About Spring + photos

May 8th, 2013

Don’t you just love Spring? I do. What do you love about it (if you do)?

Maybe it’s cultivating the areas of your yard that seem to kill off everything you attempt to plant in that given area by completely replacing the soil and planting a shizload of delicious and healthiful fruits. *Fingers Crossed* Please don’t die.

Maybe it’s the greeting you receive from an old friend.

And admire its cousin, who idly stands by ready for the same admiration. You beautiful thing, you.

Or perhaps it’s seeing it all from a different angle and being reminded to look up every once in a while.

And I can’t forget how much fun it is to see plants you’ve never before grown, germinate and sprout. I dream of what a yummy tasting summer it will be with these beauties growing in our own backyard, thanks to my little one who wanted to grow corn this summer. I know, CORN!

Also, watermelon. I’m officially turning in my black thumb for a green one! w00t! (also w00ting just totally dated me, but I don’ts caresszzzz.)

Finding new friends in your own backyard…

…and daydreaming every night with the same little one about whether our new friend has turned into a butterfly yet. And where? And how? And what does he eat? And why are all caterpillars boys and butterflies girls?

But maybe, it’s celebrating an anniversary a tad different this year.

But a little more on that later. But look! That five-point star right in the middle of the flower sealed the deal, for this Cherry Blossom beauty.

We’ve got our gardens in full bloom right now, and it all smells divine. My little one and I take daily strolls around our neighborhood and I constantly stop at every flowering bush, tree, and garden to smell those delicious flowers. Winter’s over folks! If you’re on instagram find me: @findmimi, and post some Spring-y photos and tag me! Use the hashtag #mimilovesspring so that we can all share and maybe find new friends along the way. :)

Cheer, friends! Happy Spring! (Almost summer! Eeep!)

Because depression needs to have a face.

March 23rd, 2013

So, it’s been a good minute since I’ve written anything of value (if I ever write anything of value) and I guess the only reason I’ve got is that there is only so much patience a person has for the sad/heavy stuff before they start to get annoyed and I was afraid to bore you. I wasn’t sure how to let everyone in without sounding like a complete victim. So I stayed away for awhile. Believe me I really wanted to spill it while it was all happening.

I was on a run yesterday, the first in a really long time. I had attempted a few runs last summer but most ended in a sobby blubbery mess, so I quit doing it. But yesterday I felt a motivation I haven’t felt in a while, one that felt like this would be different.

I have a favorite route that I decided to take. The first mile and a half is a hard incline and at the top is a gorgeous view of the mountains. Stables and horses, and an orchard set the atmosphere; it’s peaceful and beautiful, especially at sunset. The third mile is all downhill. I can’t really explain the liberation and sense of accomplishment that comes from a full throttle run toward sunset after a hard battle but it’s a great feeling of appreciation of being alive and in that moment.

The music blares in my ears and I set off, half expecting the same result I’ve had but I eager to just get out there. It feels good, familiar. And I hear this and it takes me back. I hit the pavement, ignoring the bite that is in the air, it’s got my attention and I listen. I hear it. It is me. The story, the bridge.

Standing where I am now, standing up at all

For whatever reasons, and I’m sure my therapist has a list, my miscarriage last year completely leveled me. It destroyed me head to toe, inside out. Can you visualize an imploding building? That was me. I was emotionally bankrupt, too hurt to see past the hurt and mentally exhausted. If not for a few people that cared enough to see the hurt that was behind the shell and supported how much help I needed… well, honestly I’m not sure where we’d all be today. I’m lucky that we all made out ok.

I was used to feeling like I was never gonna see myself at the finish line

We.

Because it affected everyone in this house. Not just me. I like to think of it like a drop of ink in water, it starts small and in one spot, but pretty soon the entire glass of water will be black.

The word depression evokes different feelings from different people. Sometimes it’s used as a descriptive term; an emotion, like being sad. It’s been thrown around so much that the weight of what it is, in some ways, has been lost. That’s fine. But when I say depression here, what I mean is the clinical term. I’m talking the down and dirty depression, the diagnosis. The kind that, for some people, ends in a very sad and tragic way.

Hanging on to parts of me, hanging on at all

The only (and I do mean the only) reason this story does not end in that tragic way is because I couldn’t bear the thought of my boy feeling or thinking that I didn’t love him enough to stick around. That he wasn’t worth it. He most definitely is and I’d be damned before I let him feel like that, but I can’t say I didn’t also feel resentment for being stuck which only fueled the guilt fire and made me feel more out of control because I couldn’t find my own footing. It spiraled and spiraled and I’ve never felt more lost and alone than how I did then. My own self-love vanished, and I didn’t know how to cry out in any other way than in the ways that I did. It was not nice and polite. It was raw and it was real. And I needed help.

I was used to seeing no future in my sight line

I hated myself for feeling the way that I did. The little love I had left I gave to my boy and friends. Whatever was left (which admittedly was not much) I gave to my husband and I had none left for myself. I’m not saying that anything I did was right, this is just how it all played out. I felt like I was at the mercy of this thing that was in my head. I couldn’t do anything without making it worse. So I just gave up. I gave up. I had nothing to offer anyone, not even myself. I stopped living. I was a shell. I felt nothing and I cared about nothing, I was nothing. I was vulnerable and paranoid. And I couldn’t stop my head from spinning.

Sometimes it feels like they wanna remind me
Send all those villains after me

You are in control of what you think and how you feel. If you want to be happy, just decide to be. Unfortunately, that is not the case with depression. The thing that is important to understand about depression (and what I’ve learned from doctors and experts since), is that it exacerbates the parts of one’s brain that is responsible for emotions like anger, sorrow, fear, paranoia and the parts that are responsible for reasoning, logic, decision-making, and positive-thinking fall asleep. Obviously there is plenty that is not understood, and more out there than just this clear cut definition, but for the sake of this post, we won’t dive in too deep.

I could not help myself. I could not help myself.

This thing that invaded my head was a liar. It made me feel worthless, I was unable to logic myself out of any kind of thinking. My future stopped. I felt hopeless. And if you can sit and think about just one day without a bit of hope or a different tomorrow, you quickly find no reason for your existence. What, you begin to ask, is the point of even being around. And I wished I could just disappear. I wished and prayed for someone to take me out of the game.

Rustin and I were not well, we were the opposite of well. We could not get along. Not necessarily as a result of this, but it didn’t help. We were hurt and angry and bitter, and suffering in our own ways. We messed up and messed up some more and made things worse until we were at a place where something had to give. As a last ditch effort to save our family, we saw a therapist. It was the final straw, the thing that would decided if we were going to make it or not.

I’m not their hero
But that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t brave
I never walked the party line
Doesn’t mean that I was never afraid
I’m not your hero
But that doesn’t mean we’re not one and the same

I knew that if I didn’t do something, my family would fall apart. It already was. My husband and I were on the brink of divorce and I couldn’t live with the weight of everything, my family, my pain, our marriage, sitting on my shoulders anymore. I would not let my emotional instability be the reason our family fell apart. And so despite my cloudy thinking, I decided that I wouldn’t give up until I felt I had rung every last bell. So I walked into our therapist’s office and told her that I wasn’t ok, that I needed help. Words I felt I had said a million times to a hundred people, but I gave it one more go. And she referred me to the person that would ultimately save our lives. Mine.

Feeling like I am now lighting up the hall

We worked hard, she and I. I dug deep. I was in it for a tomorrow for my family, with or without me. Even if it did all fall apart I couldn’t allow them to make excuses for me, they wouldn’t be able to say that I didn’t do everything that I knew how to do or seek more answers when I ran out of those. So I drank every bit of water which she lead me to, and it didn’t get easier to swallow. Sometimes. Sometimes I felt like she was the only person who wanted me to be healthy (again, the liar). I was constantly working, running my wheels and most of the time it didn’t make me feel any better. I felt the same. And I couldn’t understand it. She was encouraging and had nice things to say, but there wasn’t anything she could say that would make me believe her. I believed I was a horrible person for feeling the way that I did over a little miscarriage and creating this massive mess in my wake. I took responsibility for everything that had happened to us. I felt the world’s problems on my shoulders. I belittled the heaviness that had happened to us and I ridiculed myself for being “sad”. I was mean to me.

I was used to standing in the shadow of a damaged heart

Aren’t we all? It wasn’t until I learned how to be my own best-friend that things started clicking slowly. I had to learn how to be nice to myself, to forgive myself. That was hard. I was so used to exercising the other part of my brain, and working myself up to being kind to me was like learning to walk all over again. It’s easier now. I still catch myself sometimes when I get too hard on myself. Can’t stop working out the right muscle or it will go weak again.

I never thought I would be out of that horrible period in my life, it seemed like it would last forever. It did last forever. It was dark, it was scary, it was lonely and I don’t want to do that again. I got the right treatment for my depression. I’m one of the lucky ones that got a diagnosis and got the proper treatment on the first go. I’m not saying it was easy. It was the opposite of easy, and it wasn’t a fast turn-around either. Before this I merely mused that I suffered from depression, but a diagnosis made it real. Instead of shame, I felt relieved that I finally had a name for this. I have control again.

Learning all I know now, losing all I did. I never used to feel like I’d be standing so far ahead.

I had to face the reality of losing everything in order to save myself. I didn’t know that I had to save myself in order to save my family. I had to be selfish and work on myself and hope that everything else wouldn’t fall apart while I did. I didn’t know it at the time but that little baby, and my boy, saved my life.

I come up around the bend and see the beautiful sunset and houses below me. People are taking their afternoon strolls with their families as I run by. I am here and this is real. They acknowledge me and offer warm smiles. If they only knew, it wasn’t long ago when I didn’t feel worthy of accepting their smiles.

It was a hard incline but in that simple moment, with just my running shoes, I recovered that last piece of myself that had been missing. A sense of pride for keeping our family together and not settling for a half-life. I did that. With help, yes. Together, all of us, in a lot of ways. But I could finally take responsibility for the parts that were built from my own hands, I helped to create something good. And that feels good.

I realized that the thing that had been going wrong all along, that which made my runs unsuccessful and the reason why I couldn’t pick up my camera anymore, was a collision of a former self and a past self that couldn’t connect just right. I can’t recover that person I used to be. I could never be that girl again. The sense of loss is real to me, future and past; I could lose everything at any given moment, it happens. I’ve been changed too much. And when the two selves collided they crashed, hard. What had been missing was the bridge that connected the two. Forgiveness, acceptance, and love for me.

It comes in different forms. It is the motivation to lead a healthy lifestyle, it is standing up for yourself when you need to, it is speaking up about your needs and desires. It is the decision to make a difference in the world and believing that you can. All of these things and more, are a gentle nudge in your own direction.

Sometimes it feels what I recovered you lost
Sending your peaceful loss to me

Depression is ugly. It’s an invader of families. An invader of life. It undervalues the beautiful aspects of life and in place of one’s best self it leaves the ghost of one’s worst self x 10. It’s an ugly cycle that will continue unless it is interrupted. It must be interrupted or it will never go away on its own. Like diabetes, it must be treated. Not necessarily through medication but through some form of treatment. It’s a disease. And it’s real. Some people can’t just choose to be happy because they don’t have the ability. It’s not an excuse, it’s a disease and it’s real.

Sometimes it feels like the side that I’m on
Plays the toughest hand, holds the longest stand
Sometimes it feels like I’m all that they’ve got
It’s so hard to know I’m not what they want

If this at all sounds like you, I can’t be your hero but let me assure you that there is more for you. The sense of control that you’ve lost is there, you just need a hand. Don’t do it for you if it’s too much. Sometimes doing it for someone else is the little push we need to make the best decisions for ourselves, even if we don’t realize it at the time. And that applies to everyone in some ways, not just those dealing with depression. You can be your own hero.

I’m not their hero
But that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t brave
I never walked the party line
Doesn’t mean that I was never afraid
I’m not your hero
But that doesn’t mean we’re not one and the same
I do my best to walk the finest line
Till I’ve had all that I can take

I am not any different than anyone else on this planet. Had I not revealed this part of myself you wouldn’t know it had taken place. I don’t have a constant rain cloud over my head like the commercials would have you believe. I am normal. I try to be a decent human, just like everyone else (well except the serial killers). And I screw it up, just like everyone else. Just like normal people do. I put my kids first, just like you moms out there. I compete with myself, just like you athletes. And I hurt sometimes, just like you humans.

On this day, the anniversary of our first miscarriage, we will not mourn the little lives lost or remember our battle last year with regret. We choose to be thankful for the chance that we’ve been given to recover ourselves and do things right. There is plenty to celebrate and today is no different than any other day. We are together and I can’t find a better reason to kick up our heals and rejoice in that. I’m not saying we’ll make it through the day without feeling a sense of loss, but if it happens we’ll do it together.

Together. And here.

Cheers and happy Saturday, friends.

**************************************************************************************************************
Music: I’m Not Your Hero
By: Tegan and Sara

I’m not their hero
But that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t brave
I never walked the party line
Doesn’t mean that I was never afraid
I’m not your hero
But that doesn’t mean we’re not one and the same
I do my best to walk the finest line
Till I’ve had all that I can take

What “Twilight” taught me.

March 14th, 2013

Yes, the Stephanie Meyer books. What could these, um, not-so-literary-genius books have taught you?, you seem to ask. And let me say, before we start, that if you are a die-hard sparkly vampire wish-head you will not like, and will completely disagree, with what I’m about to say so you should probably quit reading now to save yourself from hateful emotions (because those are bad!) or before commenting that these books are better than anything Poe wrote (because you are wrong!). So quit it!

I’m a reader. I’m on a constant lookout for new books to dive into. I love everything about books. I love the way they feel and the way they smell. There is nothing more exhilarating to me than opening a new book, and nothing more lonely than closing that last page of a great book.

I love books.

You read that right, books. All inclusive. Even the bad ones.

How can you appreciate a bad book, you ask? Like this, Stephanie Meyer taught me that life is too short to continue reading a lame book; there are far too many books on the shelf.

Once upon a time, I read all 3 (or is it 4?) Twilight books because I considered myself a “dedicated” reader. I finished every book that I started, even if I lost interest halfway through. I hoped that the hype I kept hearing about Twilight would pay off somewhere. Yea, it never did for me and instead it left me angry that I’d wasted any time on them at all. But, I justified, I wanted to give them a fair shake and form a proper opinion.

Now, listen to me, I totally get that what is a bad book for me is a good book for another. I get that the topic is subjective. So I’ll save defining my version of a bad book for another day. But basically, be original, be smart, and don’t try too hard. You can guess where Twilight missed the mark right? And don’t give me the excuse that these books were intended for young adults because J.K. Rowling wrote for CHILDREN, and what she produced were some of the most cleverly witty and creatively original books I’ve ever, EVER read. And not DUMBED-DOWN. Bah.

I’m getting to my point. Today marks a new day and therefore deserves a place in my archives for eternity! For the very first time in ever, I have closed a book halfway through a read. I have never, ever done that before today. So thank you Stephanie Meyer for helping me see the light. I refuse to spend another minute on a terrible book. And I don’t care to form a rounded opinion about the hypey ones anymore, a bad read is not worth it! I’m only sad that it took me so long to get a friggin’ clue.

So this. It wasn’t so much the not-so-subtle nods to characters of the bible and their strangely young and annoying libidos (which is clearly a ruse to get someone’s goat) but when Sylvia Day began name-dropping, I quit.

This is the first of a trilogy and I don’t even a little bit care about how this all plays out. And I really don’t mean this as an insult at all, but if you are a Twilight fan you will probably like this book. Plus, there’s premarital sex with Cain and a woman named Eve!!! Where are my Freudian followers at? So very oedipus, also incestuous (my auto-correct kept trying to change that to ancestral. :) That too, auto-correct. That too.) since she also has the hots for Abel. Yep. I’m giving away a copy for those of you interested. :) No judgement. There are also werewolves, see like Twilight! (And what they have to do with the bible I’m still not sure.)

But on to better books…

These I quite enjoyed, and one that is not in the photo because it was purchased in iBooks, is Dark Objects by the same author. All page-turners and quick reads and thriller mysteries. Mucho like for their originality. Well done, GF.

Now that I’m done, it’s your turn to tell me some not-so-stellar books YOU’VE read recently. And, in your opinion, what made them bad? Also, since I’m currently between books, I am looking for some recommendations… for good books. :D And if you say 50 Shades I will cut you. (Although I’ve heard that “Between Shades of Gray” by Ruta Septys is quite wonderful and, incidentally, has absolutely nothing to do with BDSM or the 50 Shades books. Have you read this and did you like it?)

Ok, now I’m really done. Books, books, books.

Cheers friends and happy Spring!

Happy Birthday to me + 30 Before 30 revisited

January 8th, 2013

As we sat in the car driving to a destination unimportant in the telling of this story, it struck me, a moment of sheer magnificence, “We’re doing a couples goals list this year!” Why didn’t I think of this sooner? It’s bloody brilliant, I thought to myself, smiling on the inside for being so clever. I could see the shiny “Best Couple Ever” trophy sitting on our mantel now. It was beautiful. And then I saw his face. No, THE face. The one that said, Why can’t I have a normal wife? And then a softening of the eyes occurred as I hurriedly tried to recover, “No… it’ll be a silly/funny list. One that includes stuff like toilet-papering someone’s house or getting arrested… although that one’s not really funny at the moment, but it’ll be a funny story to tell later!”

“You want to get arrested?”

“Only with you, and only if it makes you laugh!”

He conceded.

And that is how my bloody brilliant idea of having a Couples Goals List was born. He happily warmed up to the idea when I promised he wouldn’t have to take dancing classes with me. :) Oh, and if you get toilet-papered this year… it was totally not us, but don’t call the cops because getting arrested didn’t actually make it on the list! Please and thank you.

Speaking of lists…

Last year I made a list called my 30 Before 30 List (recently updated with the things that I accomplished). I didn’t do very well at all, it sorta fell off the priority list, sadly, so I’m calling a re-do because I’m so sure I can do better! I quite enjoyed accomplishing the goals that I did meet and tracking it was extra fun. So much so, that I think I may do one for every birthday. I’m calling this one my 30 FOR 30 List. See, totally different. Some items which didn’t get crossed off I recycled, others I adjusted to a more realistic goal {Like my reading goal, really? 30 books! Sheesh.} and most are totally brand new. I have until my next birthday to complete the items on the list. :)

Ready? This year I am going to:

*Read 16 books
*Try 30 new foods
*Meet 30 people
*Take family photos for each season/big holiday
*Plant a vegetable garden and keep it alive. All season.
*Take a themed photo once a month (I am going to need some volunteers for this one… )
*Attend Lavender Days
*Attend the Tulip Festival
*Visit the Spiral Jetty (Road trip, anyone?)
*Go on a hot air balloon ride
*Swim with dolphins
*Host a dinner party
*Completely decorate the dining room
*Order and hang at least one large canvas print
*Date with my boy once a month
*Take Yoga for a month; at least once a week
*Have a penpal
*Volunteer at a homeless shelter/soup kitchen (family)
*Create a new jam
*Enter said jam in the county fair (And get the blue ribbon!!!)
*Visit The National Holocaust Memorial Museum
*Run a 5k in 27:00
*Print and frame more photos; especially of me and Rustin.
*Face a fear
*Carry Li’l Squish in my purse at all times (Don’t worry, Li’l Squish is not a pet. It’s also nothing gutter-worthy you dirty-minded people!)
*Take more video
*Journal twice/week
*Finish knitting Rustin’s sweater
*Discover a new talent
*Attend a concert

Oh, and for my birthday this year… this!

Aren’t my boys the best!?!?!

Cheers!

Happy New Year from The Jessens!

January 1st, 2013

Who’s happy to say good riddance to 2012? These folks right here!

Happy New Year from us to you!

May 2013 be gracious and sunny to you and your family. Be kind to others, eat good food, and relish in the silliness every now and then.

XOXO,
The Jessens

Another little life lost.

December 29th, 2012

Some of you whom follow Rustin on FB already know what’s been happening. Most of you that follow me on Twitter and IG are probably annoyed at my very vague posts (I hate vague posts too), and so you’ve followed a magical little link to get the skinny on the happenings. I don’t blame you, I would too.

Well here’s the skinny. Last Thursday I woke up expecting to see a bouncy little 12-week old fetus on the big screen. What was once a strong and healthy heartbeat, though, had stopped beating around the 10th week.

My midwife chatted over options with us, though I was barely listening. And when she left the room to give us a minute to digest the information I told Rustin I couldn’t do it naturally again, he agreed. We chose to have a D&C done and it was scheduled for just a few hours later.

After a second ultrasound by a different doctor confirmed the same findings we went ahead with the D&C. I woke up from the anesthesia and cried. It was over. Glad that I had slept through the whole thing, but sad that it ended the way it did.

And here we are again… but not really. This time we are sad but not devastated, and we’re determined to keep it that way.

So what now?

Now I recover from the procedure, which shouldn’t be too long. As scary as a D&C sounds it was much less painful emotionally and physically than having to do it naturally, though right now I feel like a very strong mean man punched me right in the gut. Overall, and as awful as that decision was to make, it was the better option for me/us.

Emotionally I’m ok. It sucks and it sucks and it sucks, but I can’t let the sadness take over again. While I don’t believe that the reason we’re having to do this again is because I’ve wished on more than one occasion for a re-do, I am determined to do it better than the last time.

We are still going to try for more babies. And you’re wondering what the hell is the matter with me… well, I wonder that too. Until twenty experts (maybe 50) tell us there is absolutely no way we can ever have more children or give us a reason to stop trying, we won’t give up. I was contemplating asking for a hysterectomy while I was still with my midwife (even though I KNOW it’s not elective) but still, the thought crossed my mind. The moment my head was screaming I CAN’T DO THIS AGAIN, I CAN’T DO THIS AGAIN, she looked at me and said, “Don’t give up.” She read my mind and she’s right. I shouldn’t give up. And we won’t.

We’re watching tons of movies to keep ourselves distracted.

My depression won’t get the better of me this time. And while I don’t have complete control over that, I have a better understanding of the illness and my triggers, and thankfully have an ace-in-the-hole medication that both puts me to sleep and levels out my lows. One day we’ll chat a little bit more about my experience with depression but for now I’m just going to apologize in advance to those who follow me on both Twitter and IG for posting random (and possibly annoying) positive thoughts/photos. You may have caught a taste of that already. Sorry. But I’m not really. It’s something I need to do to stay in a good headspace. FB’rs… sorry, I’ll probably take a break from y’all for awhile, so thank your lucky stars you’ve been spared!

I’m still not sure what to make of all of this, so if this post sounds to-the-point and detached… it’s probably because I am feeling a bit detached and numb still. I’m also on some good-feeling meds.

And the thank-you’s begin… !

A decent author does not begin a book without acknowledgments (ok that’s not true), and so I can’t end this post without a few thank you’s. Already, I am humbled and feeling incredibly grateful for the people that have reached out to me, messaged me, called me, texted me, brought us dinners/lunch, watched our boy, checked up on us and have worried about us all without me not having shared a word. This could be so much more difficult without you. And because each and every one of you has cared enough to do what you do… well, I’m not sure how to thank you enough, individually and as a group. We feel your strength through every tweet, call, and text and sometimes you are the thing that keeps us going. So thank you for being behind us and sharing some of your strength with us. We love you and we are blessed to know you IRL and virtually. Just thank you.

Special thanks to:

Tara, Sonia, Paola, Amanda, Ryan and Christy, Joel, Belinda, Denyse, Annie, Kelli, Eli, and Ali. You guys never fail to amaze me and I’m so incredibly grateful to each of you for inspiring me to be better than the day before. You are some of the most amazing people that has graced this planet and how did I get so lucky to not only get to meet you, but to be able to call you my friends? I am a better person just having met you.

Vickie, G.O., Jen, and Geina: For checking on us daily and constantly being our lifeline. Your support and love is irreplaceable. And though I don’t say it often enough, I’m lucky to have married into such a wonderful family. Thank you times a hundred.

Rustin: You. I tell you every day and I mean it every day: I love you. Thank you for staying with me when it’s hard, for loving me when I am unloveable, and forgiving me when I don’t deserve it. One day I will write you the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard (and it will make you cry), but in the meantime I am here to remind you of how important you are to me. I would absolutely crumble without you. So thank you for being so amazing during this awful process. YOU are amazing. And my best friend.

****************************

It is not my place to share the other sad news we’ve just received, but Rustin has let me share this post from his blog.

If you believe in a higher power, please keep my husband’s family in your prayers for the next few days. Thank you.

Happy pre-Thanksgiving!!

November 21st, 2012

Happy pre-Thanksgiving! As Rustin does a bit of prepping for tomorrow, I thought I’d take a break and pop open my old friend here. I read something recently that spoke to me and I thought I would share, it was from a book I recently read entitled “The Woman who Could Not Forget”, by Ying-Ying Chang.

It said, “Life would vanish one day but books and words would be left behind just like the masterpieces of literature I am reading. Words are eternal.” – Iris Chang

I’ve let this little online journal of mine (if I can call it that) just sort of sit because I don’t feel I have a whole lot of anything to contribute lately. But if this quote is true, I am just wasting precious real estate. Not that I think I have any sort of masterpiece here! What started as a way to build a community, a network of like-minded folk, I’m realizing, has as a side-note documented a part of my life and my thoughts that one day when I’m gone will serve as a window into… well, me. For that, I’m grateful. I never intended for this to turn into something deeper than mere musings of a person who may take themselves a bit too seriously SOMETIMES. And I guess primarily it is just that, but the day will come when it just may become precious to someone else. And that weirds me out a little bit. What about you fellow bloggers, have you given that much thought?

In any case, I was only popping on for a bit to share our Thanksgiving Menu for tomorrow because I’m really excited to just eat delicious noms and it’s all I can do because I can’t stop thinking about it! Yay, run-on sentences!

Appetizers:
+Shrimp Cocktail
+Assorted Olives (black and Kalmatas and Calabrese)
+Wings (yes, wings)
+Crab Dip
+Cheese Ball

Dessert:
+Pumpkin Pie (for the Rustin)
+Bread Pudding made with Challah (for the me)

What are you all having for dinner tomorrow? What are some of your must-have’s on your menu?

I seriously love Thanksgiving so much, it’s one of my favorite Holidays. Like ever. I hope this year that this Holiday finds you well, and if you’re feeling a little lack-luster about life lately take a second glance at last year’s post. It helped me a bit: Just enjoy the moment.

Take care, beautiful people. Whatever you do tomorrow, I hope you are happy. Seriously.

Cheers!

Happy Birthday little dude.

November 8th, 2012

G–

You’re 4!!! “Four ears old! 4-3-2-and then-1!”

Kid. How can I sum up your short, but dazzling life? You have changed our lives in ways I knew you would and in other ways I never expected and have taken me by complete, but pleasant, surprise. You save me everyday. You were not brought on this planet for that purpose, but having you around is like having a constant life jacket. You teach me to be kind, to lead by example, to not give up. I mean it when I say that you are my guiding light, my north star. You keep me on course as a side effect of having been brought to me. Even when I might feel like giving up, having you here is a constant reminder that you are worth it — you are worth being better for, and I hope that one day you will be able to see that and never have to question your worth. Never never.

You are the kindest, sweetest, most sensitive person I’ve ever met and you dazzle me. Dazzle. Don’t ever, ever, ever be lead to believe that all men are tough, or that you need to win any kind of popularity contest. Just be you. Your intuition is remarkable and I hope that I can teach you to use that when your shyness gets the better of you. That I can teach you to trust yourself, to be brave when you are not. To be kind to others when they don’t deserve it, and to stick up for yourself when you need to. I hope that you remain a quirky kid, that you never have to feel pressured to be like others. That you are so comfortable with who you are that having a beat up old truck as your first car will not faze you, because that is likely to happen! You are always, always enough. Always. And you will forever have two proud people in your corner rooting for you NO MATTER WHAT. I hope that we do well to show you that, so that you never have to question it. There is nothing you can do to disappoint me. I love you and will always love you no matter who you decide to be. I hope that I can instill a sense of love for yourself so that you never have to wonder if you are enough. You are always enough.

We are so lucky to have you. Blessed. Honored. Grateful. All of the above. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. And all I can say is thank you. Thank you for loving me when I’m unloveable, forgiving me when I don’t deserve it, but mostly thank you for being you. You’re a star kid. And these last 4 years with you have been the best I could have ever hoped for. I love you.

Happy Birthday, beautiful boy. Let’s celebrate your beautiful life right.

Love,
Mama

Gonna love you as you are.
Gonna love you, you’re a superstar.
Gonna love you as you are.
Gonna love you, you’re a superstar.

For a special small one.

November 7th, 2012

Remember when my Therapist thought it would be a good idea for me to write a letter to the baby? Well I did, and because I write letters to my babies on their birthdays, I thought today, on what was supposed to be his birthday, I would share that letter.

For you, little one. You still have my heart. Happy birthday.

Little one,

Love,
Mama

The grey, the beautiful.

October 26th, 2012

Our vacation album has sat and has (figuratively) collected dust for months.  It has glared at me, dared me to click, to scan, to remember. And I ignored it for a long time. Its patience has finally paid off; today I opened it, I scanned, I edited and I noticed something… I took 960 photos.  In 17 days.  That’s about 56 photos on average a day.  Some days I didn’t take any.  But the most alarming thing was that when I went through the photos, I don’t remember taking most of them. Like I’m looking through someone else’s memory book.

In that album I see happy. I see beautiful smiles. Frame-able photos that are beautiful and moments that are worth remembering.

Moments of freezing cold…

 
… but of wonder just the same.

Moments of bewilderment, of catching up with old friends and meeting new ones…

Of laughter, and touching moments, and longing.

Moments of bringing the magic back…

…even when I was barely there and split in two.

And when we felt the heaviness of our upside down world…

… we indulged and pushed against it.

We visited loved ones that have passed and wished for one more kiss.

A world that is grey can still be deceivingly beautiful.

Cheers friends! I’ve missed you.