A Writer's Soul

The humidity is staggering today as I sit confined to my bedroom, one of the only places in our home that actually has air-conditioning.  You have been on my mind a lot, lately.  Yes, YOU.  My lovely, intelligent, sensitive, dynamic, unique blog readers, especially the ones who have stuck with me during my unplanned, unannounced, fade-into-the-ethers blog hiatus.  I love you for sending me private notes, for continuing to check in on my blog, for knowing what I mean when I discuss my "Angel Daughters" in other places on social media.  I adore you for cajoling me, for gently poking at me, and for not forgetting about me.  I am not exactly sure why, but something shut down inside of me about a year ago.  I began to seriously lose/doubt my writing voice and it started to  frighten me…A lot.  I believe that I was born with a "writer's soul" meaning that it feels very natural for me to paint my life in words and for most of my twenties and thirties, I kept that portion of my soul buried deep within my life of domesticated, wedded, maternal, Orange County lifestyle bliss.  I put everything, and I mean everything, into raising my Angel daughters and maintaining a lovely marriage, family and home, but there was definitely a price to be paid for all of that loveliness because when the roles began to shift and I was not needed as much, I did not have a place to turn my attentions to.  I am not at all saying that I would choose a different path if I could go back to those decades when being a wife and mother was more than enough.  I am not even saying that in retrospect, I would have done very much differently because the product of all that I put in is a very successful husband who still loves me deeply after almost thirty years of marriage as much as I do him, and four incredible daughters who really are angels in so many ways.  But, the thing about being in my early(very early) fifties now, is that I do have the luxury of hindsight and reexamination and reconsideration which is forcing me to take inventory as to what worked and what did not work so well.  And one of the things that might not have worked quite so well for me is what I gave up as an individual and as a soul on a singular journey alongside a tribe of other souls whom I adore with all my heart.  It really is not so much about what I gave up because what I gave up in some areas, I gained in other areas tenfold.  It is much more about the things that I did not do for myself.  I allowed myself to get lost in the mix of the lives that surrounded mine(and this includes those outside of my immediate family) in a way that caused me to forget who I am, who I was before I became a devoted wife and mother.  I immersed myself so deeply, so fervently into who I always knew that I wanted to be, that I lost track of my own spirit and the things that called out to me as a singular person.  I lost hold of those other things that define who we are and what we should explore in order to still remain relevant to ourselves.  I completely ignored my writer's soul when I should have taken the time to nurture that part of myself.  I dismissed my own needs as a separate entity when there was someone or something else that seemed more worthy(or more needy) of my time and attention.  I allowed the voices of those around me to drown out that of my own.  I allowed myself to wilt as they blossomed.  None of this was intentional on anybody's part.  It just happened.  I am not placing the blame for this on anyone, including myself.  Self-blame would only continue the pattern and that is something that I do not wish to continue.  I will acknowledge the fact that I became who I am, who I was, because I did not have a proper role model.  My own mother would tell you that she was a "stay-at-home" mother meaning that she stayed at home when my brother and I were in school, and then mysteriously disappeared on the days when we were actually at home.  She would flit around with her friends going shopping or to lunch, never doing anything much of substance.  Or she would send us to camp during the summers, much to my protest…Anything to get us "out of her hair".  It felt like outright rejection to me and although I cannot speak for my brother, I do believe that the effect was even more profound for him than it was for me.  Even my father, who did take the time to show me affection and attention when he was around, often made me feel insignificant by spending so much time away from our family by going on "business trips" and also by pursuing women outside of his marriage to my mother.  He was a very strong father figure but he was(is) also extremely expert at compartmentalizing the different aspects of his life which is something that I realized and understood at an unusually young age.  My earliest memory of this was when I was around eight years old and my dad would bring my brother and I into his office once in a while.  He had a lovely secretary named Jennifer who I was also particularly smitten with.  She was young and beautiful and smiled at my brother and I a whole lot when we would go in to visit.  And even though she was seemingly wonderful, I would get a very strange sensation in the pit of my stomach when she would greet us, for I somehow knew that it wasn't just the fact that my brother and I were exceptionally adorable children that caused her to be so Popsicle-sweet.  She was trying to impress my father.  And as I look back now through much older and wiser eyes, I understand that Jennifer's focus was on my dad and not what pinchable cheeks my little brother had.   I liked her and I felt abject contempt for her all at the same time.  It is sad that an eight year old child was placed in a position that caused so much ambivalence at such an early age.  It is sad that my parental role models taught me more about how I would behave as an adult not through their positive behaviors, but through the selfish behaviors that I would most adamantly try to avoid as an adult, wife and mother.  I became just about everything that my parents, most especially my mother, were not.  Extensibly, I worked very hard to encompass the qualities that my parents lacked the most, so that I would be a good wife, mother, daughter, granddaughter, sister, aunt and friend.  I would include my daughters in my social activities.  I would spend summers participating in outings along with my children.  I would be present and not just pretend that I was.  These were the most mindful years of my life.  And yet, like my parents who successfully failed both my brother and me, I ended up failing someone very important too.  Myself.

I am entering my fifty-third year of life as of about two weeks ago.  Even at fifty-two years old, I know that I still have so many lessons to learn, only during this second half of my life(give or take a few) I believe that the lessons will be meant to be more about fine-tuning myself.  My parents are getting not just older, but old, and with their progressing years they are becoming more like abhorrent teenagers who are definitely not as cute as they used to be.  They are teaching me to be much more self-protective and much, much more forgiving…to myself.  I can no longer languish in the self-serving nature of the expectations that they have set for me without also allowing myself to expect a certain level of respect and honor for me, their only child.  I am, I have been, and I will continue to be a good daughter, step-daughter, wife, mother, daughter-in-law, friend, etc. as long as there is the balance of reciprocation in these relationships.  I am not even requiring that the reciprocation be equal, just present.  There will be a lot for me to muddle through as I decide where, when and how the boundaries will establish and reestablish themselves, time and time again.  And if someone wants to be exceedingly angry with me for no valid or apparent reason I will no longer beg for their forgiveness.  I will only forgive myself for not being the person that they would like to try to make me into.  I will float above the guilt that I used to drown in.  I will let them do them, and I will do me.

I will say it here as it will force me to be much more accountable from now on out.  I am going back to exploring my writer's soul.  Writing brings me clarity and balance and peace.  Seeing my own words reflected back at me on a page allows me to feel validated in a way that nothing else does.  It makes me feel heard and uninterrupted.  I cannot be cut short by spasmodic breaks in my train of thought when I write.  And because I am also a good listener, certain people cannot resist the temptation to take advantage of the spotlight that I seem to provide when they inadvertently interrupt what I might be saying out loud.  Writing allows me to be heard without constant fits and starts that cause me to give up trying.  One of my goals is to write a book.  In order to accomplish this, I will have to honor the part of myself that is a writer.  I will need to become more authentic about how I present my own story and if there are certain people who are a part of my story who might not like or appreciate what I have to write about them, then that will have to become a part of their life-lesson, no longer mine.  Maybe it would have done them some good to have behaved better, kinder, more thoughtfully, or more respectfully.  My story is about me, not about them.  We are all adults here.

*If anyone has any suggestions about how to get started in a regular writing routine, please do share them with me!  I would love some feedback about this as a fledgling writer whose wings are still quite wet!

And now, a few photos of the Four Angel's Momma family to catch everyone up a bit!  I promise more in the near future.  I hope that everyone is well!

So happy together. 

Angel Daughter Number Three and my beloved Angel Husband, Mark.

Angel Daughter Number Two and her sweet boyfriend, Justin.  AD4 is holding their puppy Layla Rose.

Angel Daughter Number One enjoying her 27th Birthday in June!

Angel Daughter Number Four is still dancing her heart out!

Exodus

The desert of Palm Springs, CA

I've taken a step toward healing my soul, once again, but in doing so I have also set off a barrage of very troublesome dreams from which I wake up thanking God that they were not real.  And although I know where I should stand on this and I know that I am standing on the precisely correct mountaintop, I have taken a step back down from this very same vantage point many, many times before heading right back to where I just came.  You know that story, one step up and two steps back...Hence the nightmarish dreams.  Sometimes I wake up and I am arguing with my mother and what ultimately wakes me is the sound of my own voice projecting out loud that I need for her to just leave me alone.  The last real life conversation that I had with her about three weeks ago, ended with me firmly explaining that while I would be giving her the $1803.00 that she needs to fix her teeth this time(on top of the monthly amount that we send her to help pay for her rent), I was not at all happy about it and that I will never be happy about having to do something which stems from someone not taking personal responsibility for their own life, especially when it ends up costing my family a large sum of money.  My point being, it seems,  that it is perfectly fine when your crappy decisions end up costing you money that should never have had to be spent(although I do not believe that is very cool, either, but so be it), but when those crappy decisions that I had nothing to do with, end up costing me money, I have every right to tell you so and then some.  I am tired.  I am tired from having spent most of my life mothering my very own mother.  I am tired of her ranting and her immaturity and her selfishness and her "poor me" attitude and her betrayal and her "it's never my fault" and her expectations which come with no self-expectation and her guilt and her lack of shame. (This includes her nutty husband.)  Last night, I dreamt that I was driving along serenely on a beautiful day, until I got to a spot in the road where there was a sudden, major rush of water and I had to jamb on my brakes within inches so as not to be swept away.  I had pets in the car(big surprise there) and my cat decided to eat one of my turtles legs.(I do not own a turtle.)  It was pure chaos and panic that sent me into a place of subconscious weirdness and left me feeling very troubled when I woke up.  I do understand the psychological catalyst for these dreams which can make them even more frustrating because the understanding in no way prevents them from occurring.  It can be maddening at times.

For now, I am taking a break from my mother.  I have put her into time-out.  The rational, loving, compassionate, wouldn't hurt a fly part of me regularly tromps on my own conscience for this reminding me that I am the only biological child that she has left in this world and how terrible it is for a mother to not be able to have an ongoing relationship with her only daughter.  I have used this particular excuse for the past five plus years since my brother died and it often works sending me back into the pit of relationship/boundary hell that I have grown far too accustomed to over the entire course of my life.  The other rational, logical, self-protective part of me who has had it up to here and then some, says no more.  I do not want to be swept away in a sudden flash flood of someone else's drama, albeit my own mother's.  I do not want to drown.  I do not want my cat to eat my turtle's leg.  There is this thing about divorce that has always bothered me and although my dad reminded me when I was growing up that nothing in life is fair, this one truly seems particularly lopsided.  When two people(or a good 55-60% of the married population depending upon where you find your data) decide to get divorced and there are children involved, those two people get to make a fairly clean break of it once all of the finances and emotional bullshit are completely hacked up, but the children are the children for life.  So, as my dad has no more responsibility toward my mother than he does for a stranger on the street (They have been divorced for over 30+ years), I am stuck with her for life.  Yup, not fair.  And yet, how does one completely wall themselves off from the person who gave them life?  I have allowed my mother to be a huge part of my daughters' lives.  Not only that, I encouraged it.  I wanted a mother and my children were a very good distraction for her mostly selfish behaviors.  I offered my daughters up as the sacrificial lambs in hopes that it would make something within her click and she would magically become the mother that I always needed her to be.  She was a much better grandmother than she ever was a mother which is why I have put up with a good portion of the BS over the years.  My girls love her and she loves them and I think that is a very good thing.  Heck, I love her.  But I do not like her, not now anyway and I have a physically visceral response to having to deal with her.  It is unhealthy.  It borders on self-abuse because I know that my blood pressure is going to spike and my breathing is going to become shallow whenever I speak to her but she expects me to even though I have told her this.  In other words, it was good for me, doesn't matter how it was for you.  I do know that when I wall myself off from my mother, I suffer from far less depression.  I live in a much calmer space.  I treat myself better.  My mother does not even know where we live at this point because for a long time, our beach home was only our second home and it felt good to have a place where I could conceivably hide from reality for a bit.  She nagged and bugged me about it, and now, I just do not want to tell her.  This probably has something to do with the defiant little child in me, but it also brings me some satisfaction and allows me to feel as if there is a physical boundary that she cannot cross.(Although her husband tauntingly told Mark that they found out where we live, so who knows.)  Mark did tell them that if they do show up at our gate, we will not be allowing them in.

A couple of nights ago began the holiday of Passover which celebrates the exodus of the Jews from slavery in Egypt.  Under the leadership of Moses, the Jewish people were finally led across a miraculously parted sea and through the desert to the land of milk, honey and freedom from the oppression which they had lived with for far, far too long.  Moses never actually entered Israel.  He and the generations of slaves who traveled upon this journey along with him, had to remain in the desert until all of the slave generations had passed on. God did not want His people to bring the mentality of slavery along with them into freedom because that would mean that they would never truly be freed from the shackles of oppression that were still very much alive inside of their own minds.  He wanted His people to have a fresh start.  He wanted them not only to be physically free, but mentally and spiritually free, as well.  Sometimes, I tell Mark that I do not believe that I will truly be free from the guilt and the expectations and the obligations that I feel for my mother until she indeed, passes away.  This is in no way a wish for my mother to die.  I know that regardless of everything, I will be very sad when that day does arrive for many complicated reasons, and as I said before, I do love her.  I also know that so much of her behavior is dictated by the relationship that she had with her own mother (There I go making excuses again, but it is true) and that she is probably incapable of changing during this lifetime which is also why I have cut her so much slack.  But in so many ways, in order for me to be free from the suffocating oppression that I often feel from my mother, I must also be willing to make an exodus with which I can better exist.  I have been working on this for most of my life.  I do not know whether our earthly relationship will end in a more peaceful place or if my exodus will remain incomplete.  What I do know is that my mother takes far too much out of me and that each time we have a falling out of sorts, she chips away a little bit more of the part of me that is reluctant to construct a permanent wall.

I sit here, contemplating Moses' exodus from Egypt.  I consider my people's need to break away from the confines of Pharaoh's harsh rule and as I do, I look out at the massive expanse of ocean which sits just below my home.  I think about the gated entry and my mysterious address and all that I have subconsciously and consciously done to free myself from the unrealistic demands that my own mother has placed upon me throughout the years and I wonder, if not now, then when?  If not now, then when will I allow myself to journey away from the chains which have bound me to a woman who is all expectation and so little give.  When will it be enough?  When do I choose to allow myself to be freed from the demands and commands that cause me so much pain despite whether or not I am speaking to my mother or not at any given moment?  When will I allow myself some peace?  And how?  How do I allow myself to keep a firm boundary in place while still holding tight to the commandment which commands that I honor my parent?  And what does honor entail?  The financial piece of things will, more than likely, remain unless Mark and I experience our own financial hardship because we always agreed that we would see to it that all of our parents would always have a roof over their heads and food on their tables but that never included their medical or dental bills so that line has already been crossed.  Too many lines have been crossed.  I often wonder if God will somehow allow me to cross my own desert back to a place of health if I learn to honor myself or, if like Moses, I will be destined to die just outside of the land of milk and honey in order to allow future generations to live more freely.  I have so many questions and very few answers.

My prayer for you during this Passover/Easter season is that whatever exodus you might be working on, that you will do so with both guidance and clarity.  That you will be led by both internal and external longings which will sooner, than later, bring you to a place of strong serenity and peace.  May you find strength, growth and renewal upon your journey and to my Jewish friends who figuratively are sitting with me around the seder table this year, may I say, next year in Jerusalem.  I believe I have found new meaning in that phrase this year.  And to that may we all say, Amen.

A Tribute For my Brother

Is it by accident or by fate that we end up where we are, sometimes getting lost in the possibilities of the roads that we have not taken along the way.  Thinking back to when, to where, to how we have come to settle upon the small plot of earth which we inhabit now, it is not always clear.  What brought us here to this place that we consider home?  The seemingly small or large life events that moved us to the point at which we now reside could have been earth shattering, or, they could have barely made a quiet rumble underneath the soles of our feet.  I know that the string of events which led us to this point on a bluff overlooking the Pacific ocean was part my own spiritual earthquake, so to speak.  They say that you should never make any life changes or major purchases or important decisions following the death of a loved one but we did, and by doing so, we followed our someday dreams to the place that we now call home.  

We were led here by the very sudden passing of my younger brother.  My only sibling.  The only other person in the world who knew the punchline of my childhood anecdotes and jokes.  The sudden end of my brother's life was like the abrupt ending of a long conversation that was only just beginning.  Stunted, hastily cut short, truncated by an early exit.  It made us think.  A lot.  It made us wonder if "someday" was too presumptuous and too far away in pursuing some of our dreams with a major one being a home near the beach.  And so, we did the one thing that we were told not to do in the months following my brother's death.  We decided that it was time to purchase another home near the beach.  We dove in head first without doing a lot of thinking(we might have thought ourselves out of it) or searching.  We opened the gate which led to the front yard of this place and knew that we had found it. Over the course of the past five years, I slowly began spending more and more of my time here.  I didn't want to leave.  We had a beautiful, large home that our daughters had spent over a decade of their lives growing up in, but after my brother died, it no longer felt like home to me.  Something about the peaceful call of the ocean was drawing me away from there.  I needed to be here.  

We never purchased this place as an intended full-time home.  I'm not sure why that was, and honestly, I do not really dwell on it.  With all of our children and pets, it is not really as large as what we have become used to over the years, but we do know that as our youngest two Angel Daughters get ready to fly off on their own, we will have more space than we need in the future.  We sold our large home last summer after our youngest daughter graduated from high school, and moved everyone down here for good.  I can feel my brother's presence, support and encouragement for our decision.  He has a favorite light upstairs that he has become quite adept at turning on and off at very appropriate moments and he visits us quite often even though he was never here in life.  I know that if he were physically here, he would definitely approve, yet I also know that if he were still here, we would probably be living someplace else.  It's one of those odd juxtapositions in life that needed a certain number of events to occur in order for the equation to work out as it did.  Would I prefer to have my brother still here and for us to live someplace else?  Absolutely.  Am I glad that his death lit a spark under our spirits which allowed us to make the choice that we did?  Absolutely, which is why I believe that there really are no absolutes in life, strangely so.  

Just after the five year yahrzeit(anniversary) of my brother's death a couple of weeks ago, Mark and I were in the car and it suddenly came over me that it was time to visit my brother's gravesite for the first time since his funeral.  I have considered going many, many times over the course of the past five years, but obviously, something(or many somethings) were holding me back from doing so because the thought would come and then just as quickly, go.  Mark said it was probably because I was not ready.  Maybe it was because my heart was still too tender, maybe it was because I knew what had(or had not) been inscribed upon his very simple tombstone.  The thought of my brother only being remembered as a "Beloved Husband and Father" and nothing else, is something that still stings me to the core, but I know very differently.  The sting is becoming easier to tolerate.  We located Rob's gravesite and placed three stones on top of his tombstone.  One for me, one for Mark, and one for our girls.  In Judaism, we place stones on the graves of our loved ones instead of flowers.  This is something that has been done for centuries as it is a constant way to keep building a memorial to the person that is more permanent than flowers.  When we arrived, there were no rocks on my brother's tombstone which seemed to break my heart more than anything.  It was the five year anniversary of his death and my sister-in-law had not bothered to bring his children to pay their respects.  Ouch.  I do know that others have been there in the interim since his burial and it is my belief that other mourners sometimes remove stones from other graves(as completely tacky and disrespectful as that is) because the cemetery does not leave loose stones just lying around on the grass.  It is customary to bring your own rocks, and not everyone thinks about that so whose going to tell if they "borrow" a stone from someone else's grave.  That being said, it struck me hard to view my brother's stoneless tombstone.  I knelt down to clean some of the dirt and bird poop from his headstone and then I looked up towards the sky and laughed through my tears.  Right above Rob's tombstone, there is a large tree with branches that hang directly over his site.  Something tells me that bird poop is not an unusual occurrence in this part of the cemetery.  I know that it will be much easier for me to return to the cemetery in the future and although I do not believe that it is where Robert's soul resides, it is where his body remains at rest and therefore, I will go back.  Robert Mark Sherman was my little brother and the sharer of my history.  He became a brother to my husband.  He was a son.  He was the most beloved uncle to my four daughters.  He was a storyteller and a comedian, oh what a comedian!  He could have me laughing until I could no longer catch my breath.  He was a loyal friend.  He wanted to make the world a better place by assisting the downtrodden.  He was a brilliant attorney who made very average grades in high school but when it came to passing the State Bar exam, he did so with flying colors on his very first try.  He was so much to so many.  His life was cut way too short by a failing heart which may or may not have been broken beyond what he could tolerate any longer.  

I often think about my brother when I gaze out at the rolling Pacific ocean, but most especially at night when the skies are clear and the stars are at their brightest.  Something about the constellation Orion brings me to immediate thoughts of my brother because I believe, that for some reason, he is probably  viewing it too, just from a different angle in the universe.  I am home, for now, and he is home, for now, and somehow I believe that someday we will see one another again in a different place.  And if nothing else positive came out of his sudden passing, I do hope that he knows that because of our sad loss, we learned to take the "somedays" more seriously in the now and that the love that we had and still have for his beautiful life was something which led us home.

Because We All Matter

I am sitting here seething suddenly, trying to keep the lid from exploding off of the top of the pot that has been simmering steadily inside of my mind for the past week or so.  There is a family that I have come to care deeply about who is facing something that no family should ever have to face and I have been trying to collect the words, the right words, to write about their situation.  This is a married couple who has been together for twenty-two years.  This couple met in 1990 and immediately knew that they were meant to be together.  As a bi-national couple(one from the US and one from France), they made things work by juggling what they could to keep themselves together.  They adopted four beautiful children, now ages 6 (twin boys whose eyes twinkle), 8 (a sparkly little angel girl)  and 11(a handsome, growing young man).  In so many ways, I have grown to admire this wonderful family.  They represent so much about what is right with this country.  They are cohesive, innovative, filled with love and mischief and joy.  They are a family so much like my own.(Although in their forties, they are crazy enough to still talk about adopting another child which might possibly put me over the edge!)  Yet herein lies the difference, instead of their names being Mark and Deb, their names are Mark and Fred, and although their marriage is legally recognized by the state that they were married in, it is NOT recognized as a legal marriage by the federal government, nor is it protected by something called The Defense of Marriage Act(DOMA, signed into law by President Bill Clinton in 1996) which would allow Fred to stay in this country only if this were a heterosexual married couple.  So, as with too many laws in this country, one law has been negated by the other creating an uphill battle where there should be none.  Mark and Fred and their children are now waiting to find out what the result of their request to stay together as a family in this country will be.  We are talking about five American citizens and their husband/father.  This is insane.  The possibility that they could be torn apart as a family is insane.  But, as I ask myself whenever I am faced with a decision to act or to not act on something that might be extremely difficult to battle, here is the question that Mark and Fred must answer right now; Is this the hill you would be willing to die on?  And as they forge ahead into the battle to keep their family together, there is only one resounding answer...Keep fighting the good fight, my strong and brave friends.

*Borrowed from Mark's Blog, Our Simple Lives:)  Aren't they Gorgeous???

You can read more about this family's battle here on Mark's blog http://www.oursimplelives.com/ and on CNN.  And for some touching perspectives, read here, http://psychdocnyc.com/, and here, http://37paddington.blogspot.com/2012/01/stop-deportations.html and on the January 12th post here, http://www.ragdollinnewyork.com/.  If you feel at all compelled by this story and the many others that are just like Mark and Fred's story, feel free to express your outrage to these individuals:

Senator Robert P. Casey, Jr.

393 Russell Senate Office Building

Washington, D.C. 20510

P: 202-224-6324

Toll Free: 866-802-2833

Fax:  202-228-0604

Secretary Janet Napolitano

Department of Homeland Security

U.S. Department of Homeland Security

Washington, D.C. 20528

202-282-8000

This family deserves the same rights as any other family who celebrate anniversaries, are raising children(or cats or dogs or birds or llamas, etc.), who drive in carpools, pay taxes, do mounds and mounds of laundry, clean up after sick babies and honor one another through marriage in sickness and in health!

I have now contained my anger, but the lid will not be placed back on this pot.  Oh no, it won't...

The Stuff That Makes it Worth the Effort

Going back in time around thirty seven years years, I met this little Italian girl with big brown eyes and a dangerously contagious laugh.  Being a little Jewish girl who absolutely loved to laugh, we giggled our way into a friendship which has spanned boyfriends(most better forgotten), stubborn tiffs, husbands, 3000 miles and children.(seven to be exact, several foster kids, two son-in-laws to date, and three beautiful grandbabies-hers, but she shares)  We grew up together and now, God willing, we will continue to grow old together  We might not share ethnicity or DNA or even the same home state(she is now in Nevada), but we do share a history and to me, that is what it really takes to be a family.  These people are my family.

Last weekend, they came out to California to visit the happiest place on earth.  They also came to introduce us to baby Kasen who also happens to be a cousin of baby Scarletts!  You might remember Scarlett from a few posts back.  She is the precious baby who came to see us a few weeks ago.  I have been in baby heaven all summer thanks to Donna's beautiful daughters.  First Scarlett,  and then Kasen and his big sister whom we adore, Aubri.  We love babies!

AD4 fell hard and fast for baby Kasen and he was just as smitten with her.  Kasen is an extremely happy little boy with gorgeous brown eyes and a contagious belly-laugh.(seems like genetics are definitely at work here)  It was both beautiful and bittersweet to watch the relationship that was forming between my youngest Angel Daughter and my oldest friend's sweet grandson.  It brought to mind "the circle of life" and all of that weepy, nostalgic stuff but when we get together, there is mostly only laughter.

And since laughter is what gets us through it all, Lord knows that none of us take ourselves too seriously!

Over the past couple of years, AD3 and AD4 have grown to have not only a sibling relationship, but a lovely friendship, as well.  There have been times over the years when I feared that these two might not have found their way to a common ground.  They are the closest in age of my four Angel Daughters as they were born only twenty-two months apart and there are times when their chronological ages are only one year apart.  AD3 was less than two years old when AD4 was born.  I think that was very hard on her.  She was still just a baby and suddenly, an even smaller and needier baby entered our family.  Their personalities are quite different which complicated things even more.  AD3 is more reserved, cautious and refined.  She likes to feel familiar with her surroundings before she feels totally comfortable in expressing who she is.  AD4 is gregarious, outgoing and quite bold.  Whereas AD3 might tentatively enter a situation testing the waters until she takes in the mood of the room, AD4 will bebop right in with a big smile on her face and an extended hand.  In high school, AD3 followed both AD1, who was an actor in the Theatre department and AD2, who was a cheerleader.  She could not seem to immediately find a place for herself.  Enter outgoing sister number four who she had to drive to school everyday.  The equation just became more complicated.  But now, their relationship is best described as it appears in the photo right above.  They laugh together.  They have a lot of inside jokes that I am not privy to...Hmpph!  They introduce each other to different music and they meet each other for lunch.  They are best friends.

As parents, we want our children to appreciate one another in the same ways that we appreciate each and every one of our own babies.  We want them to not only love each other, but also, to like each other.  Unfortunately, that is not always the way that things work out.  Sometimes we just have to allow things to evolve on their own.  Yes, we must nurture what is already there and set a great example, but personalities, birth order, and preferences all come into play in the development of a relationship.  Our children are really no different than the rest of the world.  They cannot be forced to like each other.  These two beauties are an example of how things can transition naturally from a familial relationship into a true and lasting friendship.  I am so proud of them, so proud of all four of my girls.  In spite of their differences, or maybe in light of them, there is a bond between these girls which transcends the bond of similar DNA.  What I have learned, as their momma and as the sister of only one brother who is now gone, is that the love between siblings is usually a given.  It is the like part that must be cultivated in a relationship that is separate from the parents.  It might be a tough one for parents to let go of, but when it happens on its own, it is definitely something that is worth the effort.

This is Donna's oldest daughter and Kasen and Aubri's momma.  The beautiful little blonde haired, blue-eyed impish angel is Aubri, Kasen's big sister, Scarlett's big-girl cousin.  Aubri looks a lot like her daddy.

Kasen(I had to get one with the boo-hoo face), is mommy all the way.  How does that happen?  I guess it happens in the same way that personalities are determined.  Plain old genetics and a bit of nature versus nurture thrown in for good measure.  As I watched Aubri going through the "that baby can do anything and make everyone laugh, why can't I?" stage, I thought about how difficult it can be for siblings to determine their places in the world.  We all have combinations of qualities that make us extraordinary and unique, however, it is usually what somebody else has that we seem to focus upon.  Part of our job as parents is doing our very best to try not to compare our children's differences.  They spend enough time doing this themselves and they do not need us to shine a bright light upon them.  Rather than comparing, it is best for us to bolster the diverse attributes and to enjoy and embrace the differences.

Growing up, people often mistook Donna and I for sisters.  We were even asked if we were twins on occasion!  The truth is that we sometimes argued like sisters but, we always came back to each other.  Always.  We embraced our differences and enjoyed our similarities.  Aubri is learning how to be a sister now.  She is also learning that family can also be chosen and that, is a beautiful lesson.

I love the way that Aubri wrapped her sweet little arms around our necks.  To feel that precious hand resting on my neck, was to feel unconditional, uninhibited love and in some ways, it reminded me as to why thirty-seven years of friendship has absolutely been worth the effort that it can sometimes take to make a friendship last.  All relationships take effort and work and even blood, sweat and sometimes, tears.  But to have someone who is still hanging around after knowing me for thirty-seven years, from teenage hormones to peri-menopause, that is definitely what makes it all worth the effort.  And if we make it for another thirty-seven plus years, OY VEY, are we going to be cranky with each other!


I wish that for my girls.  I wish that for Donna and Keith's children and grandchildren.  And I wish that for you.


*As an aside to this post, if you look at this picture carefully(or not so carefully as Jacob pointed out), it almost appears as if Donna's arm which is wrapped around Aubri is attached to Keith and that Keith's baby hand is resting on Mark's neck.  We all found this very, very funny(except for maybe, Keith, who is just a tiny bit self-conscious about his baby-hands) which is yet another reason why this friendship works so well.  We try not to make fun of Keith's baby-hands, but sometimes it's just hard not to...

Greetings From the Funny Farm

When I watch my youngest child dance, I can see glimpses of her inner-most spirit.  This began when she was a tiny, little munchkin carefully following the choreography of her three older sisters as they created routines to entertain their dad and I(and anyone else who would sit long enough to watch).  Angel Daughter Number Four would move her body in the way that a painter uses a paintbrush or a writer uses words, with each movement expressing an emotion.  I sensed then what I am absolutely sure of now.  AD4 was born to dance.  Space is her canvas and she uses it to express her reason for being, the music drawing her out of the confines of her physical body.

Last weekend was AD4's final dance recital for the season.  Her team did very well this year, coming in 12th at the World competition down in Florida.  This was their first time competing at this worldwide event and we were all very proud of the results.   In the routine, the girls portrayed string puppets wearing masks which set them apart from the other teams competing.  AD4 is the "puppet-master" in the center of the group, and although she is small in stature, she makes up for it with stage presence. It is difficult to take your eyes off of her when she dances.

In the photo above, she is hugging her coach and thanking her on behalf of all of the students at the school that she attends.  Her coach relies heavily on her enthusiasm, great work ethic and positive attitude as a motivator for all of her teammates.  Of course being number four out of four daughters has taught her, quite well, on how to be a fantastic cheerleader for the people that she cares about.  Our girls have always been encouraged to support one another in all of their endeavors.

Angel Daughter Number One had to work on the day of AD4's recital, but she has been there for so many of her performances and competitions always cheering and "WHOO-HOO-ing" from the stands.  They love each other so much.

My dad and his wife came out for the recital and afterwards, we went out for dinner.  AD2 and AD3 brought their boyfriends which always makes it even more difficult for me to take a group photograph!  I am constantly having to check for silly faces before I release the shutter on my camera(check out Jacob on the very end of the table), but with my father there, even more trouble ensues.  Observe Angel Daughter Number Four's right hand which is resting in her lap.  Check out the sweet smile she has on her face.  Lovely, yes?  Notice the piece of bread that she is innocently holding in her hand...

I detect trouble...

Suddenly the Italian bread begins to grow wings, mysteriously launching from AD4's fingers into the direction of her beloved grandfather, Pop Pop.

Things I love about this photo:

1. Mark's hand resting on AD4's shoulder.  Wedding ring which connects us for almost 26 years in view.

2. Flying Italian bread.

3. Jacob is still posing at the end of the table.

4. Just another day in the Four Angels Momma familia.  Oy.

Angel Daughter Number Three finally realizes that her boyfriend is adding personality to the "happy family" moment that I am trying to capture.

She pulls his hands away from his face as Angel Daughter Number Two realizes that I am still trying to get everyone to let me take a nice family photo.

I give up when the bread lands in my father's lap.  I swear that it was not me who taught them to treat old people this way.

I will tell you that AD4 will be paid back for this in the very near future.  Pop Pop never forgets...

And because the hostess innocently asked my father if we were celebrating any special events when she was bringing us to our table, Rita received a very unexpected surprise!

A lovely, rambunctious version of Happy Birthday complete with fellow restaurant patrons accompanying.

The thing that made it even more "unexpected" is that Rita's birthday is in December.  Thank goodness, she:

1. is very used to my father's antics.

2.  has a good sense of humor!

We will be heading out to Palm Springs to visit with my dad for Father's Day and to celebrate Angel Daughter Number One's twenty-fourth birthday(Can I possibly have a child who is that old?) this weekend.  We are hoping that all four of our girls will be able to make it out there to visit with their grandparents.  Angel Daughter Number Two scheduled a photo shoot for this weekend but is trying to shuffle things around so that she can meet us.  Angel Daughter Number One is shooting another Groupon commercial on Friday.  She will be playing a "cameo" part in this one, but they called her to ask her to come in for the role.  They said that she was not right for the main part in this one, but that they definitely wanted to include her in the spot.  They also told her that this will lead to more work in the future.  We are so excited for her!  I will definitely post the commercial when it is completed.

In case you might have missed Angel Daughter Number One's first commercial, here it is again:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vgk1YfInZoM&feature=player_embedded

My internet was sporadic for a few days so I will be catching up with everyone very soon.  I missed you!

Life is mostly good but isn't that what we can really hope for?

For Crying Out Loud You Know That I Love You

Last week slammed in.  Hard.  Very, very hard.  Brick wall, concrete floor, falling from the top of a skyscraper hard.  Mortality took center-stage as we said good-bye to one of our beloved cats, Angel Daughter Number Three's bed mate and best friend for over ten years, Max.  He was part Maine-Coon, and part dinosaur whenever we had his very unmanageable coat shaved skin close.  He worked his way into mine and Angel Daughter Number One's hearts in the restroom of a Petco where we brought him to see if he was friendly.  He was sweet as can be.  We brought all seventeen pounds of him home on that day.  He was a two year old full-grown cat who had been relinquished to an animal rescue organization by his previous owner.  His first home was only a pit-stop on his journey to find AD3.  When they bonded, it was true love.  

Next, my dad and step-mom unexpectedly lost a dear friend of over thirty years to lymphoma.  Very sobering reality, as my step-mother told me that she will never again complain about getting older.  Losing an old friend is like losing a part of ourselves.  But that, unfortunately, can apply in both death and in life.  Sometimes friends actually choose to die away from us.(A story for another day.  Maybe.)

And finally, but almost most shockingly of all, Angel Daughter Number Two lost a very old and very dear friend suddenly.  He was twenty years old. 20.  Two decades of life and only beginning to become a man.  But who knows what he might have become if he had more time.  More time to grow, more time to learn from his mistakes, more time to evolve.  Grief brings with it insurmountable anguish and pain.  It crashes into us with a thunderous blow.  But it also brings along with it unanswerable questions.  Questions that those of us who are left behind are forced to contemplate for the rest of our own lives.  And sometimes, shrapnel.  And fallout.  And guilt.  So, I comforted and listened.  Hugged and cried. Faced anger and resentment.  Talked to my daughters about the fragility of life and what we leave behind when we believe that our own actions do not have a major effect on anyone else.  How one action can set off another, setting off another, and so on, and so on, and so on.  It is difficult to hear, but even more difficult to be honest about.  And it is very difficult to accept when you are only twenty or sixteen or even forty-five if you have never really thought about it before.  That is why I must pass along what I know to my own children.  Because age should bring along with it perspective, but when you are sixteen or eighteen or twenty, the benefit of perspective is a difficult concept to bring into focus.  The corners are muddled together with the vaporous edges of teenage angst.  And although the despondency is both very real and very justifiable, there must also be perspective.  So there have been a lot of tears.  A lot of tears.  And "You just don't understand"s.  And blundering through the barrage of mixed emotions that accompany grief.  I am watching my twenty year old make her way through this daze of loss, anger and sadness.  There is not a whole lot that I can do.  I have said everything that there is to say through the sheerness of some slightly veiled honesty.  Now Father Time must take over.

So after the week of every other day sad news, we got in the car and drove out to Palm Springs to see my dad.  Our youngest daughter drove out with us and then AD1 and AD2 drove out separately to meet us there.  Unfortunately, AD3 had already made plans to spend the weekend with her boyfriend and his family at a BBQ cook-off in Reno, so she was not able to come.

Having a major distraction from all of the heartache and frustration was something that we all needed.  Seeing my dad always makes us happy.  We live about two hours away from each other which makes it difficult to get together on a regular basis, but when we do, it is always a good thing.  I must admit that even at forty-eight years old, I am a daddy's girl.(but don't tell him!)

And so are they.

*My youngest kidlet having her picture taken by her Pop-Pop.

The weekend brought us into the circle of family which, when done right, can be the safest place in the world.  And when done poorly, can be the most insecure place on earth.(I have been to both places and still float back and forth between the two realms.)  It also brought me back to my restless and stormy days as a seventeen year old girl.  When the world was a very arduous, angst-filled place and music filled in for words unspoken.  Thank you, Father Time.  But for today, I will stop here. And soon enough, I will take you here:

To the land of Rock and Roll.

The twenty-something masseuse from the spa who turned me into jello, asked me what we were doing that night.

"Going to see Meatloaf in concert."

"Oh, you're going to have meatloaf for dinner?"

"Um.....Yup."

Mi Familia

This little angel girl celebrated her second birthday this past weekend.  She is the granddaughter of one of my oldest and dearest friends.  And since our children have always called her and her husband, Aunt Donna and Uncle Keith, and their children have always called us Auntie Deb and Uncle Mark, that makes me a great-auntie!  This is a job that I take very seriously, so when I received an email from Donna inviting us to celebrate great-angel niece number one's second birthday at Disneyland, I rounded up my crew of angels and off we went!  Since we live a state away, we don't always get to see each other as much as we would like to, but several times a year, this very loud, very rambunctious group joins forces to share as much joy and love as we can muster.  Great-Angel Niece Number One is the latest addition to our boisterous bunch!

The cutest thing was that as soon as the cake with the candles arrived and the Birthday song had been sung, Great-Angel Niece Number One knew just what to do.  She took a deep breath and blew...

And blew...

Until the two little candles on her cake went out.  The look on her adorable face...Priceless.

Jasmine stopped by to sign G-ANiece1's little autograph book.

Then they posed for a picture together.  Aren't they beautiful?!?!?

Dale of Chip and Dale stopped by to say hello.  Angel Daughter Number One patiently posed for a picture for her momma, as Joey poked fun at her.  Goofy got revenge on him later by marrying him to his new girlfriend.

Great-Angel Niece Number One's mommy and daddy had the best time.  I still cannot believe that they are parents.  The time, oh, where does the time go?

Angel Daughter Number Three posed demurely for a picture with Aladdin.  Too cute!

Goofy was the star.  He made us all laugh with his silly antics.  Here are three of my angel daughters with Goofy.  Unfortunately, AD2 was too busy at school, so she was not able to join us:(  We missed her very much.

Donna and Keith have been gracious enough to open their home and their hearts to foster children.  Lina, this beautiful little sweetie is two years old.  She has been with them for a couple of months and will hopefully be reunified with her own momma within the next six months.  AD1 really took to her.  They spent a lot of time playing and snuggling with each other.  I just know that whenever AD1 becomes a mommy, she will be such a great one.(But we can wait a few years for that:))

AD4 and GAN1 love playing with each other.  When GAN1 was born, AD4 just loved to sit and hold her.

Here are most of the girls, and Minnie Mouse.(AD4 is missing from the picture.)  There were several different cameras going at the same time which explains why we are looking in different directions.  On the left are Donna(middle), her two daughters and Great-Angel Niece Number One.(Her mommy is on the left.)  Next to Minnie is Donna's son's girlfriend, Angel Daughter Number Three, Me, AD1 and baby Lina.  We had a wonderful visit and I cannot wait to see them again in a month for their second daughter's wedding!

Last night, I made dinner for my family and a couple of AD2's old high school friends who I adore.  AD3 and her boyfriend, Jacob, usually make funny faces at me when I try to take their picture.  I can tell that Jacob really wants to make a face at me here, but he is being a good boy!

We had a really nice time with these silly kids!  I love a noisy dinner table with lots of laughter and conversation.  The more friends, the better.

Angel Daughter Number Two made it down from Pasadena for dinner.  These guys have been friends for years.  Chelsea is such a sweet girl.  Blake and AD2 have been very good friends since middle school.  Last night he told us that he signed up for The Navy Seals and will be leaving in September for Chicago to begin his training.  He is signed up for six years.  I pray for his safety and his strength.  He is such a wonderful young man and we will miss him very much.  So many brave young men and women volunteer to serve our country.  Two others that I know are Nessie's son, Michael and Hallie's son, CJ.  Their service and dedication to this country should be admired and appreciated.

After dinner, the kids played with our giant pup, Micah, on the floor.  He truly is a gentle boy.  There is nothing that he likes better than to be the center of attention.  He LOVES his people so much that you can just see it in his expressive eyes.  People say that he was very lucky to be rescued and adopted by our family, but WE are the lucky ones to have him as a part of our pack.  He is such a good boy.

As I sit here reflecting on the lovely weekend that we had and how much I love all of these people, I am reminded that the word "family" does not always have to mean those who are connected by a bloodline. For me, it has come to include people whom I have grown to love over the years.  People who are there for the good times and the bad.  In sickness and in health...Hey, that's sort of like a marriage.  We can choose the person who we would like to spend the rest of our life with and they become family to us.  To me, I chose my own sister when I was twelve years old.  She is not my sister by birth, but my sister by choice and through it all, Donna, her husband Keith(who I have also known since high school) and her children and grandchildren ARE family to us.  Donna and I grew up together and now we will grow old together.  And as the sun sets on this beautiful day, my heart is filled with the knowing...