It's been a year

One year ago today I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and it's been one roller coaster of a year for sure. It's been a long, dark and scary back alley of a year in some respects; an alley that I thought I was destined to walk alone, desperately looking over my shoulder as I scrambled to find an exit or some safe haven from the horrible unknown that skittered in the dark closely behind me.

Then around a week later my best friend in the whole world was diagnosed, and in the most odd/bizarre/tragic/morbid/comical way... suddenly I was not alone. We traveled  together, huddled in the dark while taking turns shining a flashlight for each other; shedding light on pitfalls and outright stumbling blocks in our path.

We have laughed and cried together out of grief and terror, we have fallen silent and morose. We have joked about the possibilities of the illness, and have related to each other in ways that even our loved ones fail to comprehend. Monique and I both have a better understanding of what we are dealing with, and we have shared a wealth of knowledge with each other.

In these ways, my life has somehow become richer. Through common ground and despair, we have connected on a level I never thought was possible. We had discovered mere months before being diagnosed that we were best friends, already a friendship deeper than ANY friendship I have ever had outside of my marriage. So deep in fact that she asked that I be the godmother to her unborn daughter. :) We have so many similarities, so many odd things in common that it's mind boggling... then to have this happen?

The most mind blowing thing from all of this is that we have not met in person yet. In just 14 days I get to meet my other soul mate, my sister from another mister... my life doppelganger.

I am so thankful and utterly grateful to have her in my life. We have gotten each other through so many rough spots in the last 12 months, and have created a relationship bound (and gagged) in love and laughter since July 2011.

Simply put, I could not have gotten through this last year without her*.

I cannot wait to see where this road goes next, Monique "Bella Boo"!
I'm positive. *wink*





*Of course it goes without saying that I could not have gotten through this year without my loving and supportive husband, who is the yin to my yang. Love you MISU!

Free to be...Part One

Here I am. I just am, nothing more... nothing less. Is that it, really*? 


*Hang on for a minute and take a little journey with me. I know I am going to upset a few people, the journey may get a little cloudy but I assure you there is a patch of sunshine waiting just over the ridge. Ready? Take my hand... I'm moving slower these days. I promise I wont go any faster than what the terrain calls for.


I was in the shower this morning thinking about how my life has changed since almost 2 weeks ago; peaks and valleys of mood, state of body and mind being so interconnected. I am finding things that are working a little for me and I am willing to accept that. I am open to these brief windows of being of less pain but not painless. I gave up on that notion a long time ago.


My mind wandered to that phrase[s] that has bothered me so much in my life. 
"All things happen for a reason."
"There is a reason why you are going through this, it's to teach you something."
"God never gives us more than we can handle."


The one that really gets to me was stated by Oprah, "I trust that everything happens for a reason, even when we're not wise enough to see it."


I cannot believe this to be true. I was once an Oprah-phile. That statement was the beginning of the end for me. I do not, cannot believe that God intended for all the horrible things that have happened in my life. I refuse to believe that he looked through time and decided that I would be sexually abused, physically and emotionally tormented by the ones who were supposed to care for me.


The flaw in this thinking- if you dare to consider it that way- is that it takes away accountability to the perpetrators. It points the finger at a God I would not want to love, or expect love from. Why would I trust in a God like that? But ultimately there is no free will in that line of thought


Whether or not you believe in a god, or my God... this thinking is destructive. It's passive and is almost an invitation for bad things to happen. "Que sera sera".


So I guess this means that I don't believe in destiny or fate. Logically,if my choices are already predestined and predertmined then they cannot be choices. I should be an unfeeling robot, waiting for life to happen since I would then really have no choice.


But I do. 


I thought about how much all those phrases bothered me, and pondered the fact that despite detesting the very core of all of those blurbs... I am learning something from this experience. But I am choosing to. 


I could waste my days crying over this new obstacle, this fallen tree in my path. I could choose to collapse against it's insurmountable weight . Or I can choose to grab at one of those branches beside me and pull myself up, and look for ways around it to get back to the road I am choosing to take.


In a matter of a few minutes I had all these thoughts swirling around me. 


Today, despite all that this illness entails... I am choosing to have a good day. I choose to be a compassionate human being in the face of my own adversities. I am going to choose to pay forward a heart full of gratitude, to sacrifice my own self pity in hopes that what tries to disable my body will not disable my heart and all that I have to offer.


I am choosing to be, rather than just I am.


Stay tuned for part two, it's gonna be a doozey! :D

Letting in the light

I decided to wash the dishes and I looked out my kitchen window to see helicopter seeds floating down from the gray sky. Despite the dreariness of the day that brought me momentary joy and smile to my tired face.

My eyes moved to the old tree in our backyard and my moment of joy settled like those seeds drifting across my yard. Dry and blackened in spots, a husk of tree hulks over my house and I am scared that we are one storm away from the upper level being destroyed, our children hurt. Some thirty feet it stands leafless and nearly lifeless, it's bark having fallen off in places. I am truly saddened to see what has become of our beloved shade tree.

I wistfully think about my kids as little ones, this house being the only home they have ever known... tripping over the damned roots of that tree. Despite the bumps and bruises and the momentary tears we have all enjoyed the shade, the sweet rustling of it's tender leaves on warming spring days, and eventually the solace it gave us from the exhausting heat of humid Iowa summers. It was almost as if it knew it had to hang on to get my girls through the early years, providing a haven from light rain and brief rain showers, it's branches hanging over part of their swing set and the rain bouncing from one leaf to another but never really hitting them.

Our tree will be cut down within the next week, and Jacob will never know all of those little things my daughters experienced as little ones. All those things we tend to take for granted that, the seemingly minute details that will one day make their childhood stories somehow more real and tangible. Fond memories from tiny scars...Sweetness for the most bitter of days.

We have known for several years our tree would be cut down and I have wondered how we will ever do without it's shade. Sections of the tree died over the years and we ignored how ugly those branches were, we chose to enjoy what it had left to give us.

I think about how I will miss those approving whispers that graced my ears as I closed my eyes for a moment, my nose raised to catch the green scents that swirled around me. I will miss almost hearing "This... this... this...", the wind tangling and untangling the leaves to cry out in unison as if warning me that I should appreciate this moment. Here, Now; whispers that were muffled by screeches and giggly laughter, the creaking of the swing set and endless requests for food and drink.

But cutting away this dead tree will allow your windows to let in much more light, cheering you despite the summer heat - I think, the repetition of washing dishes almost soothing me. It's wood will warm you in the winter, crackling in the glow of your fireplace... anointing  your aching bones. Pretty things will now grow in the places where shadows once were. All things fade, allowing for new life in it's place.


There is so much to be taken from this moment. It speaks to spirituality, to providing a safe haven for my children, life and death and the seeming finality. It spoke to me deeply about my body feeling as if it were failing me, about being so strong yet so fragile.

I'm choosing to ignore the gnarled-ness that my joints feel, the blackened spots on my heart and soul. I still have plenty of shade to give, solace to offer. I'm going to continue to produce gentle whispers of approval, soft reminders to my children to appreciate This. Here. Now... Only I will tuck my roots in as much as possible, I will not trip them up or alter their course from shade to light.

This...


Here...


Now...

What a gem ;) OR Happy Mother's Day to me

Last Friday Anna went to a children's museum some 45 minutes away from, for a field trip with her first grade class. As always (I had trouble sleeping the night before, and) I had a talk with her about general safety and what was acceptable and unacceptable.

Did I happen to mention that I am neurotic? It couldn't possibly have anything to do with the nightmare I had the night before about Anna coming home from the museum and telling us that a stranger had harmed her.

Anyway... this is the talk we always have when she will be away from us, or when we go anywhere that is a good distance away from home, especially if there will be a lot of people.

I can't help but be this way because I know what dangers lurk around every corner. For me , as a child, they lurked in the very corners of my own home and I guess this makes me a little over protective. I know that when she gets a bit older I will have to trust that I have taught her as best as I could, and send her on her way with a few "gentle" reminders. ;)

Just as she walked out of the door for school, I said a prayer for her and her class. I asked that God keep them all safe from... "them", the sick and twisted people that live just to hurt children. I prayed that they be surrounded by so many angels that they would be invisible to "them".

The day went by very slowly for me, but Anna did eventually come home. I asked her happily, after giving her a hug, how the day went. We sat down on the couch together to snuggle.

"Well, I didn't... It wasn't very much...'" she sputtered as she teared up. "I-," She began as she turned away from me in embarrassment.

"Anna, it's ok... calm down. You don't have to be embarrassed, you can tell me anything. Remember how many times I have told you the embarrassing things that have happened to me?" Anna nodded, slowly turning towards me as I put my arm around her. "You can always talk to mommy and daddy, no matter how embarrassing or upsetting it may be. Even if you are in big trouble, please always talk to us about it. OK?"

She nodded again. "I didn't have a very good time at the museum," she said as she choked back tears," I was home sick."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "It's OK, I think most kids are a bit nervous on their first field trip that far away from home. You didn't have fun at all?"

She settled in and relaxed against me,"No, not until we went outside to play on the museum play ground."

"That's OK," I said as I patted her," At least you had a little fun."

"Well, I had fun buying my mood ring too," she smiled up at me.

We sat for awhile , snuggling while watching the Food Network. I had a sudden realization that usually in our world being sensitive was viewed as having a weakness. How many times have we heard ourselves or someone else say to their child " Stop being such a baby"? "Stop being a drama queen" or "grow up"? I can't count how many times my own mother made me feel like I was less than human for crying or being sad over something she had said or done to me.

"You know Anna... feeling this way isn't a bad thing. I mean being sensitive or the fact that you were feeling home sick. It just means that you feel things deeply." I thought about all of the thousands of times she seemed to have overreacted, or played the "drama queen" over the span of her 7 years and smiled. There was no middle ground with this girl for the most part. She experienced things at the highest highs and the lowest lows, and I smiled again to myself.

I gave her another squeeze, "You are one of the strongest people I have ever met. You're smart, beautiful, funny... you're like a diamond. You know how a diamond has little cuts in it? Those are called facets. Each one of your facets- or the little things about you, including being sensitive- make up the whole you... a beautiful little diamond."

She looked up at me and lit up with such a brilliance that words fail to adequately describe it.

Being sensitive and feeling things deeply isn't anymore flawed than a diamond that is pink or canary yellow. Those diamonds are actually valued more for their rarity and color.

I choose to see my girl for the rare and priceless gem that she is.

Update on little Emma Rose

Well, we had a follow up appointment for Emma today, our little peanut. Just so you know how much of a peanut... she's3 feet tall and 27 pounds fully clothed. ;)

Anyway, our new pediatrician said that she did hear a slight systolic heart murmur, classified as a stage 1. She said if I hadn't mentioned that Emma was diagnosed with a heart murmur (at birth, which they recanted later at a peds appointment because they couldn't find it- then last year when she had pneumonia they heard it again, only to not be able to find it during a follow up after antibiotics), she might not have caught it.

So... Emma has an appointment to see a pediatric cardiologist out of town on May 28th. They will do an EKG there and will look at her chest xray from her ER visit... and based on those the doctor will decide whether or not she needs to have an echocardiogram.

The doc did say that overall, she isn't too worried about it, and that I shouldn't lose sleep over it and that it's good to just have it checked out and documented now because later in life other doctors will notice it and will want all of these tests done anyway (if we don't look into it).

I want it looked at anyway, whether or not it is considered minor. This is my baby we are talking about here... nothing is minor to me LOL!

I let the doc know about Emma having gray/ grayish-blue lips at times, and dusky nail beds... and that it usually resolves itself within a few minutes, and she listened intently. She asked if her fingers and toes were cold during these episodes and said it was common for children with heart murmurs to experience this. I was really glad that she took me seriously because when I mentioned this during her bout with pneumonia last year they blew me off because she was fine by the time we got her to the ER.

Emma did well, she followed directions during the exam and didn't shed a single tear. She did however scowl at the doctor while the doc listened several minutes to her heart, moving the stethoscope every 5 seconds or so. Emma was awarded with a sucker, which was blue of all things... but at least her lips are tinted blue for a good reason for once. ;)

I will let you guys know what the pediatric cardiologist says after the 28th, thanks in advance for your thoughts and prayers. We really appreciate it!

Here are a few pics of miss thang after her appointment, sporting a pony tail, my sunglasses and blue (sucker tinted) lips. :D

PS- I forgot to add that as of 2 days ago, Emma has told us that she isn't afraid of bugs anymore. Her kitty cat- the one she has a death grip on in the photos above- IS afraid of bugs, but she isn't. ;)

Ahhhhh, finally

What's new pussy cat? I know... I really need to get my buns over to your blog, like yesterday. ;)

I haven't been able to squeeze in blogging except a random post here and there to let you guys know that I haven't mysteriously lost my gravitational pull, therefore floating off the face of the earth in into the heavens. There has been no spontaneous combustion, freak accidents (except for Emma spraining her knee this last Tuesday). Nope, just me, tired and whiny me, still unable to manage my time enough to squeeze in some good quality blogging.

What, you say? Emma? Knee? seeing a doctor for a second week in a row? Why yes! My little one has suddenly grown accustomed to waiting rooms and has developed a need for a physicians intervention.

Forsooth and whatnot. ;)

I cannot explain it except that she was happily jumping one minute, then screaming in agony the next. I had her rest for an hour, and she woke a dozing me with crying. I found her crumpled on the floor next to the couch, just a few feet from me. So then I decided to give her some medicine and see if she could walk, she limped a little. Then I had her try to climb the stairs (for nap time) and the moment she used her right leg to climb the first step, she cried in agony.

I called the hubs and contemplated taking her to the ER again, but after John came home he convinced me that she probably didn't need to see the ER doc, and possible could wait a day to see if she really needed to see a doc at all. Over protective me? I convinced him that neurotic me wouldn't rest until she was seen and I knew that it was nothing more than a sprain (as evidenced by her slightly swollen knee).

I had to work, but found out 5 hours later *rolls eyes*, after I got home, that she had a sprain and took some children's motrin before bed.

On another note, and more on Emma, thank you for all of your comments and prayers concerning the chest pains and the buggie issues. She has an appointment next week to see a pediatrician ( we normally see a family doc), and I will update you guys with more info as we have it.

On the buggie front, we went outside this week so that the girls could try out the new side walk paint. Em immediately began to scream because of the ants on the side walk. SO... I sprayed her with invisible spray (insect repellent), gave her her buggie sunglasses, then armed her with bug "happy spray" (20 parts water to 1 part febreeze, to make the bugs be nice, not to kill them) in her own special squirt bottle.

One commenter said that they thought that "indulging her fears" wasn't exactly the way to go (thanks for the comment Sue), but I would just like to say that I have tried the "get over it" approach and it actually made her more afraid. I think she trusted me a little less, and that bothered me. The problem with parenting (and childhood) is that one approach does not work for every child. My girls are very high strung and stubborn. My oldest is afraid of water but because we got her a pool that she could comfortably stand up in (she was almost 4 foot and the pool was 30 inches deep), she had a blast after getting used to the pool for only a 1/2 hour. the year before year I accidentally dropped her when my husband was tossing her to me in a deeper pool and she didn't trust me after that, and refused to let me hold her while in the pool. Though the school of hard knocks approach might work for some children, I have learned that suggesting that they just get over it makes them mistrust me and even fear me. I really dislike the idea of them not trusting me since I've had an inherent (but well deserved) fear and mistrust of my abusive mother my whole life.

What I did do though was try several things until I found something that made her more comfortable. I brought her her dad's comfy butterfly chair outside for her to sit in, and brought out her Magnadoodle to keep her occupied and distracted, all the while not giving in to her pleas to go inside. I did give in to her demands to have her feet up off of the ground because she didn't calm down after 1/2 hour and was shaking terribly, and considering her recent bout with chest pain I felt this was necessary... but also I think compromise is in order her for her to feel like she is being heard, has options and is at least a little in control. Baby steps right? She IS only 3 years old. Spraying her "happy bug spray" seemed to help and I think she felt in control some what. Of course once she got going there was no stopping her until I convinced her that she had adequately drenched a 2 foot radius from her chair.

As for the 'ahhhhh, finally" part, I found a yoga DVD that I just love. This is not an official review, I just really love it!



Yoga For Beginners truly is a DVD for beginners. What I love about Barbara's approach to yoga is that she gives you tips on breathing, body movement and placement. She also says pointers like ,"If you feel a strain in Y or Z, then your X is too far off center". She also gives reminders to watch for neck or face strain, etc. There is an intermediate section also, but I'm not there yet so I can't tell about that yet, but I have noticed increased flexibility just from doing her DVD every other day. I also noticed that I am less sore after work (***TMI ALERT*** I usually have horrible groin/pelvic floor pain from all the walking on those hard floors, and my back is pretty stiff), that my upper body strength has increased, and ***TMI ALERT*** that my boobs have perked up a bit.

So, to sum up... I can now officially call it Yog-ahhhhhh instead of Yog-ouch. ;) If you are interested in giving yoga a try, but don't like the fact that most exercise DVD's don't take the time to explain proper body mechanics for each exercise, or you think that yoga is too hard based on what you have seen on TV I highly recommend this DVD to get you going.

Linking for dollars!

Empowering Youth, Inc, is sponsoring an effort to raise funds for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. Last year, “Linking for Dollars” raised $500! You can help. Empowering Youth will pay one dollar to St. Jude, just for posting this announcement. Details are
here.

Giving doesn't get much easier than that! Please visit Pass the Torch starting December 20th up until the 25th, and make a difference in a child's life :D

*sigh*

Anna was sick last week with a stomach flu that kept her out of school for 3 days... she felt better Friday evening.

Then promptly cam down with another cold/virus Saturday morning, and was coughing so hard that she threw up a few times. Monday, she felt icky so stayed home a 4th day.

Emma got sick Sunday night.

If you have yard apes, grand-ankle biters or work around the wee folk all day long I am sure you can imagine... all the stuff! (typed with nondescript exhaustion... well, because i am exhausted, so exhausted, i refuse to capitalize :P )

Yesterday, it was encroaching on lunchtime and I got the shakes. I realized that though the tissue terrorizing, prolific booger producing rain forest destroyers that I love so dearly were properly fed clothed and medicated, I had neglected to feed myself.

I heated up the leftovers from Sunday breakfast, and being a little short on money, I decided that all leftovers would be eaten with appreciation. I attempted to heat up my eggs and hash browns.

"Mommy i want up."

Mommy has to have breakfast.

"mommy, I need this."

Not right now, i need to eat.

"mommy, I want that."

I am hungry....

"mommy, i have a booger."

Mommy's have to eat too, ya know....

"Mommy, can i? Mommy give me, mommy mommy mommy mommy mommy I want, Mommy I need..."

Can i please eat my....

"UP mommy... I want mommy..."

"PLEASE, CAN I EAT MY MUSHY, REHEATED HASH BROWNS AND RUBBERY EGGS IN PEACE? I'M STARVING! I just want to eat, give me 10 minutes, for Pete's sake. God!...............help me."

*crickets*

20 seconds go by, and my 2 year old's eyes get a fraction larger.

"Up?"

I bury by head in my hands and stare at the less than appealing clumps of slightly greenish hued scrambled 'used to be eggs'. Blah. I eat but do not enjoy my left overs and wash it down with my barely room temperature coffee. I pretend that the leftover bacon is crunchy, and that it is crunchy enough to drown out the munchkin that continues to blatantly disregard my growled requests to be left alone to consume my lackluster fare.


Then I remember, as I manage to gulp down my practically tasteless coffee, that just 8 years ago we were about to end our 11 years of infertility with the biggest surprise and blessing ever.

It's all worth it, and though i would change a few minor details (as in the frequency of illness, and the rate at which they destroy paper products), I wouldn't trade my booger covered boogers for anything.

The End.

I wrote this post as an entry in the Mommy Tantrum contest... do you have a great mommy Tantrum story? Head on over to Bottles, Barbies and Boys and enter your story!

A favor, if you wouldn't mind

If you have been reading my blog for a while, you know that I have a sister that my younger brother and I recently reconnected with. My sister's adoptive mother passed yesterday from cancer, a battle she has been fighting for a while.

Marci wasn't able to get there in time but she did drive quite a ways to get there, and spent the night there. She drove home today to get her husband and three kids... Marci also has an adoptive brother, and will be there with her. I was just wondering if you are so inclined, if you could please send her good vibes and prayers.

I am so glad that Marci and her family were able to visit recently, and were able to have a visit without the usual anger and arguing. That in itself is a blessing.

Thanks, I know she will really appreciate it.

~mert

Have you ever had a friend...

That hurt you so much that you didn't want to talk to them ever again?

I had a friend (who lives 2000 miles away, and that I have been friends with for over 10 years) that had been having marital problems for over 6 years. There have been many, many times that we talked on the phone for hours before and after she started having problems. We have been such good friends that we at times have called each other best friend, and there have been times when we fought and didn't speak for 11 months.

Our relationship was very honest and we could talk about anything. We laughed and cried, we fought, we complained and bitched about our lives and all of that was OK. It was better than OK, she has been as close of a friend as my husband at times.

Over the last year, when her marriage was really in crisis, I had spent hours- willingly because I loved her- on the phone talking about her problems, supporting her decisions, giving advice when she asked. I had spent hours talking and consoling, and at times forgotten to make dinner for my kids (until Anna said she was starving). I spent hours telling my kids "not now I'm on the phone" because my friend lived so far away and was so busy working extra ours to save money for her impending separation, so I talked to her whenever she needed. She was so busy that the only time she ever seemed to call me was when she was driving somewhere.

Then one day, she told me that they had worked things out. Though I still worried about her, I was happy that she was happy and supported her decision because it's her life. Suddenly I was told that she was trying to cut out all the negative people in her life, and I noticed that she usually told me this shortly after I did our usual complaining that we do about things that are annoying us at the time... then she would tell me she was lost and had to get directions, or had another call, and that she would call me back.

And she never did.

This happened once, and though I was hurt, I thought"she is really busy, she'll call me back when she has a chance."

It happened a second time and I said to myself, "That is a weird coincidence. Hmmm, not sure what to think about that."

It happened a third time... so I stopped taking her calls when she finally called me back 3 weeks later.

That was almost 4 months ago, and she stopped calling after I decided not to send her daughter anything for her birthday. I figured she had realized that I was hurt and upset, then got mad that I didn't send her daughter anything. I figured our friendship was pretty much over since she thought I was all of a sudden to negative and she was cutting all of US out of her life.

I told my husband that I had a feeling that she would be calling the next time she needed something. Sure enough, she started calling again.

My problem besides the obvious is that I felt like we have been friends for so many years and the fact that now our friendship arrangement was no longer suitable to her, it was almost like my husband had suddenly told me that he couldn't stand the way I breathe. It hurt me deeply that we have been such close friends over the years that we accepted each others flaws, mourned with each other and even fought like sisters.

And then one day she tells me in so many words that I can't be in her life anymore because what I have offered her over the years (and she had offered back exactly) isn't good enough anymore. I'm too negative suddenly , when I haven't changed the way I have interacted with her as a friend. I'm not good enough.

The problem is that I don't even know if she understands what she has done. Over the years I have overlooked her shortcomings (and I wont list them since I don't know if she reads this blog anymore), and she has over looked mine. Now that her life was back in order and her husband wanted her again, I was no longer needed. It hurt me so much that I couldn't even talk to her about it.

But why talk to someone who obviously doesn't like or even love you anymore? Why waste my energy on someone who obviously feels like I'm inadequate, why put myself through that anymore?

Now, she is calling me again, just like I thought she would. Her husband has changed his mind and is wanting a divorce again, and now since I don't answer her calls- she sending me emails. She is telling people finally that they are separating, when before I was only one of 3 people that knew that her marriage was on the rocks. It's final now and she is sending out emails saying she is going to focus on herself and travel to see friends out of state.

Though I feel bad for her on a basic level, I have been so hurt that anger isn't even an issue anymore,I just don't care.

I feel like she dumped me and now that her dance card is empty, she wants me back to fill the void for her. On some level, I still love her as a friend and though we worked hard to over come our past arguments, I feel as though she attacked my character and told me I wasn't good enough.

If you know me even a little, I am a bit of a dork in so many ways, including social situations. I tend to lash out at people I don't very well if they anger me. The people that I know well and love... if they hurt me I tend to recede and become a hermit. I duck and cover. I know this has a lot to do with my childhood and not being able to have friends, to go out and socialize like a normal teen because I was pretty much locked up at home.

That's why I love blogging. I can socialize and met people, and in a way it's safer that way, but very sad.

I often think and wonder what is wrong with me that I cannot seem to make decent friends in real life, and ask my husband, "Isn't the common denominator me? Either I am attracting the wrong kind of friend because I put out a vibe that people can treat me like crap, or I am socially inept." I often ask my husband, "Am I over reacting?" and he will answer me honestly, and most of the time he will tell me no, that I am not overreacting.

Sometimes he does. And I get pissed. LOL! But I know he is right. Never once during all of this has he told me that I am overreacting.

Anyway, I sound like my friend. We are separating and I am boohooing to you guys. The only difference is that I am neglecting you guys because of NaNoWriMo. :)

BTW, please don't take it personally, I assure you that once I finish this stupid first draft that I will be back laughing with you, heckling you, and just generally being "all up in your business". I haven't visited but a few blogs because writers block is so depressing that even writing comments is mentally crippling. Sad? YES! Self inflicted? Absolutely. Lame? Probably.

Forgive me? Please?

Thanks for listening to me whine about the person who I used to consider my best friend... I feel bad for her , I really do. I just don't know if I am willing to let her kick me in the

Poor Iggy

I know there are more pressing issues going on in the world today but when I saw this story on Yahoo's home page I was deeply saddened. It's not often that you see Ellen Degeneres tear up, let alone cry, but when she does you know she means it.

Basically the story is that despite giving this sweet puppy lots of love and even paying to have this pup trained and acclimated to her current pets- to the tune of 3000.00- Ellen found that Iggy was just too energetic for her household. While discussing this with her hairdresser, whom she sees every single day and knows very well, the hairdresser spoke up immediately saying she would take the dog because her family loved him.

Shortly after the shelter that Ellen adopted Iggy from called and asked how he was doing. Ellen did what the honorable thing and told the truth. The shelter in question sent someone out to take the dog back immediately. To see the clip from her live show, you can watch it here.

Since I went through a similar situation about a year ago, I KNOW how heart wrenching it is to have to give away a pet who just doesn't fit in with the family, no matter how hard you try. Though I realize that she signed a paper stating that she would give the dog back if any problems should arise, I would think that this shelter would see all the good that Ellen does on her show and know that she would absolutely make sure that Iggy went to a family that was capable of loving and taking care of him.

The fact is that Ellen gave her dog to someone whom she trusts. It may sound silly to some, but a lot of us gals have very close relationships with the people we trust our do's to. I wold think that this shelter could understand that since Ellen sees her hairdresser every single day that she knows her very well, and trusts her enough to take a pet that Ellen loved but could no longer keep.

I just think that in a world where you hear about celebrities and all of their problems and horribly obvious shortcomings, that someone like Ellen Degeneres- who has raised millions for so many charities over the years, and help thousands of people- could be cut a little slack.

But no. Instead poor Iggy is back where he started probably in an overcrowded and stinking shelter, in a cage, and not getting near the love and attention he deserves. Not one but two families are distraught over a new family member being taken away. I think had they REALLY cared about how Iggy was doing? they would have shown up in person to see for themselves instead of just calling Ellen on the phone. They took Iggy back over a mere technicality, not because they really care about him.

If you think this is outrageous, go to the link below and leave a comment for Ellen and feel free to use the graphic above. If you hear of any petitions going on, I would love to hear about it so I can sign, too. The photo in the graphic I made is courtesy of The Ellen Degeneres Show website.

Pleas note that I have commented further on this topic... well, in comments! Thanks for all of your opinions, I am glad we are able to debate without flaming and trolling. :)

What to do when your 6 year old child says "I hate you"

I have always known that Anna is a bit ahead of the curve in maturity and brain cells. Bearing that in mind I have also always known that eventually and inevitably the day would come when she said those dreaded words.

I hate you.

I wasn't expecting the day to be today, and I wasn't expecting her to be the ripe age of 6 1/2. I certainly did expect those words to be hurled at me from the throws of prepubescence, and I was even more certain that they would pop up during some premenstrual debacle.

Those are words that I know well. Too well. I cannot tell you how many times those words were said to me in anger as a child. I think what hurt the most is when those words were handed to me with apathy.

Anna said that she hated me, then told me that everything was my fault... and after that I can honestly say that I don't remember much. I told her she was to stay in her room and not come out until it was clean and that I did not want to talk to her.

I went down stairs in a haze. I walked in circles until I was crushed under the pressure and weight of those 3 words. I cried. I can honestly say that it grieves me.

So I did what I always do when furious or hurt, I cleaned. After I worked offf a little grief I decided to google 'what to do when your 6 year old child says "I hate you"'. I read various sites that stated that at this age they are not aware of the meaning of those words and say them because they are angry, but don't mean them. Sure, I know that younger children say these things to their parents, and I know that hypothetically they don't mean it. You can't say that about Anna. She's very intelligent. Though I know she may not realize the consequences of this act I can tell you that she meant them with every fiber, even for a brief moment.

This site said:

The unanimous chorus from experts: Don't take it personally. Kids say these things when they're frustrated or angry. It doesn't mean you're a bad parent. Of course, distancing yourself when your kid seems to be dissing your mothering skills isn't easy, but letting your child think that you're all too happy to get rid of him -- or worse, that you hate him, too -- isn't okay. Since the under-9 set are literal thinkers, they won't detect the reverse psychology at work, and you might end up undermining your child's trust...

...Easier said than done, of course, but if you're upset, wait until you've calmed down to say anything. "When you get emotional, you lose 50 IQ points," says Ray Levy. "But later on you can say, 'It hurts my feelings when you tell me you hate me.' Usually when kids are calm, they're pretty remorseful."

Even though I agree with the last part of the statement above, I do not feel it is OK to "just let it go". Not at Anna's age anyway, no matter how literal she is she is also very logical and emotionally driven. I feel at this age is entirely appropriate for Anna to understand the kind of fallout that can occur in this situation. I sat at my computer thinking about what I would say to her. On one hand I could gloss it over " and not dwell on it, as the article above insinuates, as well as all of the other sites I visited. On another I could explain how horrendously this has affected me at the risk of making her feel guilty, in order for her to understand how devastating this can be for a loved one; and for her to understand that she must never do this again.

Then I read this blog post... THANK GOD. Finally something that addresses the state of the mature child and what it means to be 6 years old. Shauna, the blog author quotes from a book that helped her immensely :

The six-year-old is a complex child, entirely different from the five-year-old.Though many of the changes are for the good -- Six is growing more mature, more independent, more daring and adventurous -- this is not necessarily an easy time for the little girl or boy. Relationships with mothers are troubled -- most of the time Six adores mother, but whenever things go wrong, it's her fault. It used to be, at Five, that she was the center of the child's universe; now, the child is the center of his own universe.

Yes, exactly. OK. I value my children's opinions. I expect them to be able to tell me what that think and feel. All I'm asking is for a little courtesy. I want so much for my kids to have what I didn't which is an opinion... but I need to be able to draw the line at hurt and disrespect , and I need to be able to tell them that it's not OK.

Anna eventually came downstairs about an hour after the incident and apologized for saying those words and that she didn't mean them anymore. I sat there with my mouth open for a moment, trying to compose my thoughts. She didn't mean it anymore.

I explained to her that it hurts me that she felt that way at all, even if it was just for a moment. I said that hate was a very strong word, and though I was glad she was sorry , it's hard to take that word back. I also said that hate is the strongest negative word you can say to someone you love, and when you say it- even though you will probably be sorry later- it stays with a person.

I explained that though I have been angry with her many times, I have never hated her and would never EVER say that to her. I explained that telling someone that you hate them and that you wish that they had never been born are the worst things yo could say to someone you love or care about. I told her that my mother told me those things more times than I can remember, and it still hurts to this day.

I explained that those words will stay with me and in my heart forever... and that the reason why I was telling her this was for her to understand and learn from this situation.

I want her to learn that it's NEVER OK to tell someone you hate them, especially not the people you love. That it's OK to tell me she is angry with me, and I will acknowledge her feelings. It's OK to express anger, hurt and frustration. I respect her as a person, I respect her feelings.

I explained all of this and the fact that those words were unacceptable. She sobbed on my shoulder. We hugged and I told her I loved her, and she held on to me for what seemed like dear life for over 10 minutes.

My heart hurts a little less and I am hoping that over time that abyss will close and heal itself to the tiniest of fractures.

I know the joys will out number the sorrows. I have faith that the brilliance of her love and understanding will fill those little cracks with so much light that they will be unseen to the naked eye. Hopefully no one will know they are there but me.

And then you see something like this...

And it really puts things into perspective. Thanks crse for posting this.

My visit with my sister (picture intense)

Eeek! It's been almost a week since my tattoo... it's really itchy but I love it. the colors are really popping now! Thanks Rafael!

Thursday night I arrived to find my brother and sister waiting for me... all smiles! That was so nice!

We took The Beast (my suitcase) up to the hotel room, then came back down for a bite to eat. Besides being ogled by a couple dudes in the snack bar, we had a nice time chatting (and teasing each other) over fries. When back to the room my bro and I were sharing and talked some more, until about 1 am Reno time- which was about 3 am Iowa time.

ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz... we got up bright and early and had breakfast before going to get our tattoos.
Afterwards we refueled with lunch then went over to Marci's house for margaritas and dinner. I told Marci I hadn't been this relaxed in years, but I soon realized some of it was because I wasn't chasing around my ankle biters to tell them to stop poking each other with sharp and pointy objects. You know what they say about absence... I was missing the noise of my girls. Not for long though, my nieces and nephew are adorably noisy. ;) It was almost like being at home with the Disney channel and kid background noise. They took to Ben and I right away, and since Ben had gotten there a day early he had gotten to exchanging jokes with the oldest already. Here they are opening some gifts we brought for them.

Katie, 15Becca, 12
Matt, 7

Marci is very lucky to have found such a wonderful cook for a husband! :D They were high school sweet hearts and have been together for 21 years, and married for 17. Jeff makes the best baked beans I have ever had. Ben and I were pooped, but when we got back to the hotel room at 12:30 am we were wide awake and stayed up until 3 am talking and reading. Mostly it was me talking while Ben tried to read. *snort*

Let me just say that while visiting my sis in Reno, I ate VERY WELL. Unfortunately for us, we had some sort of beans every day. Yes, sharing a room was a little uncomfortable at times, and at first the bathroom fan got quite the workout. Eventually though, we just showed the love and shared like only family can. I told Marci that to think- the next visit Ben and I will be comfortable enough to "share" with her too, LOL!

Saturday we went out to a late breakfast at the Black Bear Diner with the whole family and walked around Reno a bit to work off the HUGE breakfast we all ate...
***you can actually see my chin getting bigger as the trip progresses ;)***

and played some games in the arcade.

Treasure at the Silver Legacy! The rug has 24K gold threads and jewels woven into it *drool*

Then we stopped by a sporting goods store to find a toy for the kids- meaning me and Ben LOL! We wanted to find a marshmallow gun for us- I mean our kids ;) Of course no trip is complete without the snuggling of puppies!My plan was to freak John out by sending him an email that said "Guess what I bought in Reno?", but I forgot to do it. Darn!

By now, Jeff was loosening up a little bit and actually talking to Ben and I, after he realized that we are both just big Goofballs. He is kind of like my hubby, quiet at first until he gets to know you a little better. Marci had no problem hanging with the Goofballs and we all got into a little friendly teasing here and there. :D

Later that night the adults went to a buffet and gorged ourselves on ribs, chicken and sausage. We were all so full we were groaning... but that didn't stop Jeff from suffereing through the last piece of sausage. I promised myself that I wouldn't eat another thing after that night, and told Ben that the I was pretty sure the 6 pounds I had lost before the trip had found me again. We walked- or rather rolled- around Reno to help the grease in our stomachs to dissipate.


Sunday early afternoon we braved the pool at the hotel despite seeing waves and white caps on the water. It was so windy that the 90 degree day seemed like 50 once we got into the pool. Everyone got in except for Jeff, who turned out to be the smartest of the bunch. Once I got in, I stayed in... that's how cold it was after we got out because the 20-25 mph winds going on. Despite the teeth chattering and shivering, we had fun... but we cut it short because we were all turning blue. ;)

Later that day after Ben and I took turns taking showers, we headed over to Marci's for margaritas and a nice relaxed dinner.

Ben and I stayed up packing until 1 am, then we got up early Monday and had breakfast with Jeff and Marci since all of the kids were at school. We walked around a little bit then made our way to the airport. Ben and I managed to get our tickets changed so we could sit together as we flew to Denver for our connecting flights. We ate at a Mexican Grill and had chicken taco salads, with... you guessed it- beans. ;) ben and talked a bit more about our loved ones while blowing garlic chicken burps at each other, we laughed a lot. I saw Ben off at his gate because his flight back to Maryland as an hour earlier that my flight back to Iowa... that ended up being delayed 2 hours.

For about an hour I frantically tried to get a hold of John to let him know my plane would be late so he wouldn't be stuck at the airport with 2 cranky kids, since my original flight was supposed to get in at 11pm. If you have read my previous rantings about the MIL, you know that we really couldn't call her to watch the kids neither John or I trusted her anymore, and neither did Anna. I finally got a hold of John and he got the girls in their jammies and tried to catch a nap, but none of them slept. Luckily the girls fell asleep on the way to the airport and they slept for a bit. I managed to control myself though, unlike another infamous flight. ;) The plan was for me to meet them in the parking lot since the kids would be sleeping, but Emma heard my plane come in and decided she wanted OUT of the car... so to my surprise I turned to find them standing a ways off while I waited for my suitcase. Emma was a bit shy at first but she leapt into my arms after about a minute. :)I arrived in Iowa at 1 am, and got home at 2, with 2 very sleepy children in tow.

So there you have it... my trip from soup to nuts, alpha to omega. We had a nice visit and Ben and Marci are already making plans for another trip. Ben said he was thinking that we could take turns visiting at each other's home, but decided that there is probably NOTHING to do in Iowa. I told him that there is plenty to do in Iowa, you just have to be willing to drive. He's such a dork. ;)

We'll see how it goes, I already told Ben and Marci that we have been dodging the bullet for many years on visiting Houston, Texas ( 1184 miles, 18 hours) where John's sister and brother live... The last time we were down there is was right after I came back from Desert Shield/ Desert Storm in '91, and Anna and I went down when Anna was 6 months old to visit for a week while John moved us from California to Iowa so it's been a long time. Matt's GF has 2 daughters and the youngest will be having her Quinceañera in a couple of years, and Matt wants us to come down for that. So we will have to save up for that, and probably drive to save some money. Emma will be 4 1/2 by then so she should be able to handle the 18 hour drive by then.

The good thing though is by then Emma will be able to withstand the drive to Maryland (862 miles, 14 hours) too. :D

Devils and angels on my shoulder, Monkeys on my back

Yesterday I had a talk with Anna because our day was rolling downhill very quickly. I sat Anna down and told her that I am very tired of having to nag her about the very same things every day, and that I get very grumpy because I have to say the same things every day. BUT then I realized that it was one particular incident that I was really annoyed with, and the other things that may or may not grate my nerves on a less trying day were piling up on my very last nerve.

It's called guilt, right?

I found her upstairs and apologized for being so cranky. I explained what had happened- which was that I was really annoyed with the first thing, then everything else really got on my nerves. It wasn't her fault that I was so grumpy, and that I realized I was really just still upset from the first incident.

I explained that I understand that it can be frustrating because we have so many rules, but then I asked her:

"Don't you ever get that feeling or hear that little voice that tells you 'you better not do that!'?"

"Well, sometimes it's like in those TV shows where you have a good angel on on shoulder and a bad one on the other... and one of the says 'You should-', and that's all I hear." She smiles at me, obviously happy with herself for painting such a vivid example of the trials of a 6 year old.

To which I sat and stared in disbelief, but with a wry smile... and then I said, "Come on, give me a break... somebody's been watching too many goofy kid's shows. Look, you can't tell me that you don't listen to that voice inside of you that tells you right from wrong. We all have that voice, even mom and dad. And - if you don't like having a grumpy mommy then you have to help me out by following the rules so that I don't have to get mad because I have to repeat the same rules everyday."

I rounded the conversation of by telling her that if you love someone, you worry if whether or not you have hurt their feelings- and that was why I had come up to talk to her. Also though, you worry if you are doing the same wrong things over and over and are making them upset.

Sometimes I tell John that I am worried that I am like my mother, and in the past he has helped me realize that the crucial difference between my mother and I is the fact that I even care whether or not my children are hurting... that and I don't beat the crud out of them.

I do care about my girls and I DO want them to have a better childhood than me, and on the days when I wonder if I am like that monster even just a little bit... well, I work that much harder at knocking the devil off my shoulder and being accountable.

One day I hope I can share with my daughters that it wasn't all about me teaching them about life. They have taught me a thing or two. Each of us have our angels and devils perched on our shoulders, I guess it's all in how we handle them, literally.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Me yesterday: Nobody gets breakfast until mommy's coffee starts to brew. *yawn*

John: Oh, is that right?

Me: Oh yeee-ahhhh, I have priorities, ya know. This trip (to Reno August 16th! yeeehaw!) should be interesting because I don't know how or when when I will reach caffination each day. *Thinks to self about the possibility of sucking on a tea bag each morning, or snorting coffee grounds if need be*

John nods in agreement but then says: Caffination? I don't even know what that is. Is that even a word?

Me: Sheeeee-yah *rolls eyes*, it's a word-

Caffination- the moment in which caffeine enters one's bloodstream.

OR

The moment in which one reaches their "Coffee Zen".

John: *snort and a smirk* Ummmmhmmmm....



Hello, my name is Mary... and I'm a Caff head.

I've got a dirty little secret, and my dilemma

OK, it's not dirty, but it's not what you would expect from a mommy blogger. Bear with me, folks.

About 4 days ago, my younger brother called me with an idea. Since he and I are flying out to see our sister in less than a month and he will be meeting Marci face to face for the first time, Ben thought that to commemorate the moment, we could all get a tattoo. Marci already has 2, and Ben has at least 5 I think... but me? None. That's not to say that I don't have markings. I have plenty of marks on me but none of them are pretty.

My husband became angry very quickly, he is against tattoos, you see. He thought it was very inappropriate for my younger brother to suggest something like this, and he was angry that I would even tell Ben that I would consider it- despite knowing that he doesn't like them. Later he asked me what kind of example would I be setting for our children, which I really took offense to.

This may sound a bit romantic but since watching Miami Ink (which I love), I have learned that usually there is a reason behind a tattoo. That's not to say that people don't get a tattoo on a whim, or because they saw something pretty they liked. Watching the show and being an artist, I began to appreciate the time, effort and artistic skill these guys put into their work. Almost every client they have wants a tattoo for a reason, usually as a memorial to a lost loved one or to signify an experience that they had that changed their life forever.

And... to be quite honest, I have always wanted a tattoo but I could never think of reason good enough to get one. Most importantly though, I didn't want my husband to think less of me.

Over it's [almost] 38 years, my body has endured marking. I have so many scars that I have stopped counting; each and every scar has a story and a distinct memory attached to it. Some of the memories are horrible, and others bearable.

The marks on my body are not who I am as a person. They don't define me, and they certainly are not boundary markers of who I am and who I could or couldn't be. They simply tell a story of life as it is , and has been up until today.

I have many, many cat scratch scars from the 8 cats that I have owned since being married 18 years ago. Whether kittens or adult cats, all of my cats have given me at least one battle scar.

I have a small scar between my eyebrows from the time I managed to pull the high jump bar down on myself in track. As I jumped over, my foot hooked itself on the bar and eventually the bar came crashing down on my brow, the sheer force of the bar colliding with my skull caused my skin to split open. This scar brings up old resentments because I had finally found something that I loved but my mother refused to let me continue because I had hurt myself. This from the person who hurt me and my body on an almost daily basis... it doesn't make sense to me.

When I feel the pebble that is embedded in my skin just beneath a layer of barely perceptible scar tissue, I don't think of fear so much as a choice to live no matter what the consequences would be. I can recall jumping from that car with clarity as if it had happened yesterday, and though I felt great fear, I decided that jumping from a speeding car would ultimately save my life. My thoughts weren't completely coherent, but when I look back on that day, and on the days that my elbow hurts- in a weird way I look back with an odd fondness. This little pebble of mine reminds me on the days when I don't want to get out of bed that I am a braver human being than I give myself credit for.

I have a mark on my neck... it's fading still but if you look you can see it. Four years ago I had a very large benign mass removed with the right side of my thyroid. I feared for my life while I waited for the results from the preliminary biopsy, and those 2 weeks before I was told I would still have to have surgery to remove the mass was agony. I imagined the worst, that I had cancer, and that I would not live to see my 2 year old Anna grown into adulthood.

In my sk*rt post I explained that you'd "see paths my body traveled- in joy and in pain, through the marks mapped out on my thighs and belly", and I talk about "the scar on my lower belly that bore three children- 2 in life and one that was not meant to be". I also have 3 new scars : One on my right bicep, and two on my right thigh and hip from having lumps removed from body last December.

These marks were not my choosing. I didn't want any of them, and yet here they are. I've had a life time of marks placed on my body, and my life - I hope- is far from over.

After thinking for a night on what image I would want on my body forever- despite knowing that my husband was still very angry about the whole thing- the lotus flower kept coming to my mind. I told my brother and sister about the symbolism behind it and they both love the idea:

In modern times the meaning of a lotus flower tattoo ties into it's religious symbolism and meaning. Most tattoo enthusiast feel that the a lotus tattoo represent life in general. As the lotus flower grows up from the mud into a object of great beauty people also grow and change into something more beautiful . So the symbol represents the struggle of life at its most basic form.

Lotus flower tattoos are also popular for people who have gone through a hard time and are now coming out of it. Like the flower they have been at the bottom in the muddy, yucky dirty bottom of the pond but have risen above this to display an object of beauty or a life of beauty as the case might be. Thus a lotus flower tattoo or blossom can also represent a hard time in life that has been overcome.

After my husband had a whole day away at work, he was able to calm down and see things from my perspective. I told him that even though he doesn't necessarily like tattoos, that I hoped that he could see that this is something that will make me happy and he could be OK with that.

As I showed him the designs I am looking at (and after I chided him for not trusting me earlier that I could pick something that was actually pretty), and after I explained the symbolism behind the lotus, he admitted that me having a tattoo cold be sexy and that he liked what it represents. ;)

Don't get me wrong, it's not set in stone yet- we are still mulling it over.

I would love, just for once, to have a mark put on my body by my own choice. I would love to be reminded daily of the spiritual pact I am making with my brother and sister, and the joy of meeting my sister again after 10 years. I would love to be able to look at this mark and remember all that I have overcome, and see the beautiful flower that I am today.

It's not that I need a tattoo to remind me of all those things, but it would make me very happy.

Pass The Torch- Hugs and smoochies

My girls are both very high spirited and can be a handful, so summer time this year has been interesting. There has been a lot of "MMMMMOM!", and "STOP!", and screeching. *sigh* There are brief moments of sheer love when they will hug each other. There are moments when I see the little mommy come out in Anna, and she will say "let me help you honey...", and let me tell you, I always drop whatever I am doing to soak that moment, that brief tear and brilliant flash in the time/space continuum.

I mentioned last night that Anna had some really bad spider bites on her leg which were raised and bright red, and one in particular swelled to over the size of a half dollar. I became a little concerned yesterday when the outer edges had a pink "halo" that was expanding around them which is usually a sign of infection. I took her temp, she ahd a low grade fever, complained of mild abdominal pain, feeling tired and a bad taste in her mouth. The ER assured me that as long as the bites did not progress into ulcers quickly and she wasn't having nausea/vomiting and shortness of breath that she would be OK until we were able to see the doctor last night at 7 pm.

Can you tell that my nurse instincts kicked in? LOL!

Anyway, the doctor said that bad spider bites are usually accompanied by grin pain not mid abdominal pain, and since she really didn't seem to have any other symptoms that go with spider bites one should worry about, he was going to give her antibiotics for a possible staff infection- which was probably brought on from her scratching and opening the bites.

She's doing fine :D John and Anna stopped at the pharmacy to pick up her meds and as a bonus for being a brave girl for the doctor, her daddy bought her a multicolored plastic slinky.

Last night our kitten Zoey tore through the living room to the dining room and ran over Emma's foot. It turns out that Emma had a pretty nasty scratch on the top of her foot and was really crying from pain.

Anna offered her sister hugs and kisses while mom ran for the antibiotic ointment and a large band aid, and even let her sister play with her new slinky. Which NEVER happens... Anna's new toys are always off limits for Emma, and Anna never wants to let Emma see them even for a second.

Just when I have almost given up hope that these two girls of mine will ever get along and learn to appreciate what a blessing the are to each other... they go and do something like that. I hope those fleeting moments continue to grow into full fledged memories because I know one day they will realize how lucky and truly blessed they are to have each other.

Knowing that my girls have what I always wanted and finally have- a sister through good times and bad... well, it makes my heart smile.

My sister...

My sister and I have written a couple of messages back and forth on myspace. I knew I had 2 nieces (Katie is 15 and Rebecca is 11) but she also has a 7 yr old boy named Matthew. Which is funny because my brother Ben has a son named Matthew too.

In her last message, Marci filled me in on what's been going on in her life since we last spoke 10 years ago. I wrote her back... and though I wanted to share with her my life's progress report too, I felt like there was something that I needed to get off of my chest. Life is too short, I don't want to waste another moment. Here is what I wrote to her...

Hi sis,

I was telling Katie in a message that I thought it was so cool that you and Ben have a boy named Matthew! I bet they do keep you busy! I have 2 girls... sometimes just for a second I have those "awww, a baby" thoughts but then my girls bring me back to reality. They are high maintenance . I have people tell me all the time that their kids are nothing a like... and I'm in awe that my kids couldn't be MORE a like. Anna is my mini me, and Emma is her's... so John is the one that really has his hands full I suppose! *snort!*

I'm really sorry that your mom is sick... I wish I was able to get to know her better. I know how hard it is to watch a family member go like that. John's dad died of lung cancer that metastasized to the brain. The last month of his life he lived here in our house and we helped my sister in law (and RN) take care of him. Please know that I will keep your mom and you in my prayers.

I completely understand your thoughts about finding and reconnecting with family... mortality has a weird way of making us figure out what is really important, doesn't it? I have a best friend that lives in California, and there were times that we fought like cats and dogs. We even fought after I moved to Iowa 6 years ago. Now we look back and ask each other what the heck was all the fuss about. Some of the stuff we fought about was just silly. Effie and I agree that we are older and (somewhat) wiser, and we can see the mistakes we made with an excruciating clarity.

So you have a situation like me and you, then throw our mother into the mix (which by the way, Ben and I have agreed to keep talk about her to an absolute minimum with you- we don't want to scare you off ;) ... but it's overwhelming I know... If you ever want to talk about her... Ben and I are definitely here to commiserate with ya)... well, things got a little crazy.

I was so worried that maybe you just wanted to connect with Ben, and at first I didn't want to get in the way. Then I thought "Heck, this is my sister too. She might be just as confused about the past as I am... I am going to step up to the plate and let her know I'm here for her too".

See, I don't know if I ever got to tell you this. I ALWAYS wanted a sister. Before our mother told us about you, I just always felt like there was a piece of me missing, I can't explain it. I could imagine all the cool things my sister and I would do like share our clothes and just love each other. I had a doll I named Stephanie (your birth name right?), she was my favorite doll. I had decided that Stephanie would be my daughters name if I ever had one.

When our mother told us about you, I was young probably about 10. Marci, I can't tell you how happy -and yet sad- I was when I found out that you were out there. I had a sister out there... the sister I had always wanted.

Living in California was weird for me sometimes. I had this feeling you were still in California and there were times that I saw a woman that looked like me... and my heart would thump and race at the thought that it could be you.

Anyway... not being dramatic I promise (the drama gene does run in the family, I hate to tell ya!), I just wanted you to know that you were wanted. Even though I didn't know what you looked like, or what your laugh sounded like, if you were happy... if you ever wished you had a sister too- I imagined you a lot. Before I knew about you and after she told us. I have longed for you my whole life, and when all that stuff happened... it about crushed me.

I'm too old to miss a chance like this again. I hope I have learned from the past, and like you said- I think I'm a little smarter now.

I WANT YOU and always have.

Love you sis, Mary

PS- I'm choked up right now so I'll write more about my updates on me and family later. I promise. Just to warn you, I'm a crier. I cry at commercials, heehee... so don't be surprised if when we get to talk to each other for the first time, if I get teary. :D

So, there you have it. I'm playing for keeps this time. Like I said, I'm getting too old for heart ache and drama... I want more.

Don't we all?

Words

Why is it that the words of a stranger, someone you've never even laid eyes on- can hurt so bad?

I have to admit that I am not innocent when it comes to this. A few months ago I went off on a rant about how I thought the opinion of another person was basically misogynistic and unwarranted, and this persons opinions I felt affected me... over a silly blog award I was nominated for (along with many others). Even though I thought that I was justified in my own opinion... what I said was hurtful to this other person.

I tried to apologize, but to no avail. The damage was done. I'm a hot head, what can I say? The way in which I voiced my opinion was very hard and cold.
But I did try to make things right, despite feeling that the only thing I had done wrong was to voice my opinion in cyber space where this person (who I thought didn't read my blog anymore) could find it...

I had started a post but deleted it, a post in which I tried to figure out why words from internet acquaintances hurt and cut so deep.

Recently someone commented on my blog about something very silly, but they didn't see it as silly. They typed four simple words that I tried to shake off. It hurt. I was told in so many words that I was messed up.

Those four words have been bothering me for over 2 weeks now. While living life without an internet connection, I contemplated giving it up. I wonder to myself how I could let a stranger affect me so. ***BTW, don't bother to find the post/comments, I deleted the whole thing already***

Here is my theory. There is a safety to living a life on the net, in written words. In the web and blogoshpere, you can tell your deepest, darkest secrets. You can face you demons and be more honest than you would dare to be in real life, with your friends and family. I have noticed this bizarre phenomenon where complete strangers bond, and become dear friends. On the net we learn to trust people with our heart and soul, something we are sometimes unable to achieve in the real world.

Just like in real life, blunt and hurtful words can cut to the quick of a persons soul... and considering my theory that people tend to be more open and honest on the net, enabling people to make deep friendships in little time... those words can hurt even more.

So, here we are being brutally honest with each other in cyber space, and sometimes just downright brutal. We are opening ourselves up and entrusting our deepest feelings to the unknown- feelings that we sometimes cannot bear to share with our own loved ones... and when that trust is betrayed, the outcome can be devastating.

I'm all for honesty. I think if you have been reading my blog for a while you might have noticed that I try my hardest to lay it all out there and be accountable ( and the fact that I am incredibly dorky, and try not to take myself too seriously). I learned a lesson months ago, and this lesson has been revisited by the tables being turned on me.

I learned the hard way that somethings just can't be taken back, no matter how hard you try. Revisiting the mistake that was made months ago, and the realization that I came to... because of four words.

I made a vow to myself to keep my rants to myself when it comes to someone who has the slightest chance of reading my blog, and instead I bend the husbands ear. I still rant, just not via keyboard.

No matter how justified you feel, it's not worth hurting another person over, and in 10 years it wont matter.

So no matter how much four words can hurt a person, I refuse to lash out (like before), this person is entitled to think that I'm messed up. That's their opinion. If that is what they come away with from reading my blog, my honesty and dorkiness... there is not much I can to to convince them otherwise.

I'm thinking though that if this person was really the blogging friend they claimed to be, they never would have commented that way and in such a public manner... on my own blog.

I have been struggling with my worth, what my value is to the blogosphere since those four words. I know that my blog hasn't been as positive as I would like it to be, and that I have gone a little down hill. When I started this blog I was trying to be something that I wasn't. Then I realized that was wasn't being real, and that was why people weren't commenting or coming back. I decided to try to change myself for the better, some days are better than others, but after a year I am comfortable in my blogging skin. This the real me... in all my sarcastic, dorky, and brutally honest glory. I can only be me, and if someone looks at what I am after all of that and tell me that I am messed up... OUCH.

But ya know, this person never got the real me to begin with, or I was never going to be good enough.

I vowed to myself ( after my rant fiasco a few months back) to try my absolute best to be kind, and if I don't agree with something to try to bite my tongue and move on. If I really have the need to express my opposing opinion on something another person has written, especially something that has hurt me or offended me, perhaps it's best handled via private communications.

It's just not worth it.