead of living in the moments where he's been kind to me, where he's been the shoulder that I leaned on - I existed in a moment of weakness. The truth is that life does not exist in one moment - it exists in many. I think the trick is making life exist from one moment to the next.

I've had rough morning. My daughter's nanny thought it was Saturday so she decided not to show up...until I called her and gently reminded her it was actually Friday and I had to be at work. An hour late she rolls in apologetic, ok so you over slept but honestly that doesn't put me in any better mood you know? Then I make the mistake of accepting a ride to work from my sig. other. I somehow let it slip my mind that he's a slob and he only plays the clean act at home because I force him to. I refuse to live in clutter ya know? Cluttered houses = cluttered minds...I really believe that. Anyway, I hop in his car and shock smacks me in the face. His car is a mess...not just a mess - it's a pig pen. Papers strewn everywhere, empty Dunkin Donut bags on the back seat, books, guitar cleaning lotion, an empty pop can (actually 2) and dirt on every surface. YUK...maybe it's my fault because I should have known better but come on, who can ride in a car like that? Ok, so maybe I over reacted but I'm pregnant and hormonal and gosh darn I feel like hurling so the smell and the dirt and the total lack of sympathy for me was enough to really piss me off. I was fuming most of the way to work but just before we reached my building I apologized for being so dramatic but explained that he knows how much I hate messes. I jokingly said...I love you even though you are a slob. He replies, "I love you even though you are a bitch." Um....what? Ok, so that's like he nicest thing anyone's ever said to me - NOT. I'm pretty sure he regretted the words just as soon as they slipped past his lips, maybe it was the look of shock on my face or it could have been the tears that instantly sprung from my eyes. I'm not usually a crier but geez...that really wasn't nice was it? The thing that bothered me most is that if I was really a biatch I could handle it...but I know I'm not. I put up with more crap then most women I know.

He probably didn't mean it right? He tried to apologize as I swiftly removed my 'bitchy arse' from the car but the damage was done and words are like nails pounded into a smooth piece of wood...even if you pry them back out the holes still remain ruining the surface forever. I'm sure this moment will pass and hopefully he'll try to make it up to me but the truth is that no matter how many times someone tells you they are sorry you still remember, it still hurts. There are just some things you cannot take back - even if you want to.

I hope y'all have a wonderful weekend...wish me luck on this hormonal roller coaster.

There you are, so tiny, so full of life even though your life has just begun. Some may look at you and say you are not yet a person, but I know different - I saw your heart beating and that makes you real.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

I had a wonderful conversation with my niece last night. We talked about life and how sometimes it downright sucks but the best thing about it is that there is always another day to make different or better than the day before. She told me how scared and excited she is to be leaving grade school and entering high school next Fall. She likes her school and she afraid to leave it, it's comfortable and safe but she loves the possibilities that high school will bring. As I sat there listening to this child, this young woman, talk about her fears and how she wants to overcome them I was amazed at her strength. I have to admit that she reminds me of a younger version of myself and that makes me smile because as damaged as I might have been - I was strong and I survived. We also talked about her day and how disappointed she was because she had to read a poem that she wrote for English class in front of all her friends. She wrote it about a boy she liked and he didn't pay attention when she read it aloud so it hurt her feelings. Part of me laughed a little...on the inside...but I told her not to be surprised because honestly it takes boys a long long time to pay attention to the things most important (no offense guys). I told her to write things for her and not for an audience because that's the only person that truly needed to pay attention. She said she wanted to be a writer - she has a lot to say and I smiled because when I was young that's what I wanted to do - write words that made people feel something. It took me years of writing words to realize that the person that needed to feel something, was me. I truly believe that the most talented writers in this world are people that have experienced pain in their lives. People who have loved and lost, people who have fallen and gotten up, people who have failed and then succeeded, those are the people who write from the only place that really counts - their heart.

I do believe my niece will be a wonderful writer and just maybe someday a scared, broken young woman will read her words and realize that her tomorrows can be different, can be better - then they were the day before.

Do you remember when your parents taught you the difference between the truth and a lie? I do. I was six years old and my brother was being his usual mean self by hanging my 'baby tenderlove' up by her neck from the garage door opener. I was so mad at him that even at six I was beginning to realize how sweet revenge could actually be. I snuck into his bedroom and took his GI Joe out of it's secret hiding place - the bottom of his hamper. Even though it smelled of dirty socks I stuffed it down my blouse and left his room as quietly as I'd come. I locked myself in my mother's bathroom and decided that GI Joe was quite in the need of a makeover. I shaved his head with my mother's razor (GI Joe had real hair you know), I painted his face with eyeliner and rouge, I took his clothes off and re-dressed him in Barbie's best gown. He was smashing to say the least. When the work was complete I put him right back in the secret hiding place as if he'd never left. I remember the anticipation of my brother finding GI was almost enough to drive a six year old mad. It took three days for my big bro to find him but when he did he let out a scream that could curl your toenails. He ran all over the house searching for my mom (he was such a mama's boy) and when he found her he dangled pretty GI Joe in front of her, "look what someone did to GI Joe," he yelled. I was tucked carefully behind the davenport watching the whole thing unfold. I could see that my mother was holding back a laugh as she consoled my brother but I also knew she'd soon be heading my way looking for an explanation. "NWC, do you know anything about GI Joe's makeover," she asked. "No mam, nothing," I replied. "NWC do you know that telling a lie is a sin?" "What's a sin," I asked. "A sin is when you know something is wrong and you still do it anyway," she replied. "So what happens if I sin," I asked. "Well, God will be very disappointed in you." I contemplated her words, I hated for anyone to be disappointed in me. "So NWC, do you know anything about GI Joe's makeover," she asked? "Yes," I replied, "he enjoyed it very much but I think next time I'll use a different shade of lipstick." My mother laughed until there were tears in her eyes and I started believing that lies did that to you, made tears appear. The older I got the more I realized I was right, lies sometimes make you laugh but most times they make you cry and there's nothing funny about that.

Yesterday I called my niece to wish her a happy birthday and I asked her what she special thing she was going to do to celebrate and she replied, "nothing." Her response wasn't unlike that of any other teenager but I was surprised when she followed up her statement with, "I'm not going to do anything special because I don't feel special and that's no lie." I told her she was wrong, I told her how special she was and that she better believe me because I was a person that could not lie. I told her that story I posted above hoping to convince her it was true...I was an honest abe. I'm not sure she believed me, that she was special, but she laughed and it was like music to my ears. Before we hung up the phone she told me that she believed me. "What, you believe that I cannot tell a lie," I asked. "No, I believe I'm special - I just hope people notice."

I noticed.

Tomorrow my niece turns 14. When I was fourteen I drank my first bottle(s) of beer. When I was fourteen I ran away from home to be with my 23 year old boyfriend but only made it two towns over to a corn field in the middle of the night before I realized that there really was no place like home. When I was fourteen I realized that people are either mostly honest or mostly liars and never are they both. At fourteen I realized my father was an alcoholic and my childhood would never be 'normal'. When I was fourteen I discovered what infidelity meant the moment I caught my dad cheating on my mother in the back of our family sedan. At fourteen I watched the strongest woman in the world become one of the weakest. When I turned fourteen I was not a child any longer, not by choice but by necessity.

My niece turns 14 tomorrow and at fourteen she will have survived the divorce of her parents, her mother giving up custody of her to her father, five different homes and six different schools, a new step mother, two new sisters, a diagnosis of AD/HD and depression. She will have discovered that people are either mostly honest or mostly liars and never are they both. She will have lost faith in those she loves but more importantly she will have lost faith in herself. She will know what it feels like to have love and lost love yet she will not be able to distinguish the two as separate. At fourteen she will have contemplated her life, searched for answers to questions she's never been brave enough to ask, and she will have lived more pain than most of her classmates. When my niece turns fourteen she will not be a child any longer, not by her choice but by necessity.

Maybe I can love her enough to let her be a child just a little longer. We all grow up too damn fast, not by choice - by necessity.

Oh my goodness....I feel horrible today. The sun is shining, it's going to be 70, and I want to hurl. It's official, morning sickness has begun. I never had morning sickness when I was pregnant with Alice so I escaped quite unharmed through most of my preggy days. I suppose I am not going to be so lucky this time. Maybe it means it's a boy...boys like to cause trouble don't they?

So forgive my lack of post this fine morning but I really must put my head down on my desk and breathe deeply. Happy Friday...and have a most fulfilling weekend.

I'm positive about a lot of things in this life of mine. I'm positive at the moment that I'm pregnant and I'm positive that I'm ecstatic over the new little soul I will soon have the chance to know. I'm positive that although life is sometimes down right painful, sometimes - it's not. I'm positive that my heart is big enough to love more than one person. I'm positive that this heart of mine sometimes feels too small to love myself. I'm positive that there are people in this world that do not deserve children. I'm positive that there are people in this world that any child would be lucky to have as a parent. I'm positive that when someone I love is in pain - I feel it as if it were my own. I'm positive that I cannot save everyone that needs saving, but - I'm positive I can save myself. I'm positive that I come here to this place each day because I need all of you. I'm positive that some tiny part of cyberspace - needs me.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

Thanks for all the well wishes yesterday...I'm still glowing and I'm sure there will be many more days of that to come.

I wanted to post about something that's been bothering me for awhile. My niece, my brother's child, is in pain. She lives with my brother and his wife of about 2 1/2 years and her 5 year old child from another marriage and a new sister they had together. My niece has had a horrific time adjusting to this new life. My whole life I've pretty much known that adults can be extremely selfish and most times it's the children that suffer. My own childhood was filled with selfish adults who put their own needs before mine - but I survived. I have to wonder, is surviving enough? In my nieces new family structure she has been diagnosed with AD/HD, depression, suicidal tendencies, and now because all of the medications are not shaping her into the model teenager her parents want her to be, a new label must be found. Asperger's Syndrome. For those of you who don't know what that is it's Autism. I'm so furious at my brother. I'm disappointed in his ability to remember that when he was a teenager he was far from a model child. I'm pissed at my sister-in-law for giving my niece the silent treatment as punishment. The worst possible thing you can ever inflict on a depressed child is isolating them from all forms of communication. Can't they see that she doesn't need a slap in the face, she needs arms wrapped around her body and the words 'I love you' shouted over and over until the moment that she not only hears them - but she believes them. I'd ask all of you if you can imagine how it feels to think that no one loves you but I know that most of you know exactly how that feels - it hurts - it breaks your spirit - it makes you want to run away - it leaves you feeling more empty than you did before. Adults can be so selfish and it's always the children that suffer. I remember once when I was a child and my father left me locked in his truck for 4 hours while he got plastered in his favorite watering hole and when he returned I asked him if he was going to drive, he replied, "of course." I told him I was scared. I told him I wanted to walk home. I begged him to love me enough to call my mother so she could come and get us. It was as if he his ears fell deaf on any words I spoke. My father was so selfish that he could not see my pain. He could not hear my pleading. He could not see - me. Right now I feel as if my niece is the one locked in the truck while her father and step mother dangle the keys to her future in front of her. Why can we not hear a child's voice over the self indulgent voice in our own head? They are so innocent and we steal that from them. I wonder what it would take to give it back?

I'm not sure how to help my niece. I tell her I love her. I try to talk to my brother but he's brain washed by his wife who has no interest in saving his child. Pretty soon she just might have her wish - there might not be enough left worth saving.

In a child's eyes you will see a reflection of yourself - look closely.

Sometimes just when you think you couldn't be surprised by life anymore, life slaps you in the face and says, "guess what - we're not done here yet." I have a secret. Part of me thinks I shouldn't say, sometimes secrets need to be kept - at least for awhile. But inside my stomach is turning round and round with tiny butterflies and each time I open my mouth it feels as if that secret is going to pop right out. I've never been good at keeping my mouth shut and this apparently is going to be one of those moments. Do you think secrets are good? Sometimes I'd have to agree that a secret should be kept if it's going to cause someone pain but then again, doesn't it always hurt worse when the secret comes out...because they always do don't they? I suppose there are people in this world that just don't want to know, they like to be the 'uninformed' because denial is so much easier than acceptance - at least in the beginning. I'm getting side tracked. This secret of mine is not a bad one, at least I don't think it is. So I'm going to tell you but you have to promise not to tell anyone ok? Are you ready? Ok, here it goes - I'm pregnant. Yowza, the mere word makes me giggle. It's still early but baby is in there as real as you or me. You want to know the most amazing thing...I wasn't even trying but then again I wasn't not trying either but they say when you are my age it's much harder for a woman to get pregnant so I didn't really think it would happen. Sometimes surprises are the stuff that makes life worth while. I have this litte girl named Alice to prove it. So, it's new and exciting and scary because I'm old - sort of. But one thing is going to be very different this time around, I have no fear that my sig. other knows he can be a father and a really good one too. You know I didn't realize when I was saying those prayers every night for God to make my family whole...that there was actually one tiny piece still waiting to be part of our puzzle. Then again...there's a lot I don't know but I'm learning - one day at a time.

It was such a beautiful weekend that my daughter and I planted flowers. My heart was full as we pushed our cart through the aisles and Alice pointed to the flowers she wanted. "They pretty mommy," she'd say pointing to the 'fowers' she wanted me to put in the cart. As we filled our cart with colors of pink, orange, and yellow I was lost in the fascination in her eyes. Isn't it amazing how quickly we forget how simple happiness can be and how easy it is for a child to remind us? We unloaded our car and Alice ran to get her shovel and gardening gloves. I'd dig the hole and she'd place the flower in it and then help me push the dirt over the roots. After we finished she grabbed my hand and gave me a mini-tour to admire our work. "Mommy fowers are happy," she said. She was right you know, the flowers were happy because they have to put down their roots in order to blossom. We so often wonder why our lives are not pretty to look at but we forget the most important part of growing something, planting our roots firmly so we have a solid foundation. If only we could stop and replant our seeds in a soil more fertile, maybe then we'd discover how beautiful we are when we let ourselves blossom.

The other night I was talking to my mom on the phone and she mentions that my brother is mad at my dad because he clearly loves me more. "What," I exclaimed. "Your dad loves you more and he doesn't even try to hide it," she replies. She goes on to say that my dad is always bragging about Alice and he hardly ever talks about my brother's kid who is almost the same age. I sat there listening to her complain about how inappropriate my father is and I really couldn't think of one thing to say in response. My parents are divorced and have been for 20 years and as much as I love my mom I can't stand how she talks about my dad. I told her she was wrong and I hung up the phone. I've been thinking about that conversation ever since and it really bothers me. My whole life my brother has been jealous of me for being my dad's favorite. Is it wrong for a parent to have a favorite - probably, but I'm sure it happens. Do I feel bad that sometimes I have to admit my dad does favor me over my brother? Yes I feel bad but only for a moment because there is one major difference between my brother's relationship with my dad and mine, I actually love my father regardless of all his faults. It is so easy to hate someone for not being the way you think they should be isn't it? But you grow up and you realize that people are who they are, good or bad, sober or not, and that still has nothing to do with how much you love them. Why do people put so many conditions on love? I'm sure my dad doesn't love me more than my bro but I do know he feels closer to me. Maybe it's because I've been honest with him about our past, how he hurt me, how he stole my childhood and made me grow up before it was my time. Maybe it's because I've told him I know he's an alcoholic and that I accept that it's a disease he cannot shed like an old coat that doesn't fit anymore. Maybe it's because I love him despite the pain he's caused me and I love him with my whole heart - not just the parts that escaped damage. My father loves my brother but he also knows that no matter what he does my brother will always be his judge and jury. Instead of telling my dad how he feels he punishes him by keeping his children from their grandfather, by talking behind his back to my mother who is the least objective person on this earth. My brother cannot accept that my father is human and has flaws just like the rest of us. My brother is like so many people that I know - a hypocrite.

I wanted to tell my dad how my brother felt but I didn't see the point because I know that my dad does love us both equally. He loves us both but he knows the love he has for me comes with less stipulations, less rules, less judgment. It's so much easier to show your love for someone that has their arms wide open ready to accept it. Love belongs to those who want it. Love belongs to those willing to accept it for what it is and nothing that it's not. I want to leave you with something that my father wrote me so very long ago:

My dearest girl with eyes so full of question, it has been my fear that those beautiful dark eyes that came from me will end up being the judge that sentences me to a life away from you. Once you made me promise that I'd never go away and I've struggled to keep that promise because sometimes I know that distance may be your only savior. So I'm writing words on paper hoping that someday you'll read them and know a part of me exists that lives to protect you and your brother from the cruel world I have created. I am weak dear child but when I falter I look back at you and still you are standing there begging me to return to your arms so you can hug my neck and kiss my cheek and remind me that nothing on this earth is stronger than your love. My lil' Irish lass please love me when I cannot love myself.

My dad doesn't love me more, he loves me back.

My daughter makes me laugh. Sometimes I look at her and see myself many many years ago before life made me cynical. I pray every day that my child never experiences the pain that I did in my childhood. I pray that I'll be strong enough to show her the right path to choose when she comes to me with those questioning eyes. We have so much responsibility to help them through the hardships we know will surely come. Today I'm grateful for my scars because they give me strength.


Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

Thanks to everyone for their 'doggie prayers' yesterday. I really think they helped because when I went home yesterday Jake was walking...slowly but still under his own power. Hopefully he'll be back to semi-normal soon so we can get that first ACL surgery!

So over the weekend I went back to my hometown for Easter. It's the first time I've been back since my step dad was put in a nursing home so I was a little worried that my daughter would be confused as to why her 'Papa' wasn't there. Before we even got to my mom's driveway Alice started saying, "Papa's house," and my heart started to break. She's only two, too young to realize what's going on but old enough to realize how much she loves him. So we started trying to distract her by pointing out trees and birds and a park with slides (her favorite) but nothing worked. As soon as we pulled in the drive and got her out of her seat she ran up to the door saying, "Where's Papa." I think it was one of the first times in my life that I've actually been speechless. Luckily she saw Nana and soon forgot that Papa was nowhere in sight. On Easter my mom brought my step dad back from the nursing home to spend the day with us and as soon as he walked in the room Alice ran to him, "Papa where you been?" Kids are so darn innocent and life ruins that doesn't it? As I stood there watching Alice hug her Papa and her Papa's face light up at the sight of her I feared that too soon he wouldn't remember who she was. God I hope that I can teach Alice to remember enough for the both of them. It seems that on a daily basis I'm reminded how damn unfair life can be. I want to make life easier for Alice. I want her to feel less pain in her days of growing up than I did in mine. I want her life to be more fair. I know that's impossible isn't it?

When it was time for Papa to go back to his new home Alice cried, she hung on to his neck, she screamed, "I see you." I remembered JJ and how she's always telling us the same thing. It has taken me years to see people for what they are and still love them anyway. Alice is two and already she's figured it out, she sees Papa as the whole man he once was - not the fragmented version. I'm not scared anymore. When she finally let go of Papa's neck she kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "love me papa." Some day not too far off Papa may not remember Alice - but I know she'll remember enough for both of them.

In my lifetime there have been few things that I could give my unwavering faith. Faith is a risk and sometimes it's just too damn hard to make the leap. People tend to let you down, maybe not always on purpose but the result is still the same - mistrust. Once, I took a leap of faith with no forethought or fear of what may come. Once I placed my faith in a male as if he were the last living creature on this earth with the power to heal me. I let him near my broken self, and as I wrapped my arms around his little body, he wrapped his heart around mine. Ten years ago I adopted a dog. A furry little brown ball of energy who chewed on my toes and ripped my shoes to shreds. Jacob Marley was my beacon of hope.

Yesterday I went to pick up my dog from the borders where he stayed while I went home for Easter. When I arrived they told me that they had trouble getting him to walk. "What do you mean," I cried. As I stood there listening to their excuses to what may have happened my heart was sinking farther and farther into the pit of my stomach. Last week I took my dog into the vet to get his hips examined because as a Labrador he's pre-disposed to hip problems. He'd been walking slow and the natural meds I'd been giving him stopped working. Turns out his hips are fine but he has torn ACL's in both of his back legs. I don't know if you have pets but if you do and they are a part of your family like Jake is a part of mine you realize that no matter what the cost - you want them fixed. So I'm standing there listening to my vet tell me that it will cost $1800 per leg, 12 weeks recovery, therapy...but when it's all said and done he'll be good as new and without a flinching I decide that the vacation I planned to Spain will just have to wait. There are things in this life more important than money, more important than vacations, things that matter more - than anything else. So I'd decided to get the surgery for Jake and when I'd dropped him off at the borders I was specific in my instructions that he needed to be walked, he couldn't be caged, he was my baby and they damn well better take care of him. They didn't. I took him back to the vet and they said he had severe muscle cramps from being caged but after a shot of pain meds and some PT he'd get back up again. Yesterday was spent massaging his legs, carrying him out to the yard so he could go to the bathroom, rubbing his belly, kissing his nose, and making sure he knew how much I loved him. Yesterday I discovered that love helps you lift a 90lb dog up into a wagon to wheel him down to the vet, love allows you to never think twice about giving up a vacation you've dreamed about, love makes you wake up at 1, at 3 at 5 in the morning to make sure your very best friend in the whole wide world - isn't in too much pain. Love erases limits.

Jacob Marley is better today, he can walk a little bit and his tail is wagging and I'm here back at work writing this post to all of you. You may deem me silly for having so much dedication to an animal but you see, Jake's my heart. He was the shadow that followed me around in the darkest days of my life reminding me that life would in fact get better. He was the cold nose nudging my face forcing me to get out of bed when nothing else in life could. Some might consider his life insignificant but me...I know better. A beacon of hope is always significant.

Well...I have a half day today and I'm excited but that also means I have to work harder so I don't fall behind at work. Why do vacation or holidays always come with a price? Anyway this is short and sweet...I hope all of you have a fab weekend whether you believe in that seven foot rabbit or not! Personally I'm making sure my Easter basket is out before I go to bed tomorrow night. I never miss a chance to get free candy.

Have a great weekend!

When you look into the rear view mirror you see the things you left behind;
Some good, some bad, some you've grown indifferent to.
You see the mistakes that lead you to this moment, right here, right now;
Some you've learned from, some you have to repeat a few more times.
You see those you've loved that have loved you back;
And those you've loved who didn't deserve it.
You see questions you now have answers to;
And some you are still perplexed by.
You look back to remember where you started;
So you can measure how far you've come.
Sometimes you think you can step back into those moments...but then you remember,
In the rear view mirror things always appear closer than they really are.


Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

Do you remember the first time you told someone you loved them? Someone other than your mom or dad that is... When I was fourteen I was sure I knew what love was. It was the butterflies in my stomach when I heard my boyfriend's voice. It was the anticipation of seeing him every morning before school. Love was that feeling I knew would last forever - no matter what. Do you remember the first time you realized that loving someone hurts like hell? When I was sixteen and twenty and twenty five and thirty and....I was sure that I had no idea what love really was. It was hard realizing that those butterflies in your stomach eventually flutter off into oblivion and that the anticipation of seeing someone you love quickly turns into an expectation. It took me a long long time to admit that the memory of love sometimes lasts longer than the love itself. And now I'm thirty-something and still I'm not exactly sure I can define that word - love. Is it a feeling? Is it an action? Is it something we're all entitled too? Can you give it back if you don't want it? Can you shape it into something that suits you better? Can you lay it down if it becomes to heavy? Will it save you? Will it comfort you? Will it be something special - always? I'm not sure I can answer any of those things but this morning I think I felt it, touched it, heard it...when my sig. other kissed me on the forehead as he passed me in the hallway and said, "you're really pretty." Maybe love is what we never thought it would be - simple.

When I was a kid Easter was a big deal because it meant two things, one - another day off school since Catholic kids cannot go to school on Good Friday, and two - tons of candy. Those two things were always in a battle with each other for the top spot of 'most important' things. Easter also meant that my mom would drag me shopping for a new dress and Easter bonnet. Oh yes I was quite the sight in my white tights, frilly dress, and perfectly placed bonnet. All the old ladies in church would stop and pinch my cheeks or ask me for a hug. Why is it that when you are a kid you hate hugging old people...they seemed scary or something didn't they? Easter was the one day my mother made me look like a girl. I was much more comfortable in my torn up jeans and sneakers because really, I wanted to be a boy. You see, I discovered at a very young age that boys had it much easier than girls. No dresses, no getting told to 'sit like a proper young lady'...they got to play with trucks, and climb trees, and get dirty...and everyone expected them to do those things. But if you were a girl, dirt was a big NO NO, trucks were for boys and dollies were for girls. I remember once taking my cabbage patch doll and strapping her to the top of my brothers army tank...because it looked cool. My mother about had a heart attack. "Girls do not behave that way," she said. My father wasn't much help either because after my brother was born he wanted a girl more than anything so when I came into to this world I was his real live princess. Let me tell you that being a princess is not all it's cracked up to be. Anyway, on Easter my mom scrubbed my knees, cleaned the dirt from under my fingernails, pulled my hair so tight into braids that my eyes slanted, and dressed me up like a girl so that everyone could see how pretty I was. Actually I think my mom wanted everyone to see how pretty she was and I was just a side ornament..but that's another story. So we'd go to church, my mother would pull my braids to make sure I was paying attention and life was the way it was supposed to be - for one day.

Now I'm one of those 'old people' but not much else has changed. I still prefer my torn up jeans and sneakers to a dress and my mother still calls me to make sure I have a proper outfit for Easter mass. I don't much mind anymore - the scrubbing of my knees, the cleaning my finger nails...and one more thing - I don't want to be a boy anymore. Life is the way it's supposed to be - at least for today.

I had a fabulous weekend. I didn't go out partying or do anything mildly spectacular but it was one of the most fulfilling weekends I've had in a long time. On Saturday my work had an open house geared towards children so we brought my daughter down to watch Ralph's World (children's band). As I watched how my sweet angel worked the crowd with her 'butt shakes' and 'hand clapping' I realized I was having a proud mama moment. She stood up in front of the crowd as if they didn't exist at all. She was lost in the music oblivious to anything else around her. I have to admit I was a bit envious of her boldness, I remember those days when only my own happiness mattered. I suppose that soon enough she'll grow up and the importance of her own happiness will be shoved behind that of someone else. Why do we do that? It's not that I think we should only take our own happiness into consideration but shouldn't it at the very least be near the top of our list? As sweet Alice danced her way across the room she actually came back for me, grabbed my hands and said, "dance mommy." She wanted me to share in her happiness as if it were big enough for both of us. You know what? It was. Maybe the key to being happy without being selfish is to always get other people involved.

A lot of you left comments yesterday about your own experiences similar to mine and although that comforts me a little to know I wasn't unique, it saddens me that we 'like' people traveled that path in the first place. It's amazing how many different routes can take you down the same road isn't it? I wish that somehow we could break the pattern, change the bad choices, make the scary stuff disappear. But we can't do that can we? One blogger commented that her daughter is headed down the same path and I can only imagine how worrisome that must be. It takes so much for us to escape our pasts, the pain, the memories, the mistakes - that it seems impossible to be able to turn all those things into the power to convince someone else that they never deserve to be inferior. We know from experience that when you are in those moments, you listen to no one. I think back to all the words of wisdom people spoke to me and I realized that not one of them shouted. No one screamed in my ears, " Wake up, you're making a mistake." No one tied my hands behind my back so I could hurt myself any more. Would any of those things have made a difference, maybe. So from this point forward I think we all need to take that pain and turn it into something positive. Tab said she's going to be a counselor and I applaud her for that. Although not all of us have that in us, we can still make a difference in someone else's life. Maybe the whole point of healing is to start a chain reaction. What a wonderful thought...one heart heals another.

Ten years ago I left my husband, not because he was bad - because I was. I wasn't bad in the sense that I did cruel things to him or anyone else, I was bad in the sense that I thought I wasn't good enough or nice enough to deserve a man that loved me so. He was a wonderful man, caring and sensitive and he loved me for all that I was and nothing that I wasn't. When I left him I got involved with someone I deemed more appropriate, a jealous, ego maniac, controlling man. I didn't really go in search of him, he just sort of found me. I know now that when you are in that place where you think you deserve less than everyone else, you will find someone that completely agrees with you. I hesitate to use his real name but honestly the man caused me so much grief that I feel I can't make any part of him make believe...not even his name. Mark was probably one of the worst mistakes I've ever made in my life. Before I met him most people considered me a strong woman, independent, willful, not the kind of person to let anyone control her but when I let Mark into my life - that changed. One thing I've learned about control is that just when you think you have the reins of your life gripped securely in your hands, it only takes one strong 'jerk' to pull them free. Mark controlled everything in my life. He once went through my closet and threw out all the clothes he classified as 'slutty'. He told me who I could talk to, who my friends could be, where I could go, what time I should go to bed, how to wear my hair, how often I could speak to my mother. I was never allowed to talk to another man without his permission and if he found out that I did, well then I was the biggest whore around. He had people follow me to make sure I wasn't disobeying his rules. It sounds crazy doesn't it? When I look back at those two years I let him control my life, I shudder in disgust. Sometimes I can hardly believe that person was me, that I could give up so much of myself to another human being and be left with an empty shell. My friends and family tried to hold a mirror up to my face but I refused to see my reflection. When anyone tried to tell me how awful a man Mark was I'd simply reply, "but I love him." I know now that wasn't love, it was an addiction. People assume addictions can only be to drugs, alcohol, food, sex...but I'm here to tell you that is the farthest thing from the truth. I was addicted to this man because I believed he was treating me the way I deserved to be treated. It's not like I told myself on a daily basis, "you're trash, you deserve pain." But in my heart of hearts...I believed it to be true (and that's a whole other story of why). I wish I could say that I wised up and saw Mark for the monster that he was but that would be a lie. Mark grew tired of me and threw me by the wayside. He was such a selfish man that even when he decided he needed a new woman to break, he still kept a firm hold on those reins. I remember the lows after he left. I remember the pain like it was yesterday. I remember feeling that nothing would ever feel different than how it felt in those moments. And for a long time - nothing did.

So how did I escape? How did I manage to become the strong willed woman I am today? I hit rock bottom where I laid in my own self pity. No one came to pick me up. No one brushed the dirt from my face and told me I was worth something more. No one could do those things for me because I wouldn't let them. I honestly can't tell you how I escaped. It's almost as if I blocked out that journey back to myself...I know it's there somewhere in the recesses of my mind but at this moment, I can't recall the exact point in time that I realized I needed to change. Some say it's important to remember how you got somewhere...but I believe the more important discovery is that you realize where you are now. When I think about Mark now I realize it wasn't him that destroyed me, that was something I did all by myself. If I ever doubt that I must remember one of my favorite quotes: No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. — Anna Eleanor Roosevelt

Today, I feel deserving as I stand before you...half nekkid.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday

After being 'stuck in the moment' yesterday and many days before that I actually started thinking about the things that lead up to that moment and the things that followed it like a dog chasing it's tail. Moments do not exist like an enigma, separate from everything else, they exist because of everything else. The thing I realized yesterday is although I thought I was stuck in just one moment, I was actually stuck in many. Sometimes we put blinders on and all we can see is what's right in front of us. We don't ask questions - we make assumptions. Assumptions that we know why things happen or why they don't, but in reality most of us have selective memories. Some of us remember only the bad because we believe it's shaped who we are. Some of us remember only the good because we're in denial that bad things happened at all. I wrote a post a while back named 'Remembering makes you free' and I had forgotten the words I spoke, I'd missed my own advice. Last night I remembered things, some good - some bad and you know what? Today I feel lighter, maybe not any more enlightened as to why things were the way they were, but definitely lighter. Isn't it strange how heavy moments can become? Sitting on top of your shoulders whispering in your ear, "remember me?" I've never been good at laying those burdens down but I really want to try to change. I'm not sure how to begin but I suppose a first step is to write those thoughts down, make them as real as they were when they happened. It's painful to remember isn't it? But not remembering can be just as harmful.

So for a few moments beyond this one...I'm going to write about some things I thought I'd forgotten. Things I should remember so that I truly can move past them. I hope that's ok...that I let you into those secret places that even I had forgotten about. You know...today is 04-05-06 and they say it's an occurence that will never happen again in our lifetime. I think today I'm going to do something special to mark the occasion, I'm going to 'unstick' myself from the moments that came before this one. This moment right now, it's my new starting point.

Have you ever been stuck in a moment? A moment you keep remembering, keep re-living, keep pressing to the front of your brain so it's near impossible to forget? For some time now I've had this moment pulling me back to things already passed. I dream about it, I let thoughts of it consume me as I'm standing in the kitchen drying the dinner dishes. The strange thing is that even when the moment was actually happening, it didn't seem that important. How can something become more important after it's already happened? It's not a moment that defined me, not a moment that completed me, not a moment that even seemed like it was something I'd need to remember for later...at least I didn't think so at the time the moment was occurring. So this morning I'm combing my hair and there it was, the moment flashing back at me as if it were a reflection I'd been trying to escape. Some people say we get stuck in moments because there's something unresolved that we need to deal with. I guess I believe that but how can you resolve something that never appeared to be a problem in the first place? I try to force the moment out of my brain by closing my eyes, refusing to look at it's reflection. I manage to escape it briefly but it leaves this nagging feeling inside my chest that I can't quite define. As I'm riding the train in this morning I close my eyes hoping to block out the images of strangers surrounding me and I let it happen, the moment. I'm remembering several years back when I went to this all night boating party which was supposed to be with my boyfriend but he ended getting pissed off that some guy was flirting me so he left me...I ended up there alone, knowing not a soul. I managed to make a few friends and ended up staying on their boat. Like I said before it was nothing significant. I remember drinking way too much trying to block out the reality that my boyfriend cared more about himself than me. I remember waking up the next morning forgetting where I was and wondering how the hell I was going to get home. I remember...and then it hits me, a moment that wasn't a moment at all rather it was a string of moments wrapped up into a lifetime. The ironic thing about moments is that when you are in them you think you'll remember them always, like tattoos branded on your arm. But moments are not permanent, they fade and sometimes they fade so quickly that you miss the relevance of them.

Today I realized that I'm stuck in a moment not because it was a moment I wanted to remember forever, but because it was a moment I wanted to forget forever. It was a moment that I let define how I would deal with rejection, loneliness, betrayal...by not dealing with it at all. So why now? Why does it resurface six years after it happened? Because not so long ago someone mentioned to me that they had seen my old boyfriend, the one who left me stranded at that party so many years ago. I remember my heart sinking into the pit in the bottom of my stomach but I quickly dismissed the thought that I could still be affected by that man. And then the moments came to me like a thief in the night, stealing something so precious - the facade of strength I display so proudly. The truth is, that moment wasn't insignificant. And so I remember, I get stuck in it, I wrap my sanity around it. What do I do with it now? I feel it. Moments are meant to be felt regardless of their pleasure or pain. So right now, I'm feeling it - the loneliness I felt, the escape I tried to make, the pain of knowing someone can love you but still leave you behind. And when I let it go - finally, the moment will fade into something less.

Sometimes I think I have all the answers. There are always so many questions and I've always been the one at the back of the class, jumping up and down in her seat, hand waving furiously in the air, "Pick me, pick me." Sometimes I do actually have the right answer but most times I end up forgetting what the hell the question was to begin with. Have you ever searched so hard for an answer that by the time you think you have it, the question has changed? My father used to say, "We are always searching for the right answers, but there are no answers, there is only life." I wish I could remember that piece of advice every single day because if I could...

I'd stop wondering why people are not as kind as they should be.
I'd stop trying to figure out why lies hurt more than the truth.
I'd stop looking for the easy way around things because the easiest path is usually the wrong path.
I'd stop second guessing someone's good intentions and just accept that sometimes good things are just good things.
I'd stop wondering why God picks on me when really all he is doing is saying, NWC pay attention.
I'd stop wondering how things get so messed up and start straightening them out.

Life is a not a question, it is the answer.