Synapse Lapse

For the life of me, I could not muster any of the brainpower needed today to shop at IKEA - IKEA, people. It's IKEA, you say? NO! There's no excuse - Twig decided that he wanted to go to IKEA's childwatch so that I could shop alone. Of course I let him go - free childcare?!

I simply wandered around the store with only the memory of a memory of what I wanted, much less needed, to get to work on Twig's bedroom project that's been clamoring around my mind. Just like the faint, illegible marks on a chalkboard after it's been erased, my mind wouldn't let me see anything - everything was all smeared together; dirty, cloudy and dusty.

My mind is gone. Gone, I tell you. And no, this is not temporary. It happens all the bleeping time.

Even when I do have the time and space to think - unencumbered by the clamor of my family - my ideas don't form into anything substantive. And don't even mention the times when I'm getting paid to use my melon, or when I have an audience (especially of my peers) - things get even worse.

That word, you know the one... that fantabulous SAT word worth, like, 100 points, that used to sit there on the tip of my tongue for a second or two and then find it's way into the conversation at the perfect time, with the perfect cadence...well, it can't seem to make the four inch journey from my head to my mouth. My words aren't anywhere near my tongue any more. They must be in my little pinkie toe.

What the you-know-what? I'm not pregnant so that's an unreasonable excuse. No longer breastfeeding. I'm not 40 (yet).

Jeez.

Treasured Time

A week or so ago I got a bug-up-my-butt to build corner shelves for Twig's room. Wood's not interested in doing such a project with me. Maybe he doesn't want me using 'his' tools. Who knows? So, I asked a friend who has been rebuilding his entire kitchen to help me out.

Sure, I absolutely could have done it on my own. But it would have taken 4 times as long and created 20 times the frustration. And it's something I've always done with the men in my life. Mom's first husband, Mr. T (and the boys) in High School Wood Shop, Crooked Nose Tom, Uncle Mike, Wood, and now, Twig and Eee.

Working on this project made me think of the times spent with these great people. I miss Crooked Nose Tom in particular. He was quite the craftsman, and we spent some of our best father-daughter time re-finishing furniture, building beautiful and functional things, in his little garage workshop.

Since the project is a little less than half done, there will probably be more on this subject. Actually, there will be a photo at least.

Finding our voices

Last night, I had a dream about needing to quit smoking, an appointment with the doctor, and being pregnant with another September baby. It was at the exact same time hubbie was having a dream that someone was breaking into our house (and - accidentally - hit me in the face).

So, I went to an on-line dream dictionary and learned that smoking really means that I have trouble letting people in my life. What I really need to do is stop trying to shield myself and others from my emotions (that could be dangerous).

The Doctor could be one of three things; strife amongst members of my family (check), a need for emotional and spiritual healing (check); it could be highlighting some medical concerns (check) and/or indicate the need for a check up (can you say Asthma out of control?).

The pregnancy piece is a bit more complicated. I think for me it represents the "birth of a new idea, direction, project or goal". When I told Wood about it, he laughed at me. The dream interpretation also said that pregnancy may also symbolize some aspect of my personal life that is growing or changing. And while I can't identify exactly what that could be at the moment, the piece of the dream that included the month of September apparently signifies a positive outlook - even good luck and fortune. I think that's very nice.

On the other hand, Wood is dreaming of our home being broken into is a bit disconcerting. This is what the website says about that: To dream that your house is broken into, suggests that you are feeling violated. It may refer to a particular relationship or current situation in your life. Alternatively, it indicates that some unconscious material is attempting to make itself known. There are some aspects of yourself that you have denied. I hope he figures it out and moves forward.

I'm busy thinking about my strategy.

Underlying psychosis

I received my long-awaited copies of Sweet Charlotte's Seventh Mistake today and was consumed with reading every single page the moment I got home.

"Wow, I've never seen you this way before" Said Hubbie.

"That's not true; I was like this when your mom turned me on to the Octavia Butler books. Remember? It was before Twig."

Reading the Flowers in the Attic books as a teenager, I was exactly the same way. Compulsive and mesmerized.

This is the same. But different.

I'm mesmerized by the story not just because it's written by someone I know. But because it's the story of someone that I know that I knew way back when. No, more like she knew her.

We're not them anymore. And still she can't be conjured up (or maybe she won't be conjured up). The compulsion centers on the possibility that reading and re-reading her memories and studying her photos will miraculously allow some deeply buried memory to break through. To allow a breakthrough - before something unexpected surfaces and she rages like she would have, way back when.

It's got me thinking... maybe she can't remember for the same reasons her memories are so vivid. Could it be that each is a form of acceptance of what was and what could never be?

No. Her fears have been faced; published for the whole world to see. She's simply afraid to unearth... something...

A Stitch In Time

As I wrote Two Decades, the sadness crept it's way into me again. Indeed, I had set most of it aside as I read the email. I was at work after all and even though I have an office with a door, it simply was an inappropriate time to experience the crusty and oh-so-complex feelings around the man that I fell in love with (at first sight) when I was 15 years old.

By the time I clicked the PUBLISH POST button, the tears were unsuspectingly welling up just as they had when I read his response. As I re-read the post to ensure there weren't too many obvious errors that needed to be edited after the fact, my cheeks were well streaked. Despite the fact that I was the parent-of-the-morning-on-duty and that I had closed the laptop (as if doing so would shield me from the surge building), it all came pouring out. Hoping for a few moments to feel (and process) in private, and that the shower would be less enticing than toys, I mustered up all the strength in my gut to tell Twig with my usual voice that I was going to bathe. Thank god he was engrossed in something.

The process of shampoo, detangling solution, soaping up and rinsing off was slower than usual as I sobbed and gasped for air during the entire routine. When I stepped out, my face, staring back at me in the mirror, was unfamiliar. I don't recognize, nor understand, me at this moment.

The last time I experienced such a wave of unbridled emotion was a couple of years ago when my Dad died. And about 6 years before that when my step dad died.

But my First Love is not dead. And as you know, he never was.

The truth is that our relationship was so tumultuous that when I was done, I walked away and never looked back.

Until. An. Email. About celebrating the marriage of our friends. A marriage that's lasted almost 20 years... And because of it, I've regressed to the age of 20.

He and I made big plans together and then walked away from them. We didn't honor our promises to one another. We moved on, made new lives for ourselves.

But we never sat down and had a cup of coffee together (who cares that I didn't even drink coffee back then). We never decompressed.

The bridge burned. The embers died, ashes blew away. Nothing here and now resembles anything that was and yet...

Two Decades

Jewelery and her Beau got married almost 20 years ago. Jewlery and I were best friends, Beau and He were really good friends.

He and I moved in together about one month before the wedding. Three weeks later I was done and promptly left. It was a tumultuous relationship. The ending was too.

I was her maid of honor. He was in the Wedding party too.

It could have been explosive. It was exciting though; Beau's brother and I started a thing the day of the wedding.

Fast forward four marriages, 7 kids, and 20 years. (just those of us from the wedding party and written of here)

I did an exhaustive internet search for Him a few years ago. I was obsessed with the thought of having a cup of coffee with him. It was a monumentally important relationship. Some questions still bounce around in my head. It wasn't always bad all of the time. Or was it? Time and perspective could be interesting concepts to explore with Him.

I never did anything with the contact information that I found. I purposefully lost it. He lives in the same place as he always did. Jewlery tells me what she knows every now and again - if my curiosity gets the best of me - and I happen to ask her.

He and Beau aren't on talking terms. Me and Beau aren't either. Jewelery and I don't talk as much as we would like to. . That's what happens over 30 years of knowing other people. Relationships become complicated.

I searched for Him again last week. He wasn't anywhere on the internet.

Eventually I found His wife.

I wrote to him, via his wife, about the pending 20 year wedding anniversary. I didn't think about it much, I just hit Send.

Hey Won-elle,

I received a call from my Wife today. She asked if I know a Wonelle? With a puzzled inquiry, I said "who?" She then started to read the email. After a few sentences I knew what was up. It's great hearing from you... I was happy to hear that you are doing well with your family.

Thanks for tracking us down. I hope all is well.

Regards,

As soon as I read the salutation, tears filled my eyes. So personal - but not. As I read on, the tears streamed down my face.

It's been 20 years and it seems even more complicated than ever.

Catch Up

I'm late on posting - having a tough time keeping up with all things Wonelle. But this came to my inbox the other day and I immediately thought "now there's an 'Angle'." and Hey! Now that I think about it, this could also pass for Nature, too! Okay - despite the fact that this is not mine - I'm caught up! WOOO! HOOO!

Please implore everyone you know to VOTE!

Faded Circa 1994

Thematic Photographic - Installment II

In my final semester of college, I decided to take a fun class. After three years of more-than-full-time studies, political activism, and working two jobs, I needed a creative outlet. I chose photography - the class was black and white and required all students to have a manual camera and 35mm film.

I don't remember the exact assignment given but I do remember the outcome... one very early Sunday morning I drove South in search of my subject. This is a digital picture that simply doesn't do justice to the original - the side of a rail car that was parked in a (thank-god-I-didn't-know-it-at-the-time) dangerous train yard frequented by some of the most dangerous gangs in central California. Although It was completely deserted while I was there, I wasn't entirely comfortable and got the hell out of dodge as soon as the picture was snapped.

Turns out this photo is one of two taken that day. Also turns out that these (Installment III will be posted later this week) were two of 5 photographs chosen by my instructor (among all classes of all levels) to be displayed in the student art exhibition that year. It was the first time in the history of the University that photography was a medium worthy of display at such an event. Thanks Written, Inc. for reminding me of this interest. It's a bunch of fun.

Faded

This is Twig's take on this week's Thematic Photographic. I came across this beautiful dinosaur after downloading our pictures from the point and shoot. I was looking for something that I had recently taken and found this! The best part of posting this for y'all to see is that I am excited to say that I am sure he staged it on the kitchen table before he snapped it. Interestingly, it's not one in a series (his football series was impressive) and the more he takes pictures, the more he gets what he wants from the process. I simply cropped this a bit before posting. Twig is quite the talented guy (if I do say so myself) - we are so getting him a camera for his 4th birthday (yes, peeps, he's 3).

After a full day at his new school, walking almost a mile home, riding his bike for a while, eating a huge dinner, and watching some of the boob-toob, he's now faded... knocked out snoring while I brag on. I should be faded too; my take on this fantastic theme is coming soon.

Thematic Photographic - Watery

Since writing anything takes so much time - and I have very little of that - I'm going to try to do Thematic Photographic weekly. Yes, I'll continue to try to post something daily. But this will "break it up" a bit, making the actual writing seem less daunting. Enjoy, and please join in the fun if you haven't already.

These Watery pics were taken in April 2005 in Kauai, Hawaii, to celebrate the 50th birthday of one of our friends.

Here's a quick primer on how Thematic Photographic works:

1. Every Wednesday evening, Carmi over at Written Inc. posts a new Thematic Photographic entry.
2. Each entry has a unique theme. This week's is...watery.
3. You post a similarly themed image over on your blog.
4. You paste a link to your entry in a comment here.
5. If you've already posted something that fits (on a blog, Facebook, MySpace, wherever) simply post the link to the existing entry.
6. You may post one per day, many per day, one each day of the entire week, whatever suits your fancy. This is all about sharing, so feel free to share to your heart's content!
7. Please share this link with friends, too. Carmiwants this thing to being photographic happiness to lots of people - and he needs your help.

Defining Moments

My Mother In-Law visited for a week a few weeks ago. It's always a difficult time, all of us living together under the same roof. This visit was no exception. But it was good.

A couple of times during that week I had some defining moments. Moments where something in my body and soul shifted just enough to have the strength to support some major changes.

You see, for the past 4 years or so, I've been letting myself go and all the while I've been feeling like I've lost my strength. Don't get me wrong, I've been working my tushie off - the figurative tushie more than the literal one - keeping a young child alive, tending to the needs of my work and earning a paycheck, keeping the daily flow of wake-eat-poop-work-sleep. The worst part is that I've lost a bit of my happy "Sass n' Tude" in the process.

It's not going to be like that any more. I'm taking it all back.

She didn't get away without my saying something; about how it's hard to live together, how being 3 is even harder, how we are the grown ups, and that we must talk in order to make it better - after all we're a team.

I've committed to my health and well being TOO and enlisted the support needed to get more.

I negotiated three days a week. Two weekday mornings to go to the gym and to work early and one weekend morning to do as I see fit - which is probably to go to the gym. Wood will be responsible for Twig on those mornings. Breakfast. Clothes. Teeth brushing. Hair Combing. Lunch. Getting to daycare. 100% Dad.

I've begun Acupuncture and Chinese Herbs and committed to doing so for at least two months to get ahead of how crappy I feel physically. I've been following Doctor's orders around food. Quit caffeine and alcohol.

I joined Weight Watchers. I lost 3 pounds in week 1. Damn that feels good! I'm going to lose 29 pounds more and feel even better.

Twig starts a new pre-school soon. It's less than a mile away from our house and is an excellent school. No more driving 20 miles to get to my work that's only 4 miles from my house any more!

Time, Weight Watchers, exercise, herbs and acupuncture. Slightly different focus. Better Balance.

More me.

Chicken Pox

Twig has Chicken Pox. While it's a very mild case, he is not allowed to go to school until the blisters crust over. Anywhere between 7 & 10 days from yesterday.

Thank goodness both Wood and I have supportive workplaces, paid time off, and an internet connection (not to mention a laptop courtesy of the job)... It is kinda hard to get much productive work done with a not-really sick kid in the house. So we've opted for full length feature films: The Incredibles, Ice Age, Wallace & Gromit's Curse of the Were-Rabbit, and the all too scary Bee Movie. After all, we're required to make a few concessions.

I may be creating a monster but... I'm able to write some while Twig plays "Cooking with Rosita" on the Sesame Street website. It probably would be irresponsible to take him to the park, even on such a beautiful day as today. Other people don't really want their kids exposed to Chicken Pox (although my sister tells me her friends with kids all around the same age had [enter illness here] Parties - to get them exposed and [it] over with faster) and we have also been told that we might be contagious, even though we both had chicken pox as young children.

The drag of the Pox is that Twig is supposed to start at a new preschool on the 2nd of September - this week would be his last at his "old" school; we were going to do some transition practice this week at the new school and have a "new school" party on his last day at the current school. All of this is completely unplanned and unexpected. Seems as though that's the way life goes with young kids in the house.

There are worse things!

#165

I propose a toast to my self control.
You see it crawling helpless on the floor.



Someday there will be a cure for pain.

I'll soon be back daily. Really, I'll find a way.

I Wanna Stay Here

We've had a couple of great events this weekend. Life is good.

We hung out around the house most of Saturday doing things like laundry and straightening up (actually, Wood did that while I wrote). While straightening Twigs toy baskets, I had a chance to and felt like I was slowing down a bit. It felt so good that I was able to find the space to initiate some one-on-one playtime with my boy.

We started inside the house with building blocks and then re-nesting them and ended up outside on a neighbors trampoline jumping, screaming and giggling to our heart's content. It felt really good to have no other worries for a spell. It's where I'd like to be more often!

Later, Twig had his first sleep-over and it was super successful! Wood and I had a very nice date because of the success! Thank you Did & family! THANK YOU!

As of 5 am this morning Wood departed the Bay Area... After I picked up Twig from his sleepover, we did some snack shopping. Now that we've made it home, we're still feeling the hermit-like feelings from Saturday. So much so that an offer of sushi for dinner was declined.

It's nice to hang out at home sometimes.

Growing Pains

A heaviness looms over me in such a way that makes me feel like bursting into tears at any time and for no apparent reason. This fragility is not my usual state of being; as my sweet kindred-spirit and much too-far-away friend B says, I'm usually one "tough cookie".

Wood is leaving for a business trip very early Sunday morning. Twig and I were originally going to take the journey south too but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a bad idea; to be in a city for almost a week with only one set of friends (and a relatively pensive friendship at this point), with no car, and seeing Papi only for dinners. It just didn't sound like all that much fun. In the end I thought it would be easier to be at home in our own space - even if we're just the two of us... So I opted Twig and me out.

As Wood's departure looms nearer my level of for-no-reason-tear-y-ness seems to be increasing. As my daily routines engulf me, I am cognizant enough to realize that the tears are not of sadness that he's leaving. Really. I don't mind the time away from my husband as much as he minds the time away from me. Rather, it's the conflict that chatters in my body and soul lately.

I wanna go away by MYSELF!

(read that again and a the same time, picture if you will, an almost 40 year old woman with grey hair and reading glasses laying on the floor kicking, screaming, and crying just like a toddler in the throes of a hysterical temper tantrum over not getting her way)

It's not about his business trip, that he's going away for a few days, or that I'll be exclusively responsible for Twig and me for several days. Yeah, that'll be tough but not too much outside the norm. Wood is helpful but as of late (it feels like) his work needs are paramount to that of mine or Twig's - his family comes second.

The internal struggle is between me and my obligations. I'm oh-so-exhausted lately. I want to catch up on sleep, to have extra time - and have it filled with "extra curricular" activities in the same way he does! I want to know what my schedule is going to be, to do three things I want to do - even if it is work. I don't want to drop everything I've got planned (which is not too exciting - grocery shopping or cleaning the toilet) so that he can do what he needs to do for work.

The problem is that I've worked it out in my head that my job is to support my family - in whatever way they need. While I know that my needs are important too, I tell myself to set those aside. It's not going to be this way forever. To make it through, I internalize it all, get sulky, and self-medicate with coffee from Peet's and Twix candy bars from the lunch-room vending machine. I hold it all inside and then when I'm overwhelmed, I roar at them here and there. It's purpose being to allow room for a little more instead of exploding in one fatal swoop.

At the end of the day, I do see the effect. In my energy level, my husband's ability, and my son's family drawings. All I want to do is sleep, he expresses his feelings of inadequacy. Twigs drawings have recently taken on a new theme: his parents are sad. The roaring may be somewhat effective in the short run but in the long run it scars.

I'll continue to pretend that I'm not affected. Actually, I'll continue to work toward NOT being affected.

I will continue to try with all my might to address my gained weight, make and keep those weekly family appointments with the new Nice Lady, and to write here. To try and find more and better ways to get what I need too: to reduce the pressure and balance what we all want and need.

B, you and other people are right. My personal history overcooked me a tad and has made me a little brittle around the edges. It's simply another way of saying that I am strong and smart and fearless. Thanks for the reminder!

On the inside I'm sweet and gooey. Those are the tastiest parts. They're the ones that give you and me the strength to know and persevere. As tough as all of this is, I know we can do this. Even through the tears.

I'm a Little Bit Rock 'n Roll...

The photograph in a magazine advertisement surfaced the memory of one of his many eccentricities. The brown and white patterns, thick stitching and high-gloss-polished leather conjured long-forgotten images of him.

No matter what he was doing - wielding a hammer, cooking dinner, or deep sea fishing - Crooked-Nose-Tom wore jeans, a collared shirt, and the most amazing cowboy boots.

Our relationship - it's pensive, delayed start, conflicted middle, cavernous ending, and everything in between - really was beautiful.

Just like those boots.

I miss you, Dad.

The New Yorker

Upon seeing this cover, we've decided that we're going to subscribe to the New Yorker. It may be wrong; but it has sparked conversation. As the title of this here blog implies, I think that conversation is really important.

Weekend Respite

We spent Saturday and Sunday with one of Twig's friends from school and his parents at the beach in Bolinas. We had a great time! We played at the beach, took a hike and laughed a whole bunch! No Monday post because we're back to our usual routines. No worry, keep these in mind to ward away any frustrations...

More Silly Stuff

You Are Noon

You are upbeat, ambitious, and never at loss for energy. You have a lot that drives you in life. The desire to be the best, and a secret hope of fame and power. And while you definitely have a Type A personality, you are still fun to be around. You have a ton of charisma and a genuine interest in others. You are adored by many.

What Time Of Day Are You?

A Timeless Prayer

I'm not really religious, but the older I get, I find myself feeling that prayers and such activities helps to calm the mind and provide direction. And, since I haven't found any time to post in the past few days - and the next few won't allow any either - we're off camping for the next couple of days. But, I thought this would be nice to share.

A 17TH-CENTURY NUN'S PRAYER

Lord thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old.

Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.

Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.

Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy.

With my vast store of wisdom it seems a pity not to use it all, but thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point.

Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing and the love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.

I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.

Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep me reasonably sweet; I do not want to be a saint - some of them are so hard to live with - but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.

Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And, give me, O Lord, the grace to tell people about it.

For all our sakes,
AMEN

Parenting Classes, Huh?

Have I ever told you the story of the night that my step-father attacked my boyfriend with a machete over a drug deal gone bad?

As I explained and cried about my parenting woes the other day, Mammy said she always tried to learn more ways to be an effective parent. Even she found it pretty ironic as she remembered that on the Night of the Machete she wasn't around to partake in the festivities (and no, she didn't approve of the drugs/dealing). She was at a parenting class.

Good times, I tell ya. Good times.

There's a longer post to be had outta this one, I think.

Still Seething

7:30pm

"Time to choose pajamas and books to read."

"NO, I don't want to."

"C'mon, let's go."

"No!" As he runs from his room to mine, he climbs on the bed from the point farthest away from trying to get to the other side of the bed as I get closer. I grab him by his ankle, pull him off of the bed, "No, NO, NO!" he says as I carry him to his room. I feel my blood pressure rising. Wood, who's been entertaining outside for most of the evening has by this time settled in to watch Baseball.

"Short sleeves or long sleeves tonight?"

"I don't wanna wear jammies. I'm playing with this toy."

"It's time to choose jammies or you're going to lose one book."

The play continues and I know we're in for a long one. Not 5 minutes into this and I'm ready to lay down and fall out myself; it was one of those days at work today.

"Okay, one book lost."

"NO, NO, NO, NO!"

"That's the consequence. Do you know what a consequence is? It's what happens when you break a rule."

"if you break the law, the police will take you to jail."

"yes, the consequence of breaking the law is that you will go to jail. The consequence for not listening to Mom and Dad when it's time to go to bed is to lose a book. C'mon, let's get these clothes on."

"I want TWO BOOKS."

And so the evening goes. Every time I try to lay down the law, he takes it up a notch. I can bluff him by not reacting, or use logic to appeal to him and the fact that his winnings could be so much greater if he'd just go to sleep! . But it doesn't work out that way. He's seen my hand and in the infinite wisdom of his four year old body and soul says "I'll see your threat and raise you by two, bitch."

8:30pm

He gets me to lay down with him, plays, gives me raspberries on my arms and giggles, asks why, gets out of bed, has to pee, needs to give his Daddy one more hug and kiss, runs to my room and jumps on the bed. I answer questions, offer to rub his back, remind him that we don't hit - and I can call the police if he keeps it up, threaten to take away his things (like his favorite shoes), put him back in bed every time he gets out, leave the room myself, and stop responding verbally (which helps a mere tad). When he's really angry and frustrated at me he whine/cries "you're not my best mom", "I wish I lived here alone", and "I wish I were big like a giant."

We're upping the ante with every interaction and Wood is still sitting on the couch watching baseball.

When I've reached my limit, the pronouncement "I'm DONE" prompts Wood to swoop in to make the save. But it doesn't work tonight. None of us knows how to maintain boundaries and also minimize the intensity that's been built up by this point.

If anything it seems to be intensifying even more. So, 15 minutes later, I take over again.

"IT'S TIME TO GO TO BED TWIG." He goes to his room. I go to mine.

He comes out of his room. "GO TO BED TWIG."

"But, I just want to sleep with you." Yes, that could be the easier option at the moment. But I'm infuriated and exhausted and it's almost 9:30PM on MONDAY NIGHT.

"NO! You're not invited in my bed." So instead of coming to my room again, he stands at the top of the stairs watching his dad watch television. Whining something that's incomprehensible because he's exhausted from the fighting to subvert us at all costs. In my rage, I believe that the piece de resistance is a spanking. Yeah! Let's take it there so it'll end sooner rather than later. So, I implement my plan - over a thick disposable diaper I give him a swat and put him in his bed, screaming and crying.

Soon thereafter, Wood does save the day. Comforts him once his hypocrite of a mother resorts to violence to end the argument. Wood gets him to settle down and finally fall asleep. Granted it's after I've made my kid feel like crap and as if I don't care, and after Wood's made something like 35 trips up and down the stairs. But hey, he's asleep.

It's after 10pm by now. I'm laying in bed, simultaneously exhausted and ready to explode. Really, I want never do this again - to spare us all this pain and suffering.

I remember as a kid feeling the same way Twig seems to feel during these times. I said and did the same things he's doing; did and said anything possible to keep the fight going. I don't remember what I wanted. But I do remember having an expectation that my parents show me the better way by example.

In my exhaustion, I'm trying to figure out how this started or where it could have been derailed. The epiphany - other than the feeling that I'm the incapable root cause - never comes.

It took TWO AND A HALF HOURS (!) to get my kid to sleep last night. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time that this has happened in the past week.

At 5am this morning, Wood's alarm woke me. Still seething. Better go write.

Twig was up at 5:40am, I'm afraid. He's feeling about the same as me.

FUCK.

Everything Changes

The day got away from me yesterday and I didn't get to write...

I've had a headache for the past few evenings - doing an herbal total body cleanse - no caffeine and no alcohol in the foreseeable future. Trying that route before going back to the Chinese herbalist/acupuncturist for lower back pain (Traditional Chinese Medicine says lower back pain is a Kidney problem that doesn't go away quickly) - he's really expensive and we're spending some cash on family needs right now.

It's 30 minutes before bedtime and Twig's outside riding his bike under the watchful eye of Wood and Big C (our fantastic neighbor with two kids that are also friends with Twig).

I've been thinking lately that I really want to write a post about how I met my First Love. And about how I met my Dad in a Walgreens Coffee Shop. I haven't seen First Love in 15 or so years. He's been on my mind off and on over the past 4 or 5. My Dad is dead now. We'd been estranged for at least 8 years before he died, almost two years ago now.

First Love and Dad were very important to me for so many different and complex reasons. I have very mixed feelings about my still-very-strong feelings for each of them. Perhaps because they both were and are unavailable I think of them so frequently. It's also an interesting metaphor - especially compared to the way I met each of them. Now though, I wonder:

How are you?
Are you happier now?
What did you learn?
Do you know that I still love you? Yeah, it's true.

Got to stop now. Tears are forming. Not enough time to process this now. All in good time - I'll try not to take 20 more years.

The Compound

About a year ago, my youngest sister decided that she wanted to buy a house. She was renting an amazing house with a lot of land and an in-law unit - for a song and a dance. But so focused was she on obtaining her very own white picket fence...

She talked to me exactly one time in the beginning of her search; I, like any good eldest sister would, peppered her with questions concerning cash-flow, budget, qualifying for a loan, and realistic home prices in the lovely bay area juxtaposed against being a single mom of a tween earning a teachers salary and the possibility of that reality getting her much more than a cardboard box.

At the time she decided that she must be a property owner, she convinced our almost-60year-old-permanently-disabled-single mother, whom she was living with, to invest in and co-own the loan. It did not take Littlest Sis (AKA: The Favorite - Fav) much to talk my mom into the deal. Mammy has a long history with infomercials and get-rich-quick schemes. Talk to her about a great investment opportunity or the possibility of incredible earning potential and she's pretty much going to sign on the dotted line.

Eventually Fav found an overpriced, 3 story, under-maintained, 3 bedroom 3 bathroom house owned by a teacher and decided to use the seller's real estate agent to help her purchase. YIPEEE! The teacher wanted to sell to the teacher. Fav decided to use a 'friend', who convinced her that she could actually afford almost three-quarters of a million dollars on her teacher's salary, to get the (interest only) loan.

Not too deep into escrow, it became apparent that there was more loan than Fav and Mammy could afford between the two of them. So, Fav decides that it would be a good idea to invite our middle sister (Lil Sis), her husband and their two kids to join in - for investment purposes, of course.

They all decided that this would be a good business venture, the best way to get into the real estate market. Pool their limited resources for the greater good. Fantastic idea in principle.

Mammy stated her concern to me early on in the escrow process. "I just don't know what to do, Fav and Lil Sis won't do what needs to be done to put these things in writing" she said. The way to resolve the issue was quite simple in my estimation... "Well, you know Mammy, you do hold the purse strings. Tell them you won't put your money on the table until the other stuff is in place."

I voiced my concerns to each of them individually and told them of my concerns before it all happened. Fav didn't listen to my line of questioning and Mammy didn't take my advice. They all moved in together and didn't take the steps necessary to enter into discussions or written business agreements until they were all settled in. Issues of money, down payment, rent, space considerations, bills, and the like - not to mention expectations around how to treat one another, were never openly discussed, nor put on paper in any detail sufficient to ward against problems later on down the road.

Needless to say, things got out of hand very quickly. Lil Sis and Fav don't get along very well as it is and living together has served only to drive a wedge further between them. A few months after Fav gets everyone to buy into this situation she decided that it wasn't working for her and she wanted out.

No matter how hard I tried, Robert Fulghum - All I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten - was the best advice I could come up with...

No discussion. She's decided she's done. She's unwilling to try to find a mutually agreeable solution. She put the house up for sale and isn't following through with any of her commitments to the rest of her family. The rest of the family has followed suit by not following their agreements. Mammy will be forced to take the biggest financial hit - and she'll be homeless soon.

For me there are no sides - they're all wrong - I can't get involved because the fallout is too great. I've listened, advised, and done my best to encourage each of them to figure something out that is works for everyone. Unfortunately, it's not going to happen.

Promises, Promises

I can't decide whether or not to keep my wedding shoes. They've been taking up space in the depths of my closet for more than 5 years now and I'll very, very likely never wear them ever again.

We decided, quite pragmatically over coffee and cigars one Sunday morning, to get hitched. Truth be told, I had no problem living in sin. And, even though I liked our current arrangement just fine, I had very few qualms about getting married. Actually, I fully expected things to remain about the same - or to get better - once we did the deed.

Jokingly, I would ask "If we get married, can I still be your girlfriend?"

Wood would reply with glee, "Absolutely!"

It's a little disconcerting; I just realized that those shoes aren't taking up all that much space, they're really a simple reminder of how after the wedding, everything changed!

Things aren't as pragmatic as they once were but no matter. Those shoes are going to get the best piece of closet real estate there is to be had: front and center so that every time either of us open the door, SMACK: there they are!

Those were some amazingly good times and they should be celebrated at every turn.

Dwelling Place of the Great Spirit

This California Redwood, in all it's glory, stands at about 150 feet tall and at it's base is about 8 feet across. We are majority owner of it - it's trunk spans three property lines - most of it encompasses our backyard.

Not long after we moved into this house (more than 4 years ago now), we called a friend who's an Arborist and had him over to remove some dead trees and inspect and trim the Redwood. The trees, much like our house, had been seriously uncared for and needed some attention.

This Arborist friend of ours is kinda quirky but he helped us to cement our love for this tree as one of the best features of the house. While he and his partner worked removing old dead trees in the yard, he couldn't stop professing his love for the Redwood tree - and how honored he was to be able to climb in it and care for it. As you can see, it is a very impressive specimen.

We learned that one of the neighbors attempted to get the tree cut down a few years before we moved in. The plan was squelched - rumor has it that this tree has protected status as a historical landmark or something.

Unfortunately, Wood noticed a while back that the tree was really brown at the top. We immediately called the arborist friend and asked for a visit.

He doesn't think that anything is wrong with the tree. It doesn't appear to have any disease or fungus. He doesn't think that the French Drain project we completed last year could have injured it. Did you know that the root-span of a tree is twice as far out as it is tall? That means that this tree's root structure could be as far away as a block and a half or more from our house!

I'm worried though, the tree seems to be browning more quite quickly. Our Arborist said that trees do have a limited lifespan. Redwoods apparently die, even in the forest, and urban dwelling can certainly cause some additional challenges for thriving in old age. While all that makes perfect sense, it's sad.

I love this tree.

Artist?

Monday morning found me needing to write a bit about a dream. While doing so, Twig found the camera. I'm generally hypersensitive about him "playing" with the camera since it's close to death on account of him. But since it is so close to death, and because I couldn't be bothered before work to have yet another argument, I let him do his thing.


I was quite surprised this morning as I downloaded the two pictures I'd taken only to find 28 photos that he'd taken in the course of about 10 minutes! No, I wasn't paying attention to him (as the last photo proves).
I'm busy having a love affair with Blogger (shh, don't tell Wood)!

Best Advice Ever

In the heat of being disciplined, kids will do and say the craziest things...

They'll hit, kick, and spit at you, run away from you and even mock you by laughing in your face. If the sticks and stones don't work, they'll certainly try to use words to hurt you: "You're not being nice to me" (that's easy enough) or "I'm never going to stay here any more" (a 3 year old runaway?), "I'm never going to be your friend" (no problem) or "You can't be my Mom anymore!" (ouch!).

I'm assuming that puberty or thereabouts will be even more gut-wrenching than these here late 3's and early 4's. While I know that I owe it to my kid to teach him to be a decent, respectable person, this shit is way more than hard work. My job is a freakin' cake-walk compared to this stuff.

Thank GOD for friends, I tell ya! While I was barely hanging on to the curb by my fingernails last night, this fantasmic woman I know called just in the nick of time! She pushed me back on to the sidewalk by listening, sharing her experiences, and reminding me of one really important way to get through these blanked-up times. "Remember", she said:

"Spine of steel, heart of stone."

Thank you!

Metaphorically Speaking

Class was in full swing. Students were scattered around practicing their scenes to small audiences of peers. Each member of the group in turn made comments on how the performance could be more convincing.

Carrying a handbag and rolling a suitcase was not easy. The cobblestone seemed to make the handbag heavier and the suitcase slower. They weighted me down, even pained me at times, but I trudged along in spite of them.

I was enrolled in the class. However, today I was more of an onlooker than an active participant. I simultaneously watched and moved along the large, dark room toward the stairs. I watched them practicing. I watched myself looking at them, all the while I lurked in the background, simply doing what needed to be done. The sting of unfulfilled desire and the heaviness of inability slowed the pace of my footsteps. I wanted to leave that place but the scene seemed to last for hours.

I really was doing my best to move on - the need to put my baggage...in it's place...away...down...was strong - but was thwarted. The stairwell had been blocked. I looked down for any possible way to move toward my destination - even though it was not really a place. The floor was covered, tools and materials were everywhere, a hand written sign hung with tape smack in the middle of the walkway. "Do NOT enter unless you really, really need to" it said.

I felt that I needed to but more strongly that I couldn't. My journey is on hold, I thought. Someone else is busy doing his work and projects. These are too important to simply move beyond. Mine must lie in wait.

NO! I'm carrying the bags! I really, really do need to enter. I'll find a way around the heaviness of - to work with - the projects, tools, materials and signs.

But maybe you could help? I need a little guidance to safely find my way!

Where do you want your Tattoo?

Let's Go Oakland!

Insecurity

I have very little time to write tonight. As Twig takes a "bathtub" he's incessantly insisting that I watch his whale dive in and out of the water. Wood, who is out fetching dinner, has informed me via a very unsightly family argument this afternoon that he resents my screen time and any time away from the house that renders him completely responsible for his offspring. Turns out that he wants me available to him on his timeline and schedule - despite the fact that our parental obligations and schedules don't always coincide with his wants and needs.

Try as I may, the pace of our lives is not conducive to obtaining all of the basic necessities (sleep, sex, and conversation) of life all of the time. I am simply not able to manage to meet the needs of every person in my life at all times at the moment. This is difficult to manage - being a perfectionist and all.

Turns out, Wood is as insecure as I am - but for different reasons. Twig is having behavioral issues galore. We're planning a visit to a Marriage and Family Therapist for help.

I've got to go eat dinner now.

The View From Over Here

Are you a glass half-empty or a glass half-full type of person?

I hate to say it but I'm the half-empty kind. It's not on purpose really, it just sort of happens. My outlook on life and understanding of the world doesn't focus on the beauty and wonder that exists; at my core my skin and bones tell me it's not safe to let my guard down. Somewhere along the way my optimism and naivety was snatched. I can't remember the exact moment that it happened but I learned early on that when you begin to feel comfortable that's usually when bad things happen.

For the most part, this nay-sayer approach (or critical thinking skill) has served me well. It has helped me gain strength and a perseverance to succeed in the face of difficult odds, personal demons, and human adversaries (including the ones that didn't even know they were being adversarial). However, there are times that this quality doesn't feel like such a great strength of character.

Take visiting with friends. As of late, half-empty has been lonely among even the largest group of people during the happiest of occasions. It has made me feel as if everyone is judging me when they're simply conceptualizing out loud. I'm not so good at making negative funny so such an outlook on and relationship with the world can often be misconstrued and impossible to be around.

Half-empty is challenging my self-confidence. I'm thinking (critically, of course) that it's time to regroup and rethink my relationship to the world. I want to be a glass half-full type of person!

Technology Aids Life. Or...

Pherber emailed me today about her band and the strides they continue to make on the music scene. Well done!   Their recent album, Surfing the Afterlife is fantastic. The content is quite personal and it's interesting to 'know' (if not just a little bit) something about the origins of some of the lyrics on the album. Our late dear friend Satya would be so so flattered and so pleased. He'd be so proud of you and your success. As we are(me, Wood and Twig). Kudos to you!

I signed up for my very own myspace account today, just so that I can be a "friend" of Pherber and the band. Well also to stay connected with people in an anonymous sort of way and even maybe, to get some more traffic on Conversations With a Nice Lady. We'll see how it goes, I can't seem to figure out how the damn site works yet. Not yet their friend and no clear understanding of how to link this here blog onto myspace. Geez, that makes me feel old.

Until tomorrow...

30 Days

If you haven't already, check out FX's series 30 days which is hosted by the guy that did the movie Supersize Me. The program tackles some incredibly difficult subjects by placing someone in a situation that they don't understand or agree with to shed some light... So far: working in a coal mine, animal rights and same sex parenting. I'm hooked and wish everyone could walk a month on the other side. Could make the world a much better place.

Not a Pregnancy Pact

The 'manage posts' tab of Conversations With a Nice Lady - the place that only I get to see - contains my present state of mind in the form of several really bad draft blog posts. Not enough psychic space available to put together something that can actually be published lately. What lurks here just beneath the surface feels very haphazard and unorganized. Need as I may to write it all down and process, I'm feeling a bit fragile and incapable of doing so publicly.

During the busy busy of our usual morning routine today I was thinking about my inability to write lately...Why is it that some very complex thoughts and feelings just will not come together in a concise and understandable way? I decided that the issue is a combination of fear and practice. I need a pact between me and myself to take on the world fearlessly. That and, utimately, I need to write more often.

So, despite the busy busy, I decided that I must get at least one sentence published on the blog every day. A thought, story idea, random memory, rant, hope, or positive affirmation - as simple, complex, or poorly written as it may be. Yes, whatever comes flowing out of me...

As the day wore on, and I continued to ponder the idea of writing and publishing daily, I remembered someone along my educational brick road who told me that the first draft is simply for the sake of writing. At the same time it's the most important draft because if done correctly it's raw Truth and Emotion. YES! My writer's block is fear! I am, after all a perfectionist. I want my work to come out perfectly the first time, to convey the truth eloquently, and to appear on the page effortlessly. The problem is that with that approach I either don't write or don't publish. That outcome is the antithesis of what I want.

So, let's move on, shall we? Every day I will take a minute or two (set a timer if need be) to practice getting something (anything) published. I can find a few moments a day.

Until tomorrow then...

“Scratch any cynic and you’ll find a disappointed idealist.”

George Carlin, 5/12/37 - 7/21/08; a man after my own heart...

Backyard Delights

One of the main reasons that I wanted to buy/own a house was so that I could "play in the dirt". More than 4 years later, with some new (found) freedoms, I made a proclamation: I want a vegetable garden! and then enlisted the help I needed to begin to make the yard my own.

I decided to start small-ish in the kinda-contained two feet deep spaces along the side of the house. I picked up some seeds from the store and started them indoors. In the meantime, I researched, designed, and built some raised beds, then filled them with dirt (read: paid the gardener to fill them with dirt).

Wood was gracious enough to take Twig for an entire day a month or so back and I was able to play outside for the entire day. . These are a few of the fruits of my labor.

Sunflowers that Twig started from seed at Pre-School, Tomatoes, Tomatillos, squash and cucumbers (there's some sweet peas behind the Tomatoes and Alyssum along the borders of the cement & boxes). You can't see the corn (also from Twig's school), broccoli, thyme and marjoram, and the other two planter boxes (there's 4 total) that contain carrots, beets, chives, & basil. The Roses that came with the place are looking very nice with extra care and water, and I'm hoping that the Lavender likes its new home between planter boxes too.

I've got the bug... the goal is to re-landscape another portion of the yard before the end of September - so we can host Twig's birthday party at home this year.

Identity

Twig has been touching himself constantly lately. After about a week with no clear end in sight I asked him about it. "What's going on with you"? His response was "Well, it's scratchy." So, the following Saturday morning - c'mon, I had nothing better to do - we made our way to the pediatrician's office for a drop-in appointment.

There was nothing obvious that the doctor could see except a patch of skin that was a bit rough. He wasn't certain but thought that it could possibly be Jock Itch. We were given a prescription and told not to use the medication for more than two weeks because it's really strong stuff and can cause thinning of the skin.

We used the medication sparingly for a few days with no obvious reduction in the frequency or aggressiveness of the scratching. I am concerned for my son's future genital health - after all I required that we test his name to be sure it would be well said in the heat of passion (a mother's or a lover's) - it's an important test - think about it. Anyway, earlier this week, not unlike every other week that he goes to school, Twig's drawings from the day were lovingly placed beside his lunch box and brought home with him.

Papi was quite proud when he showed me Twig's very first drawing of our family. I grinned, said how great it was and we went about our regular evening chores. A little later, as we all sat at the dinner table together and I actually had time to look at the photo, I felt very proud. I was struck by his drawing ability and how happy we all are. As I studied the drawing more closely I noticed a couple of extra lines and an extra shape.

Curious, I pointed and asked him to tell me what they were. During the study and line of questioning, Papi and I said to one another with our eyes "It's our kid's first family drawing! It's so cool - and really good! Look at our family - we're close together, smiling, there are ears and hair. This kid never ceases to amaze me!"

Imagine our pride as Twig explained that the extra lines were "My Penis", "Papi's Penis", and "What do girls have, again?"

Yeah, we stopped applying the medication immediately.

I also found some interesting reading on the subject.

MyPersonality.info Badge

Mistress Maggie

My sweet Mama Cat is old.It's clear to me that she is not this cat anymore. But then again, I'm not the cat I once was, either.

Since Mr. K. left us, the Mistress has been relegated to living outside. Ultimately, she peed one too many times outside her litter box and I finally realized that she lived long enough as an indoor cat. Sadly, I became one of those people whose pet(s) is relegated to second class citizen upon the birth - okay, I'll admit it - conception - of a human child.

There are days that I revel in the fact that we will someday be a pet free family. I'm over the stray cats in the neighborhood spraying on my front door because the Mistress sleeps on the porch and they want her food. The smell of fresh cat piss does nothing for me. Actually, it never has. But, there are days that I really miss our past relationship.

I miss the days in our one bedroom apartment that I played throw the ball against the wall and she would run from the other room to catch it in mid-air. Or the times that she caught a fly between her paws above her head. Or how she would come running when I'd say "Maggie, Spiiiiiiiiderrrrr" and then pounce and gobble up whatever was crawling on the wall. Even, when Wood and I were first dating and I explained to him that if he didn't make it clear whose bed it was, by kicking her off of it, that she would forever sleep on his feet.

Nevertheless, I am torn.

About three days after Twig was born, all I wanted to do was cuddle up with my kitties - as if nothing had changed. But, everything has changed.

I miss cuddling up with my kitty under the covers in the chill of a cold spring night. And yet, her shriveled, flea covered, matted fur, emaciated body is difficult to touch, especially when the faint scent of kitty pee overtakes me.

Hey Old Lady, you're old. I know you're not going to be with me forever. We have always had a tumultuous relationship. You're a super big fat pain in my ass - on so many levels - but I love you. Hopefully the depths of which you know.

Squeaky Wheels

The scary freeway sign near our house was fixed at the end of January. Nothing happens quickly in the government world so my guess is that people complained - a lot.
My people haven't been complaining a lot but they keep me so busy that writing and posting is something I do pretty much only in my mind lately.

Since the end of January a lot has happened. But the activities are simply memories that are quickly fading away. I've been meaning to write about the updated freeway sign, Twig's recent artistic inclinations, the challenges of finding a quality full-time pre-school closer to home, politics, the waxing and waning of marital bliss, exercise and weight, and now of yesterday's Mother-Son double date to see Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre at 8pm on a school night. But I can barely live it, let alone write about it.

I'm not a late night person, in the early mornings I take care of my kid, and during the daytime, I'm, you know, earning my keep. The daily grind and sleep consume me - if I don't give proper attention to those activities, I'm completely useless. So here's what I wanna know: How do you, you and you do it?

In The Still Of The Night

We hold hands, foreheads together. I feel giddy. Like a teenager in love for the very first time.

When I look at my love I giggle because I'm half excited and half embarrassed. You see, the man looking back at me is NOT Wood, it's Alton Brown!

As he gazes my direction, he's just as giddy as me...

San Fran-huh?

There's a new freeway sign near our house. I fear that it is a clear message about how we put Tax dollars to work here in California... What's gonna happen to roadsigns after the $14 Billion budget deficit we're facing is addressed by Governator Schwarzenegger tomorrow?

Scary!

Relationships of Steel

Everyone in the United States knows that one of the most important milestones of the teenage years is obtaining the legal driving age. It is indicative of real freedom and what we can be - given the space and equipment necessary...

As a teenager, I worked. It was a way out of the house and in my feeble mind, the way to a new life. I held babysitting jobs for teachers and others around town, worked at a Christmas Tree Farm (in inclement weather), and as a gift wrapper at a Toy Store. I happily earned my own cash to buy all the necessities required of a burgeoning adult. Cigarettes, Coca-Cola, and Candy.

When I was 16, I had been working for several years but had very little cash to show for it. When it was time to start driving, my parents couldn't really afford to buy me a car (6 kids between two parents - but we weren't the Brady Bunch by any stretch of the imagination). As it turned out though, a friend of a friend of a friend was selling and they bought me my first car.































Car #1 - 1971 Ford Pinto - Orange
*My Mom wouldn't let me get a VW Beetle as my first car because it was light and too dangerous. Huh? The Ford Pinto was known for exploding on impact when rear-ended at speeds as low as 5mph. That's safe! It ran on only two cylinders when I was finished with it.

Car #2 - 1978 Toyota Corona - Gold (yes, like the beer)
*What a piece of shit - it cost tons of money in repairs. Money I didn't have. I unloaded it as soon as I could and in doing so, took a major loss.

Car #3 - 1976 Super Beetle - Orange
*Up yours Mom! Unfortunately, though, another piece of shit. Same story as Car #2, except I traded it in for...

Car #4 - 1989 VW Fox 4 door GL - Silver
*I would have purchased a Honda, had I gone to the Honda dealership first. This car was something like $9000 brand new. I'm fond of saying that I grew up in that car. I drove it to college and back, and all over this state. I drove it for 12 years - and drove it hard - until the repairs were more annually than the car was worth.

I didn't own a car for about a year after the Fox died. That was a liberating time, of sorts. Not long after Wood and I met, I bought:

Car #5 - 1991 Honda Civic Hatchback - White
*For $2800 and 140k miles. This car was named Dhammadina by Wood's late friend Satya when she got us to Tassajara Zen Mountain Center in the Santa Cruz mountains. There's a treacherous 14 mile dirt road on the way there that she managed gracefully. We love Dhammadina because she has been nothing but faithful and wonderful to our family for about 8 years. Now, with 230k miles and a failure to pass smog, the repairs have outpaced her worth.

Car #6 - 1996 Subaru Legacy Wagon - Green
*With a great price tag of $4000 (?or so?), this car was bought with only about 90k miles from a friend of a friend who is a Cop and wanted to sell to someone other than a complete stranger. It was really purchased for Twig, just before his birth. We aren't totally enamored with the Green Machine but, it gets us from point A to point B. At least for now. With 140k miles, we may be in a position to replace it in the next few years.

With Dhammadina not passing smog, and the cost of the repairs being estimated at $1500, we've decided it's time to add a new member to our family. Yep, we decided (and were forced) to take the new car plunge.

We spent a lot of time weighing our options. Hybrid? Sub Compact? Mid Size? New? New Used?

After a few weeks of only one car between us, consumer reports research, talking to one another, and getting the opinions of the people around us on the subject, I decided that Wood should get what he wants. After all, he gives me everything I want. Besides the fact that we are the type of people that keep cars until their death, and it makes sense to buy newer... the cost of the Honda Hybrid was only $40 lower per month (and the Toyota Prius was even more than that)....

Plunge we did!

Car #7 - 2006 Audi A4 Quattro 2.8 Turbo - Silver!










Twig thinks we should name her Claire.

First Love

1989

Once all of my things had been moved back into my parent’s house, she insisted on taking me to a nice restaurant for dinner. I reluctantly agreed. The last several days – no, the last five years – had finally caught up with me. I was beyond hurt, beyond sad. I was close to dead.

She listened intently and compassionately as I spoke of the manipulations and psychological pain. Of how he had lied and cheated. Of how I believed that he really loved me. Of how the final straw was that after he had agreed to an egalitarian cohabitation he said, “Fuck you, Bitch! If you want the dishes done, do them yourself.”

Half way through the meal her demeanor changed. She was suddenly angry. It didn’t add up. I didn’t understand or ask. I continued eating and talking. Oblivious.

The waiter approached the table and asked if we wanted dessert. Very abruptly she said, “No. Check please.” Then to me, “I’m so sorry. I have something to tell you and it’s really bad.” I retorted, half joking, “Really. What could be worse than the fact that I just moved out of my apartment and left my boyfriend of 5 years – the man that I was convinced I was to marry…?”

“He’s here. With a date.”

Infuriated, I sent a glass of wine to their table. The waiter had agreed to point in our direction and tell the woman that it was from me – and that I had, until that very afternoon, shared an address and life with her date.

As the waiter pointed at me, I ephemerally remembered the dishes and knew my choices: to stay with him, marry, be beaten, kill, and go to jail for life or to get the life that I have now.

Halloween 2007

When I asked what he wanted to be for Halloween, Twig replied: "A Scary Monster". "Look at the costume we've got in your closet, a Dinosaur costume. Dinosaurs are scary monsters!" As I showed him the hand-me-down bright green Dinosaur costume however, the look on his face confirmed my suspicion. It would not fly. "No, Mommy, I want to be a scary Monster." "Um, Twig, what does a scary monster look like?" I asked. "It's white and black." "Oh, you mean a skeleton." "Yes, Mommy, a Scary Monster."

The next day we went to Target and picked up a $10 Scary Monster costume. While the price was right, it stings a bit that we've already outgrown cute.



Tuesday there was a Halloween party at school. It was lots of fun with a magic show and a pot luck dinner. No candy, just cupcakes after the meal. Quite pedestrian and all the better for me. Wood and I have never even considered how to "manage" Halloween. I guess we've figured we're not quite there yet.



However, on Wednesday, we were invited to trick-or-treat with some friends in their neighborhood. We obliged. Over a pizza dinner the question arose. "So, what's your rule about Halloween Candy?" "Only 1 piece" was my curt response. "Wow, that's harsh!" (giggle, giggle, giggle), and then they shared their "rule": The kids can eat as much candy as they want on Halloween. After that it's gone.



That's much better than the horribly limiting only one piece rule, so we adopted theirs. And it worked fabulously. Twig was extremely excited about trick-or-treating. He tromped the neighborhood, gathering way too many sugary delights, announcing each one as he received it, practically squealing with each new addition to his bag. Then, Twig was allowed to engorge himself with Laffy Taffy, Now and Laters, and a bit of Chocolate. And then it was over. But boy was he happy!

Just Like Ligtening!

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Wonelle and a boy named Wood. They met and fell in love. Then they decided to get married. They had a beautiful wedding and all of the people that were important to them came to the wonderful celebration. After Wonelle and Wood got married they decided to have a baby. The baby grew and grew inside Wonelle's tummy for a long time. Then one day the baby decided that it was time to come out. After three long days and a bit of help from Wood, Doula, and Dr. I, Twig was born! And we were very, very happy!



In this photo, we are in Hawaii vacationing with friends. We had been married just over a year. I am pleased to not be pregnant. Twig is 5 months old. He's so pudgy, sweet, happy, and addicted to chi-chi milk. Wood was shell-shocked. I was miserable. Five months into parenting and we all were overwhelmed with our new-found-family.

Wedding daze, pregnancy haze, and the nursing maze are all quite distant now. We've been married for over 4 years, I haven't been pregnant for three, and nursing ended seven months ago. I feel like the woman that walked on clouds after our wedding and before pregnancy. It's strange but maybe Three is the magic number.

Happy Birthday, Twig!