Today we were supposed to be going to the beach condo we bought into with some friends a few years ago. Our hope was to rent it out often and make a profit. Well, it hasn’t rented much in recent months, but it rented for this week. The week we were supposed to go down and get some things done. Which stinks because we all really wanted to go. But in the long run it is good because that is what was supposed to happen. Oh well…

Maybe a few day trips can be fit into the week instead.

Oh, and i didn’t write the last post…  so if they sound worded differently than “me” thats because they weren’t me…  yeah, I know, that last sentence barely makes sense to me too….  time to retire for some sleep

I wanted to vote for Obama. I wanted to support the election of an African-American. In the end I did not help it happen, but I am glad we are where we are… I am glad for what has happened because of what it means.

The “tsunami” we are facing will be historical too. With so many democrats taking office we are in for a change… A big change. But I believe it will draw out a strength in Christians that has been sleeping for far too long. Prayer will be our saving grace, as it always should have been. I embrace this change, no matter what it brings. I celebrate with those of color who feel honored to call this day theirs. I believe God has put the man in office that He believes needs to be there. I am glad to live in this country for all the good it does stand for… no matter how hard it is to see at times…

ps> i know i lack eloquence, intellegence, and most of the facts… but this is the best i can do to share my opinion on a night where I can honestly tell my grandkids a story of being a part of history… significant history.

THE VIEW

Good food… Good conversations that course through me and bring me to life and reach into the things I have so little energy and time to talk of on a regular basis. And with my kids a thousand miles away… I had no one needing me to do things for them. No one waiting for me to step in and mediate a fight for which I have no interest in getting involved in but am involved in nonetheless. No one wondering why I am not getting my job done in time (like the clothes they need for whatever). No one looking for something I absent-mindedly put away to clear space, and thus my mind. A time to feel refreshed, unburdened, restful. I am so grateful. I ask myself over and over why I would be privy to such a luxury and there is no answer. I am simply just living my life. And now I am here on a plane (with OTHER people’s kids screaming) coming home from a weekend to remember… A new memory.

This was the kind of trip I would read of in a book and long to be those characters. I spent time doing things I don’t do at home: living with no schedule and no one to worry about but ME, walking on the beach and talking about deep things, eating out everyday at places of all kinds, hiking up steep mountains and seeing all of LA far below and the ocean in it glory (although, i had to imagine it because it was shrouded in clouds… a fire or just clouds.. whatever you get the point), listening to a person singing on the street for money, shopping in a make up store for like an hour and no one was waiting around impatiently as I found the right colors of eyeshadow, taking a nap for as long as i wanted in the middle of the afternoon… Ahh, it was definitely a vacation like none I have ever experienced before. Of course, not the BEST vacation because that would include Joe too! The best thing is that I did these things with the very same people that used to live near me and I would have loved to do these things with them back home, but the time never presented itself.

I shopped at the Promenade in LA. And went to dinner with a Darbs. We talked on the beach till we were shivering and starving. The next day we hiked and then I spent time with my younger brother and my sister in law. We went to Malibu (yes, that same Malibu for which the infamous Barbie doll was named after). We shopped where the stars shop and hung out in their favorite places. We even went on a little strand of a Malibu beach. Only I am sure we were the only ones who weren’t Latino! We kept missing the turns for the other beaches and tis was our last one in Malibu. So, we quickly left there since we could only walk about 20 feet and turn around it was that small. We then went to a much bigger beach where we walked and talked and laughed and shared. It was one of the best times of my life. I am usually not very connected to my family at home… For whatever reason, so this time was extremely special to me.

The only sad thing was that Joe was not there to enjoy it with me. He was sweating it out at home. Balancing all that must be balanced when alone as a father and tending to work as well as kids (and kids are a career in and of themselves!). Wow… I may not be as gracious as he has been. I would more than likely resent all the fun he was having and be upset that I was not having some too. Here is a little secret of mine… There is something that happens to me when I am home with my kids. I get sucked into a state of loneliness. Feelings of anger and disconnectedness with the outside world well up and I feel cheated by life and all the happiness that it can offer. I can’t snap out of it even if I want to. It hangs on me like a weight, an emotional weight. And I carry it begrudgingly around and torture everyone around who deserves nothing more than the sweetness that I should be able to provide but feel too defeated to give. Life can be so difficult, even when it seems it shouldn’t be. My life can seem daunting and hard to get through for reasons that my seem simple to others. But to me it’s hard. After all, no one else has to live in my mind or my body. And they are my reality. With their constant streaming thoughts of inadequacy and their constant unexplainable pains and aches (but the aches and pains are another story). It’s like some sort of brain washing occurs in those hours at home. I feel unable to control my mind’s thoughts (thoughts of loneliness, boredom, and frustration) and soon the torture they give me turns into obsessively needing to get outside, find a public place where maybe, just maybe, I can connect with someone about anything. Most of the time I get obsessive about clutter in the house… Like somehow that will relieve the stress of the daunting, snickering thoughts that drive me into a tail spin of everyone and everything being inadequate like me. The crazy thing is that actually it is everyday life sometimes. Joe can be no further than his office in the basement and I start slipping into crazy-stressed-out-mommy mode.

It should be known that I am doing exactly what I wanted to. I married a great man. I have a nice sized family. And I don’t have to work outside the home. A life that romantically seemed perfect growing up, but oblivious to what adults really do. But it should also be known that I climbed on board to this ship of adulthood and domestic responsibility under prepared. I don’t have a law degree, nor did I go through the grueling training of the police academy, but for some reason I am supposed to know how to break up a fight and find justice for all. This, my friends, is not my forte’. And so it makes my job stressful. Figuring out how to be just in the midst of a smack down in my living room (and stay sane at the same time) is like asking me to become a rocket scientist and draw up the plans right then and there. Sure, I can draw you something, but be forewarned it will not resemble what might be needed to get the job done. Nor, did I attend culinary arts school and learn the proper preparations necessary for a variety of meals that the doting mothers on television place before their always appreciative families. Oh, and it should be stated that I didn’t have a clue how to run a hotel with a laundry service either.

All that said, I have an amazing husband who diligently provides for his family and does more than I ever expect in ways of domestic responsibility (plus, he isn’t the one nagging about what it isn’t getting done, that’s me). But it must be known that while he is truly one of a kind, he’s not perfect of course! But perfect for me.

It must also be said that I absolutely love my kids. They certainly aren’t little monsters. They are just kids. Kids that are just as emotional as adults, only they act upon it. And the adults, who (should) know better, have to teach them how to stop. That way when they grow up they can teach their own little ones how to shut down those impulses and become civil like they should. But that can be draining… But I digress.

Whew. It felt good to get all that out! So, now, after a weekend of feeling like “me” again I am heading back home. The place where everything happens and where my life carries on and I jump into its river and carry along with it. The meals, the school volunteering, the soccer games and practices, the never-ending laundry and grocery shopping, the dusting, the vacuuming, the blah, blah, blah. (Breathe, I must remember to breathe.)

For now, I am reveling in the solace of being alone with my thoughts…. Which after a weekend like this can be nothing short of peaceful and rich in goodness.

(I wrote this upon flying home… I am too tired now to edit and make it clear. So, up it will go on the blog as is. Ce la vie! Or however the heck you spell it.)

THE HIKE

THE LITTLE BRO

THE MALIBU BIT

That happened to me today. My husband had sent the kids outside to play and then said I should take a look at a letter from my kids’ preschool. It arrived in the same 5×7 manilla envelope all of the school materials arrive in. There in among the papers was a letter to all the parents.

(Let me forewarn you all this is a long scatter-brained entry, so be prepared, it isn’t totally cohesive… and definately more for my own needs… to hash out things in my head)

Now, it wasn’t the first time the school sent out a letter to let the parents know of a critical change happening with the school (it has happened twice in the past 5 years. Usually these letters are in reference to a teacher leaving). So, I said to myself “Great. Who’s leaving NOW??” A about a year and a half ago the school had lost two great teachers within 1 month of each other due to job changes with more pay that they both really needed. It was a shock since one of the teachers was my son’s former kindergarden teacher (she was great) and she left during Christmas break (through a letter, of course… guess THAT’s not so great, though, huh?) never to return.

Anyway, this letter was from the head teacher and owner of the school, Marilyn. A woman who I have entrusted my children with because she is one of the sweetest, and kindest people I know. She runs her school very well, and has made my children feel so loved and important. She has greeted me every school day with a smile and welcome arms for my kids. This letter was from her as an individual, not as a teacher. She was letting us all know that her warm, laid back summer was coming to a screeching halt due to the fact that she was diagnosed with lung cancer. She isn’t a smoker, and gave no other information than that. She’s in her late 60′s and has seemed healthy since I have known her. This was a true shock to me. Now I just am dumbfounded. How do I imagine her with her hair falling out and her weight dropping? How do I imagine her keeping her cheerful spirit when her body is racked with pain? What if I have to tell my kids (two of which who have had her for two years or more) that something horrible has happened to this woman they care so much about? What if they are shocked and have questions I can’t answer? She sounds hopeful, but has made all the necessary plans to cover all the needs at the school.

I lost a friend to breast cancer last fall. Two of my close friends have parents battling cancer at this very point in time. Three different people from my church had cancer in the past few years. My uncle had kidney cancer last year. What gives? It just seems like it is inevitable. I am so thankful that it isn’t someone in my family. I am blessed that close calls with bad health have never been anything but that.

Let me digress… I remember asking my mom about her parents… Her mom, Lydia… A woman I never met. I remember my mom saying, “oh, she died before you were born. I was 38.” Or my dad saying something about his parents in the same way.

I feel like these years I am in now are going to be filled with changes that my younger years shielded me from. Changes that alter everything… Changes that solidify relationships because you are there through the tough times with the people you care the most about. These are the years where my friends may bury their parents. These years are the years I buried friends. These are the years I have buried friends babies. These are the years that seemed so far away just a decade ago.

I have been on a “journey” for a while now. Mono, panic issues, allergies, and now asthma. Since last October I have been sorting out a lot of stuff. With panic issues you get caught up in fear of your health, mainly because you don’t breathe deep enough to keep the oxygen levels correct in your brain. Which then spirals you into thinking your dying of something… a heart attack, cancer, tumors, what ever your mind can think of to explain why you feel so lousy. Sometimes your reason to start breathing wrong is simply asthma. A treatable thing. Sometimes its a deeper lying issue waiting to surface and be recognized… analyzed… For me its been both.

I went through a really hard epiphany last winter. I realized none of my grandparents lived past 82. My parents are beginning their 70′s. What will this decade bring? What of the next? (I realize the morbidity of such a thought. I understand the gravity of the emotions felt when a subject so sensitive is brought into the light). Tough emotions are bound to surface as time plays on and life carries on as it always has… Birth, living, dying.

Right now my kids look at me as the grown-up… The one who is supposed to have the answers that help them sleep better and at peace. They are the age I was when I looked at my parents and listened as they told me the stories of people I never met… Their parents… The same age as when my parents calmed me down after a bad dream. When did I grow up? It is like the secret of grown-ups is that they really have no idea what will happen next, but all they really know is a soothing voice, reassuring this little person staring up at them with complete trust, is all they need.

Marilyn is a strong woman and I know she will put up a good fight, and she may win. But these are the years when simple answers are no longer in my grasp… The years when joy and mourning flow into each other… The years that continue to make me into whatever I am to be at the end… The years that seemed so far away, but came all too soon.