I Did It!

In January of 2012, I made a commitment to my creative self to write a blog post at least once a week (or 4x/month). I'm happy to say that I kept that commitment throughout the year, and even wrote a little more than expected.

With all that goes on in my daily, weekly, monthly life what gets neglected the most is me. I don't eat right, I don't take very good care of my body, I sure as hell don't sleep enough, and I don't honor who I am as a creative, inspired human being. I forget that I am also someone other than a wife, mama, daughter, friend or employee with a task list a mile and a half long. I don't totally forget, but it's just not a priority to take time out to really remember that my life is more than a task list.

This blog thing was in an effort to keep remembering who I am, and remembering that I have relevant thoughts sometimes. I'm pretty proud of it. I feel that other than raising my daughter and keeping my life (more or less) on the rails, that this is my most important accomplishment of the year.

Hooray for me! I don't have a lot of huge victories to celebrate these days, so it's these little ones that really, really matter.

I think I'll keep it up. See you in 2013!

Oh December, You Are On Fire!

My goodness this has been an intense month! Aside from the usual holiday madness (doubled or tripled in crazy since the birth of A), this has been one nutballs of a December. And by nutballs I mean totally overwhelming and really, not that great, depending on your view. My mind is spinning so quickly I haven't had one quiet moment to record my thoughts. I'll try to articulate the mish-mash here, for what it's worth.

1. Work Life Ugh. I went to work for this small, magical creative company almost 7 years ago. It's crazypants and some of the processes are questionably healthy, but overall I love the people I work with and I love the work I've done there.

Times are a-changin', and this month it's been really apparent that we aren't in Kansas anymore since our company was acquired. We no longer have the freedom to do what we do how we need to do it, and that chokes the magic out of it. Without magic, it's just all about money, and that's a sad way to spend a good part of my energy every week. Still, I need a job, and I want to buckle down and believe, so for now, I stay put.

2. The Shootings. I have so much rant built up about how I feel about recent events, but the ranting is just going to stir the negativity pot, so I will spare you. The mass shootings that have happened this month have caused a palpable nationwide anxiousness. It makes the world look dangerous, desperate and sad. I have had to try hard to remember that the world you experience is what you make it, and at the same time, how am I going to raise a happy, secure human in the midst of the mess it appears to be?

And the gun debate is raging like never before. I got into it again today on Facebook, and in considering all the sides that were presented, it all boiled down to this: NO ONE wants children, or anyone, to be murdered senselessly on the street, in the mall or in their classroom. We all want safety for our families and friends and communities.

There are lots of opinions about how to go about it, and the only way we solve problems is to stay cool. There will never be total agreement but if something is not done, by all of us collectively, the world is going to look a lot different for my baby girl. This is hugely sad and disappointing for me. I'd like to think that humans can get over themselves, but maybe we are just animals after all.

3. The Flu. We all got the flu. I had the most disgusting case of the flu that I think I have ever experienced, and I am going to spare you all the details but believe me when I say that I'm just glad I've known J for a long, long time and that it wasn't our first date. He not only had to witness it, but he got stomach flu + regular flu and was laid out for a good part of the week. It is just downright wrong in all ways to be that sick and have to take care of your offspring at the same time. It's in the fine print of the parenting contract, I guess.

4. And then, the usual Holiday Madness, which always leads me to question "Why do we do this?". I totally get the whole giving, loving your family business, but why all the stuff? I halfway think that if I did lose all my stuff in a flood or a fire, I would only really miss a fraction of it. Too much stuff piling up! Stuff takes away from the whole point of the holiday!

I can complain about work and politics and the flu and shopping, but nothing else matters but this:

I am so grateful and blessed to live this life, to have the happiness that I have, and to be surrounded by such amazing, generous and loving people. Every day I pray that all living beings have the happiness and good fortune that I enjoy in this world. The essence of our life is in every moment we spend giving our heart to those around us, because the world really, really needs that in times like this.

Peace, blog readers.

Dare to Dream

Last night, I decided to take a different approach to my "what if" thoughts. I shoved all the tragedy out of my mind, and decided to think about "what if everything turns out just fine?".

I went into the future, like Nicholas Cage did in one of my favorite movies, Raising Arizona. I imagined how A might be in various stages of her life, growing up happy and healthy and adorable, of course. I imagined her going to good schools, being a good person and having lots of friends. I imagined a marriage that got stronger and more peaceful and lasted. I imagined that I was able to keep my work flexible and meaningful, and that J had work that he liked and that was secure. I imagined that all of our people were happy and healthy too. (While I was at it, I imagined that I got back into great shape and was super foxy. I mean, why not, right?)

Sleep was welcoming, deep and relaxing. I even dreamed that I had a new job opportunity.

I often feel that if I let myself go wild and think this way, I will end up being disappointed or that I somehow won't be prepared when bad things do happen. Maybe that's a little bit silly, though. There is absolutely no harm in dreaming about what you really want, or asking for good things to happen. How else can good things happen if there's no room in your mind to let them in?

Certainly, it's good to be vigilant and preventative wherever you can, but it's no good for anxiety to be the boss.

Worst Case Scenario

I do this bad thing before I go to sleep at night. I think about all the horrible tragedies that could befall my little family, specifically regarding A.

It starts with any worries I might have had during the day, like maybe she's sick or maybe it's really windy and I'm worried about the trees falling on the house. It escalates from there. I start thinking about all the things that could conceivably happen but probably never will.

What if the tree falls on her room and traps or kills her? What if it falls on me and I can't get to her? What if I die and she has to live without me? What if someone kidnaps her when she's not with me? What if she stops breathing or has a heart attack? What if I get in a terrible car accident while she's in the car? I mean, it gets really ridiculous and it gets me really worked up into an anxious whir. Totally useless thinking and very counterproductive to relaxing into sleep.

My friend says that his wife does the same thing and he thinks it's a biological mama bear thing. He says that it's gotten better for her over time, and as the child is more able to function independently. He says that having a toddler is just harrowing, period. I hope that he's right, and that this is just a temporary phase for me, but because it really stinks. I don't have enough energy to waste on such negativity.

The one and only benefit to this is that it gets me thinking about my Guru and saying prayers. At least that is one time out of my day that I am thinking about virtue. I used to think about it all the time and keep my mind in an upward swing, but my mindfulness is shot these days. So I guess this is an opportunity for transformation and I should use it as my spiritual practice.

The worst thing that could happen would be that I just succumb to huge anxiety and depression, which I don't intend to do. Weird times, though. Weird times.

Ode to Zumba

I'm supposed to be ordering groceries right now, and then going to bed, but I just have to say this first:

I LOVE ZUMBA!

And I'll tell you why (quickly, so I can get on with things).

1. It's killer exercise.

2. It's really fun. Really, really fun.

3. I get to spend time with Jessica with none of our precious kids and no husbands in sight. As much as we love them, it's good to be individual people for awhile. I'm sure she would agree.

4. It takes me away from the TV.

5. I don't have to do any chores or think about any responsibilities for a whole hour! The only thing I have to concentrate on is funky dance moves.

6. The class is full of all shapes, sizes and flavors of women. As it should be. No shame.

7. The instructors in this particular class are fantastic. They're not the ripped lean young chicks that you see on TV, either. They are regular women with regular bodies and they can really move! It's impressive!

8. The music is really fun and not at all annoying.

9. I get to howl and hoot and clap and be rowdy.

10. There is tons of ass-shakin', and I love a good reason to shake my ass!

Who wouldn't love Zumba?

Sleep Study Update

Ok, wow. I did my sleep study last night. Can I just say that was one of the most restless and uncomfortable nights in recent history?

I went into it mostly out of scientific curiosity. I believe that my sleep problems are primarily environmental (A + J), with some occasional situational anxiety thrown in for good measure (work + in-laws + J). I also believe that my sleep rhythms are off due to incubating and sleeping with a baby. I know that I snore and I wouldn't rule out sleep apnea, but I believe that is due to weight gain, since I never had breathing problems before that.

I am wary of trendy medical ailments, and I don't necessarily buy that every third person has sleep apnea. I think it's possible that a lot of people do, and I know that it can be life-threatening in severe cases. I have also heard that keeping your weight in check will do wonders to alleviate the symptoms and I buy that. So I am skeptical about the whole thing.

Which leads me to the sleeping situation at the clinic. First, they wired me up. I felt like a suicide bomber. I asked the technician which one I needed to snip so I wouldn't blow up (ha ha, so funny). I had electrodes in my hair. I had electrodes on my legs to see if I have restless leg syndrome (yes, that is a real thing). I had a probe thingy in my nose. I had a monitor on my finger. There was a camera and infrared lights on. It was ridiculous. I do see why they need to do it, but still, it was ridiculous.

So, automatically I am a little anxious and a lot uncomfortable. After awhile I got somewhat used to it but being wired to your bed isn't exactly my idea of a restful sleep. I assure you, I was lookin' good too!

And then, they put you on a sleep number bed. It's not my super cozy Tempurpedic, but it will do. The pillows were a disgrace. It felt like I was sleeping on nothing. They put all the wires on one pillow and I got to "rest" my head on the other one. Oh, and they tell you to sleep on your back. I don't sleep on my back normally at home because it is not that comfortable. Also, I sleep on a fancy memory foam pillow.

I hope that I am painting the picture that there was nothing comfortable or natural about this situation. I was super restless, legs and all. I woke up many times with my throat bugging me, maybe trying to breathe, I don't know. The technician came in twice to adjust the nose probe. I woke up, I'm guessing, around 5am because I just wanted it to be over.

If I am put in an uncomfortable and restless situation, not my normal restlessness, how can they measure what is actually going on in my body on a regular night? Wouldn't anyone sleeping at this angle have difficulty breathing? It felt like it was creating a worst case scenario where they could demonstrate sleep apnea to treat me for, when I think my real problem is more something else.

It will be very interesting to hear the results of these tests. I went in thinking that I was probably on the ok side and just needed some behavioral adjustments. After spending the entire night waking up, now I think I might be totally screwed up and have to wear a sleeping mask for the rest of my life. Ugh. If you don't want to know, don't ask I guess!

More after my follow up in a few weeks...

Some Strange Rabbit Hole

I accidentally fell into a weird deep sleep on the couch last night. I thought I heard someone knocking urgently on the door, so I thought I was forcing myself to wake up. I got up and went to the kitchen. There was a woman in there that I didn't recognize. She was in some sort of hurry.

She told me that she'd been there since the beginning and she would be there at the end. She put her hands on my shoulders, and then wrapped her fingers around my neck. She was telling me something but it wasn't clear.

"Don't ever shop?" I asked, just to make sure I heard correctly.

She looked at me like, no, idiot, and said, "Don't ever stop."

Then I woke up for real. But what does it mean??? Don't ever stop what? Is this supposed to be obvious? Man, I hate it when I don't get the message.

He Likes 'Em Young

Many disturbing things went through my mind this week, and the accusation against Kevin Clash was one of them. Mr. Clash has been the mastermind behind the Sesame Street character Elmo for almost 30 years. He has been so influential in transforming this character that they did a documentary about him called Being Elmo. It's good - you should check it out.

I am an old-school Sesame Street fan. I've watched that show since I was A's age, way back in the beginning. They didn't have the squeaky-voiced Elmo back in those days. When Elmo really started to become famous with a massive following in the '80's and '90's, I have to say I just didn't get it. He was just plain annoying and he overshadowed all the OG characters - Big Bird, Ernie, Bert, Oscar, Grover, Cookie Monster...

But now that A is enjoying him, and since I've seen the documentary, I am warming up to the little red fellow. I see how loving he is to the fellow characters on the show. It's amazing how A is taking that example and treating her dolls, animals and us with similar affection. I have to say I almost like Elmo now.

Someone recently came out and accused Mr. Clash of taking advantage of them sexually when they were 16. Kevin Clash is an openly gay man and apparently he likes them young. He responded saying that it was not true, and that they had a relationship between two consenting adults when the guy was 18 and he was 45. There was a big investigation and he took a leave from Sesame Street, although the accuser recanted the story the next day.

There is so much disturbing about this, and mostly I just wish that it had all remained private. His being gay - who cares. That doesn't have anything to do with anything in my opinion. But the fact that he was involved with someone so young to start with, that's the part that makes me a little bit uncomfortable. 16 or 18, it doesn't really matter. The law draws the line at 18, but either way you slice it that guy was a kid. What kid has the maturity for a relationship with a middle-aged man? I'm going to go ahead and say no kid does. It's not an equal playing field.

Ok, so I do get the part about attraction. Lots of men (Most men? All men?), gay or straight, love to look at and fantasize about young people because youth is beautiful and alluring. Sure. But I think what makes the man is whether they act upon it or not. I'm sorry, I don't see how that can be an equal union, or that the older man doesn't seriously have the advantage in so many ways. How could he not be taking advantage of a kid?

Does that make Kevin Clash a predator? I don't know. I don't want to believe that about him because I respect what he's created and how he's benefitted generations of kids. Does it make me want to boycott Sesame Street or Elmo? Not really. I don't see how this scandal has anything to do with the integrity of the show or the character. Should he have so much power to influence children? Again, I don't know. I think that's up to the judgment of his employers, whom I would trust to make the right call.

I do know that he is guilty of some extremely bad judgment, and that he is probably evaluating his actions and how they have affected, well, everyone who knows about this. I just wish I had never heard about it. We need role models who are on the level with us, and they seem mighty rare.

I Will Get You, Sleep!

Prompted by my most recent bout of wicked insomnia, I went to see a sleep doctor to see if there's anything that can be done. The diagnosis was not surprising in any way, and I didn't really expect it to be. Environmental factors and out-of-whack conditioning is keeping me awake - imagine that! Also, there is a small chance I could have mild sleep apnea.

The only way to find out about the apnea is to do a sleep study. Yay! I get to go to the hospital, get all wired up, and have an entire 10 hours to myself, possibly with some sleep involved. I'm very excited. I don't anticipate being able to sleep all that well, and I am not going to use a CPAP machine no matter what, but I'm up for it anyway. I'm fascinated by science and so curious about what they will find out! If they don't find anything significant, I can sign up for Cognitive Behavior Therapy to help recondition me to sleep better.

So, yeah. There's not a whole lot of control over the environmental stuff (ie. J & A). J will do what he wants and A will eventually sleep the whole night through, I'm sure of it. I could definitely help myself out by losing weight. Exercise is good for the bod and a healthy weight is good for the breathing at night and the energy in the day. Makes sense, right?

We shall see. Full report at the end of November.

Too Much Nurse

I am remembering two years ago today, Oct 30, 2010. The girl was 4 days old, and we had finally been transferred from the NICU to the family rooms in Intensive Care, with the expectation that we'd be going home soon. It was going to be our first night staying together as a family.

When regular babies are born, their parents take them home and they are all together from the get-go. We had a different kind of start, one that was strange, dramatic, stressful, scary and confusing. That's just how it is when you have a baby with complications. She was immediately whisked away and hooked up to monitors. I didn't even get to see her until hours later, and didn't get to hold her until the next day. We had to get permission from the nurses to handle our own child, and the nurses and their styles changed with every shift. It was frustrating.

So needless to say, we were so relieved to be finally able to be near her. She was still hooked up to monitors, and we weren't allowed to sleep with her, but we were able to feed her, hold her and love her, and be a family for the first time.

The evening shift change brought a new nurse. She was friendly and enthusiastic, and we thought we'd all get along just fine. This nurse was very diligent. She was in every hour, or even more often, to test A's vitals, which involved a bunch of unpleasant things like pricking her foot to check her iron, temperature under the armpit, weighing her, checking her oxygen, checking her food intake and just generally handling her.

Now, I'm no medical expert, but I'm pretty sure that's too much nurse. She would walk in at any time. I would have my shirt off pumping breastmilk or trying to nurse and she would just throw the door wide open without warning. She told us not to hold the baby, that if she needed to be held to call her. Really? The parents can't hold their own child? I don't think that's correct. I began to think she was a little obsessed and that put me ill at ease. Not a lot of sleep or bonding that night, for any of us, needless to say.

I did finally lay down and rested about midnight. I was at peace for about 45 minutes when the door comes flying right open. It was my favorite nurse. I pretended not to wake up, but she came right over to my face and said to me "Look, I'm a cat!". The clock strikes midnight on Halloween and the place goes nuts, I guess. She was lucky I didn't punch her in her cat neck.

What could have been a nice peaceful night was a total nightmare and I was edgy and irritable, but totally happy when the shift changed again. The morning nurse did her job, and gave us space. She also got us discharged from the hospital!

We took our sweet baby girl home on Halloween 2010, and we have never looked back, except for some un-fond memories of a particularly bizarre nurse experience.

The Blessing and Curse of the Television

Lately, A has gotten an introduction to the almighty television, thanks to her daddy. I'm not exactly thrilled about this development. I think the less TV a small person (and a big person for that matter) gets, the better. I can see the educational and entertainment benefits for sure, but I can also see a habit developing that I don't like.

She is obsessed with characters now. She wakes up talking about them, she talks about them all day, and if we do turn on the TV so she can watch, she talks about it all during the show. She talks about it until the moment she closes her sweet eyes at night.

This is what is sounds like, in rapid succession:
"Watch Elmo?"
"Watch Grover?" (pronounced gopher)
"Watch Dora and monkey?" (pronounced dowa)
"Watch Bert and Ernie?" (pronounced but and uhnie)
"Watch Cookie?" (pronounced kucky)
"Watch Gabba?"

When you tell her they are not on, or that you aren't going to turn them on, you get the whole list, over and over --
"Elmo off?"
"Grover off?"
etc.

At the end of the day when you tell her they are sleeping, same thing. She needs to confirm that they are all indeed sleeping and no one is still awake to spend some time with her. So funny.

To our credit, we don't use it as a babysitter, at least I don't see this happening when I'm home. I suspect it might happen a little bit when daddy is home alone with her. We watch with her, and we talk about what's going on. We play the games and dance with her, so it's an interactive experience overall. More and more, though, she is becoming immersed in it, and she zombies out. This worries me a little bit.

One great thing about TV is that she is a little sponge, and if the program is positive, she drinks it all in, processes it, and repeats it over and over and over. The other day I heard her reading books in her room and she was saying "six, six, six". I went in there to discover her pointing at the number six. That was the number of the day on Sesame Street the day before. The benefit of watching is that I know she is learning.

She will learn about anything she sees, which is also why I won't let J watch horror movies or shows with adult content when she's around. She just doesn't need those images in her mind! I don't know how much harm it does, but I know it can't be much good.

I have two main objections to TV watching. One, I don't want her to become a fat, lazy, zombie couch potato. I want her to be active and interested in all the world, not just a flat box inside the house. This is especially challenging in the cold weather, I can see that already.

My other objection is that I do not want her to become a victim of marketing and commercialization. I don't want her to grow up having to have all the trendy toys and be obsessed with whatever the marketing machine is feeding to her at that moment. I want her to explore and find her own interests, not just be a demographic for someone to make money from. That part of our culture makes me sick! J doesn't feel as strongly about this, but I do. It's going to be quite the trick to navigate this as the materialistic current is so powerful.

I can't ban her from TV altogether, or I guess I could, but J would never agree to that. We will find a happy medium. The experts will tell you no more than 2 hours of screen time a day for a 2-year-old. I will stick with this when we're home together. When I'm not home with her, I don't have control over what happens, but I can work to strike the balance as much as possible.

Oh this is such a delicate dance!

Tale of a Super Reader

One of the sure signs that A is our real daughter is her incredible love for reading. She has loved looking at books since she could sit up, and now that she is having a language explosion, she is even more obsessed with reading. We hear her babbling excitedly to herself, reading book after book, for up to an hour at a time. That's a lot of concentration for such a young person! Her babbling is increasingly becoming coherent and now we hear words and phrases and even sentences popping out. This warms our hearts like nothing else.

Both J and I are lifelong avid readers. We have always read everything we can get our hands on. We spent the first few years of our relationship trolling bookstores, sharing stories and reading together. I think this is so romantic. I was always very studious with a passion for the English language and, proudly, a great speller. J was the kid who was constantly being busted for reading with a flashlight under his blankets after he was supposed to be asleep, and reading books way beyond his age range just to educate himself.

I have high hopes that A will follow in our footsteps. She may not be the most physical or athletic person due to her heart condition, but maybe she will be smart and studious. I think this will set her up well for life. We intend to encourage her curiosity and indulge her with piles and piles of books. Oh the storytimes we will have together!

I don't know if this kind of thing is hereditary, or maybe it was some kind of good karma match, but it is just one more indication that we were meant to be together.

The Internet Creeps Me Out

It has come to my attention lately that anyone can see what you put up on the internet. Like in a blog, for example. I am torn because I want people to read what I write, but I don't want the attention of creepy stalkers or pedophiles viewing photos of my sweet baby girl. I really don't want to unintentionally feed that sick, disgusting shit. So, what to do?

One thing I could do would be to clamp it down. No more photos of Arli and no more personal posts. But then, what is the point of even having a blog or a Facebook page, if not to share a little bit about who I am?

I am naive, I guess, to some of the more nefarious activities that the internet is used for. My mind just doesn't go there, and I don't spend much time thinking about what nasty things could be going on. Sex, and specifically child pornography, is a massive part of internet usage. I don't really know how massive, and I don't really want to. I don't want to be complacent about it, but a healthy amount of denial (is there such a thing?) keeps my mind from wandering to dark, scary places.

It is great that I can look up names of my long lost childhood friends and find out where they live, where they have lived, if they are married or not, what their phone number or email is. It is also kind of unsettling to know that someone can put my name into a database and find out personal details about me. It makes me feel so exposed and vulnerable.

I feel like I can take care of myself, more or less, but I absolutely don't want to make my daughter prey to some sick jerk. I have a responsibility to keep her safe. I don't think I will completely ban all photos of her (she is so cute and she has a fan base, after all) but I am going to be a lot more mindful of what I share about her. You just never know who's watching, and in that way the internet totally creeps me out.

Funk

I've been not quite myself lately, and I can't seem to pinpoint it to one thing. I like to handle my problems like the Terminator does - scan, identify and destroy. I don't have the interest or time to dwell on problems, you see. Lots to do, gotta stay motivated and on-the-up. Life is short.

I know I am off kilter because I've been feeling very emotional, and kind of not in a good way. Little things that I would normally just move through are really bugging me, and when this happens I sometimes spout off in an I-am-my-own-worst-enemy type of way. This chips away at my relationships with people, and it gets me the exact opposite result that I am going for. It is really counterproductive, to say the least.

There are lots of disturbing bits and pieces of societal shrapnel getting under my skin. Work is strange because there are changes afoot and everyone is nervous about their jobs and their future. I am in a constant state of anxiety about the safety and well-being of my kid, even though she gets the best care and she's a happy little rascal by all accounts. I know I have mentioned it before, but I cannot stand it that perfectly good people are suffering from cancer and other ailments all around me. And watching or reading the news plants all kinds of paranoia seeds in my mind witnessing the damage that humans do to each other on a regular basis.

I was having brunch with some friends last weekend and one of them is reading a book by Pema Chodron. My friend asked me what I thought it meant to "throw it all to the wind" whether things are going your way or not. I think it means not to get too attached to your emotions, that they are temporary and they will change. Sometimes suffering is necessary to get us to clarity, and sometimes we just have to deal with it the best we can until conditions change.

I know I'm stronger than this stupid old funk. I just have to accept and hang on until the fog lifts.

Rain on the Inside

I learned today the crushing news that another one of my friends has cancer. She is 41 and it's breast cancer. Her little boy is 5. I hate this.

It conjures up one of my worst fears, that I'll get sick and somehow not be able to see my child grow up. I'm at that age now where it's suddenly a possibility, and I have seen it happen. It's something that I had never even considered when I was younger, and it's terrifying.

Most of the young people I know with cancer, though, do get successful treatment and go into remission. These are hopeful examples. But it's a brutal road, and some will leave the world whether they have unfinished business or not, whether they have people that love and depend on them or not. There are no guarantees, just crossing your fingers and facing it as bravely as you can.

It helps to remember the great lessons about impermanence, rebirth and compassion.

It helps to remember to make every moment meaningful, because I don't know which one will be my last.

It helps to hold my people close to me, to pray for their health and happiness, and to be extraordinarily grateful for the moments we have together.

I have to take refuge in this, because the other choice is just devastation, and that doesn't do anyone any good.

Chillaxin'

Jeff and I had the great good fortune to have 24 glorious hours in the wayback machine last weekend. That is, we got away for a night without the girl! We immediately relaxed in body and mind upon driving out of the driveway. It was quite sublime. We completely dote on the little lady and wouldn't have it any other way, but, man, it was nice to have a break from the 24/7 vigilance.

Jeff says he really misses his old life where he could do anything he wanted at any time. Me, I honestly barely remember that freedom. I think it's part of the Mama Programming. If we could remember, and greatly lamented the loss of it, how would we ever be completely available to, and not resentful of, our babies? I think it's different for the Mamas.

At any rate, it was a beautiful time in Port Townsend. We remembered that we were once great pals, and that we still really like each other!

The decor in our hotel room, was rather...interesting...

 

The evening stroll was lovely.

The moon was magical!

And the autumn sun in the morning was beautifully blinding.

We had dinner without having to pick up anything off the floor or rush out because someone was pitching a fit. We didn't have to carry anyone a half a mile back to the room or keep anyone from sticking her tongue in the outlets. We didn't argue once about whose turn it was to change a diaper. But even when we are on the other side of the water, we are still not far from her, and we missed her.

She was pissed at us when we got home, but soon she was back to her cuddly self. On some level, I'm sure she's happy to know that her parents are relaxed and peaceful.

We just might do this again next year!

Ten Good Insomia Busters?

I was thinking, in the middle of the night, when I was wide awake (as usual lately). I am not able to go to sleep and stay sleeping, even when I'm not constantly interrupted by my dear family. My sleep routine is way out of whack. This ain't good!

Other than the obvious sleeping pills, which I am trying to avoid for many reasons, here are a few other things I think I will try to get myself back in the sleep saddle:

1. No caffeine. I'm going to try this for a week and see if it helps. I can't do coffee anyway, but I love iced tea! Avoiding it was really hard when I was pregnant and it's going to be hard now, but at least I can try. It's something I have control over.

2. Go to the doctor. If they recommend sleeping pills, that's one thing, but there might be other problems to look into that might be causing me to sleep badly.

3. Exercise and stretch. I'm trying hard to do this, even a little bit. It's so tricky when I'm a total zombie to get up the energy, but I think it will help with sleep if I don't do it too late in the evening.

4. Don't check email, Facebook, or anything else online after 7-8pm. Email, especially work email, can really disturb my mind, and Facebook is just plain distracting and meaningless. I could do with a lot less of all that distraction.

5. Cut back on the spicy foods, especially late. I often wake up with my stomach hurting.

6. Take Arli to the doctor about her bad sleeping lately. Maybe they have some suggestions.

7. On the weekends, take a nap when she naps. Or at least rest. I need naps! Naps are good! Dishes and chores really do wait for me. They are loyal friends.

8. Cut down on the stupid TV watching! Pick a show or two to watch and just stick to those. Seriously, a ton of stupid crap goes in my head and I just don't need it there. I need some peaceful thoughts not a bunch of drivel. I could even try a total media blackout once a week and see if that gets me some better sleep. I bet it does.

9. Talk to therapist more about stress reduction. That could be helpful, huh?

10. I could, if I was really brave, try to do some sort of meditation practice again. Kind of a no-brainer how that would help, but it's just a matter of motivation, which is rare when I'm perpetually exhausted!

I'm just making this all up with my infinite (?) wisdom and logic, but it seems to me that I could probably take better care of myself. I'm gonna check into that.

Going With The Gut

I've been getting a lot of questions about sending Arli to toddler classes or preschool. The answer is - I don't know! I don't know about any of these things. I think she's too young for preschool, but should she go to a toddler class? I am of two minds about all this.

One mind says that I need to put some time into thinking about her social development, skill-building and education already. Maybe I am already behind and Arli isn't getting all the opportunities she needs to grow.

The other mind says, does it really matter right now? She is developing exactly on schedule. She walks, runs and climbs. Her motor skills seem right on. She is infinitely curious about the world around her. She gets new words and phrases every day, and is an excellent communicator, I think. When I watch her around other kids, she seems socially well-adjusted. She shares as good as any 22 month old I've seen, she is interested in playing with other kids and interacts pretty well. She also plays very well by herself.

Because I work full time, my time with her is precious. When I am able to be home with her, I want to be with her. We talk and read and play and go for walks and explore and even do chores. I know that kids need to branch out in the world; I totally get that, but what would she get in a toddler class that she doesn't get from her parents, the kids she plays with, and her awesome babysitter? Am I missing something?

I'm going to go with instinct on this one, and enjoy this time with her. I'll keep introducing her to new things and people, and when it's time to go to preschool, we'll work that out.

And because it's been awhile since I posted some cute photos, here is some evidence that Arli is going to be alright...

1. She has been fascinated with books since she could sit up.

 

 

 

 

2. Now that she can talk too, I find her sitting in her chair just jabbering away reading herself a book. For both her bookworm parents, this is music to our ears.

 

3. She mostly plays well with others.

4. She can motor like no one's business, and she seems like a pretty happy camper to me!

The time will come when she has plenty of classes and activities. Right now, I think it's ok if she just plays. That's ok, right?

40

It is downright shocking to reach the age of 40. Honestly, I don't know where the time has gone. I feel like there's been some evolution in the continuum of my life, definitely some lessons learned and some wisdom acquired, but I still feel youthful and fresh on the inside. It just doesn't reconcile logically. How can this be?

How can my life be half, or more than half, over? I certainly don't feel half done, and I don't appreciate the thought that I could die in approximately 40 years or less. Actually, that's kind of abstract. It's not the years or the time that haunts me, it's the fact that my body and mind is already starting to break down a little bit. I can't remember things as well as I used to, I am starting to need glasses, and my body hurts in places it never has before. I don't necessarily want to live until I'm 100. I really only want to live until living becomes unbearable physically, and who knows when that will be?

It could happen soon, and it will happen sooner than I'd prefer. I am seeing my friends' parents start to pass away, my family members and friends getting cancer or other horrifying ailments or even dying. I mean, what the hell?? I always knew these things happened, but I never thought they happened to people I knew! This is unacceptable!

For women, especially, the 40's are supposed to be a time of great liberation. It's a time when we are comfortable with ourselves (supposedly), we are more confident based on our life experience, and much less tolerant of stupid crap. I can see how this could be true. I'm feeling this a little bit. I feel like I really know what's important in my life and what isn't, and that it's taken on a whole new meaning now that I'm "mature".

Also for women, it can be kind of heartbreaking to get into the 40's. Our bodies are officially too old to have babies. If we missed the window to have as many kids as we want, or any kids at all, this time could be a time of mourning. We have menopause coming up soon, and that doesn't look like any picnic. We are no longer viewed as sexy young things, and our stock goes down a little bit in the superficial media view of what is attractive. (That's a blessing in disguise anyway if you ask me. Who has time for that? I know plenty of total supermodel babes who aren't any further in the love department, despite their good genes and beautification efforts. Work with what you got so that you feel good, I say. Is that just the 40-year-old me talking?? Sorry, little tangent there.)

It's just a little scary for people in my generation to think ahead to retirement. What will that look like? Looking at the economy and the completely ridiculous shenanigans that the government continues to cook up to make themselves for comfortable but leaving out the people they are supposed to serve, will we even get to retire before we die? What kind of planning will guarantee security and comfort as an elderly, physically and possibly mentally challenged individual? Do we burden our kids with it? What if we don't have enough or any kids to burden?

These are the thoughts that rattle through my mind now, and I resent it! Can't I just be planning a theme party or playing frisbee in the park or something? I've said before, and I'll say it again because I really do believe it, life is what you make it. I'll use that positive psychology to spin this the right way, as soon as I stop spinning from the shock.

Head in the Clouds

I have this problem sometimes where my head gets stuck in the clouds. Right now is a good example. I really need to be working on some budgets and schedules and what-not, but I can't get into the spirit of it. I know logically that I have to work to support my family, blah, blah, blah, but I'd much rather be lying in the grass looking up at the sky and pondering existence. When do I get to do that?

I'd have to schedule that into my weekend, I guess, and the weekend is just too packed with catching up on the dishes, necessary errands, and spending quality time with you-know-who. I'm sure she wouldn't mind going to hang out in a grassy field, but she certainly wouldn't just lie there and ponder. I'd be chasing her all over hill and dale, and well, that would be fun, but it's not exactly relaxing.

And, honestly, if I did actually get to lie in the grass, I wouldn't do any pondering. Let's get real. I'd probably just think about all the things I need to get done, be missing my girl, or I'd just fall asleep with my mouth open like a big dork. I guess I'd be better off just scheduling a nap.

On the very rare occasion, I do get to schedule a nap. Yesterday I got up so flippin' early and by 9:30 I was barely keeping one eye open. When Jeff finally rolled out of bed, I mumbled incoherently something about needing to sleep and stumbled into the bedroom. I was in there for over an hour, but I didn't really get much sleep and this is why - I was unknowingly trying to rest during ping-pong practice. We don't actually have a table, so Arli was throwing the ball against the bedroom wall repeatedly. Also we don't have any paddles or a nice quiet ping-pong ball, so she was using her mighty fist to throw a wooden ball. That was loud, and not very restful. My scheduling mistake for sure.

It is Monday and here I am. Nine projects in various stages of development, and none of them relaxing or very forgiving as far as taking time out to ponder. I will push through and get it all done, of course I will. That is my deal with the universe.

Someday, I will just take that time to lie in the grass and ponder. I don't know when, but it will be so delicious when it finally happens.

Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

The girl has been sleeping like a champ. She's been going to bed by herself at 8 every night and waking up consistently between 7-8am. She's been napping for an hour every day around the noon hour. Very predictable. Things have been good. It's not taking us 1-3 hours of rocking and holding and gently placing her sleeping self in the crib. We read a couple of books, she gets tired and points to her crib, where we lay her down with her eyes open and leave the room. She drifts off to sleep peacefully and we have some sense of progress.

This is liberating! This is how it should be, right? She is evolving! She doesn't sleep 13 or 15 hours a day like some kids, and she still comes into our bed sometimes, but in general we are all ok with this new development. I've even been thinking that this could possibly leave a little time to exercise or talk to my husband in the evening.

Well, until last week when her nap started to go awry. Instead of 12 or even 1, it slipped to more like 2 or 3. Not that great. Her bedtime, though, seemed to still be reasonable and she was sleeping by 8:30.

Today the camel's back broke. I don't know what happened to her, but she would not nap to save her life. Not at the regular time, not at her later time, not in the car after two tries, and not on a long stroller ride. Eventually there was a lot of crying from exhaustion (hers, not mine, although I felt like it), red-rimmed eyes and zombie walking. We thought for sure she'd go to sleep like a bag of rocks, as she usually does when she misses a nap.

Nope. She was chipper and lively after her bath, pointing at everything and chattering like a crazy person with a binky in her mouth. Together we spent about 2 hours trying to hold her until sleepy, and every time we put her in the crib she would scream so intensely we thought she would throw up. We'd pick her back up, and she'd melt into us, relax, and nearly drift off. We tried not to pick her up and just let her cry, but it was like an insane crazy torture nightmare like nothing we had ever seen from her before. What. The. Hell. Is. Going. On?

Does this mean that all of the months of our good habit sleep training is out the window? Are we going to have to go to sleep with her every night again after hours of struggling and frustration? Are we doomed, or is this just an anomoly? Is she just crazy and this is the first symptom, or is she just going through some mysterious toddler hormone thing? Also, WHY is this happening?

This is the hardest part of parenting, I think, so far. The not having any idea WHY something is happening, what did we do to contribute to it, and if it can be fixed. I am told by my encouraging therapist that I practice "positive psychology", so I'm going to try really hard to do that here, as baffled and bummed as I am that this is happening.

I'm going to send up a little prayer that things will be just fine and our little lady will be relaxed, rested, mentally stable and happy in her life, starting real soon. Tomorrow would be great.

Enough Already

I don't know about you fine folks, but I often find myself feeling indignant when faced with new demands on my time/resources/money/energy/effort. I honestly feel like I work plenty hard enough, and that I'm giving everything possible that there is to give to all of my obligations.

One thing that my dear husband has recently asked of me is to spend some time each day exercising. 15-20 minutes would be easy to do, he says. It just takes a little effort, he says, and he doesn't know why I won't even try. At first, I was totally outraged at his audacity to ask one more thing of me, when I already take care of most everything in the house, work full time, take care of the child and family obligations, etc. He is a man with actual free time, so of course 15-20 minutes of exercise is easy for him.

I brought this conversation to my therapist because I was so pissed about it. I felt like I needed a little backup or validation or something.

My therapist asked me what I thought of my husband's invitation. Sometimes, he says, people who care about us ask us to do things that can actually be beneficial for us, and did I think that his suggestion could be beneficial?

OF COURSE, was my answer. I know exercising would be great for me on many levels.

Well, do you want to do it?

OF COURSE I do!

I don't think you do, he said, because if you did, you would do it. You have the power to accomplish anything you put your mind to. If you wanted to exercise, you would build it into your day somehow.

He's really not being a hard ass, he is simply stating the truth. It didn't seem like it at first, but he actually was giving me the validation I wanted and steering me away from anger.

Very clever, he is, because now I am thinking about this in a different way. If I put aside all my outrage about what I think my husband meant by this (you are not attractive you need to be better you need to do more I would like you more if you were thinner I am ashamed of you) and realize what he probably did mean (you would have more energy and feel better if you exercised and I want to live with a happier person), I can actually consider the invitation.

There are still only 24 hours in each day. I am still trying to figure out where the 15-20 minutes would come from, but I'm not ruling it out as a possibility. I have the aspiration to develop the motivation to make this a priority because it's actually a pretty good idea all around. I'm still working through the resentment of the request, because you know I don't like to be judged or told what to do, but I think I can let that go too. Things will sure be a lot easier around here when I do, and maybe it will even free up enough energy to do some sit-ups, who knows?

A Tale of a Traveling Toddler

"This vacation is all about how to adapt." - Jeff

Holy moly, a vacation with a 21 month old person is an adventure. And by adventure, I mean non-stop activity and antics that are anything but relaxing and leisurely. Arli is a good girl, and a pretty good traveler all around, but she is still a very small sensitive person with needs and wants (many, many, immediate and non-negotiable wants).

We were wise enough to get her a seat on the plane between us, and she is surprisingly manageable. She doesn't throw up or scream on take off or landing. She is small enough still that she can move around within the space and doesn't try to escape. She charms everyone around her, either saying "hi" to them or giving them the famous stare down. Either way she is very popular. She doesn't sleep, really, except for on landing. For some reason it makes her pass out every time.

She got to spend a little bit of time with Grandma and Great Aunt Becky, and she ran them around the block a few times. I just let her go because it was 10 minutes that I got to breathe. You can see the look on my mom's face - she was relentless.

We went to my cousin's wedding, but I didn't get to see the ceremony or enjoy the reception because she was especially worked up and restless from all the activity. This photo was taken just before the ceremony started, just before she started squeezing the juice box and spraying it all over the place and screaming in her chair because she was sticky. I spent the rest of the evening chasing her around. (Note to self: toddlers and organized events do not mix.)

Jeff was kind enough to let me get a pedicure while he walked the girl around the mall. Well, he carried her around the mall. He said she wouldn't let her feet touch the ground without serious trouble. If that were me, I would have marched to the car and got the stroller, but he is his own man. The pedicure was great, and afterward, she finally got on her own two feet to do some shopping. She carried the owl purse on her arm the entire time. It was pretty adorable.

We took a couple of drives into the mountains because the only place she would take a nap was in the car. This was a good compromise. We got to talk and enjoy some beautiful sights, and she got some much needed rest. We also took a dip in the hotel pool and went out for pizza. At the end of the three days, our nerves were shot and we were happy to get home. Arli was so happy, in fact, that she passed out cold on landing and all the way through the airport until we got to the car. So unusual for her, but we thought it was pretty great.

I think we will re-think the family vacation, at least for the next couple of years. Maybe we'll stick close to home, or maybe we'll just leave her with the grandparents next time so we can get some peace and quiet. Family time is the best thing in the world, but it shouldn't be so much work!

Neighborly

There have been some strange and inconsiderate behaviors going on in my neighborhood lately. Maybe I'm the only one to notice. Maybe it's always been this way and I've just become more of a cranky bitch - this is a possibility I suppose.

Also, I might just say that in general I really like my neighborhood and actually love some of my neighbors. Some of them, though, I just don't get. I think that everyone should remember that they live close to other humans, and afford them the same treatment that they themselves like to enjoy. Not a revolutionary thought, I don't think.

Lately, at night, there's been a decent amount of barking dogs. Loud dogs and constant barking. This I don't understand at all. Before writing me off as a dog hater, please know that I am a friend of animals and of animal lovers. The part I don't understand is why you would just leave your dog outside to bark and bark and why you would think that it's ok for a) your dog and b) everyone around you who has to listen to it. Why? I ask, why?

The guy next door goes outside at 8pm every single night and chases his dog around, wrestles with him and gets him totally wound up, barking and yapping at top volume. Now, look, I am a working parent too and I completely respect the fact that he enjoys silly playtime with his furry pal. It looks really fun and relaxing. But why at 8 o'clock every night?  Could he do this at 6 or 7 or even 7:30? Does he not know, or not care, that we have a little one with a bedtime, and her bedroom window borders his yard? I just wonder what he thinks.

It's not just dogs with this guy, either. His barbeque is in the closest corner to our house as possible. It's not one of those nice polite barbeques, it's one of those super smoky numbers. I am not a meteorologist but if I was, maybe I would understand why the smoke only goes in one direction every night, and that is the direction of our house.

The smell of smoke and mystery meat completely saturates our house if we have even one window cracked. When it's hot outside, we, like most humans, try to catch a breeze through the window to cool things off. We also built this rad deck that we might like to enjoy in the warm evenings. Our enjoyment of the evening time is completely ruined by his barbeque smoke. If that were my barbeque and every time I fired it up (every single night) I saw my neighbors retreat into their house and slam all the windows and doors, I would honestly take note and maybe just move it away from their house a little. Just a little. To be considerate.

I know what you're thinking. I am thinking it too. If we just mentioned our grievances to our neighbor, who by all other accounts is a pretty nice guy, he probably would take note and he might even adjust some of these strange behaviors. We aren't bad people, either, but maybe we are just a little too passive aggressive for our own good.

When you have a problem, there are really just two paths to take. One path is to address it like an adult and move on. The other path, not as healthy, is just to suck it up and shut yer pie hole. I'm not proud of this. Maybe I should just say something, just to be neighborly.

I Love A Parade!

It turns out that parades are pretty spectacular for an almost 2-year-old. You get to stand unrestrained and watch tons of interesting people, dance your booty off and point at everything! You also get to learn a new wave - the princess wave. Parades are awesome!

Hanging out with good friends!

Look over there! Can you believe it?

I'm eating snacks non-stop and no one cares because it's so cute!

Look Daddy!

Perfecting a new wave!

OH MY GOODNESS - DO YOU SEE THAT??

Best. Wednesday Evening. Ever.

On Second Thought

My job involves travel for up to 2 weeks at a time. When I returned to work last year and I was still nursing, it just wasn't an option for me to be away from my baby that long. I negotiated with a very reluctant Jeff to have them travel with me. Both times last year he said he'd never do it again.

This year, even though I'm no longer nursing, I still didn't think I could bear being away from her for 10 days. Another long negotiation ensued, and the compromise was that they would come with me for half of the time. My argument was that he didn't want to/couldn't handle being alone with her at home the whole time, I didn't want her staying with our parents overnight (for a few reasons), and that it would be better for her to be with her Mama. Even though I was working long hours each day, I would still be able to see her and cuddle with her, which I thought would count for something.

Let me just say that traveling with an almost-two-year-old is challenging. I was going to say a pain in the ass, but she really was pretty well-behaved. It is doable with two people. However, the minute we got on the plane, I started to wonder if this was the right thing to do. Somehow between the time I hatched the plan and the time we left, I had changed my internal tune a little bit.

Was I really doing this for her sake, or was I just thinking of my own emotional attachment? She seems to be fine spending time with her daddy wherever she is. I think she would miss me if I was gone so long, but she probably wouldn't crumble, or be permanently scarred by it. She's getting older, and she's socialized, and she will be fine, really.

It's not really fair to her, or my job, to have me distracted all the time. And it's not fair to my sweet husband, who agreed to spend 24 hours a day in a hotel room or in a hot humid park with the girl. So, another mother guilt lesson learned. I guess you just don't know the right thing to do sometimes, until the wrong thing is already underway.

The Only One

I had a conversation with someone today that went something like this:

Guy: She's 20 months old now. Time to get started on #2.

Me (stock answer): Oh no, we're good with one. We got started too late.

Guy: I don't know about people with just one...

Ok, so what is up with that? It is implied that there is something wrong with us, and/or that we are going to screw her up by not giving her siblings. I have this same conversation more often than I like. Once is really too much for me.

We aren't selfish or irresponsible for having just one. We were blessed with her and we are good with it. Really. She fits into our life perfectly. This is what we have capacity for and we are going to do our best to do it right. She's a happy girl with the total devotion from both parents. How can that be a bad thing?

Is it an American thing that more is better? I don't know, and I don't subscribe to that philosophy. One is fine for us, and that's ok. Ok?

A Lovely Time

We went to my aunt's wedding on the 4th of July. It was a really long drive (5 hours with 2 stops) but the weather was perfect, the wedding was surprisingly lovely, and all the family were in good spirits. Oh, and we had our first family camping experience. It was fun to cuddle up like a pile of puppies to keep warm in the tent.

Here are some of my favorite shots:

Arli and Logan

The Happy Bride

Daddy and his Girl

Yay! We did it!

Giddy Ladies

Jumping!

Best Friends

Static Head

A Pile of Cozy Puppies

The Great Reward

I get disillusioned being an adult sometimes. Work is really stressful right now, and it's summer, and I'd just rather be outside playing with my girl. Or just sitting in a sunny spot thinking poetic thoughts. Or reading a book. When I have so many demands on me every waking moment, I'd just rather be doing anything other than what I'm doing.

I'm reminded that life is short, and that right now all my energy is going toward pushing a giant boulder up a hill, only to have it roll back over me when I get to the top. Why spend my energy this way? Oh, right, because I don't have a choice. To live in a house and drive a car and feed my baby and wear clothes, I have to work.

I do have a choice about how I choose to frame it, though. I can see it as a total drag, and that my life is slipping away into drudgery, or I can see it as time invested for a better future. But what is that "better future"? What does that look like? Will I have to work this hard for the rest of my life? What is life after work? Where is my Great Reward?

I think we are fooling ourselves if we think that we need to spend our entire lives working, working, working to get to some mysterious period of bliss later. Old age, as far as I have observed, is no bliss. Yeah, you don't have to go to work every day maybe, but that's because chances are that you aren't able to. Your mind and body breaks down soon enough as far as I can tell.

So what a bummer, right? I might as well just go eat some worms, right? No, that's not what I'm saying! I suspect something far more awesome and positive.

I think that my Great Reward is in the moment itself, no matter what I'm doing. Work can be stressful and ridiculous, yes, and it takes a lot out of me, yes. But, because of work, I am living comfortably. Because of work, I met my dear man and we had this amazing human together. I have also met some of my favorite and most supportive friends at work and they make my life very rich and entertaining. I am also never, ever bored at work and I learn something new every day. No lie.

Every moment I'm alive is my great fortune. I can cash in on it right now if I want to. I don't have to wait to enjoy myself. I can do that now, even amongst the stress and drudgery. I will just refuse to see it as such, and automatically, things are all better. You can call it denial if you want to, but a little mind magic goes a long way.

Daddy

Once you have kids, whether biologically or through adoption, you are a parent forever. You are tied to those kids for the rest of your life, and after you're gone, the rest of their lives. I am going to go ahead and say that the parent-child relationship is the single most important and influential relationship that you will have in your life, whether you are physically there for it or not.

I would also guess that most people are unprepared to be parents, even though I'd like to believe that once the kids are here, most people do their best to raise good people and love their kids the best they can. I don't know that there could be stats on that, but I like to believe in the goodness of people and therefore this is how I would guess that things are. Generally.

You cannot just decide you are no longer a parent and have that be ok with anyone. Kids will adapt and move on, but this leaves deep scars in them. They are always wondering what is wrong with them and why their mom or dad stopped caring for them. I know this, because it's happened to me. Twice.

My biological dad was totally unprepared for parenthood, to put it lightly. He grew up in a family where his father abandoned them, so he had no role model for fatherhood. He's a natural "free spirit" and doesn't seem to bond emotionally to anyone. He left when I was 2 1/2 and my brother was 5 months old. My mom remarried and we were adopted by our stepdad when I was 5. He didn't even show up in court to contest it, he just rambled on and had more families that he didn't take care of.

Although he was always a looming shadow growing up, we didn't really reconnect with him until our mid-20's. I see him about once every 5 years now, and it is totally awkward. I am grateful that he didn't raise me, because I think I would have been a mess. I feel like the scars have healed, but I always wonder what his deal is, and why he can't connect.

When I see him now, I can see the regret in his eyes for his mistakes, but I feel absolutely nothing. I don't blame myself anymore, now that I know the reality of the situation, but I think the emotional fallout for me was that it just made me hard. Abandonment is such a button for me, so when I think someone in any situation is about to bail, I just tell myself, "Who cares? I don't need them anyway." This maybe isn't always the healthiest reaction.

My adoptive dad was also completely unprepared to be a father, and he was only 24 when he adopted both of us, and then they had another son together. Three kids by 25 is a lot. For all of his faults and his own fucked-up childhood, I have to say that he really did try his hardest. He stuck with us through it all, until he and my mom divorced when I was 20.

We all maintained a relationship with him over the years, even though it hasn't been easy. He is manic depressive and even though I can't relate to that personally, I have come to understand what a debilitating disease that is. It can really destroy your relationships. When he's not doing well, he hides in his deep, dark, self-defeating, misery-absorbed hole and there is no torch bright enough to penetrate that darkness. We've tried, and failed.

When I got married, he asked me if he "had to" walk me down the aisle. My mom did it, because I was thinking, well if you feel that way about it, fuck no - you don't GET to. He didn't even get me a card wishing me well. He has no happiness for anyone else because he has absolutely no joy for himself. Over the last five years, he's stopped calling us on our birthdays, stopped showing up to holidays when we invite him over, and really just stopped being accessible altogether. My brother showed up to his workplace, because that's the only place you can really find him, and he said he didn't recognize him.

I know this behavior is the symptoms of his disease, but I am outraged by it all the same. There is some part of him that makes the choice just to be alone and miserable. Some part of him chooses to forget he ever knew us, or that we'd be better off without him for whatever reason. My warrior side is full of fury about it and thinks that I guess we are better off without his miserable crap. But the soft little girl in me who admires her daddy and wants him to care is just super, super sad. What a waste of a life to turn your back on the people who can never turn their backs on you, even if they wanted to.

I Want That! Now!

Today was one of the toughest in recent memory. We both got to the end of the day, super tense, and realized that we had no idea what had happened to our sweet, happy baby girl. She was just a mess all day long and we couldn't figure it out. She is not sick. She had plenty of good sleep. She had food when she wanted it (as best we could tell, anyway), a walk outside, played on the deck, a good long nap on her Daddy's lap, a stroller ride to the store, and the devoted attention of both of her hard-working parents all day long.

This is how it looks from Arli's perpective, we think:

Pick me up! I need you! I'm small and I need attention. Drop everything! Pick me up!

Oooooh, look at all the things I'm missing out on from up here! All those things on the tables and shelves and counters that you keep from me. Bad Mommy. Bad Daddy.

(Pointing to nothing in particular, and shrieking) I want THAT! No, THAT. I want THAT! (Hand it to her) NOOOOO!! THAAAT, you idiot!

Time for a tantrum. On my face, on the floor. Again.

You people don't ever give me anything! You don't care about me at all! (Hand "it" to her, immediate pacification, switch goes off). Oh, thank you. This is the best thing ever. Do the buttons work? Does it twist? Does it light up? Does it make sounds? What if I pull on it? What if I drop it off the deck? Go get it! Oooooh, thank you. Do it again. Do it again. WHAAAAAT?? I'm not done with this gaaaaaame!!! (Goes limp, kicks legs, face mashed into floor, yelling bloody murder.)

I'm HUNGRY! Feed me! No, not that! NO. Don't you care that I'm starving half to death? I want what you have. Wait, no I don't. You people don't understand anything! (Shrieking so loud that the crystal martini glasses we never get to drink out of shatter in the cupboard.)

Wash. Rinse. Repeat for 10 straight hours.

Jeff says, "What is wrong with her? What did we do?"

Now, I don't know this for sure, but I think she's a toddler. And I think toddler-types just have days like this because their worlds are expanding and they have to see, hear, touch and taste everything they come in contact with or suspect that they might come in contact with. They get ultra-frustrated when things don't go their way, just like we big people do, but they are at the extreme disadvantage of not having the language to express it. A little language and reason can go a long way.

So I really think that the only things we can do are take a deep breath, be as reasonable as humanly possible, and buckle up. We are in for an adventure. She's taking the world by storm, and she's starting at home.

Ka-boom Indeed

By many accounts, this has been a truly anxiety-ridden bummer of a week, kicked off by an ominous dream. I can look at it that way, or I can look at some lessons learned and move on. I think I'd rather do that. I do not like spending time with my mind stuck in muck.

So, ka-boom. There have been random shootings all over the city for a couple of weeks now. People are jumpy. This isn't all just your typical gang-related fighting, this is people being struck by stray bullets while driving, shot at festivals, and gunned down while standing at the door to their apartment, drinking coffee or getting into their cars. These aren't people who solicit violence, these victims have been anyone. They could be me or you.

The gun debate rages on. It seems so simple to me, but I've recently learned another lesson. Do not, under any circumstances, jump into this debate on a public forum, unless you're looking for trouble. I posted a quite innocuous response (or so I thought) about this on a Facebook "friend's" page in response to their status update about how it's not a "gun problem". Of course, guns don't kill people, right?

My point was that it doesn't matter if the guys drinking coffee were armed. They never would have known to, or had time to, retaliate when the psycho shot them. If the psycho didn't have a gun, there would have been no victims that day. That seems like a stone cold fact to me.

What I didn't think through when I posted it, was that I was messing with this guy's core belief that bearing arms is a God-given right. What I said to him, essentially, was that no one should have guns. That's a strong stance to take, and though I believe that in my heart, stating it to someone like this guy was just like waging war. His response was to send me a scathing email basically telling me I'm an idiot and blocking me from his account. I can only guess how the rest of that conversation went on his page after I was gone. It doesn't really matter. I've made a note of it in a big way.

I have been stretching my mind ever since that exchange, to try and understand his viewpoint. Not to try to agree with it, but just because it seems so absurd to me and I want to know how someone could possibly think that way. I don't think it's a good thing to just spout off because I can. I want to be thoughtful when I'm interacting with people that I clash with, so I can learn from them. What I don't want to do is be a one-dimensional, closed-minded ignorant jerk who can only see things my own way. That's the reason this world is in so much trouble in the first place.

Hopefully some gentler lessons are on the way. This week has been quite the exhausting doozy.