Flowers in the Window

Before they met, she was closed up. Detached. Sad.
There were many before him who took her innocence, her naiveté, her spirit.
But she never gave them her heart. She never let them in.
She never opened up like she did with him.
She thought she was destined to live a solitary life.

He changed things.
He helped her see the good in people.
He taught her the joys of a healthy relationship.
He enabled her to share her feelings. Something she has never done before.
The others never asked her.

Her feelings were deep and pure. And hers alone.
They were strong and willful. But not a soul cared.
Until him.

He stood out in the crowd and held her close. In his heart, in his mind, in his powerful arms, he held her close and showed her that the sun is a healer and will rise again. He showed her that the future holds infinite possibilities for her and for him and for the two of them together.

They planted flowers in the window boxes of their love and cared for each and every one. As you would a heart. As you would someone’s feelings.
They enriched them and nourished them, enjoyed their colorful bloom. Enjoyed the healing sun shining down on them.

At the same time, they nourished their relationship and became closer, more honest and true.

Look at them now.

Throughout the seasons of their love, they have shared joy, sorrow and anger. Through each and every year, the burdens were heavy, the love was deep. The commitment and promise was always there. “I’ll help you. Whatever load you may bear, I’ll be there.”

He is her heart and her one true love. He will always be there for her. He has taught her that her feelings are worth something and he will cherish them forever. She can only repay him in love and to be there for him in return.

The flowers may have come and gone with the seasons, but they are stronger for the beauty and the character they once possessed.

They have planted ‘flowers in the window’ in the form of children and watched them grow into beautiful, independent souls. Something she never thought she’d do. Give life and nurture another’s heart and soul.

Look at them now.

Their flowers have all grown and left the ‘window box’. But they are still together and they continue to watch their flowers grow. They have created a lineage that will forever lead back to her and her heart. The same heart that was too cold to touch. The same heart the he opened up and stepped inside and held with all his might so that she could see the beauty that life has to offer.

Inspired by Travis’ song ‘Flowers in the Window’

"Flowers in the Window"

When I first held you I was cold,
A melting snowman I was told
But there was no-one there to hold
Before I swore that I would be alone forever more

Wow, look at you now
Flowers in the window
Its such a lovely day
And I'm glad that you feel the same
cos to stand up I'm in the crowd
You are one in a million
And I love you so lets watch the flowers grow

There is no reason to feel bad
But there are many seasons to feel glad, sad, mad
Its just a bunch of feelings that we have to hold
But I am here to help you with the load

Wow, look at you now
Flowers in the window
Its such a lovely day
And I'm glad that you feel the same
cos to stand up I'm in the crowd
You are one in a million
And I love you so lets watch the flowers grow

So now were here and now is fine
So far away from there
And there is time, time, time
To plant new seeds and watch them grow
So there'll be flowers in the window when we go

Wow, look at you now
Flowers in the window
Its such a lovely day
And I'm glad that you feel the same
cos to stand up I'm in the crowd
You are one in a million
And I love you so lets watch the flowers grow

Wow, look at you now
Flowers in the window
Its such a lovely day
And I'm glad that you feel the same
cos to stand up I'm in the crowd
You are one in a million
And I love you so lets watch the flowers grow
Lets watch the flowers grow

Post Partum Wha?

So, I'm watching my 8 year old get ready for bed the other night. What a mature, independent girl she is turning out to be. She does everything on her own (most of the time) and usually without me begging more than 5 times.

I can't believe how far we've come.

Dancing with her is still my all time favorite thing to do with her...It started unexpectedly, in the living room and we've been doing it ever since...

You see, when she was born. I was afraid of her. I was afraid of her cry, her helplessness and most of all I was afraid I was hurting her. Not physically hurting her, I would never do that even in my darkest moments. I was afraid I was hurting her in the way that when two people are so connected and one is, how do you explain, "off"? The other gets screwed up too. Kinda.

I started crying the second she entered this world. Non stop. Crying like I couldn't breathe crying.
Crying like I had lost my mother all over again and I didn't cry right the first time 13 years ago.

That first night, I lay in the hospital bed in the middle of the night hysterical. The nurse came in and told me I had baby blues. I'd be okay in a few days.

But I kept crying.

I didn't get out of bed until they threatened they would catheterize me in order to pee. I peed.

I cried.

I was really suffering physically, my body was a mess. I had a flabby belly, jiggling, painful boobies...a severe swelling in the *ahem* area that really hung down like a penis (no joke, ask my husband). Physically, I was so wrecked no one thought to check out my mental state.

Until I realized they weren't releasing us into the real world until the "social worker" came to talk to me. We talked. She gave me her card and said she'd call me in a few days.

She never called.

On the way home from the hospital, I secretly prayed that my husband would get into a car accident so we could all die and and I wouldn't have to feel this pain anymore.

So I cried.

I was afraid of this little baby who needed me to stay alive, and I knew in my head I wasn't right. I have been diagnosed with depression/anxiety prior to childbirth so I knew this was possible. But the things I was thinking! This wasn't the blues. And I knew it.

I couldn't breast feed. So I was guilty for being a disappointment to all of motherhood. I couldn't comfort her so I was guilty for being an unfit mother. I felt guilty for bringing her into this world. I just felt dark.

And I was afraid of the dark, because that was when the thoughts were the clearest. I would envision my sweet, little newborn slamming against the wall the way paint, or blood splatters and dripping down in chunks. I would envision her being thrown into a wood chipper (by some random person, it was never me) and coming out the other end all bits and blood and pieces.  I would create these elaborate soap operas in my head (all the while, awake) that the house would burn down and we couldn't escape. That she would be kidnapped or I would be killed by intruders.

I saw her face change in the dark, into something unreal, evil like. I would see her mouthing to me that she knew my real story and she would tell everyone the shit job I was doing. I saw creatures watching me in the dark corners of her room so I relinquished the midnight feedings to my poor, overtired husband.

I saw her staring at me as something judgmental and cruel. Like she was sizing me up and realizing that she was dealt a shitty deck. Hence, her colic. It was totally my fault. She cried because she was trying to warn whoever would listen that she needed help. That she was being raised by a lunatic and she needed out.

I cried. She cried. I used to beg her to answer me. "Are you crying because I'm crying or am I crying because you're crying?" She answered with more crying.

Then, after a few weeks, my husband threatened to call a doctor to have me committed and he would raise her himself because he was literally afraid to come home from work every night to find me or worse, the baby, dead.

But I would never hurt her. I knew that. I didn't leave the house alone with her until over a month after she was born. I was afraid I'd get into a car accident and kill her. If I hurt her physically, I had a plan to kill myself because I wouldn't be able to live with that amount of guilt.

Eventually, I called the doctor. I dont know what took me so long. I truly thought this was "normal". I guess my version of "normal" is already skewed, losing my mother at 17 did that to me. But I knew, for her sake, I had to fix things. And things weren't fixing themselves.

It was a long process. Finding the right doctors to really hear me. Finding the right medications that really brought be back to reality. Finding the right frame of mind to accept that there was an issue. The day I was diagnosed with Post Partum Psychosis, I was relieved. I had a real symptom with a title and a progress plan. I could feel joy instead of pain? Over my baby? I could be in love with her? Really?

Really.

While during this recovery process, eight years in the making, I still carry much guilt over not getting help sooner. Missing out on those awesome new baby smells and milestones. I just wanted them all to be overwith quick. I rushed her babyhood away. I regret that. But I do not regret getting help. I got the help I needed when I was ready and I have to take that inside of me and savor it. I have to covet the thought that I was able to enjoy toddler hood and beyond.

I see now, that she never noticed all those insecurities in the beginning. How could she? All she needed was a good swaddle and some formula that worked for her. We finally clicked. One day it just happened. I was having fun with her when my husband came home from work and he couldn't believe his eyes. We were "dancing" in the living room to Bon Jovi and she saw our love radiate for the first time ever.

I still suffer from depression and anxiety, and I'll be on medications the rest of my life for that. And I never did have another child. But I do have this gorgeous little girl with a heart of gold. Who loves animals and music and art and reading. Who has friends and play dates and loves her school with a passion. Who loves me with an immeasurable amount of vigor. And in return, I adore her every pore.

So every night we snuggle in bed together and talk. We bond. We laugh. And those memories come slipping back once in a while, but then I look over at her gorgeous brown eyes and see through them, that they are filled with love. My love. And there's nothing in the world I would change that for.

Ever.

Wake me up when September comes...

I've met my new Co-Teacher. I think we click.

I like her a lot. I like her personality, she's down to earth. I like her ideas, she's young and fresh. I like her humor, we laughed about silly things together. I'm excited.

She has given me a comfort that she doesn't even know she could. She's someone I can bond with (I want to bond with) in the world of education in a new environment for me. She's someone I already know in a new school. And she's accepted me as a friend and colleague in one lunch meeting.

I feel so comfortable with the idea of working with her. I look forward to it in fact.

And I have someone I can relate to that will be with me in the classroom all the time. Keeping me company and helping me along. I hope I will do the same for her.

We're meeting in the classroom next week to set up. I am finally looking forward to it.

It was like a blind date.

I was nervous to meet her. But as we talked and as we shared similar ideas, we got more and more comfortable. We started the "date" with a handshake and ended it with a hug!

Could it be? I might just have a good year ahead of me? I'm thinking positive here...wait a minute, that's not like me at all.

I'd better stop now before I conjure up images of unicorns and begin farting rainbows. That'll send me right to the funny farm.

:)

SYTYCBlog?

I am struggling to blog. I try hard. I need motivation. I have so much to say. And I don't know where to begin.

I'm going to the beach again tomorrow with a friend from work and her daughter. Did you read that. A friend from WORK! I haven't said that line in ages.

Hmmmmmm.....Work.

I didn't want to go back last September. In NY you have 5 years right of return to the DISTRICT but I was able to go back to the SAME SCHOOL I was in before I left. That's pretty rare. It's a long story for another blog and I was "lucky". But boy oh boy I didn't want to go back to work. I use the term "Lucky" here loosely.

The Girl was starting Kindergarten and I wanted to be there for her first year. Instead, other people were. The Pro took her to school every morning after I left for work at 6:45am. I had a babysitter come 2-3 days a week to pick her up from school, because I was still at work. I had the after school program the other days and I had my Mother In Law on rare occasions, when we needed her. I hate not picking her up from school. I hate not being able to BRING her there as well. I've compromised a lot. Especially since I'm always so THERE all the time.

I remember the one time the Girl had a virus. She started puking on a Wednesday morning, about 3 am. As I was sitting there holding her hair back and listening to her yell..."Make It Stop!!!!"...all I could think of was, "I can't take a day off..." However, I called in sick that morning and stayed with my baby. She was a mess. I've never seen that much throwing up. It was her first pukey virus EVER! It was horrible, as all the mothers out there sigh..."her FIRST?" yeah. I was lucky.

The next day I had to leave her with my MIL and then I took Friday off. I hated being at work that Thursday she was still sick, but I just couldn't take three days in a row off. Now, I look back and I say to my self, "Self, you SHOULD have taken the day. It is imperative you are there when she NEEDS you...not when you need her."

SO I've learned, I WILL take the days when my baby girl NEEDS me to. I have, later in the year,
taken days for events at her school. Those days were fun. I took a half day for the Halloween parade. I took a half day for her Holiday Culmination Performance. I took 2 WHOLE days for Parent Teacher Conferences. I took a few days here and there towards the end of the year for "Graduation" etc. So I managed to use 7 of my 10 sick days and still have 3 left over for this year. They roll over, the sick days. Which was why I was always so obsessive about them. I like to hoard sick days. Even though I wind up only using a very little bit. I have a feeling though, like a lot of my other sick habits before motherhood, I'll have to work on dealing with that one.

I hate the days when she's off or has a half day and I have work. I cry on those days. See, when she has school, I can handle the day because I know she's also busy. But when she's off and I'm not. It tears me up inside. Another thing I have to work on.

I've always been sort of a hovercraft hanging over every thing The Girl did. I've struggled this year with letting go. A topic I've blogged about many times over. See.

I've had to give in to my weakness because I had no other option. I HAD to work. I HAVE to work. There is no one out there going to win the lottery and tell me I'm a rich bitch and can stay home again. I'm accepting that. And I'm working on accepting that she capable without me. VERY capable without me. I'm proud of her for that. I'm proud of ME for that. I've helped her get that way in those years I WAS home with her.

But I was not ready. In my head, in my heart, in my soul I was not ready. I don't know why? I'm still trying to figure that out. Maybe there's a small part of me that was waiting to have *gulp* another child. And now that I'm back to work I know that can't happen. I couldn't work with one, who here thinks I could manage it with 2? Not me. PPD is a muther fucker. I am afraid of that too. I was always okay with The Girl being an only child. Then I wasn't and I wanted another. Then, I almost had another and that was lost. Then I had to go to work. It all happened in the blink of an eye. I am bitter and sad over that.

I am trying to take control of this work thing. Like I'm trying to take control of every aspect of my life. But deep in the inner core of my being, I know that can't be done. We have no control, even when we think we do. So how do we deal then? Huh?

I honestly don't know how I got through the entire school year. I don't know how I'm going to get through another one (in a different school...I was only so lucky in that one). I start a new school this year. Double Whammy. I truly don't know how I got this far. I don't believe in God. I don't know what I believe in. So how am I doing it? I don't know.

All I can do is do it. Do it the best way I know how. And hope that I don't fuck up the Girl in any way as I go. She rocks. I am the luckiest mom in the world. I guess that's why I want to be around her so much. I NEED her. And work just gets in the way of that. Then again, so would school. I can't keep her home all the time either.

Oooo Fah. What a post.

Rainy Days and Mondays

It rained this morning, hard. Thunderstorms and everything.

I had planned to hit the beach; so that plan was foiled. I hate Mondays and rainy Mondays just blow.

I could have used a nice beach day. It's sunny now but I'm not in the mood any more.

I get so upset when we have no plans for the day. I feel like I've given up a good day of fun. Sometimes I talk myself out of it and say, we really could use the rest. But today I really wanted to do something.

Then, it starts. The what ifs and what happened? I get so into my own head when I'm stagnant. It's scary. I'm not even stagnant this summer and I'm already thinking too much.

Why do I do this to myself?

There has to be a way out of this type of thought process.

I'm like manic. One day I'm high as a kite, the next I'm miserable. It's usually triggered by an issue that's been festering, or an argument, or a thought. This time it was an argument. Now, I'm in it again.

I know I can only get myself out of it. And I know how to do it. And I know I will. But jeez. I hate days like these.

I got two new tattoos. I love them so much. I've been waiting so long for them and now I have them. They bring me so much joy. They make me feel really good inside. I use them to drag me out some days.

People might think that's crazy but I think it's a relief. To have something that makes me so happy. Something that I will take with me for the rest of my life.

Something other than my child.

We know how I feel about separation anxiety. I mean really, look at how many times I've blogged it. I mean it infests my soul.

I could go on for a long while linking...but if you are so inclined go read the "Dirty Beginnings" link up there on the right.

I am crazed by it. Separation. Loss. Death. Leaving.

Days like today, enhance those thoughts.

I need to meditate.
I need to vent.
I need a coffee.

Free Wheelin'

I'm trying to teach my daughter how to ride a two wheeler. It seems like just yesterday we took out her tricycle and she didn't know how to pedal it.

This is very difficult for me since I have major issues with "letting go". And that is just what you have to do to the bicycle seat once she gathers her balance and energy and pedals off...

She is a whiz at the bike with training wheels. I admire her for just jumping into anything that she loves to do. (Biking, swimming, reading, anything that comes easy for her, she loves...if she has to struggle just a tad...forget it though.)

This weekend I took off ONE training wheel. She's now trying to balance on three wheels. Well, two with a little help.

She's getting it. She can balance for quite a while without the one training wheel hitting the ground.

I watch her in the schoolyard pedalling around and finding her balance atop that bike and I am in awe.

I think by the end of the week she'll be two wheelin' it. If we practice every day.

Thing is, I'm finding it very hard to relax and enjoy the moment. (Once again.)

I can't let go.

I have theses issues with many 'mother-daughter' concepts. Bike riding just magnifies my deal.

Watching her riding that bike with the threat of falling reminds me of all of the crap she'll have to face in her little life. All the falls she'll endure. All the broken pieces she'll have to put back together again for herself.

How do I just watch her from afar? How do I let her fall yet still be strong to help her back up without my heart bleeding all over the place? How will I help her get through? How do I do all this without her seeing how weak I really am?

I watch her riding that bike and I want to scream at the top of my lungs, "NO! Come back! Stay here next to me where you are safe!" But I know that I can't. I know stifling her will only hurt her more than a scraped knee or a broken heart ever will.

But my heart. It hurts so much. Letting go.

Then there's 4 more weeks until school starts. Real school with homework and class bullies. And my class with grades and parent teacher conferences to hold. I'm losing her a little every day as it is...Biking is just one other way.

She's going to HAVE to be more and more independent. I'm going to HAVE to be farther and farther away. I don't think my poor heart will be able to handle it.

I feel her slipping. In her attitude and impatience with me. I hear myself nagging and I hate the sound of my own voice. I can imagine how she hears me. I'm losing her. I'm losing my baby. That little girl I couldn't bond with when she was born. That infant I was waiting to get picked up by her real parents...I couldn't deal with her. I wanted sometimes to be rid of her.

Now I'm losing her little by little and my heart. Aches. Why did I let myself be so sad in the beginning? Why did I wish away the time? How did I ever doubt my feelings for her?

Because I see us now and I am sad. I want that time back. I want that baby back.

But I can't have that baby back. I can just try to relax and enjoy this little girl that is raring to pedal off into the sunset. Because she does always come back to me at the end.

And I can envelope her into my hug and tell her how proud I am of her. Even if my heart is aching on the inside for that baby that is no more. I know the mistakes I've already made as her mother and will continue to make. I understand that we are not perfect and we both will fall and get back up again. I can be strong for her because that is what she needs from me.

Oh, but my heart does ache for that little girl on that bicycle.

Gimme a Break

Ya know, some people need re"ass"urance and some just know you're there.
Some people get mad when you don't call them every day and some just don't care.

Needy people piss me off. I have no time patience to be coddling you.
I wish I could do what you want, but I have more important things to do.

Don't take it personally when I don't call you right back.
Sometimes I just don't feel like talking, but I'll get back on track.

If you are disappointed by not hearing from me, I understand.
But don't be mad at me for not holding your hand.

I wish I could make you happy but that is not my job.
You need to do that for yourself don't make me feel like a slob.

This was initially a rant that I felt needed to be aired.
Turned into a poem, who knew I was so damn prepared.

:)
Consider this my St. Paddy's Day Limerick for ya.

If only she knew

If only she knew that when I lose my patience, it's not at her..it's at regret, at fear, at doubt.

If only she knew that I hold her back not because she'll hurt herself, but because seeing her suffer is a pain I can not bear.

If only she knew the fears I carry deep in my heart that I long to protect her from, only stops me from being the best I can be.

If only she knew how I've changed my life for her well being.

If only she knew how pride, love, joy, and treasure doesn't even begin to explain what I feel for her.

If only she knew that I am just as scared as she is.

If only she knew that I'm making ALL of this up as I go along.

If only she knew that even when I am scolding her, I am laughing inside at how resourceful she is with the toothpaste, how clever she is for dressing the dog in a tutu, and how artistic she is even when her paints get on my walls.

If only she knew that most of my yelling stems from fear and grief.

If only she knew my love is endless, boundless, limitless even when I am angry and screaming.

If only she knew how hard I work to show her that she is loved and so needed.

If only she knew the joy she brings me, even in my darkest days and my most helpless moments.

If only she knew....If only she knew.

It just doesn't add up...or does it?

17: the age I was when my mother died.

31: the age we were when we had our daughters.

5: Fa's age (almost)

365: the days I think about leaving too soon, like my mother did.

12: the years I have left with her (according to the math). 

0: the probability I'll die the same age my mother was of the same disease.

67,991,345,999,672: times I day I think about this.

infinity squared: the love in my heart for my daughter plus the sadness I feel for my mother plus the guilt I feel for even the slightest chance I may leave her motherless.

It's Way Too Soon

I can't even TRY to change the subject.

She won't let me get away with this much longer.

Avoidance and plain talk doesn't fly with this kid.

She wants answers. Answers to questions that her little mind can't possiby compute.

Answers that will for sure cause a raucus in her innocent little mind and not translate very well to her preschool friends.

How do I explain how she was made?

How does "We wanted a baby and mommy and daddy made you" become not good enough for an almost 5 year old?

How do I explain that she's not adopted (where the hell does she learn this?) and that she is ours, made from us?

How do I explain why she was in my belly and how she got there and how she got out?

'Cause lemme tell ya, she ain't havin' the short version for much longer people.

It is way too soon for this, dear me.

Mom's Don't Leave (2)

We're schnuggling in bed again.

A year later.

Except this time Fa comes right out with it. No more beating around the bush.

Fa: "Do you miss your mom?"

Oh god, don't cry J, don't cry...

Me: "Yes, baby I do miss her terribly."

F: "Where is she? What happened to her?"

M: "Well baby, my mommy was very sick, too sick for her body to keep her here with me and well baby, she died."

What the hell DO I say? This kid knows about death now. Her fish died a few months ago.

M: "Remember when Goldie died?"

F: "Yeah, and we flushed her down the toilet?"

M: "Well, that's what happens when you are very, very old or very sick. But we don't flush people down the toilet."

F: "Do you miss her? Why can't I see her? Why can't I meet her? Will you get sick? What if you die? Will I die? Will Daddy Die?"

How does she do that? How does she ask these thoughtful questions?

M: "Baby, death is a part of life and when we get very, very, very, very old. SO old we won't be able to dance anymore, then our bodies stop working because they can't take care of us anymore, and we die."

F: "How old were you when your mom died?"

Holy shit!

M: "Well baby, my mom died when I was pretty young. I was a teenager...way older than you are now. But remember, she was very sick. And I had my daddy, (Papa) and Auntie and other family and friends to take care of me when that happened."

F: "What will I do when you die? Where will you go when you die? Why can't I see your mom? I won't see you either!"

FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck.

M: "Honey, you are stuck with me forever! I'm sticking around here until I'm all old, and wrinkly and mean and nasty because I don't like being old and wrinkly. You think I'm cranky NOW? I'm gonna be so annoying to you that you'll be trying to run away from me, I'll be so old. And I'll be screaming after you in my electric wheel chair telling you to come and change my diaper."

You see, humor saves everything in my head.

M: (Watching her crack a smile) "And you know, my mommy is tucked deep in my heart and I have her with me all the time now. Even when I miss her most and I can't see her. I know she is in my heart and keeping me safe and happy. Because she will ALWAYS be with me, even if she isn't here to talk to."

F: "So since you are already in my heart, you'll stay there forever?"

Damn, she's good.

M: "Yes baby! You know when we kiss each other we always say we'll keep it in our hearts forever? Well, think about all the smooching we do, our hearts are already filled up with kisses and love...think about that." (As I proceed to kiss her all over her face and shoulders and just practically smothering her with kisses...so she will laugh and change the fricken' subject already.) "See, all that love? It will be with you forever."

F: "I'll be your mom, I'll take care of you?"

GOD DAMN, this kid is awesome.

M: "Thank you so much sweet, sweet baby! But I don't want you to be my mom. I want you to be my baby girl so I can keep being your mommy and love you and take care of you as long as you need me. Remember, I have a mommy we just can't see her. But we can talk to her and talk about her whenever you want to. I love talking about my mom, especially with you."

That pretty much ended that conversation. She seemed content with all that I told her and didn't freak out like the last time.

So I kissed her goodnight one more time, so proud that I held it together to maintain calm and cool while touching upon something that is still so raw in my chest all these years later.

But I'll do anything for this child. Even if its ripping my own heart to shreds.

Then, I went into the bathroom and proceeded to cry for a half hour.

Mom's Don't Leave (1)

(This was originally posted on my very first blog in May of 2007 (that I can't link to)...but I have more to add now. So I'll start you off here....)

How do I convince my daughter of that when I am living proof that indeed some moms leave?

Schnuggling before a nap recently, she asked me if I loved my Mommy and Daddy. (Red flags raised..she never mentions my Mom even when I talk about her) Of course, I said yes. She continued to ask, "Who's your Daddy?" (She knows full well the answer to this since we play this game often enough) "Papa" I answered with a smile. Then, she asked a question that I knew was coming but it still totally threw me for a loop.

"Who's your Mommy?"

"Well, my Mommy is 'Bunny'." I replied stiffly, waiting for her next question that was inevitably coming.

"Where is Bunny? My grandma?"

Here we go....

In my head I'm screaming, "I'm not ready for this" repeatedly...over an over. "She's only 3 years and 5 months old! 41 months! How has this concept entered her head so soon? How do I answer her?" "She may not be too young to ask the questions but she is too young to comprehend the answers..."

I began to tell her that Bunny, her grandma, my Mommy is in Heaven. (A concept I'm not too sure of myself...but I was thrown and caught off guard.)

She asked me if I missed her and again, if I loved her and was I sad that she was not here?

How the hell does she do this?

I told her I do miss my Mommy terribly because she isn't here with me and I love her and I wish she was still here with us. I told her I was sad because she never got to meet her and I just know she would love her... the conversation went on for a few more minutes before Fa told me "Not to worry because I'll make you feel better!" She said it to me. To my face. 3.5 years old. She even punctuated it with strong, neck-hugs! I am floored!

Then, she wouldn't let me leave her. She screamed bloody murder like I died a thousand deaths right in front of her, "Papa, Bunny, Mamma...Don't leave me!" "I'm scared you'll leave me!" "Mamma come back, don't leave me alone!"

Heartbreak.

Sheer shattered chest muscle.

You're not breathing, JJ. Breathe.

As I sat there rocking her close to my chest trying my damndest not to smother her with my kisses and trying even harder to convince her that I would never leave her and I will be her mommy forever...I felt guilty.

What if I do leave her?

What if I make her a motherless daughter?

I'm lying to her face.

How will she forgive me for telling her moms don't leave? When they do.

She is too young to be worried about this. She is too smart to not figure it out. She is too sensitive to forget this conversation any time soon.

I am sad that I have left her a legacy of loss and fear of being left alone by mother.

How could I do this to her?

How do I help her understand?

How do I rest her fears?

...Assure her that I am here for her...until she is older and better able to understand...that moms may leave this earth, but they can never be taken from your heart.

"So the days float through my eyes... But still the days seem the same"

My Fa's schedule is about to take off. I We have very many days in September filled with places to be and things to do.

I guess this is just the calm before the storm. Sorry for the horrible pun, Gustav victims.

In this moment of calm I am thinking. Too hard. I am looking (once again) to find something that completes me. Something that makes me worthwhile. To myself.

I've tried ceramics, book clubs, mom's night out and of course the gym. I still love the gym, it makes me feel good. But. What next?

How long can I keep searching for that thing? That thing that I love. That thing that defines me. Not that person, but that thing. Hobby, talent, dare I say career?

When does life finally get content? It seems that I will realize my "thing" when I am waiting for the bright light to take me away. By then, it will be too late. How do I grab it now? And enjoy it now? And revel in it forever?

Forever is a frickin' long time. For some. And for some it's just not. Some don't get to feel that notion of forever. Am I being selfish or even nit-picky over the wrong things in life? Should I be worried more about the generalities of the world or just the isolation of my world, in my mind and heart. After all, my head and my heart is where my world stems from.

So how do I know when I have that thing?

And how will it make the monotony of the everyday seem bearable?

Our schedule is changing along with the seasons and it is that time of year (I guess) for taking inventory of myself again. This may take me a while.

They say change is good. I ask when does change start to feel good? Does it ever get "just right"?

How we fell in love....The Finale. Honeymoon in Vegas.

I couldn't end the walk down memory lane at the wedding.
Our honeymoon was just as memorable.

We bid our guests farewell the next day, after the delicious brunch we held. We toured some more vineyards with friends before we took off to Carmel.

The hotel was a slice of heaven tucked away in the mountain cliffs.

I still cry when I see this image. Remember when the pianist timed his solo of "Claire de Lune" to end just as the sun set into the horizon. I'll never get over the emotion it invoked. It was like watching the ocean devour the heat of the sun while our ears enveloped the sound of the piano.
Magical.
Catalina Island never met tourists like us before...
Only we would find humor in the phallic vegetation of the Pet Cemetery.

The thunderstorms and epic heat of the Mohave Desert was a treat. Anything was bearable headed to Las Vegas...
My first time in Vegas and it was a blast. I can't decide what I loved more. Partying with Depeche Mode, their concert or falling asleep while you went to gamble in the Hard Rock.

Our Honeymoon was just the beginning of our married life together and it has been a ball. We've hit rocky terrain at times but there's no one in this world I'd want to ride it with.

I love you Big Daddy.
Thanks for the experiences you've given me. Thanks for the memories we're making. Thank you for holding my hand when I've felt alone. Thank you for making me feel like the best person in your life. Thank you for making me giggle even when I don't feel like it. Thank you for giving me the greatest gift ever, our daughter. Thank you for being you.

How we fell in love....part four. The Big Day.

August 3, 2001

Our wedding day.

How much fun it was.

And how in love we were.

I'll never forget the weather and the aroma of the vineyard.
The wine cellar was as romantic as you could get.

The day was perfect. The guests were having fun. We were taking it all in.

Oh! My beautiful cake. I've never even heard of 'Fondant' until we saw that cake!


And I would do it all over again in a heartbeat, if you asked.

I love you Big Daddy.
Happy Anniversary.

***

Want the beginning:
Part One, Part Two, Part Three

How we fell in love....part three. Haiku Scouting.

(Click here for Part I, and Part II)

May of 2000
Our favorite place to eat
The corner table

Without me knowing...
You asked and I said, "OF COURSE!"
Are you kidding me?

It was so spark-ly!!!
Just what I've always wanted.
So very spark-ly.


Plan set in motion
Getting married in Napa
Place we fell in love

Scouting locations
Best time in February
to go to Napa

It's a good thing that
Queen of the Valley ER
Opened up for us

Who knew that mud baths
would send me to the ER
with UTI pain!

Gah!

The ER was closed
Turned the lights on just for us
Small Town Hospital

But we kept going
Only had a few short days
Even with no sleep

Visiting vineyards
So drunk, couldn't even eat
Always time for wine

My favorite place
Didn't do weddings, too bad
We'll keep looking though

Then we saw the church
We instantly fell in love
And the deal was sealed

This would be the best
experience of our lives
Our Napa Wedding

***

Go here or here for Mr.Linky (these 'kuers rock)...to add your own piece of artful writing.

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3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

For the Love of All That is Holy...Why Oh Why? But so much fun to get on camera.

At least 10 minutes.

That's the approximate amount of time I waited behind "Mary" (Swear that's her real name) and her poor pussy whipped husband in the yogurt aisle. And they were planted there waaaay before I got there.

Poor PW'ed husband: "But Mary, they're all mixed up, I don't know where the sale yogurts are!"

All I wanted was to get in and get out with some yogurt. I don't ask for much.

Am I complaining? Over something as trivial as this? You bet your ass. I snapped them with my iPhone....stealth paparazzi. I love it.

How we fell in love....part two. Back again.

We promised to return to "Our Special Place" one day. And we did. December of '98 we went back to celebrate New Year's.

And right away, you took me to my bridge. Walking over it was the most exhilarating thing ever...

And you weren't the least bit embarrassed by me when I took all those pictures.
Stopping traffic to get that special shot.

We even made it to my favorite winery all in time for New Year's Eve at the Fairmont Hotel in San Fransisco.

I remember thinking, "If he asked me to marry him, I would."

How we fell in love....part one. Our First Trip.

I remember how excited I was to be going away to California with you. Our first trip together. It was 1997. We were dating about a year. The nervous excitement I felt was crazy.

Would we get along? Would we get sick of each other? Would I want to run?

Hell Yes. No. No.

We had a blast. We were all over Northern California. I found my new favorite place. And I found my new favorite person. We visited so many sights. We were tireless.

It was fun touring Alcatraz. And pretending to be inmates.

We hung out at Pebble Beach. And listened for sea lions.

We toured a zillion different wineries.

And got tanked.

Maybe it was the beautiful scenery.

Or the amount of time we pondered raw, Irish Pizza.

Maybe I was dizzy from being on Lombard Street and trying so hard not to topple over on those steep inclines. But no. That wasn't it.

It was the way you never got tired of me wanting to go over the Golden Gate Bridge "just one more time."

It was the way you took me all over (and under) that bridge because you knew I loved it so much.

It was the way you made me feel special and the way California became "Our Special Place".

I'll never forget that.

Consider this my PSA

So, when your child has a fever and diarrhea for less than 24 hours...don't take her to a birthday party the very next day. Or School, or swimming.

Because most probably a week or so later...

She'll have the chicken pox.

And they look similar to this:
I know. Hardly anything right?

Looks like bug bites. Yup.

But really quickly they get redder and bigger and itchier and more of them start to show up...even if your child already had the vaccine to ward off the pesky virus.

Well, she'll be most contagious the week BEFORE the rash shows up and that is when she can spread the airborne virus. Like from sharing toys in school, or the pool, or the playground even if she is next to a sweaty contagious person. (Kind of where I think she got it.)

And you may not even think twice about the rash because you have already forgotten about the fever a week before and they look so much like bug bites until your father tells you, "there are too many of them to be bug bites, you should get it checked out." And even then, you may wait a while...I mean, really...she's been a little off lately and the dark circles under her eyes have maybe gotten seriously darker but nothing to run to the doctor for. Right? You'll get her blood checked at her yearly well visit.

Well, once those bumps scab over, unlike a bug bite, you may start to finally question your initial ignorance and step to the doctors in a hurry.

Like I did.

You're welcome.