Beauty in Simplicity

Ten years ago this December our lives were rocked by the abrupt passing away of my Grandma Linda.  Although I was raised by my mom, we were fortunate enough to have my grandparents take us in when we had nowhere else to go.  My mom was brave enough to forge a new path, instead of leaving us in an undesirable situation with my dad.  So for my entire life, from 5 months old on, I had the unique setup of having 3 people raise me.  Along with my younger cousin, Justin, who lived much of his life with us, we were an interesting family dynamic.

It's not that I felt like I had 2 mothers per se, but I do feel, in retrospect, that the 2 female roles were merged into this maternally intertwined duo.  My Grandma was very quiet, mild tempered, and oftentimes I feel she didn't understand her unbelievably amazing role in all of our lives.  As years progressed, certain traditions quietly emerged.  I don't think she was always trying to consciously create them, I think they just happened to fall into place as time went along.  Things like Blackberry Cobbler for dinner on Sundays.  I suppose she just liked to make it, since my Grandpa loved it so much.  There was Orange-Chocolate Fudge for my Grandpa on Valentines Day.  There was Emmy Lou Harris & many others playing on our record player as Christmas went on all around us.  There were chocolate cherries-a tradition Santa so generously took on after the passing of my Grandpa's mother--my Great Grandma.  There was Christmas dinner-with the same much anticipated food every year.  Traditions carved from the routines that brought joy & love into our home.

Every year it was my Grandpa's, Justin's, and my job to hunt for the tree.  We would stop at Campbell's Lot, near our house, and find the most Christmas worthy tree, look at the price tag, and my Grandpa would say "Hmm, maybe we should go somewhere else."  So every year we would trek to about 5 other places looking for another tree that measured up at a more appropriate price.  Hours later, we'd be limping back into the lot, hoping & praying that the tree wasn't taken by someone much smarter than us.  And every year Justin & I would feel this sheepishly guilty excitement that we'd talked Grandpa into the expensive but "Oh so perfect tree."  

We would go home, and there was the big box.  Decorations from the generations before us. A bird that only my Grandma was allowed to touch. "Filler" ornaments that somehow became memories in the process.  The ghosts of Christmas' past whispered through our hearts as we hung garland and tinsel, and wrapped the skirt and beads around the tree.

And yet, of all the traditions, all the memories, all the money spent through the years, there is only one tradition that will hold such a firm place in my heart, something I cannot tangibly pass down to my kids, nor can I really call it my own.  My memories involving the Christmas tree topper.

The story itself is so simple, yet the topper, oh my.  To the untrained eye, it is piece of heavy black construction paper wrapped in gold foil.  To me, it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life-the beginnings of this star-where it came from-how far it's traveled.  It is so carefully guarded-this star.  So lovingly nestled in tissue and placed in a box.  Every year as the tree was concluding it's makeover my Grandma would pull out the box containing this star, delicately remove it from it's safekeeping, and hand it to my Grandpa.  There was this look. This moment that I would catch. A brief yet everlasting second where their eyes would crinkle at the sides, and they would look deep into each other's eyes, and all the years-all the memories would pass through each other in that look.  They would smile in a way that I can't even begin to describe.  He would take the star and proudly place it at the top of the tree, onto the designated light bulb.  The lights would come on, and the whole tree gleamed in pride.  The star on top shimmering in it's golden magnificence.

You see, the story behind this seemingly simple star is this:  The first years of marriage were far from easy for them.  They were so poor that they couldn't afford much of anything.  One year after they had moved from San Diego to Missouri, the movers had charged them more than they were supposed to have.  They didn't even have furniture in their home, and they had very little of anything.  They couldn't even afford to buy a Christmas tree topper.  So instead, my Grandpa made this star, and it has stayed with them ever since.  Fashioned out of common household items, yet more valuable than anything else in that box of decorations.  It began as a symbol for their Christian beliefs-of that light that shone for the path to the baby Jesus. All this time later it began to reflect something more. A path taken by two people who loved each other so much, even when life was handing them hardships even at their beginnings.  As the years passed, they moved back to California where my Grandpa built up his business.  He survived the the recession, and was able to make quite a living for them.   All that time later, I know they could have bought something more fancy to place on the tree.  They could have replaced it a dozen times over.  Yet there is absolutely nothing that could ever be more beautiful or perfectly suited for our tree.

I have tried to emulate that over the years.  To find something of equal value-to create that memory for our family.  I just can't seem to do it.  It's funny how years later, I could be so envious of a memory I can't possibly attain. And one that has it's roots in poverty, no less.  

I miss my Grandma often, and so poignantly during Christmas time.  She was so much to me, and I find solace in it all by carrying on her memories with the traditions I can do. I have also created my own traditions along the way, and feel that by doing so I can give my children a piece of what I feel every time I taste that first bite of Blackberry Cobbler, or hear my Grandma's voice singing along with me to Emmy Lou Harris.  Because this really is what the spirit of Christmas is about.  Not the commercial version, but the true spirit.  This, after all, is what our fondest memories are really sparked from. 

Things Aren't Always As They Seem

Today I got a lesson in something I try so very hard to teach my children.  Don't judge a person simply by the way they look. Don't assume, and above all else, don't decide not to like someone based on these things you think are a certain way for a reason.

Every day I get so frustrated & angry at the neighbor around the corner.  Older man, but by no means frail or disabled.  Practically every day he goes down to the grocery store & comes walking back up the street with a shopping cart, usually with only one small bag. In my mind I'm thinking "Gosh dang it, buy a little personal rolling cart" or "What the heck?! Why can't you just carry your stupid bag!"   Of course, as time has passed, every time I see him, even when he isn't pushing that shopping cart I want to roll my eyes as I pass.  Being brought up with manners, I roll them on the inside, but smile on the outside-that vague "I don't really know you, lemme plaster a fake smile on so I don't show how rude I really want to be right now" kind of look.  Some days he smiles back, but most he just stares blankly at me.  Which, in turn, makes my smile that much faker.

Even today I saw the shopping cart collector drive up to the usual spot, pick up his cart, and quickly leave. My very 1st thought was "Gee, wonder what that's costing ME, the consumer, every time they have to pay this guy to get that lazy bum's cart."

Fast forward 10 minutes.  I hear sirens coming up my street, and stop in front of my Grandpa's, which is next door to me.  Instantly my heart is racing-is Grandpa ok? I can't see the man laying on the ground because my view was blocked. So I go over quickly & see this man laying on the sidewalk.  My cousin tells me he saw our neighbor fall straight on the ground during a seizure.  He called 911 immediately, and thus begins my humble reminder that I don't get to judge any more than I want others to judge me.

As the EMT's are assessing this man, it turns out that he has Alzheimer's, Dementia, and high blood pressure.  He is rarely coherent of his surroundings in the 1st place, and now, this poor man is being asked to lay on a gurney, strapped down, and be taken away.  He begins to cry out in Spanish that he doesn't want to go, and I hear the police officer reassure him that he is not in Mexico, and that he is safe here in America. This reassures him for a second, and then he begins to cry out for his mother.

I was just about in tears at this point.  This poor man.  And his wife, standing there trying to comfort him but knowing that it does no good, as he isn't responsive to her as well.  Her aloofness signals to me that he probably slips into a place she isn't at, and there is a sadness in her eyes as she tells the police  his conditions, and what causes him to be so against the obvious care he needs.

As they strapped him down, she chose to go home and gather a few things to meet them at the hospital, she looked up and thanked Justin for calling.  I wished there was more to do to help her, but I know she has family in the area.

Then I walked away, and the only thing I could think, was how could I possibly have judged this man.  I didn't know his story. I always try to teach my kids to look at the other side of things.  Play the devil's advocate, and never make a choice based on assumptions.  Seek out facts, and when you don't know them, be kind respectful and caring to those around you.  Life is too short to go around deciding things when you don't even know what it is you're deciding on.  Now to absorb this into my daily life again.  I hate when an example is made from someone, but I view this as an eye opener to how easily judgments slip through those cracks in our minds.  It's easy to be open minded about the big topics-race, sex, orientation, ageism. It's those little things-like this guy & his cart, that find their way in & erode the heart.

The man seems like he's going to be okay, for now.  When I see him again, all I can hope is that he is pushing that cart up our street. Because that means he's having a good day.

A letter to my youngest

Dear Thomas,


I know that you are younger, and this letter is more of something for the future..of course not for the now.  But there is so much on my heart that I want to get out now, so that when you get older, you can understand a little better who you are, and where you come from.  

You are such a magnificent child.  You are so full of life.  You throw yourself into your emotions-quite literally.  If you are feeling lovey you come running up, grabbing us and squeezing so tight, your little arms wrapping around our necks and you hold on with a love I can feel so strongly, even though you are so tiny.  When you are angry, you fling the object of your disgruntled inn-affection so far we seriously think that one day you might just be a pro baseball player.  You have such a big personality for such a teeny guy.  You. Are. Loved.


You may hear, throughout the years, my term "Bonus Baby" used to describe you. Although I'm sure you are smart enough to figure this out, and why you would be called this, I want you to hear from me, your mother. This is my side of the story. Because years can muddle memories, and time wavers the thoughts, I choose now to write to you.  The story of how you became my bonus baby.


I'm sure, as time passes, that you will learn that Andrew & Hannah's dad is not your own dad.  Although I never  think of you as their half brother, the term is there because you do have a different dad.  In this house, however, there are no halves.  You are entirely their brother.  However, before you were born, I was married to their dad.  We got married when we were young, had Andrew & Hannah, and then decided that we would have no more children.  I was okay with that fact, but felt the tiniest smidgen incomplete. I always felt as though somebody were missing.  For a while I looked into adopting, but it was so expensive that I knew right away that I couldn't afford to adopt.  So I continued my life, as the mom of 2 kids for quite some time.


For whatever reason parents divorce, Andrew & Hannah were left in the middle of it.  We were divorced when they were still pretty young, but old enough to understand everything that was happening.  As terrible as their dad & I felt for this decision, we knew that it was the best choice.  It was tough, but as time went on, we found a way to resume normalcy.  I had the luck of getting to fall in love with your dad.  We dated for quite some time, debating on whether or not to have another baby.  Andrew & Hannah were older, and I was used to having older kids, so the thought of having a baby was exciting, but scary at the same time.


Your dad & I had a small wedding ceremony, just a couple close friends and family.  Andrew was Steve's Best Man, and Hannah was my Maid of Honor. Afterwards, as planned, decided to start trying to have you.  What a lucky thing to find out that I was pregnant shortly after our wedding! You were so ready to become part of our family!  But oh boy, was I scared to death at the same time,


You see, as a mom, it is scary to know that you will be responsible for this small child..this person will need everything from you. Food, clothing, shelter, love, and basically, that their parents don't totally mess them up.  I was really worried that I wouldn't be a good mom to you.  It's irrational, I know, but what can I say?!


So as time went on, my pregnancy became part of the ebb & flow of our family.  I was tired often, and I think secretly..ok, it wasn't really a secret, but the kids rather enjoyed when I would fall asleep before it was time to pick them up from school, because I had this agreement with them that if I was late because of you making me tired, they would get a Slurpee.  Oh, did they get their fill of that ice cold treat! I was so tired.  Yet, life resumed.  Life was busy.  Between your brother, sister, and dad, I was stretched thin, but I was so happy to get to have you there along for the ride.


I got pretty sick towards the end of my pregnancy.  It was too early for them to deliver you, but you were old enough that it was a worry for you to stay in there if it got bad.  So I was in the hospital for quite a few days while the doctors helped me get better.  It was my 1st time I got to sit & really quietly enjoy you.  At the beginning of my hospital stay you were very inactive in there, because the amniotic fluid was low. But with each day that I got healthier, you got more & more spunky again.  At the end, I got another ultrasound picture, and you were so active she could barely get a clear shot of you! She wanted to get a picture of your face for me, and it was the toughest picture she said she'd taken in a while!


After I got better, our hectic life swarmed all around us.  


Yet, the day you were born, the world stopped for you.  It wasn't exactly an eventful labor & delivery.  You came pretty quickly once it was time.  I was in pretty easy labor for about 12 hourse, and  I pushed for a total of 8 minutes, and there you were-all 8 lbs, 3 ounces of you.  Screaming and angry that you'd been taken out of your cozy world.  


Your dad, for as much as he'd been happy to be Andrew & Hannah's step dad, had his flesh & blood lying there in his arms.  He couldn't stop being a proud papa. He was glowing, gleaming.  Fatherhood suits him well.


Andrew & Hannah were in the room that day also.  They got to see your firsts.  First gulp of air, first cry, first squirms and grimaces.  They got to hold you and they were so unabashedly in love with you.  Hannah was grinning from ear to ear, talking a mile a minute, taking pictures of you like you were a rock star she couldn't stop filming. Andrew held you close, and all he could say, over and over, was how happy he was, and how beautiful you were. Tears were streaming down his face, and I am literally sitting here crying as I write this, because it was singlehandedly, the most beautiful way you could have come into this world.


Even your name holds huge significance.  Thomas is the name of your great grandfather-your dad's grandpa.  Your Great Grandpa Tom was a huge part of his life.  Many of the reasons your dad is who he is today is because of the lessons of life his Grandpa Tom gave him.  So that is special for you. But also, the name Nash, as you have probably learned by now has great meaning too.

NASH:
Nancy

Andrew

Steve

Hannah

I wish I could take credit for this idea..but I can't.  Although your dad had said he wanted to give you the initials TNA-Total Nonstop Action.. So we went through droves of names starting with an N. Nothing seemed to fit.  Then, one day your Aunt Diana called & left a message on my machine "NASH! She said..it couldn't work better!" So your dad & I mulled it over, and the day you were born, it was most definitely decided..Thomas Nash Amaral. You had been the melding of two worlds.

You see, in my previous life-the one where you weren't there, life would have gone on.  I knew I loved Andrew & Hannah, and life was good as their mother.  Then, unexpectedly, I got this extra chance at motherhood.  You were the bonus to this mother's wonderful life. 




I love you, Thomas Nash Amaral, never ever forget that.


Love,
Mom

A letter to my eldest son

Dear Andrew,

Oh, Andrew, my 1st born, what can I say.  You are such a wonderful boy.  Generous, thoughtful, always putting others before yourself.  When you were just a little bitty guy, I used to always say that it was like you were an "old soul."  We would be out, and you would see another little kid crying, and you would try and comfort them.  You had this soft, gentleness about you.  So rare for boys, but you had it.  Even adults have always enjoyed you in their presence.  You seemed to click with adults when other kids weren't even halfway interested in the grown ups around them.  I have enjoyed watching you grow up, and love cheering you on as you accomplish so much by working so hard.

You are a perfectionist.  Such a common trait for a 1st born.  As a mom, I gotta say, it makes my job very easy.  I don't need to poke, prod, or force you to do anything, you just pretty much do it, without argument.  You are honest, kind, and loyal to this family & to your friends.  So it is also natural for me to worry boatloads about the outcome of this boy who is so easy to do what is asked of him.  He doesn't like to hurt people's feelings, and although that can be great, as a mom it has it's moments of scary :)  

Andrew, I want you to know that you are an amazing kid.  Don't ever let peer pressure dictate otherwise.  Sometimes it can be hard to not do what the others are doing.  To say certain things, do things that are questionable.  In a world where disrespect runs rampant, you are one of the few who still stands for your beliefs, but at a cost it seems.  I know you feel like the world is judging you, that to be good means getting labeled, and being edgy is cool right now.  I know that.. I remember those days vividly.  It's so much easier to just do whatever it is people are all doing, because you'll stay under the radar that way.  To stand out for being the "good kid" is sort of like throwing on some nerd glasses & yelling out "Hey everybody, I'm a mama's boy!!"

Don't cave..don't feel like you have to impress others.  Don't feel like you need to be anything other than yourself.  If your friends can't like you for who you are, then they aren't your friends anyway.  It's true.  True friends really do like you for who you are.

Treat others with respect, even if it's not what the cool kids are doing.  Be kind to others, and be remembered for being the kid who was nice, even when the others weren't.  Always remember that there is a flip side to every story.  Like the boy we see with his mom every day, remember that everyone has a story.  Or like the boy who was mean to you & poked you as you were walking.  We just don't know.  We really don't know who is in our midst, and what they are going through.

Treat girls with total and absolute respect.  It is a hard life for girls.  I don't know truly what you, as a boy, go through, but as your mom I can tell you with absolute certainty that girls have it rough.  Treat them well, never say mean things to them.  Respect them as a person, for their mind, their heart, and their souls, but also respect their body.  Don't be the boy that girl remembers as being the jerk.  Be the one they remember with a smile, even when they're all grown up.  Compliment them for the mere fact that you want to be nice to them-not because you want to convince them of something for your own selfish reasons. Never disrespect, make fun of, or treat a girl poorly- girlfriend or not.  Always...always give them total and complete respect.

But also treat yourself with respect as well.  Respect your body.  Remember that you only get one 1st.  1st girlfriend, 1st love, 1st kiss.  These things don't come back.  Make them memorable, and never settle just to squelch curiosity.  Make it count, and above all else, never go further than is respectful to you or the girl. Go for the girl who is good for you, not for your reputation.  Love who you love with all of your heart, and don't feel like there's some sort of masculine quota that needs to be met.  You'll understand this more & more as life goes on.  Just remember, if you're mom approves, she approves for a reason..not that you have to always seek the counsel of your mom, but I can tell you now that I'm truly looking out for your best interest, not mine, in your life, but I'll always understand if you don't always want my advice.

Surround yourself with people who care about you, and wish you well.  Keep your honor intact.  Never falter in your faith & values.  Keep your morals close, and examine them often.  If you mess up, confront it, look at it closely for what it was, learn from it, and move on to become a stronger person from it.

I know you so well, even if you don't always know you.  I am so proud to me your mom, and so thankful that God gave you to me.  I am the luckiest mom alive to have Andrew Austin Baird as my son, and I take that job seriously.  I want you to know that I loved you from the very moment I found out that you were just a little teeny thing, the size of a piece of rice.  I really went around telling everyone that! People gave me some strange looks.  But I did it all the same, because you were my little piece of rice.

I love you, Andrewski, and I always will.

Love,
Mom

A letter to my daughter

Dear Hannah,

My love, my beautiful precious daughter.  You are a light to the world.  Your graciousness & kindness shine out, and people always take notice of the wonderful girl willing to lend a hand, a hug, or a laugh.  Creative, witty, and charming.  Just a few of the words that can describe an indescribable girl.  

As you get older, you're going to learn so many things in life.  School, groups, friends..all of them will mold you & turn you into a productive member of society.  How to add, spell, and dissect a frog.  How to say the Girl Scout Pledge, tie a knot, and donate your time & resources to charity.  How to be have awesome slumber parties & make your mom crazy with the phone bill..

Yet, for all of these lessons, there will be one you'll take all on your own.  Who you are.  Not what you can do, but who you, Hannah Linda Baird.....are.  Friends, boys, parents, siblings, teachers, coaches, random strangers on the street.  TV stars, musicians, magazine ads, commercials, they are all squeezing, pressing, turning, shifting & molding you mentally.  They will tell you, both out loud and through subtleness what you should be, what you need to do to be you.

Our whole world is designed in a way that makes it so hard, as a girl, to thrive.  There are so many rules, so many things you're supposed to do to go with the flow.  You will feel judgement when you didn't even know you were supposed to be judged.  

Hannah, I want you to know that you are truly and completely loved for you.  Not for what I want you to be, but for who you already are.  Unconditional love is rare, but a mother is one of the lucky few who is blessed with it.  

Don't ever forget who you are.  Examine your core.  Keep it close to your heart.  Never settle.  Choose friends who share your morals and goals.  Friends who are not only there for you when you stumble, but cheer you on, even if they wanted whatever it is you've gotten.  Never let a boy dictate who you are.  Don't change for them.  Don't share yourself with any boy that doesn't totally and completely respect you.  Be picky.  Choose the ones who love who you are..who want to date you because they like you for you, not for something they think you are.

Respect your body.  It's yours, not theirs.  Keep yourself sacred, and don't cave to the peer pressures surrounding.  I promise you, not everyone's doing it.  Many are, that's true, but not all.  Some say they are, but they're not. Some really are, and they're hurting inside.  You'll be curious..you'll want to know, but you'll find out soon enough.  You only get one 1st.  One 1st boyfriend, one 1st hand holding.. and one 1st kiss.  Only 1.  Make sure, deep in your heart, that he is the one you want to remember these 1sts with.  Because, you will.  For the rest of your life, you will remember these things.  You'll want to look back on them with true beautiful sentiment.  

Never take yourself too seriously.  This life is fleeting.  There will be moments in life that you will want to take back.  You will want to hide in your closet & pretend like it never happened.  Don't.  Hold your head up high, and walk in the light.  I promise, whatever that bad thing was, it will pass.  People will forget, and you will go on with your life.  But learn from it.  Take it, examine it, and choose how you would do things differently.

Love your life, your friends, your family, and your beliefs.  Hold your morals above all else.  I've told you before, but I always want you to remember.. You are an honorable person.  You have your honor, hold it close to you, don't ever let it go.  Once you've broken that bond of trust, it's not easy to glue it back together.  It will take work. Lots of it.  Some people won't want to go through all the work, but you need to.  If you mess up, and you do break that trust, don't just throw in the towel..work for it! People are forgiving by nature, and if they aren't willing to forgive you, then it was for the best.

But, above all else, don't let the world mold you.  You mold the world.  Take it in your hands, shape it, twist it, turn in upside down, and be someone who, at the end of her life, is remembered for all the amazing & courageous things she did.  Give to this life all that you can to make it better for all those around  you.

Hannah Linda Baird, you were loved before you were born, and you will always...always be loved.  I love you, my little chickadee, and don't let anything let you ever think otherwise.

Love,

Mom

Just some thoughts, random but blogged, nonetheless.

It is the 1st day without Roxy here, and it is a strange, strange feeling. Of course, there's those momentary blips of forgetting. Like when the other dogs are taking a drink, and I have to double check to make sure it's not Roxy-she had a bad problem throwing up water after drinking too much, so we had to regulate her.

Or when I went to feed the dogs this morning, that "ugh" part of me sighed as I thought about fighting Roxy in her Bailey Chair...then realizing there was nothing to fight.

Then I remember what a life she had, and how much she really enjoyed this family. How, no matter what, I'm glad for the fact that she was ours and we were hers.  We used to go tell her to "go lay down with your boy" or "go lay down with your girl" when it was nighttime, and she would go in there every night & pick a room to sleep in.

It's a hard thing, losing someone, no matter how big or small they were, how much they talked or didn't, or how behaved or misbehaved they were..

Andrew's taking the day off to recuperate, and Hannah hasn't really dealt with it yet-I'm guessing it will take her own time, but I am praying that she doesn't manifest it into something odd, since her only request afterwards was to "go on the computer" after being told that she couldn't "go see it" referring to Roxy..not her, it.  :(

Steve took a piece of wood & carved Roxy's name, a heart, and a dog bone into it.  We'll be placing it on her grave tonight, as we were waiting for the paint to dry today.  It meant so much to me that he did that, and I think it was therapeutic for Andrew & him.  Hannah wanted to help but I don't think in the same way as a way of healing, though I'm sure it did help even if she didn't realize it.

I feel a shadow of guilt as I look forward to cleaning my carpets & not having to stress about dog puke all over it.  I'm also feeling bad that I'm looking forward in investing in some nicer floor mats, since Roxy had such a bad habit of always throwing up on them.  Guilt mixed with relief, really.

There's peace in knowing she went peacefully.  That those last moments were with her loved ones, in a state of euphoria as she passed away. It makes things easier than dying here because of starvation.  I know that, but gotta get my heart & my mind in sync for this one.  Guess that'll take some time.

So many thanks for all the support in this time.  It was such a help to know that I had good people surrounding us with their thoughts & prayers.

Roxy, Roxy, Roxy..

Andrew & Roxy. "The" Camping Trip
November 2009

Hannah & Roxy 2006

Thomas & Roxy 2010

What can I say about the "dumb dog" as we so often called her.  She really was.  Dumb as a box of rocks, but so in tune with other's emotions that it was easy to forgive her 5 minutes later when she was curled up in the kids bed, giving me that "I'm sorry, Mom" look.  Ohhh, the puppy dog eyes.. She had them down pat.

Roxy came into our lives a little shy of 7 years ago.  She was already 9 months old when we picked her up from the Humane Society.  She actually wasn't the dog I wanted.  I had been scouring http://www.petfinder.com to find that perfect pet, when I came across a feisty black lab that looked like she would be the most fun for the kids, and a great addition to the family.  The only concern for this dog was that she was a fence jumper & that's why the previous owners had to finally send her away.  However, this dog hit a spot in my heart that I just knew I wanted her.  So we all went to the Humane Society that day in the hopes of getting ourselves the perfect black lab.  Yet when we got there, the dog was already gone.  We were given the option of walking through the kennels, so we did just that.  All the dogs looked so sad but none of them seemed right.  Then, for the first time on the trip, the kid's dad was walking towards a kennel. "This is the one" he said.  So we took her to the little play yard, and we threw the ball with her.  She was sweet & kind, and the volunteer told us that she had just gotten there the evening before, and was probably a little shell shocked, but that by being there such a short time her disposition would have been only slightly altered, as opposed to a dog who had been there longer & sort of lost their spirit in such a sad, confined place.  So the matter was settled.  This dog, who's previous name was "Tiva Bear" (yes, please laugh..it's a horrible name) was now going to be ours.  The only thing was, we had to wait until "Tiva Bear" was spayed & brought up to date on all of her shots, so it would be 2 days before we could pick her up from the vet.

Excited with the new addition to the family, we went to Petco & picked out her collar, leash, and all the toys/food/supplies we would need for our newest family member..  The kids & I couldn't stop talking about her, and we all agreed that the name "Tiva Bear" was absolutely out of the question.  We knew very little about the dog, except that she'd been one of many dogs in the previous home, but that she was the only one brought in that day, due to the owner's "inability to provide good care to her."  We also knew that she had passed all of her "tests" with flying colors. She was great with other animals, great with kids..but one little thing-she did really poorly with the little baby test..where they stick one of those simulator babies in front of them & see how she reacts.  She apparently flipped out on that one.  But that was it..all we knew.  Nothing more. So we waited & contemplated name after name after name.  Finally deciding on Roxy Aloha..since I'd liked both names & our collar was Hawaiian inspired, and I have a fondness for yelling out first & middle names so often...Roxy Aloha was it.

The weekend passed sooooo slowly, and then it was time.  I went to the vet alone, since I knew she'd be scared & would want some quiet time to orient herself to us.  We got home, and the poor dog was throwing up the pain meds, so we decided to quit giving them to her.  Once she was off of the medicine, she became the sweeeeetest little dog ever.  To the kids.  To Garett & I, she was ornery & didn't listen.. She'd sneak Hannah's (and only Hannah's) little dress shoes out of her room (Hannah was 3 back then..imagine the cute shoes).  She'd gnaw on them until we'd see her and then the second our backs were turned she'd be in there again.  Oh, and that food we bought?  We'd bought the big big bag that the Humane Society had used.  The expensive stuff..yeah, well she was apparently allergic & got a big rash all over, itching & scratching.  So, to recap..1st week home, bad rash & throwing up.  This would be the story of our lives for the next 7 years..

She'd sneak into the trash-even knew how to open the cupboard for it.  She'd eat anything....anything.  We'd find random Nerf bullets, tennis ball fuzz, bits of Barbie doll clothes in our daily poop patrols.  I once found a box of chocolate pudding ripped up in the back yard that she'd gotten from the pantry, unbeknownst to me.  And how could I know..The laundry door had been closed & the pantry as well.  She'd pushed the door open, pawed the pantry open, gotten it, and found a little corner of the side yard to go to town on it.

She's wasn't potty trained in the least, and she'd get bouts of diarrhea during our food experimentation days in which she'd apparently freak out and start running around Hannah's room, and I mean ALL over..while we were sitting in the very room she'd be going outside to go..after we'd JUST tried to get her out.  She also had this obsessive licking problem.  I mean, obsessive compulsive licking.  She wouldn't stop..couldn't stop.  We'd be sitting on the couch and she'd walk by and just SLURP her way across us all, except sometimes she'd focus on one person, and no matter how many times you'd try & get her to stop, she'd compulsively schluuuuuurp that one extra slurp.  We called it "walk by lickings" I'd catch the kids letting her lick them.  They would never tell her to stop, so sometimes as much as 5 minutes would pass where she'd just lick & lick & lick.  UGH!!  It wasn't until I showed them documented grossness online that they FINALLY gave up on liking it, and stopped deterring my getting her to stop.  She also was a jumper, a rush out the door and two blocks away runner, a leash puller and heavy pawed, to name a few.  Oh, there were so many behaviors wrong with this dog.

Many of these things were worked on, many she was just to dumb to figure out.  Although I will never know for sure if it was ornery or dumb, really.  I know there was so much more I should have been doing with her.  So many training techniques that I never got down, but at the same time she just wasn't one to retain information anyway, and I was going through so much stress.  The second & final separation from the kid's dad, coupled with the fact that I was working odd hours as a waitress while also trying to maintain the feeling of a stay at home mom for my kids.  Trying to get it all done & never really having enough time for any of it. Plus, just sheer lack of commitment to such things from me.  I was bitter & angry.  This was my ex's dog honestly.  He'd picked her out & he'd wanted her. Now that he'd left he left me with the expensive food she required and the horrible behaviors, along with singlehandedly raising 2 young kids, maintaining a job & taking the kids to music, sports, school, helping with homework.  The entire thing.  So I sort of looked at her as a problem, and not much more, for a long time.

Luckily Steve was great with her.  Eventually getting her to stop bolting out the door or jumping on guests.  He knew what to do and although I didn't always agree with his methods, the outcome couldn't be denied-she was a much better dog, and I was able to enjoy her a little more.

However, many of the bad habits persisted.  One of them being a food thief.  If you left  food out, even for a few minutes, she would find a way to get it.  If you left the trash can cupboard door opened even a sliver, she'd get in there and rip up all of the food wrappers, eating every last bit of nasty disgusting food.  One time last year I had gone in to talk to Steve about something in the garage.  I couldn't have been in there for more than 5 minutes, really. When I came back to clean up dinner-there was the evidence.  There had been 2 boxes of pizza-one had 1 or 2 slices in the box still, and the other-an entire large pizza.  Both boxes were ripped from the table and all of the pizza eaten in under 5 minutes! Ugh I was so mad!!!

Then at night, as she lay with the kids, snoring I would see.  She was just a kid, like them.  Always had that mentality, never grew out of it.

There are so many stories..like the time we went camping last year.  Steve had lost his job, but we'd been saving for this camping trip, and we decided, since we had enough emergency backup money set aside, that we were still going to go on this trip to sort of mentally be relieved from all the stresses of closing down the business.  We also decided to bring both the dogs, despite the fact that we had a 5 month old.  I tell you, that dog was the only thing to go wrong the whole entire trip!  She chewed through the leash we had her tethered to (on an at least 20 foot runner!). She refused to go to the bathroom at camp or walking around on the leash, but there was no way we were going to let her off to go, since the one time we tried she took 20 minutes to explore, never going & almost getting us caught by rangers.  She wouldn't listen on walks, yanked my arm around, killed my shoulder. Every time we'd put her on her "gentle leader" collar she'd just gnaw on the leash or stop randomly, tripping me with the baby, so that she could try & pull it off with her paw.

On our way to the 2nd campsite, we had to leave her in the trailer as we drove.  It wasn't the ideal place, but it was all we could do for her, and she didn't seem to mind it, since we stopped often to check on the dogs. (Note, I said stopped often, stretched & tried to get them to go potty)  Well, when we stopped one of the times, apparently that 3 days worth of not going had taken it's toll on Roxy, and she went.  All. Over. The. Trailer.  It was so much pent up pee &  poo that it soaked through the carpet & got into the wood.  Steve ended up having to pull out that carpet, and we spent the rest of the trip cold with no floor insulation in November, and nauseous due to the smell.

Shortly after that, on one of our excursions, she ran so far away in a field and down a big hill that there was that brief second of "Should we leave her" followed by the direct thought "No, Hannah would kill us."  haha.. So we waited and called her and she finally came back, and from that point forward we had a hard time not resenting every little thing she did on that trip.

So as much as this dog has been great for the kids, as much love as she gives & how unconditionally amazing she is to all 3 of them, she has been a huge burden on me.  From the expensive food, to sneaking into everything, never telling us she has to go to the bathroom and just GOING right in front of us (I do, of course, take her out regularly, but sometimes she still of course has to go).  Between the stresses of divorce, a new baby, Steve losing his job, and the never ending whirlwind of activities around here, I felt guilty that a small wave of relief washes over me now.  It's awful.  I didn't even get sad until I made that 1st appointment. It all just felt so mechanical & I was overthinking the process.  But after that phone call to discuss options I sat there & cried, sobbed.  But now, now that we'd cancelled & the reinstated a time to euthanize her, I'm feeling frustrated at the level of absolute pain in the butt this dog put me through.

From the very beginning she has been an absolute chore to doggy parent.  She's stressed me out, made me want to beat her (and I'm not a beater, I tell you). Made me think it was time to let her go, then gave us false hope. Made me go back & forth with how much to take care of her & how much to just let go & put her down..made me have to decide that, even as she wags her tail, she's skin & bones and dying slowly from the inside out, with a cheery look on her face.  Forcing us to end her life way too prematurely, because of something that might or might not have been her own doing with all the bad behaviors over the years.

I know, I know I'll miss her.  I will.  As time goes on, all those memories of her will become whimsy & lighthearted.  The camping trip won't seem like it was such a big deal, and the way she drove me crazy will be romanticized into something resembling a liking for it.

I love her dearly, I do. I love the way she was a part of my kid's life, of mine. She helped them deal with the loss of their dad here every night-to cope with the divorce. She taught them discipline by caring for another being, gave them unconditional love, and opened up avenues that otherwise wouldn't be there for them now. She's been such an amazing dog for Thomas, too. Even though she didn't pass those tests at the Humane Society for little babies, it never showed up when we brought him home.  She was kind & gentle & has always been good around him.  I am thankful in so many ways for what she brought this family, and I don't doubt she was meant to be ours, but oh my, what a ride it has been.

Love

I can say, with perfect certainty, that my life is flying by faster than everyone else's. Okay. It's a tad unrealistic-as Father Time waits for no man, woman, or child. However, because of this crazy hectic family we have here, it feels like my life is whizzing by me. I try desperately to hang onto it. I frame my pictures & post little quips online about 1sts, lasts, and all that is in-between. I stop often, caught up in the moment we are experiencing, and watch it as though my mind can capture the moment forever in it's exact form. I sniff the air & touch the life around me hoping to capture the essence of every bit of it. Yet, somehow, the ability to truly slow things to a snail's pace is absolutely impossible.

I watch Andrew-the child in him slowly drifting away-leaving in my little boy's place, a man. The smallness of his feet replaced by something that resembles his father's. I can easily slip my foot into his shoes & they fit as though they are my own. His voice, although still young, is beginning to do that wonderful thing all boy's voices do. He answers the phone, and I hear him say 'No, this is Andrew-but here's Mom' & I know that he is in that in-between stage. The one where he doesn't sound like a little boy, but he isn't quite the manly man he will be any day now. Peer pressure now doesn't mean liking Spongebob instead of Dora, or ditching the lunch box for a brown paper bag. Now it means watching out for the big stuff-the stuff that will directly affect his life in a serious manner.

Then there's Hannah. Previously my little princess-waltzing about in her pink dresses, tights, Mary Janes, and immaculate hair. Now she steals clothes from her brother-loves all things hippies, and literally takes my breath away as I catch the glimpses of an absolutely gorgeous girl emerging. Not just a little sister, or a big sister-she is her own entity. A wonderful girl who, as the years have progressed, has realized the beauty of behaving, and has allowed me to simply enjoy her, instead of having to loom over her for guidance & corrections.

The two of them are almost too much to bear. As a mother, they are everything one hopes for. In those first weeks of pregnancy the only things you can imagine are all of your hopes & dreams-fresh and loving-pastels & soft fleece gracing your cheek as you imagine these beautiful beings growing in your womb.

And then, as a cherry is to a sundae, so is our beautiful Thomas, who has entered our family with the gusto of, well Tom Tom. At all of one years old, he has reached the age where we really get to know him. His personality so large and lovable, you wish he could have been born earlier, so that you could have enjoyed him sooner. His smile is contagious, his laughter intoxicating. he's a snuggler and a lover-he knows who he wants to hug & he will fight until he gets to.

In him I see all of us. Sometimes, for the most fleeting of seconds, my mind reverts to those little moments of Andrew & Hannah's babyhood, and it's like I get to be there all over again with them. Thomas is a gift beyond words, and for every moment I am with him, I am thankful.

I am a firm believer in destiny. In knowing that each path we take is for a reason. Sometimes, in life, just as everyone does, I feel as though a decision I have made has been the wrong one. Then, just as clear as day, I am given a sign that shows me I am right where I am supposed to be.

How is it that I am so lucky to get to be their mom? I am humbled by this, and thankful that I was entrusted the job of raising them. I vowed, the moment that I found out that I was pregnant with Andrew, that I would arm myself with all that I could to ensure his life was one of honesty, purity, and above all else, an environment he would be able to grow into a good, kind man. That promise has never been forgotten, and as Hannah & Thomas joined our family, the same promise was made to them as well.

I am, without a doubt, undeniably in love.

Feeling My Parental Age

There's nothing like a tween in your home to humble you into realizing you're old. Although my kids are far from the typical "Stay away you're embarrassing me, Mom" kind of kids, I know there's that line you just don't want to cross to get there.

One of our big things around here is music. It's almost always on now. It replaces the tv most days. We dance to it, clean to it, or just simply relax & enjoy it. Of course, big pop hits are an official tween anthem so naturally it is the biggest selection on our playlist. I don't mind-I love to bounce my booty to the beat of Black Eyed Peas "Imma be" while unloading dishes or belt out the "new" California Girls song that seems to be on more than most.. I've got a spatula and lots of enthusiasm.

Here's the problem..beyond there, I am in no way able to affiliate these songs w/anything other than my precious 12, 9, and 1 year olds boot scootin' through the house.. So when I went out with some friends last night & they wanted to dance I felt so ridiculous on the floor. I've always had a problem dancing anyway. Give me a few drinks & I loosen up enough to know that I'm not good, but suddenly I don't care. However, last night, being the DD and then on top of that hearing every single song that we have on our playlist I just couldn't turn off the nagging "Mom, you're embarrassing me" voice in my head. That, or I'd see people provocatively dancing to a song my little 9 year old sings better than the pop singer & think about her precious little face. Or Andrew & his friends changing the words to goofy ones instead. Or the littlest, bouncing up and down clapping with so much enthusiasm I can't help but laugh a huge belly laugh.

I'm old. I'm okay with that. My kids are the age viewed as what's new & fresh. Idea makers & style creators. They're what the pop music industry are targeting for album sales. I don't want to be the mom of teenagers who won't let loose the grips of the "But I was young and hip once too!" fears that so many go through. I am truly enjoying parenting my tweens & toddler, and although I like to go out-love to have "me" time, I don't understand dressing skimpy or grinding up to people I really don't know and would never see again. I. Just. Don't. Get it. Nor do I need to-I shall enjoy this second phase of my life & embrace friends, family, and a good song to scrub the pots & pans to.

Has It Really Been That Long?

Boy, I'm having a hard time believing it's been 4 months since my last post. I blame it on Facebook. I'm always on that thing! So, considering everyone I see is on Facebook & I'm assuming the pictures, etc. are just as easily accessed that way, my compulsion to over post about random nonsense is keeping me away from the blog. I'll admit it-Facebook, as addicting as it is, doesn't leave a lasting impression. My whole point to this blog was to be able to have a way to document the in's and out's of our family. So that years from now, when we're all sitting around wondering where our youth went, we can look to the blog!

So now I guess it is officially time to update this thing!

Hmm, life. Ours has been hectic, to say the least. Between Steve losing his business, looking for a new job, a baby growing up WAY too fast, and kids who keep me so busy with all the amazing things they're doing-I haven't had a lot of time to really reflect on it all. I'm so happy to report that Steve's new job is working out fairly well. I say fairly, because, let's face it-once you've been your own boss, it is very hard to turn back into a regular Joe Shmoe. He was telling me how his perspective has changed so much. He doesn't see things as an employee and it's driving him a little crazy to know that there's not much he can do to fix the little things that need it most. Like for instance-overtime. Really bums him out that he knows he could get a lot more accomplished if they'd give him some small amounts of overtime here & there. Rather than work by the job, it's work by the hour. So a job that needs only that extra 1/2 hour has to be put away early and returned to the next day. Unfortunately, in that process, he has to spend time putting it all away and then pulling it all out again. SO, it really ends up costing the company more. He's only allowed to put in 8 hours plus an hour lunch, so he's there a total of 9 hours-but the store is open for 10 hours with only 2 employees! I think he feels like, if he gives in to accepting that as norm, he loses that piece of him that he's worked so hard at. Being a tough it out, rough it out kind of guy who finishes a project once he starts it. We'll have to take it day by day and see where the world takes us, but I know he doesn't want to "work for the man" for too long. He wants to find a great location & get back to what he does so well.

On to kid news. The whole thing with Andrew's teacher has slowly passed. I still don't like her, and probably never will. Andrew has come to a place of acceptance and is now slowly beginning to understand, and in turn, like her. I still say he's crazy, but an opinion is just that, so I'm left grinding my teeth when he excuses her behaviors. ANYway. Other classes are going great. He is really doing well & I'm so proud of him! He's starting his last year of baseball for the Vista American Little League. After this he moves to Pony. He's still a White Sox player though-they don't move teams once they're in the majors. So season begins in March & I'm really excited to see another great year of baseball! Maybe the schedule won't be so exhausting, now that I'm not heaving my pregnant belly everywhere I go! :)

Hannah, of course, is doing great too! She has an amazing teacher this year who just loves Hannah to pieces. I couldn't be happier. She's learning at such an amazing speed, and I'm really impressed with her abilities. As all the statistics & theories for birth order go, Hannah is definitely not following the "norm" When she was younger, she would get so frustrated when Andrew would know the answer to something she didn't. She would get really huffy and say "Andrew is ALWAYS smarter than me!" I would stop, look at her, and say "Andrew isn't smarter than you, he's just had more time on this earth to learn more! The two of you are both smart, and don't ever think otherwise!" Well, I think she's finally seeing that as she progresses. Plus, I'm having Andrew help her more with the homework, instead of me doing it. I think it's good for the two of them to work together to find the solutions to her homework problems.

I am so proud of those two-They are becoming more & more comfortable with their roles in the family, and as they get older they only continue to get better! They help so much, love each other, and are getting along almost so well that I have to wonder if they remember that they are brother and sister! Also, I am so profoundly amazed at how well they have handled having a baby enter the picture. Thomas does make it pretty easy for them though-he just loves them to pieces & always has a huge smile when they are around. He brings a certain sort of unity to all that we are as a family. So, as cliche as it is to say-Thomas really, truly, completed this family.

I am beyond overjoyed at all the amazing things that lay before us, and can't wait to see what happens next!