Yeah. That'll Happen Again Next Year.

If you have lottery numbers, play 'em now. I'm writing two blogs in two days. Hot damn! I'm on a roll!

Every year Jeff and I talk about writing a Christmas letter. We make great plans for it and NEVER follow through. Well, technically we never actually start so that would make following through difficult. Our "plan" consists of witty banter back and forth while he's home for lunch. By the time he's home that evening we both realize how foolish we were to think we were actually going to get the letter out. So, what's the backup plan? A "Happy New Year" letter, which becomes Easter, etc. If you're reading this blog and thinking I don't care about you because you don't get a letter from me annually that is the result of several hours of me frantically digging through the archives of my brain for things that happened over the last year to/for/because of my family, don't. It would probably come across more like a schizophrenic's version of themed poetry. So we should probly all just be ok with the status quo.

Hey, check out my profile. I updated it.

Before Christmas, just after Thanksgiving, my Christmas hormone kicks in. I'm happy. Overly friendly with complete strangers. I make several mental notes about t-shirts I need to have made for people I know because "its just SO them!". I behave in such a way many of those close to me have scribbled in the margins of their Christmas lists "intervention for Ang...". I fill or cover any areas I can reach or at least get to via a good, lucky throw with Christmas lights. I break out the Christmas scented candles. No. The rest of the year nature does not, in fact, smell like that. I decide baking cookies with the girls is EXACTLY what we should do. I honestly think the messy process won't give any of us the development of a new personality. And Christmas music is listened to at all times. I approach Christmas like doomsday preppers approach the end of the world. But, I use more scotch tape.

Cue Christmas madness. We bounce from house to house. We eat and eat and eat. We watch the girls' minds get blown by the Christmas presents their family members have so graciously given them. Bedtimes fall to the wayside. Pistachios begin counting as a green vegetable. And somewhere around here, in all of this magic and happiness and family, all freakin' hell breaks loose. My patience shrivel to nothing. Jeff begins speaking under his breath and seeking patterns. The girls scream through the time-space continuum and turn 16. And hateful. They roll on the floor in public. They threaten the elderly. They lock me in closets. Jeff still seeks patterns and fuzzy surfaces. And then...I lose my shit. Publicly, privately, makes no difference to me. If you've never been to Disney World but have heard the stories of the 'happy' families there, don't feel left out. Stand near me about this time of year and you'll see all the Goddamn magic you need. Complete with fairies trapped in jars. Every year, I try to raise the bar on my shock and awe approach to coming down from the holidays. I'm not going to describe it here. You don't need to know.

The next phase is de-Christmasing the house. Hating myself for wrapping strings of light around everything we own. Laughing at the me who decided to incorporate some of the Christmas décor into our regular home. Stripping the skin from my cuticles shoving packaging into contractor trash bags in an overly aggressive kind of way. Looking at the girls' gifts that have yet to escape their plasticky prisons as things that if returned could buy me something shiny.

At no point in ANY of this, beginning to end, do I feel the need to be a better person next year and be a Red Cross bell ringer. FYI.

So, now we're up against New Year's Eve which has been handled a number of different ways over the years. When we were much more youngish, we would attend the Bismarck Mandan Symphony Orchestra New Year's Eve Gala with my parents. We got dressed up, danced to live orchestra music, ate amazing food. Then, we got married and moved to Madison. Our New Year's plans vacillated between house parties and bars. After we had kids, New Year's was another night in, but with champagne. Or not. Now that the girls are older, we're spending New Year's with friends whose daughter is Ava and Phia's "Bestie", thanks Tom and Brenna! We're looking forward to a New Year's eve with friends. One that is comfortable, but fun and festive just based on the guest list. There will be tasty foods, champagne, friends. I think I can say with certainty that its going to be our best ever way to end a year.

So that January 1, 2013 I can start stockpiling my holiday spirit for next year.

Did I mention I updated my profile?

Thank you, Sir. May I blog another?

I have been encouraged friendly like to blog, thank you Trish and Teresita, and I have been guilted to blog; you know who you are. Jeff. And here is the result of that nudging: *I'm sitting at the computer in the dining room. When I sat down it was quiet. Now, Ava is playing Lady Gaga Kidzbop style for me. I'm not allowed to look directly at her, but judging by her shadow, she is rocking OUT. Sophia is quite forcefully showing me how her puppy eats carrots. Celery. Now celery. Celery! MAMA!! Yes. Celery. Neat! Nnnnutssss!!! He eats nuts. Look. Look. LooK! (extra emphasis on the 'K'. Try it at the office. Got my attention.) He eats nutsssss! Ok,yes, nuts! Awesome! We have now maxed out the volume on the Leappad. And I think Ava is having a seizure. Don't LOOK! Ok. Not a seizure. She dances just like me! And, Phia is showing me, pay close attention here, how to write each and EVERY letter in the alphabet. After she writes the letter, we still watch because then her Leappad gives us a word that starts with that letter. And THEN, her puppy acts out the word. But, we have to see it ALL or we miss out on the point and have to do it again. Ava is spinning now. Spinning like she may never stop. If not for the Christmas tree. I did that once. Except I was rollerblading. And I didn't actually make it to the tree. Any friends out there who remember this story are now invited to draw their very best depiction of this event of athletic prowess and post it to Facebook. The winner gets a prize! So, why does it take so long for me to follow one blog with another? For the same reason I don't follow one "shower" day with another. God gave me a family. A vibrant, active, LETS SHARE THIS MOMENT ALL OF US TOGETHER RIGHT NOW family. Sitting quietly is not actually listed as an option in my mom papers. Kidzbop actually paid money, I think; not sure how the exchange of money happens with this "music", to have children sing a song whose main lyrics are "I whip my hair back and forth! I whip my hair back and forth!" Hey, um, guys? Someday that kid is going to be in a position of power. Does that concern anyone else? My sister and her two kids, who admittedly are adults trapped in children's bodies, came home from the Cities for Christmas. My nephew, who is 8, and I were watching a bit of TV when a really bad commercial came on. He asked me what the point of the commercial was. And I, forgetting his REAL age, said "Well, its just a silly commercial where they are playing with words that have a couple meanings." He said, "that wasn't silly. that was stupid." So, I said, "well then, I guess you better grow up to be the guy that writes better commercials." What does my nephew then say with exactly ZERO hesitation? "No. I'm going to grow up to be the guy that FIRES the guy who makes the stupid commercials." Ok. So, um, no Super Friends for you? Having been directed to blog has actually worked fairly well. It would seem I write better when I think less. Minus the complete lack of flow and direction. And point.

Happy Crunchbar To Me!

I have never feared the numbers part of my birthday. I really only have ever feared my birthday not being the source of a happy memory for someone. And ths year's happy birthday messages to me meant the world. I had a very, very good birthday. This year marks the first year both of the girls chose and legibly signed my cards on their own. I had a great lunch with great people AND a night out with my amazing husband. I got to put on a nice dress (no stains, tears, or peanut butter smudges), strappy heels, and actual jewelry. We went to a really wonderful fundraiser where we drank champagne, ate tasty foods of all kinds, and laughed a lot. We had a table with my parents and family friends from the beginning of time. At one point during the live auction my dad raised my hand for me. He "helped" me bid $3500 on something. I say 'something' because I have NO idea what was up for bid at the moment. Thank God I was almost immediately outbid, but then they kept coming back to me giving me the option of bidding back in. Nope. Just gonna sit here and sweat, thanks. I even saw my pediatrician and talked to him for the first time in as long as I can remember. He was one of the doctors that saved mylife when I was seven. Pretty great seeing him. Mom and I both got a little weepy. My kindergarten teacher was there also. And about a thousand other people I grew up in front of or because of. And the vast majority of them knew it was my birthday. That was HUGE. The last couple months have been a struggle for me, but today was pretty great. I got to laugh a lot and I got to see people I really love laugh too. Auby Doody Punkin to me!!! THANK YOU ALL!!!!!!

Here's Something Fun...

For so long, blogging has been a source of stress for me. My brain is constantly processing, never taking a break. I hate the pain of my kidney stones, but the morphine stops my brain for a bit and that I love. But it is the only thing that stops my brain. I'm the kind of person who thinks of all the things I want and need to do and I fully intend to do them, but then there are so many and I build them up so completely that I drop them all. And then I'm overwhelmed in a whole new way. So, I have a habit of starting a draft blog, thinking of something else, getting frazzled, and walking away. I have 54 draft blogs that I have started but not finished. I was looking through them and found the following. I'm going to update it and, I think, end up with something kind of neat. I started this blog in June of 2011: Tomorrow is Ava's last day of kindergarten. I am finding the last day far more emotional than the first. I love her school, I love her teacher, I have really loved watching Ava start the adventure of becoming her own person. I've been trying to think through what is making this so difficult for me. Is it as simple as something wonderful ending? Could be. I've always been that way. I get attached to people/things/situations easily. And then, when it's time to move on it just tears me up. Is it that I'm watching my 'baby' shed the very last tethers to baby-hood? Probably. After Ava was born, I quit working. All I wanted was to be her mom. She and I were together 24/7 and I sometimes found myself resenting people who tried to break into our time. We were a team. When I got pregnant with Sophia, I worried it would hurt Ava. And it certainly was a huge transition for all of us, but as I watched Ava lose some her dependence on me I got to watch her become a big sister. Is it because as of tomorrow at 11:00am Elvejhem will no longer be her school? Yup. In a pretty major way. At some point in the next 4 weeks, we will be on our way to our new world in ND. I've loved the idea of my girls attending the same schools I did. I'm just having trouble with the idea of Ava having conquered this huge school and all its people and hallways, and then being taken away from it. Am I worried that she may not remember her kindergarten school, or the house she was born in, or her favorite places to play in the neighborhood? Will she remember all her friends here? Will she be as happy in Bismarck as she is when she's playing with her friends here? I guess it's all of this. Ava is getting older and smarter and less willing to be my baby. She is also a gigantic source of pride for me. To have anything at all to do with her is more gratifying to me than all of my other lifetime "accomplishments" combined. Now here we are on Wednesday, September 26, 2012. Reading this was emotional. I remember the way I was feeling during that last bit of Ava's time at her school in Madison. It was not a perfect system by any measure, but it was part of our world in Madison and Ava was proud to go there. She understood we were moving and that she wouldn't go to Elvejhem the next year, but I didn't think she could comprehend the full weight of what our move would mean to her. I was wrong. She got it, I was the one who didn't. She had two bullies in the beginning of kindergarten. One was a boy whose home life was non-existent as far as anyone on the outside could tell. He bullied Ava physically. For two weeks. She never complained once. Never came home and even hinted that it was happening. I found out when I walked her to school one morning on school picture day. She had dressed herself and was VERY proud. Little brown corduroy jumper, white short sleeved blouse underneath, and white tights that she put on herself so the crotch of the tights was visible if you saw just above the hem of her jumper. But, she had done it herself and there was no way you were going to take away that pride. So, I stopped at the end of the sidewalk that led to her classroom door. It was kind of raining off and on, so the kids were going straight inside. She waved, hefted her little backpack up, and strode toward the school. Out of nowhere, as if he'd been waiting just for her, this "kid" ran at her. He covered the ground between them so quickly I hadn't even realized it was a problem until he was already throwing Ava down onto the pavement. There wasn't much physical damage you could see except that her tights were torn. But, she stood up with her back to me and then turned around really slowly like she was worried about what I was going to say when our eyes met. I immediately ran to her and got down on my knees. The look in her eyes wasn't fear, clearly this had happened before, it was defeat and embarassment. I had just seen this horrible thing I now knew she was trying not to tell us because she didn't want us to worry or be disappointed. She sat down in my lap and sobbed. I cried a little too. That was the first time I realized it is never too early to tell your children that there is no possible way under the sun for them to lose their parents' love. There is no 'thing' they can do that will tarnish this love. We covered that it was not her fault and that she deserves to be treated with respect and kindness by not only the adults, but the other children as well. The pictures we got back from that day with Ava's disheveled hair and scuffed up knee show her spirit and joy the clearest of any to this day. And, an aid was brought into the classroom to control the bully until it was decided he needed more help than they could give him. I hope he is a happy, proud, and joyful boy today. I honestly do. Children don't start that way, someone shows them how to be that person. Ava's second bully was a little girl who was stealing her lunch. This situation was also resolved that same momentous day. We've found that Ava internalizes so much and needs near constant encouragement to share what she's thinking. Once we get her talking she asks questions and marinades in the answers. She does not ask for the same information twice. And, once she "gets it", she gets it. Now all this time later she's like an addition to the youth justice league. She does not stand for bullying whether it be toward her, her friends, or someone she doesn't even know. She feels what the people around her feel and she's the first to set to work settling a problem. She's amazing. Best of all, she's mine!

Letting Go. A little.

It Has been just under a year since I Last blogged. I've been telling myself its because I can't pin down what I want to blog about. It just occurred to me that I know exactly what to blog about, that was never the problem. The problem has been that I was afraid to blog about what I was thinking and that is unfortunate because I started this blog under the disclaimer that you, the reader, may not love what I'm saying but I'm going to say it all the same. So, read it or leave it but I'm blogging for me. Anything beyond that is useless and a waste of all our time. If you've read my blog from its inception you know I'm not always 100%on top of my game. But I am honest. And I am not ashamed of who I am. Read back if you must because I'm not going to rehash old news. I have struggled with an eating disorder for all of the time I should have been building who I would like to be. Just today after Ava told me one of her classmates kissed another classmate, I told Ava, "do NOT be concerned with things like that yet. Your job right now is to decide who you want to be and then be that person. Ask questions if you need. But today, tomorrow, a year from now be the person you decided to be; not the person you ended up being." And the great thing about my 7 year old? She understands. She knows she needs to respect herself. She knows that while right now she is Catholic, someday she may not be. It may not fit her. There was a point in time when I was so consumed by the pain of hating my own self, I turned it outward and hated God, my friends, my family. I was that person you pass in Target and turn to your friend or spouse and say, "how does one person get that angry"? And then one day, after being on suicide watch, after almost losing my marriage, after giving up on my future, and choosing to disappear one way or another, I found hope. I found a picture in a book. It was a picture of a butterfly and underneath the caption read "in Buddhism, butterflies represent the rebirth of life after death" and I thought a religion that gives you one of God's greatest, most mysterious creations as a symbol of survival can't be bad. So, in a way, I started over. I read about Budhhism, I talked to other people who studied Buddhism. This isn't a movie about how the down and out girl discovers her life saving miracle and travels to other worlds to pursue it, because in real life that takes money and there was not so much of that in MY real life. But I worked to learn what I could second hand. And I started not to hate so much. I got a tattoo of a large, beautiful butterfly custom designed for me by an amazing artist. That physical pain was cathartic on a level I didn't know existed. And I was left with a permanent reminder that I survived. I continued to study Buddhism and as I did something strange happened. I found myself more and more everyday feeling a little bit closer to my God, my roots. I found that I could live through Buddhism with it as my guide of how to treat myself and how to treat the people around me. But at my core I finally once again believed in God and Heaven and that I was a good person with a framework built of peace, kindness, and gentleness that was secured together by way of my faith in God. So, if someday, one of my girls comes to me and says, I think I need to look somewhere else, I'll be okay with that. I think ultimately, she'll come back. And ultimately, you can't force someone to believe something. You want them to get there of their own free will. Ava has always been lightyears ahead of where she should be and so much of the time that scares the shit out of me! When she was 18 months old, we took her to her pediatrician who diagnosed her as "speech delayed". I felt like I'd been hit on the back of the head with a concrete block. The doctor told us it wasn't necessarily a problem yet, but I saw a future of tutors and linguist professionals. It was about 1 week later that she started talking and she hasn't stopped yet. She aces her spelling tests, she compliments people on how wonderful or divine or stylish their home/dogs/casseroles are. She hears way more than she should and she understands almost as much as any adult I know. So, naturally, she wants to be older. I want so badly for her to slow down and be 7. Maybe forever. But, there again, she'd be the person she ended up being, not the girl everyone already knows her to be. Thank God Sophia is still mostly just interested in bugs and being naked (a blog for another time).

Perspective

The day after my "woh is me" moment (-filled day), I was given a dose of perspective and then full on inoculation.

The filter on our fish tank quit. We only have 4 guppies and one snail, but it is a 5 gallon aquarium, so the gunk builds up pretty steadily. When the filter quit, it got pretty gross pretty fast. So, I finally had time to clean it and by then the previously white rocks were now brownish, slimy, green. The inside of the tank walls was slimy, too. And stinky. Really stinky. Because we refuse to invest thousands of dollars in an aquarium set that will likely not last the year, we bought one of those cheap, hand-siphon rock cleaners. I was sucking out the slimy, chunky water and siphoned some right onto my bare foot. I can only imagine what sorts of 'critters' were living in that water and after spilling it on my foot, I didn't want to know. But, I was in the middle of the job. The aquarium was minus about 80% of its water and the fish were looking panicky. So, I decided instead of screaming to the bathroom to scald my foot, I would push through and finish the job. I had JUST finished when Phia came out of the downstairs bathroom and said, "Mama, there is a lot of water in the potty." Kind of like when you KNOW you're going to throw up, I KNEW this was not a case of my 4 year old over-exaggerating. So, I ran to the bathroom just in time to see the toilet backing up and sending poo infested water flowing onto my bathroom floor. I mean, I could SEE the poo. I ran upstairs and got the plunger, took the stairs about 9 at a time on the way back down, turned the corner into the bathroom, and had the craziest moment of reality. I have always wondered "what would I do if the toilet actually overflowed??". Now I know. First of all, I would step into the poo water barefoot. Then I would stab at the toilet with the plunger in a way that would cause such a tidal wave of poo water that it would actually go UP my long sleeves. This plunger was less plunger and more water displacer. I haven't had a lot of experience with plungers, but this one was particularly resistant to helping. I should also add that I didn't know you could turn the water off on the toilet. So, I had that going for me also. After assaulting the toilet with the plunger for what seemed like a good amount of time to have been doing damn near anything else, the toilet relented and the flow of poo water ceased. The damage was done though. I had thrown several rugs down to stop the water from making its way to the carpeted hallway. I had a bathroom full of poop and water and rugs. I stood there with my bottle of bleach like I had a plan. I'm going to spare you most of the details, except this one: I had to get BEHIND the toilet and use a q-tip to get the poo out of the tight spots. This was immersion therapy for me. I encountered everything that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I cleaned the bathroom so thoroughly, our entire house smelled like a public pool.

In the end, the perspective I gained was why have a bad day for no reason when tomorrow you will be provided with a perfectly valid reason to feel homicidal. But, to be honest, I laughed through most of the experience. It was that bad.

Today, however, is good. There is a puppy (who wags his tail in his sleep) snuggled up next to me, Ava has developed a love for making coffee and serving it to me, and my kitchen renovation is nearing its end.

I hope you are having a poo water free, waggy tail dream kind of day too.

Back and Down

Today, I feel removed, isolated, alone. My heart hurts. I feel like I'm observing everything without actually being there. This is an especially sad experience when you have the morning to just be with your 4 year old who is naturally bouncy and smiley all the time. I don't understand this feeling, which makes it even more upsetting. There really isn't anything in the past 24 or 48 or 72 hours that would have caused this. There isn't anything coming up that would cause it either. In fact, we drive to Dickinson on Saturday to bring our newest member of the family home. When doesn't the thought of a puppy make you smile?

Normally when I feel like this, I would tell Jeff. He and I call this being "ok", feeling blah, or, my personal go-to "the bottom dropping out". That's the best way to describe it. Everything is great, then the bottom drops out. No warning. But, I've been able to realize a dream in the past few months. I have spent time, quality time, with my brother. We've never completely, totally lost our connection, but we've both strayed. In the past few months, we've had eye-opening conversations wherein we both revealed things the other didn't know or understand fully. And I feel close to him again.

So, I sent him a text. A short, simple text. He replied in a way that doesn't fix the problem but reminds me that there is as much an end to this feeling as there is a beginning. It is near impossible to see that where I am, but I know he 'gets' this feeling and to a degree, that's all the help I need. Knowing there is no judgement, just someone who gets it.

So, today feels bleak. But, tomorrow will be better. Not sure why I'm making this my first blog post in months, but not everything can be funny or clever. Sometimes it has to be real, too.

Maybe it took this moment of 'blah' to realize my relationship with my brother isn't. Whatever, I love him and I'm thankful he's mine.