Monday, December 10, 2012

Our Village

This time of year people seem to be scouring for ways to give.  Thanksgiving, Christmas and the New Year's seems to make all of us introspective and suddenly caring about others.  "Up All Night" created this gem:

Last month I spent a few hours composing a blog entry to only have the wonders of my computer and the Internets make it disappear and I didn't have the energy to re-write it at the time.  So I am going to try again, because I feel I need to.  When everyday the little things we do may just be touching people in huge and significant ways we just don't know about.

We have these two neighbor boys who sometimes come by with their puppy dog for a play date with Woodrow.  We never know when they will show up, but sometimes around 5:30 there is a knock at the door and we end up with two very happy puppies.  These boys, from what I can gather are raising themselves.  The oldest is about 15 or 16, he is in High School and has the responsibility of caring for his younger brother who is 10 and in 5th grade.  I only get snippets from the older boy about their lives but from what I can gather, there is no male figure.  The mom works a lot in order to provide for them.  These boys pull at my heartstrings.  They remind me in so many ways of so many of my old students whose parents were struggling.  They are the example of the working poor.  They represent the loneliness and hardships of some childhoods.  One day while the boys were hanging in the backyard watching the dogs play, the older one asks me parenting advice.  "Since your a Mom, can you tell me why after holidays some kids get all crazy.  Cause Billy (not his real name) won't listen to me and is crazy since Halloween. How can I get him to listen?"  This young boy who should be playing and enjoying his childhood by playing too many computer games is asking about parenting his younger brother. In some way I hope that our home if only for the hour the boys come over and hang out in the backyard is a safe haven for them.

Today I walked Cookie to school.  It is a cold and wintry day...It was in the high teens and we had all bundled up against the cold.  We were fortunate to be on the receiving end of winter jackets from two friends last year.  Therefore we have a couple extra.  I noticed a little girl at Cookie's school was wearing just a hoodie for warmth...It is in the teens people!  No gloves no winter jacket.  I had brought Jelly with us in the Chariot, and happened to have a spare pair of mittens for Jelly in it.  I gave them to the little girl, and even though they were too small, even though she seemed a little embarrassed she wore them any way.  I ran home, dropped Rebecca off with her Daddy and drove back to the school with one of those extra jackets in tow and a pair of mittens.  I informed the teachers that she did not have a winter coat or gloves and that I was leaving the jacket and gloves for her to use for the day...if she didn't have any at home, she was welcome to keep them.

This little girl is sweet and kinda shy.  Last month she was in my daughter's half-day Kinder class.  One day she was moved to full day Kinder.  Her mother, left the family, or at least this is the scuttlebutt I heard.  The mother left the father alone to raise three young children....she just left, checked out, gone.  Not even in the "I'm divorcing you" but in the divorcing the whole family left. As much as I may complain about my sweet little ones, I could never ever leave them.  As much as I envision myself running away screaming in my pajamas pulling at my hair some mornings, I could never leave these beautiful wonderful girls.  

My village may be small here in Colorado.  My village may sometimes only consist of us and our closest neighbors, but sometimes a kind thought or word, a thoughtful gesture means more than serving Turkey to homeless on Thanksgiving.  Maybe today, maybe every day I interact positively with those boys will make the drudgery that is their lives better.  I learned that in teaching, one word kind or cruel can touch a child in ways we could never imagine...those words will stay with them forever.  Today I choose to be kind.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Women's Lib

If someone was to tell me 15 years ago that I would have to fight for the rights my grandmother and mother fought for and won for me in the 60s and 70s, I would have thought them crazy.  Rights I have enjoyed and taken for granted.  Never have I thought I couldn't get a job because I was a woman, I have never had to bat an eye in regards to decisions regarding my own reproduction and body.  All of those choices were mine and mine alone.  I have never had to fear telling a doctor I wanted to be on or off the pill.  I have never had to rationalize or convince my pharmacist that the medication I was taking was for my own health that my doctor and I felt best for me. 

When 18, on the pill (of which never missing a day), and facing a positive pee test,(it was....get this, a false positive) never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would have had to consult with anyone other than my partner and my doctor.  Never was there a question that if I was pregnant the decision of what to do would be for anyone other than me. 

My daughters are facing a world that is trying to legislate religious doctrine.  A country where a portion of the population thinks it is okay to legislate their bodies.  A group of people who think that it is okay to accept brutal attacks on a woman's body and continue to place the blame on her.  A group of people who think it is okay to call women sluts and whores because they, for whatever reason, have taken responsibility for their own bodies by being on birth control.  

Many times when facing a ballot myself I have felt it was choosing the lesser of two evils. I have voted Republican I have voted Democrat, I have voted Green party, and Independent.  Ask yourself this question, who in the grand scheme of things is the lesser of two evils?  Who is trying to reduce and keep others from enjoying the rights guaranteed by our constitution?  Take away Democrat verses Republican and view this political race in regards to who is looking out for basic human rights. Who is guaranteeing separation of church and state?  Who is allowing people of all races, color, gender, and sexual orientation to pursue their rights of life, liberty, and happiness?   As mothers fight for the rights of your children.  As mothers, think of the world you want your children to be a part of.  As a woman fight for your own rights to make decisions regarding your own body and healthcare.  As a woman fight for you daughters, your granddaughters, and yourself.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Memories of Griffin

Eight years ago I was looking forward to my 28th birthday, long term boyfriend (now hubby) and I were planning a trip to Hawaii (where I incorrectly thought he'd pop the question), I was just finishing up a paid internship at the famed Dreamworks (yes it was awesome), and I was expecting to become an Aunt for the first time. Things were great.

Just one week prior to August 21, 2004 I threw my sister a baby shower for the little bundle cooking in her tummy they had named Griffin Patrick.  She had been on bed rest since 20 weeks and at 34 weeks along, she was anxious and a little stir crazy.  Things had not gone according to plans.  The pregnancy was fraught with problems from the get go.  While organizing things for her party that had to be thrown at her home due to the "bed rest" dilemma, I drove out to her home a day before the party, to clean, decorate, and get a sneak peak at the little man in utero.

Looking back there are many things I regret that week.  The first being, allowing my sister to go shopping with me, even if we did things slowly. Sometimes, emotionally, I can't help but think that shopping trip to Michaels contributed to her myriad of problems.  But I know that it really didn't matter, and holding onto the memory of us shopping together is what I want to choose as the overwhelming memory. The second, not getting to see Griffin in an ultrasound.

After our shopping excursion, Sissy had an appointment for an ultrasound and NST. (fetal monitoring, which she was having weekly).  She was looking forward to seeing Griffin, making sure he was okay, and me getting to see him with her.  I was told to wait in the hallway while they set things up and took Griffin's heartbeat.  Sissy came out pretty soon after they took her back looking very upset.  They had to take her into a different room and do an extended fetal monitoring test for at least an hour.  There would be no ultrasound.

This did not make much sense to me, not knowing anything about anything about bearing babies, as couldn't they see and know things better by looking at an ultrasound?  Instead of seeing a fuzzy picture of little hands wave at us, we sat in a tiny cold room.  Sissy on a bed, hooked up to a fetal heart monitor on her belly, and her crying. Crying in my arms, saying that she would not be going home with Griffin.  That they needed to take him out NOW, that she didn't think she could stand it if she had to walk out of there without a baby. Years later one thing stands out in my mind is the fact that she had a premonition, she knew and there was nothing she could do about it.  Or nothing anyone at the hospital would do about it.  Years later, as a mother, as a woman, I vowed to learn from that moment.  Learn that ultimately I knew my body best, knew my children best, that I would know what was best and not to listen to the doctors, or anyone else, but listen to my instinct. 

Why do I write about this now?  Eight years have passed and I am not sure why this year has been almost as hard as the first.  Almost as hard as receiving the phone call from my bereaved sister so early on the morning of August 19th.  "Ginger we lost Griffin".  The numbness of knowing that I was going to have to face my sister in her most vulnerable state.  I would have to see the grief etched in her face and her very being.  That as a family, we would have to bear a nightmare no one wants to ever endure.

It was to be my last day at Dreamworks. I remember driving to Dreamworks that morning after getting the news in order to basically throw them my key card and parking pass...telling my friend and boss that I could not stay for any exit interview, that I could not go over what was left or what I did, that I was needed elsewhere.  I didn't want to have to go back there, to the place where I talked incessantly about the shower I was throwing, about the nephew I was now never going to have.  Knowing that if that thought pained me, I imagined my sister having to go back to work as a teacher and explain to all her students that there was no baby.

Images still in my mind like it was that day.  Arriving at the hospital to watch my sister in agony.  Inducement, drugs to basically keep her incoherent.  And the quiet murmuring of the nurses.  And my sister apologizing to me.  Telling me how sorry she was that it would ruin my vacation, that my birthday would be ruined.  Her begging the nurse and doctors to make sure she had the baby before the 21st. The first time in my life I think my sister ever thought of me first, or so outwardly.

I remember the anger.  Anger at the doctors for not listening to her and letting her have the baby earlier like she asked.  Anger that the night doctor was not changing her from pitocin to some other drug in order to speed up the delivery, because we knew he did not want to be the one to deliver a dead baby.  It was taking sooooo damn long for her to progress. Which made no sense since she had been contracting since 12 weeks.

  My best friend dropping everything to be there for my family.  For having the forethought to get a food tray, to make sure we were nourished.  For being able to hold herself together.  There is another friend, Kelly, who once asked why she was the one who had to be the experienced one when it came to things like tragedy.  I don't have the answer, but my best friend was our rock, and she was able to do that because she had been one to experience the loss of her own son.  I thank her today for understanding my need to call her and for forgiving me if I failed to even see how that phone call might have hurt her in so many ways. For telling me to grab my camera to document and take pictures of Griffin. Thank you Jen.

Most glaringly in my memory is the family holding their breath in the waiting room while Amy completed the task of delivering her dead son.  How my Brother in Law's family and mine came together to feel like a whole family.  How in tragedy and sadness we held hands and even I, the atheist,  prayed with my sister's Mother in Law, because her faith was important to her.  How after receiving the text from my brother in law that Griffin had been delivered, there was a large 'whooshing' sound, as a cohesive whole, we all let out the breaths we had been holding.  We were able to weep at last.  To go outside and let out huge sobs of grief.

To go and hold our lost family member was surreal.  To see such perfection without a spark of life, to witness my brother in law tenderly handing Griffin over to my mother, his mother, to me and back into his cradle was heart wrenching.  But worst of all was to watch my sister curled up in the fetal position, mourning the son she never got to see alive.  To wanting to rage at the nurses for stupidly putting a latex catheter in my sister, when she had huge signs on her door that said, "LATEX sensitivity".  To my friend Jen, who again, went to the nurses and told them to fix it so Sissy didn't feel any pain.

Watching my father and brother paint a happy baby's room stark white with tears running down their faces.  Boxing up baby gear and carefully labeling each box.  Not knowing what she'd want to keep later on.

For my parents who tried to make my birthday a happy one despite the fact that we were all numb and in mourning.  For my hubby who didn't know what the heck to do but stay out of the way, to hold me as I cried myself to sleep, for later apologizing for not coming with me.

This year my Brother In Law sent out a beautiful message on Facebook in Griffin's memory.  And in it he said he didn't know why this year was so hard.  Much harder than the last couple.  I am not sure either, but maybe it's because our girls are starting Kindergarten.  Five is such a beautiful age of hope and innocence and new beginnings.  Things that you imagine when you have a baby growing in your belly, things that were lost to Griffin.  When a mother loses her child, she not only loses their presence but the what would have beens.  Before that child is even born, she imagines the future.  She imagines them holding her hand in their fat little fist, them saying "Mommy", going to kindergarten, their first curse word, getting married.  From the moment you find out you are going to be a parent, the fear sits on your chest, making you breathless at times. The fear of losing.

So today, on my 36th birthday, I dropped my five year old off at Kindergarten, managed not to cry, and felt nothing but the loss of Griffin and that hope and that future that never was.  I admire my sister and brother in law for their strength to endure and do it again twice more.  For finding joy where there was sorrow.  For honoring Griffin's memory so beautifully, while finding joy in the day of my own birth.  We weep for the loss of Griffin on the 20th of August.  And what I regret most is that I jokingly always said, that Griffin would be born on my birthday since we knew he'd be early.  For that I am terribly terribly sorry that it never came to pass.  I would have loved to share my birthday with Griffin. 

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Won't you be my Neighbor...part II

I am a lucky woman.  Very little in my life causes me much stress.  Not the all out crazy stress that working with people and students did.  But here are some recent things that keep me up at night.

1. sprinkler spouting like a fountain in the middle of the night and me worrying that it will not shut off and flood.

2.Forgetting to take the trash out so therefor at 1 a.m. I am outside dragging the container to the curb, despite the fact that we get up at 6 almost every single morning.  But it could be that one day my kid sleeps in until 7. 

3.A person I know finds peace and the help they need to be healthy.

4. My daughter starts Kindergarten and is in the same class as my neighbor's kid.  This is the same neighbor whom I tried to befriend and for whatever reason, she does not like me, my kid, or us.  Never did find out what the problem is.  We are cordial to each other.  Will engage in conversation occasionally while getting the mail, wave as we drive by, but in general ignore each other.  Yesterday was the official "find out who your teacher is" posting at school.  We walked on over to see Cookie's name in black in white, verify that she was on the right list for half day, and look at the names of her classmates, of whom we only know our neighbor.  Cookie was ecstatic to verify that neighbor's kid whom I will call "Sweetie" was in her class.  We like Sweetie, she is polite, plays well, and is a lot of fun, as she does have an older brother to learn from and copy cool things from.  Sweetie and family was also at the school to take a look.  Sweetie and Cookie run off on the playground together and play like old friends.  I play with Jelly and help her navigate some play equipment.  I say hi to the neighbor Mom, I'll just call her "Neighbor," to be respectful.   She is cordial, and when I say that I use the word exactly how it sounds.  She says 'Hi" back but there is no warmth in it.  Thus begins the Mommy Freeze Out.  Have you heard of this?  Well neighbor's oldest of course is going into 2nd grade.  She has made all the Mommy friends and connections at the school.  I am new.  As she was standing with another Mom, I went up to let her know that me and another Mom were starting a Daisy troop and Sweetie was more than welcome to join if they wanted.  Her and the other Mom were cordial..."We'll keep that in mind, but we already have a full plate."  Words were nice, body language was not.  I was not born yesterday, I know how to play the political game.  Did so for years successfully while teaching.  I do not want to have to do it, I want to enjoy my child's elementary school years.  I don't want to be too involved, but I don't want to be uninvolved.

So I am worried.  Worried that because neighbor obviously dislikes me, which normally would not bother me too much, that Cookie will negatively be affected.  Hubby does not get it.  He asked, "why does it bother you so much?  Fuck Her."  Here's the thing, women are evil, women can be cruel, women can and will freeze out my child, refuse to allow their children to invite her to parties or play because of me or I should say because of neighbor  Am I over reacting?  Maybe....but I have been around the block, I know and see what is happening.  I am hoping this woman is not too petty.  That whatever slight I made wasn't so bad that she would deny me and my child the ability to form our own life at the school in a positive way.  That I am seeing things that aren't there...

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Walk the Dog

Week 18 in puppyville and I still not sure I like this guy.  He still chews, he attacks the kids, he won't let me pee in private, and now "my time" after I put the kids to bed is taken up with playing with him or deterring Woodrow from humping my leg.  I alternate from really liking him to thinking he is a giant Asshole.

Hubby is out of town and normally I will admit that I kinda enjoy it.  I usually get housework done.  I do floors, I clean rooms, I clean out cabinets.  But with Woodrow now a part of the family I am just overwhelmed with frustration.  I yell at the dog, I yell at the kids, I yell at myself for yelling at the kids and the dog.  Basically it has been three days of me screaming and kids crying, dog humping.  And it's been hot.  Really hot, like Southern California hot, only they have cooler temps right now.  So puppy being the difficult son of a bitch that he is, doesn't want to go for walks or runs.  He just wants to sit on the air conditioner vent in between terrorizing me and Cookie. 

Anyway, this evening, sensing the need to try and get rid of some of that puppy energy, I convince the kids to put on their shoes and go with me to the neighborhood shared green space (just a giant grassy area sandwiched in between about 8 houses).  Here we can hopefully run Woodrow and tire him out a little.  All is going well, we remembered to bring the Frisbee and poopy bags!  He chases the Frisbee, he chases and tackles the kids, kids and me get bit up by mosquitoes that have finally decided to show up after being basically non-existent all spring and summer.  All good.  Cookie decides that she wants to try and walk the dog.  Sensing he's kinda tired, I allow her to take the lead. To the corner.  I take over all is going well.  We get in front of our house and I allow her to hold the lead while I throw away poop.  Neighbor decided this is a good time to walk by, Chocolate lab sees people goes nutty, drags Cookie across the lawn...literally.  Woodrow proceeds to scare the crap out of neighbor's 6 year old son.  I manage to tackle the dog and hold him down so neighbor can proceed home with now quaking child.  (yeah, I'm a horribly irresponsible dog owner and parent). 

I now, notice the piles of poop in front yard that Cookie narrowly missed being dragged through.  I put dog and kids in gated backyard so I can pick up piles of steaming smelling feces.  As I am scraping poop into poop bucket from scooper I spy from the corner of my eye Cookie in the front yard with the dog back on the lead!  Now my child is smart...but this was anything but a smart decision. Bill Cosby would say in his stand-up, "Kids are Brain Dead."  Ain't that the truth, cause what in the world would possess this child who had just been dragged 40 feet by the dog to try it again? 

Now here's where things get dicey.  Me, exhausted after a long day of referring between dog and kids, swimming, and park in 96 degree heat at 5,000 ft, starts in on the screaming.  And my neighbor, whom I love dearly is in her backyard with her entire family celebrating her 70th birthday gets to hear the whole embarrassing exchange.  Cookie says to me later, "Mommy my noggin was tired that's why I didn't make a good decision."  Insert guilt.

Monday, June 4, 2012

The puppy Cronicles

For those who don't follow me personally on Facebook, then you don't know we acquired a new member of the family last month.  An adorably cuddly Chocolate Lab, Woodrow. 

You see, I made the fatal mistake of making an arbitrary rule based on nothing other than I thought the conditions could never be met.  Or at least seemed so far away that it made sense, at the time.  When we had to get rid of our Shih Tzu, Pongy, when Cookie was 11 months old, I announced that we would not get another dog until she was at least 5.  I also had the forethought to include a clause about future children, should we have any more kids, all of them had to be potty trained.  I am not going into the details of Pongy, only to say that it was not an easy decision, but the best for everyone, including the dog.  So, one fateful day in April, Jelly filled up her potty chart and Cookie was soon to turn five.  Hubby was on the Internet the next day looking for a dog.  Eight week old Woodrow came home on May 9th. 

Hubby begged cajoled and made promises....."I will take care of it Ging.  I will take it for walks and get up with it."  I kept on telling him that puppies were a lot of work.  And they chew everything. I reminded him again and again about when my Mom's dog, Sage was like as a puppy.   Hubby insisting, "No I will watch him, and I will love him and hug him and train him."  Kids start chiming in, "we will feed him and walk him and play with him and love him forever."  Cookie, "Mommy I will be five and Sister filled up her potty chart.  You said when I turned five we could get a puppy.  And you said if Sissy went potty in the potty we could get a dog."  On and on it went and I caved.  I remembered Cookie's first word was "Dog Dog". I started coming round to the idea of having a dog again.  I grew up with dogs.  These last four years have been the only time in my life I have been dog less. 

We prepped the kids on how to train dogs.  I got a book, watched a DVD, cause frankly, I had never trained a dog.  My parents did that.  And as for Pongy, hubby trained the evil little dude.  He was a good dog in every way except the whole attack anything and anyone that moved any where near him and he was so angry all the time.  But he never chewed, he was housebroken, we could leave him all day and not get complaints from the neighbors that he was barking.  

So we are now on week four of having an adorable puppy who chews everything.  He will eat anything that crosses his path.  But his favorite thing to chew is Cookie.  He loves to attack her, nibble her, grab at her hands, hump her, in general dominate her as much as possible.  It is getting quite old.  We have spoken to the Vet, we have read the books, we have tried numerous techniques.  They tell us to make a yelping noise when he tries to bite her, yeah either Woodrow is too smart and figured that out in two seconds, or he finds joy in hurting the kids.  We tried vinegar water, but the kids found that wielding the squirt bottle fun and powerful and began just squirting him randomly for pure joy of torturing the poor puppy.  And Jelly lost the bottle somewhere....I can handle the chewing of objects including my couch, but I can not abide him teething on my babies.

After a particular rough day of the dog verses Cookie, I had had enough.  Jelly does not have the same issues Cookie does.  She seems to just be calmer and understand not to flail her arms in his face or squeal like a girl and well, be Jelly and not Cookie.  So to solve this problem I informed Cookie she could not interact with the dog unless the following conditions were met. 1. He was calm and laying down. 2. I or Daddy was with her.  She was only to pet him on his back with his fur and not squeal, giggle, or in any way be herself.  Yes, I told my child to be someone other than who she really was.

But me telling my lovely, outgoing, wonderful little girl to be something she is not, was not enough.  Oh no, it gets better.  We were all in the backyard enjoying the pool and summer weather.  Woodrow was lying in the grass chewing away on a stick, chalk, or something he probably shouldn't and I spy Cookie run up to him and wave her towel in his face.  Woody, being well, a puppy jumps up and decides it must be attack Cookie time, cause he started to jump and bite and try and play with her like she was another dog.  Cookie starts crying and screaming, flailing her hands in a jazz hands like fashion in his face....Woodrow reacts by trying to grab at her fingers and play tug with them.  And I sit there in the rocking chair, in the shading yelling, "I am not going to help you.  I saw you. You asked for it.  You bugged him.  I am done intervening between you and the dog.  If you don't want to listen to me, I am not going to help you."  Of course the dog is getting more excited as her cries and flailing proceeds to a fever pitch.  Finally, guilt and shame set in and I intercede.  Telling the dog to get "Off" and making him sit.  Hugging Cookie tsking over her new wounds, sending her in the house for more band-aides. 

And here I sit feeling guilty because Cookie is sad that the dog is not living up to what she envisioned.  Guilty that her hands are cut up. She can not figure out how to play with him in a way that does not equal sharp knife like puppy teeth embedded into her flesh.  I am left frustrated that I allowed myself to be in this position.  I really can't complain about a situation I knowingly created.  I knew what would happen.  I know my child, which is why I wanted to wait until she was five.  I thought she would be old enough to take direction and understand that dogs are not people.

But he is cute, so I guess we'll keep him.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Baskets Overflowith

I am not sure how anyone else feels, but I was raised that for Easter, you don't get a whole lot. Mom may have spent at most $10 on each of us kids. We got a toothbrush, one sees candy Bordeaux egg, a toy of some sort, and a book. Of course there was an egg hunt that was filled with candy and quarters, but really Easter wasn't about getting a lot of toys. When buying Easter baskets for my kids, I tried not to get something too big, cause if it was too big, one has to fill it right?

I am totally judging others, so WTF is with the gigantic Easter gifts? I mean, little Jimmy and sweet Tammy do not need $100 worth of gifts. Nothing you give should be too big to fit in their basket. I have seen pictures of little Jimmy in front of a bike. I've tried to stick to no more than $25 per kid. I've learned from Christmas that this year my girls needed exactly the same things. While color could be different, the items had to be the same. I have been pretty on top of gift giving for them lately, so when I saw certain things on sale, I bought them.

Each girl this year got the following: 1. favorite barbie size prince (bought on clearance at the Disney store. They were seriously only $5) 2. A my little pony ($5) 2. A book ($3) 3. Gardening gloves, a shovel, and a rake ($5) 4. Reese's chocolate bunny ($1) 4. Toothbrush ($2) 5. Skittles Egg ($1) 6.Egg Hunt filled with spare change and one bag of Hersey's Chocolate eggs ($2). Give or take a dollar and some change I did pretty good.

My kids are spoiled don't get me wrong. They have way too many toys, and my hubby will go out and buy more Christmas gifts if he things we don't have the "WOW" factor he is looking for. But in general, I try to instill a little bit of restraint. I can and do take my kids to Toys R Us and Target to "window shop" toys. We rarely buy anything, and my kids know better than to ask or beg. I made Cookie contribute the money my Brother In Law gave to her when we were in California to her upcoming birthday gift. Really, it wasn't mean of me, weeks before he had given both kids a wad of dough each! So I told her if she wanted that Disney magic princess castle, she'd have to contribute, cause it was way too expensive. And now just to be extra mean, I ordered it to make sure we could get it, in time for her birthday, plus it was on sale and I had a coupon. UPS delivered it to the door unwrapped with the picture of the castle bright as day on the box, so now she has to sit and look at it for a month before her birthday. I won't let her open it. Torture I know.

Anyway, no baskets are overflowing here.

Saturday, April 7, 2012


I know it's been forever since I have even thought about posting. There was a few months of deciding that birth control might help control some hormonal imbalances and help me drop some weight, since nothing else was working real well.

Instead I became a basket case and had horrible visions of bashing my sweet Cookie's head against the wall. Thankfully we were in our extended time in California, I was close to Mom, and I could run home for hel
p. Cause it all came to a head while Hubby was away at a conference. I needed serious help. Like, "Mom, you need to watch me and the kids because I think I am going to hurt one of them." For the first time in my life I really understood women whose post pardon was so bad they could seriously hurt their own child. I broke down. The last time I was in such a mess was the first time I tried birth control. Even after giving birth to Cookie, I was never that bad.

I dro
pped the pill and by day three off of it, I felt my head clear. I should have known better. It was the same feeling I had soon after I stopped nursing Cookie. Hormones are no joke and those idiots in Washington who want to tell women that birth control is wrong haven't a clue. Some women need it to balance their otherwise crazy hormones, I've learned to stay the hell away from it.

It is finally A
pril, we are back in Colorado, my house is finally in order. Some big changes are coming, and NO I am not pregnant! Stop thinking that! We are going to get a puppy the beginning of May. A beautiful Chocolate Lab puppy. So in a sense, another baby....but one I can leave at home alone, one I can kennel, one who can't talk back. But still cries at night, pees on the floor, and tears my house apart.

When we bought our house 6 years ago, we looked at another one down the street. It was a ranch style, which in retros
pect would have been nice, but I knew I wanted kids and the two bedrooms that would have been future children's were in the front of the house. The giant windows facing the street, where any boy or girl could crawl through or sneak out of or in. That so never happened in my front facing window as a teen. Nope never. One of the things I hated about our house was the layout of our Master Bedroom and bath. It has this huge open area to the bathroom from the bedroom. No door just a giant opening. The shower, is small, in a corner and is glass on three sides, basically you are exposed. It is also carpeted. I was not a huge fan and had visions of redoing the room. Well, I still do, but not because of the carpet or the huge opening. I actually now love how open the room is. I can actually take a shower every morning because I can see the kids. They can play in my room and I can see them. Unfortunately, they can see me. This morning while I showered Cookie decided that she was going to camp out right in front of the door, looking at me shower. She brought in a pillow and a blanket and creepily watched me wash. AWKWARD. She is almost five, and now asks questions like, "When am I going to have hair on my bottom? Why do you get hair on your bottom?" My Voyeuristic daughter continues to make me laugh, which is a good thing, cause a month ago I was so in a different place.