Streams of Coincidence

Raise my hands above
Unspool what’s below
Use the tools I’ve honed
Against me.

Struck in the same position
Molded in a stranger’s familiar image
Hold your easy pose
We each have a role
Vignettes of a life that may never be lived.

Let the current run through our waters…
Through the phrases not written
Always, always, always heard

Let the current run through our waters…
Through the secret channels
Only, only, only spoken

Lower your gaze
Unlock your jaw
Lay down the tourniquet fashioned
Out of me.

We may just be sand fused by lightning
Delicate and as Dangerous as glass…

Raise my hands with yours.

9-5-13

Presented Without Comment

Needle and Thread

Broke my own heart again today.

Knew it would happen,
but took the risk anyway.

Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice?

I’ll make it easy to do.
No shame to sort through.

(It’s worth the small moments
of Truth)

Always adept at binding what’s meant to be asunder…

Deftly stitching love back together.

Rip the scene.
Stitch the Dream.

Rip.
Stitch.
Rip.
Stitch.
Rip….

Mind your lines, or it all unravels.

Broke my own Heart yesterday.
I know I’ll do it again someday.

(The easiest fixes are the hardest repairs)

Fool me once, shame on me.
Fool me twice?

Meant to be.

8/29/13

Soapboxin’!

If you know me at all (either IRL, through my blog or my other social media outlets), then you know that my political leanings/feelings on social issues are made pretty clear.

As such, I try to avoid being to “ranty…”

But today?
I am feeling all KINDS of ranty.

If I hear the:

“Well, she put herself out there, so she had it coming” argument again-
I’m gonna cut someone.

Because NO, she did NOT.

A woman should be able to express herself without fear or EXPECTATION of attack/abuse.

Whether that be politically, socially, sexually or otherwise.

Note: I did NOT say that she is exempt from being disagreed with.

For example-

You disagree with me?
Fine.

You are more than welcome to approach me and engage in a discourse on the topic, or you can simply disagree privately.

You can even post an argument for your opinion on social media.

That is your right.

But what no one has the right to do is turn another person into a callous epithet, punching bag, etc., therefore dehumanizing them.

But we still live in a culture in which people still cling to the mindset that says if a woman deigns to make anything in her life obvious-

Whatever abuse, disrespect or marginalization she is subjected to is what “she had coming” for daring to say anything in the first place…

And a lot of people will even go so far as to say:

“Well, that’s terrible, BUT-That’s just the way it is.”

Fuuuuuuck Thaaaaaat.

The point??

IT’S NOT THE WAY IT SHOULD BE!

That is precisely that type of thinking that allows misogyny and rape-apologetics to thrive.

And until the sentence is just:

“That’s terrible.”
Or, better:
“That’s UNACCEPTABLE.”

Women, like myself, are going to have to keep on fighting and REMINDING anyone and EVERYONE that we are HUMAN BEINGS.

Worthy of the SAME respect, safeties and dignities of our male counterparts.

Regardless of what we put out there.

And, I know-

It’s terrible…
but for Fuck’s sake, that’s just how it is.

Let’s Play a Little Game of Catch (up)!

I haven’t been here in a long time.

I miss it, but have been avoiding it at the same time…I have about 10 unfinished blogs just sitting in my notes.

I always start, only to give up because I feel like a broken record…

When I have really felt the need to share, I’ve felt an even greater need to censor.

Having a public, and often very personal, blog is amazing in so many ways, but it also opens up complications, so sometimes it’s hard to know what to share and/or how to share it.

I’m pretty friggen open, but my life is not just me, yanno?

Depression/CFS has also been a HUGE factor.

I have been dealing with an inordinately long an intense period of depression for the last year and a half…CFS likes to piggyback…it’s as awesomely g-dawful as it sounds.

I’ve basically just hunkered down and dealt with only the necessities…particularly for the past 6-9 months.

But, I’m trying to come out of my hole a bit.

I should break up all this info into several posts, but really?

Ain’t Nobody Got Time Fo’ That.

So here’s the basics since we last talked in January:

My husband and I went through probably the toughest time we’ve ever had in our almost 6 years of marriage.

It was extremely hard and fucking scary, but we made it out alive and still together.

(All while living with in-laws! I feel like we should get bonus points for that. Ha.)

It always sounds so stupidly trite to say, but it actually HAS made us a better couple.

In March, he finally got a job after being out of work for over a year.

It was totally a fluke, and not something he was even looking to do, but turns out that he really enjoys it.

It pays about 50% of what his old job payed (paid? I no can brains tooday), but it’s helped him solidify a path for himself, which has been a really positive and unexpected benefit.

On that same note, the Huz has decided what kind of career he REALLY wants…

As such, he is headed back to school.

Full-time. While he works. Full-time. Oof.

It’s gonna be tough on several levels but people have been doing it for eons, so I’m thinking we’ll survive…yep. Right??

Last week, he was offered a promotion at work, which is great, but with school starting on August 5 we’re not sure he’ll be able to take the position due to schedule changes…we’ll see. He’s been assured though, that they’ll work with him.

The kids are amazing and exhausting and two full-time jobs.

Amirite, moms?? Holy workload. Ha!

Our son is getting so big! He’ll be FOUR this October!

I still think of him as a baby, my baby, but every day I’m reminded that he’s becoming a boy. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me a bit sad.

He’s so freaking smart, it kills me.
He’s been reading for a few months now…and he taught himself how to sign his ABCs via YouTube.

No joke.

My favorite thing though?
His burgeoning negotiating skills:

O: Cookies for breakfast?

Me: No.

O: How about peanut butter and jelly samwich?

Me: Cereal and fruit.

O: How about ice cream??

Me: O…

O: How about cereal, Mommy?

The Huz and I are screwed.
Snort.

He started preK at the beginning of this month.

We love the school and his teacher even more, but the process has opened up some challenges for us…

Before school started, we’d taken him into his Pediatrician b/c he was running a 103 temp and was all kinds of loopy.

O has developed a fear of doctors ever since Mommy left to go to the doctor and then didn’t come home for 5 days because she had Baby Sister…

Couple that with a high fever?
The appointment did not go well.

Lots of screaming:
NO CHECK UP! NO DOCTOR! NO
SHOTS! MAMAAAAAA!

Sigh.

Then his Ped looks at me and says:
I’m really concerned about Autism.

Uh, Como??

Are you speaking English?

He goes on to also say that his speech is delayed and he behavior is abnormal for someone his age…He needs to be seen by a therapist and assessed for ASD…

It was like he punched me in the face.

I tried to collect myself so I could ask/answer pertinent questions, but I mostly just started crying.

I’d had my concerns about O’s speech development before but his Ped had brushed me off at his last appointment, assuring me that it would fall into place with school-but Autism?

No.

I had even mentioned to him before that I thought maybe O might be dealing with some sort of sensory issue-sensitivity to lights, certain sounds, etc. would make him freak out-but again, his Ped kinda blew me off while implying that it probably had to do with a “lack of discipline.”

Now, it’s AUTISM?!

WTF, BRO??

Obviously, Autism is not a death sentence or anything of the like, but I think any parent’s heart would sink…if only for the fact that we all want to protect are children from as many obstacles as possible.

As an adult with Cerebral Palsy, Chronic Fatigue, PTSD, and Depression/Anxiety disorders, my biggest hope is that my kids won’t have to live a life with any kind of disabilities…

But whatever turns out to be going on with O, I will be his biggest, loudest advocate.

A good friend asked me if I, deep down, thought O was Autistic:

I don’t.
It’s not denial, I truly don’t feel that he is…

That being said-

I’m not a doctor, so I realize I could be completely wrong.

I hope I’m not.

Right now, we’re in the midst of lining up all the right appointments and making sure it’s with the right people.

It’s not been nearly direct as I’d hoped, but in some ways it’s probably been a good thing as we’ve now had some time to digest and evaluate.

Annnnd, we’re getting him a new pediatrician. DUH.

As for our daughter, that little Peanut is going to be ONE on Tuesday.

She’s is still ridiculously adorable as she was from day 1, AND a diva, but with climbing capabilities and 6 teeth.

For a while her Ped was concerned about her weight gain-or lack thereof, but after some monitoring/tests her Ped just thinks she’s gonna be petite.

A 17lb petite lil’ powerhouse.

She LOVES food.
She wants to EAT ALL THINGS.

She loves her big brother to death and he loves her-unless she touches trains…or cars…or food…mostly because she’ll eat it all.

It cracks me up.

Oh, and the poor Darlin’ has her Mama’s laugh…it’s not the most delicate sound…ahem.

I love them both to a depth that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe, let alone fully comprehend.

Even though I understand the passage of time, I just don’t get how fast they’re growing…

Welp, I think that wraps it up!

There’s a lot on our little family’s horizon, but I’m not about to make any predictions. I’m just gonna keep chugging along and attempt to do good…

Everyone who reads this little side-show has been incredibly supportive, and I’m super grateful for every bit.

Xoxoxo

Inside: The New “IT” List!

As you all may have noticed, I have completely failed on the every-day-blog venture.

I don’t even shower every day, so I’m not sure what I was gettin’ all fired up about….

I *think* about posting every day and even write posts (in my head), but I always seem to run out of time.

Right now, O is off on the Island of Sodor in his mind and P is sleeping, so I’m typing as fast as I can!

I don’t have time to finish the posts I’ve started previously, so I decided to make a fantasy Valentine/anniversary/birthday/Mother’s day list:

(Aka: Ridiculous Stuff and Hopefully Someday List)

~$30,000.00 to $80,000.00 PLEASE??
I have this crazy dream of being debt free.

~An awesome job w/awesome non-com pay and beneez for my husband.

~Our own single-level 4bd/3ba place with hardwoods or tile, an eat-in kitchen, a fenced backyard and in a walkable neighborhood with good schools.
Sigh.

~A car with a 3rd row of seating.
I lurve our HHR, but with 2 kids?
It’s packed to the frikken gills.
It’d be nice to be able to fold the seats down for cargo space ALONE.

~A tummy tuck and full body lipo.
5 pregnancies and two cesareans later-it ain’t pretty.

~Completion of all my tattoos.
That’d be so rad.

~A trip around Europe.
I’ve never been.

~A trip to Disney World at Christmastime.
BEST. CHRISTMAS. EVER.

~A facial, mani/pedi, waxing and haircut.
Basically a day at the spa.

~A massage membership.
So I can get one at least once a month….
Oy, Mah back!

A glasses wardrobe.
I’m blind as a bat, so I always need my cokebottles on. It’d be fun to change it up all the time!
Oh, and have rx Suns too!

A new actual wardrobe.
I’m basically 1 pair of yoga pants away from being ambushed by What Not to Wear…

My permanent eyeliner touched up.
As a someone who can’t trace steadily for shit, it was the best $$ ever spent.

A lap top.
OMG, a lap top.

The iPhone 6.
Or whatever version they’re introducing next.
I have a 4. I adore my 4. But when my BIL came for Thanksgiving, he had the 5 and the only reason I coveted it was for the upgraded camera…I use my phone as my only camera, so my logic is-the next Gen of the iPhone will have an epic camera. I also need more GBs!
Ha.

Elvis Costello’s entire catalog.
YES.

Like 4 prs of Obeo Balboa sandals 7N.
These sandals are $100 a pair, but they are the most comfortable I’ve ever worn (I wear flip flops almost daily) AND they’ve lasted me a yr and a half so far, which for my feet is an eon of a long time!

Someone to come potty-train O and wean him off the Binky.
I am suffering great losses in both battles.
Read: EPIC FAIL

Diamond ear studs, lip stud and nose stud.
Faaaaaaancy.

A large gift certificate to Sephora.
I have always wanted to just run amok up in there, buying whatever the hell I wanted.

An adult trike with basket.
It’s the only bike I can ride. I used to have an awesome red one, but it was jacked.
Major sadface.

Someone to let me provide back-up vocals on their album.
How cool would that be?

My hope is that I will have done/have all of these things before or by 40.

Which is a little over 8 years away.
Yikes.

And to think-

I thought I’d have checked off most of this list by 30…
Snort.

Apparently under delusions of living in Us Weekly….

“Jayne: She’s JUST Like US!”

Yes, yes I am.

Sleepies, Screamies, Chones, Babies, Neuroses!

It’s no secret that I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

It’s also not a secret that it makes you, well, fatigued.

But for the love of all that is DROWSY, I have been so fucking tired.

I’m taking my meds, vitamins, etc…

Yet, nothing seems to abate the sleepies…

The my eyes-and-hair-hurt kind of sleepies.

I’m gonna make an appt. with my GP, but I don’t have high hopes for any real answers.

Gross.

Don’t wanna talk about that anymore.

Tired of it!
(Snicker…)

I have a cavalcade of crap I should probably start blogging about, but it’s all sorta tinged by anger and apathetic attitudes so I just need to leave it alone for a minute.

Life is trudging slowly along and racing by at the same time…

My kidlets are the fastlane of the equation.

O is THREE, y’all.
I usually post about his birfday, but this year things were kinda- a lot different…

The biggest being that there was another baby.

The other?
We decided not to throw him a party.

We realized he didn’t like them.
(Too overwhelming.)

So we had a quiet celebration at home, and then took him out for a special day.

Made for a much happier birthday boy.

My big little man.

He’s such a character.
Funny, stubborn, sensitive, LOUD, active, smart, independent, LOUD…

He’s big on screaming right now.
Mad, sad, happy?
Screamy!

Neither time-outs, heart-to-hearts, ignoring, or the whisper-method have had any effect.

It doesn’t really bother me, but it’s sending everyone else over the edge…sorry, gang.

He’s not so big on potty-training.
He was allll about it, and then?
Nada!

We don’t want to push him, punish him or shame him into using the potty, so I tried the whole reward/praise approach…

Yeah, stickers or cookies or happy dances only work when your child gives a rip…

Which he does not.

He loves all those things.
But he ain’t gonna perform for them.

“Hey, if you pee pee on the potty you’ll get a Newton (Cookies in our world)!”

Ummm…No, no cookie.
Same to stickers and the like.

Then, because I’m all brilliant, I bought him some Cars and Thomas chones. Real ones!

He loves both. Lurrrrves.

I explained to him that we were going to take off his pull-ups and he was going to wear cool underwear, but that he couldn’t go potty in these because than they’d be yucky…

I thought I was SET.
He loathes being yucky…
This plan was foolproof!

Unless your 3yo is smarter than you.

After about an hour-he peed in them…

I said:
“Oh, no! Now these are yucky!”

Do you know what he said to me?

It Okay! You wash.
(Kicks them off-throws in laundry room.)

Napkin please!
(Wipes off)
All clean!

With that, he trotted off happily.

Hmmm. Shit.

As of now, it’s been put on the back burner…

P is now 5.5 months.

She’s inconceivably adorable.
She’s alert and clever.
She’s also a Diva.

You will love her.
You will gaze tenderly at her.
You will constantly cuddle her.

She’s the happiest, smiliest little peanut…babbling a mile a minute!

Until you put her down.

Girlfriend will read you the riot act.

She rolled over like 2-3 times at 4 months and hasn’t done it again…

She’s almost sitting, and desperately wants to stand.

She is in love with her big brudder.
Watches him like a hawk.

Our one big issue right now is her eating.

We can’t get her to gain the way she should. She’s not a big eater, spits up a lot and hates all solids thus far…

We put her on a gentle formula, and her Ped wasn’t concerned about the spit up because it doesn’t bother P at all.

But now we’re all wondering if maybe there’s been an acid issue we just haven’t caught yet…

For now, we’ve been advised to put rice cereal in her bottles in an effort to add heft and calories.

She’ll get checked again in a few weeks.

Her Ped said that it could be nothing more than simply a petite baby, but of COURSE my crazy ass is afraid that I’m somehow malnourishing her which will lead to her wasting away from starvation…

Ya know, normal thoughts and stuff.

I have two children, guys!
It’s a bit weird.
Tiring.
Loud.
Messy.
Stressful.
AMAZING!

It’s what I’m hanging on to.

When He’s Suddenly Too Big to Climb in Your Lap…

My baby brother turned 24 yesterday.

Just as I did when my sister turned 24 (she’ll be 26 this summer), I found myself thinking about him all day.

Granted, I think of them both *every* day, but their birthdays are always different…

I don’t know them much as adults given that we’re estranged, but I often wonder: would I even be able to see them that way?

They were always my babies–especially my brother, mostly because he let me mother him.
He needed it more.
(My sister resented it.)

My brother and I are quite alike in a number of ways…

We’re both A LOT more sensitive than we want people to know.

We want to be friends with everyone.

We HATE when anyone is mad at us.

We’re touchy-feely.

Once we love you, we love you forever.

But if you push us too far-the temper gets kinda ugly.

Music, to us, is a big fucking deal.

So is loyalty.

He was always the sweetest kid.

Even when he was a pain in the ass, he was almost never mean…and if he was, he instantly regretted it.

One thing he had that I always admired was fearlessness.

He was never afraid to go and do what he wanted.

He taught himself to skateboard (taking him the skatepark every day scared the shit out of me)-eating it, but getting back up til he was good…

To play the guitar, the drums, etc.
He formed a band and performed anywhere and everywhere he could (something I always wanted to do, but never had the guts)…

He was smart and talented and fearless.

Then, he just started to change.

Dropped outta high school.
Drinking.
Drugs.

[It’s beyond fucked up that our/his parents couldn’t see that he just wanted them to give a shit about him, and be REAL PARENTS and not fucking sniping, hypocritical teenagers for once.]

I watched confidence leave him…

It was (emotionally) beat out.

You can only be called stupid and useless before you start to believe it…I know that feeling all too well.

The drinking/drugs obviously amplified and yet, numbed it all.

And just like with my sister, there was nothing I could do.

There wasn’t actually a problem.

“Just being young and having fun.”

“What genetic history of addiction? Ridiculous!”

And so it goes with this kind of story…

There’s still that kind, smart, fearless and talented boy in there, but I do fear for the kind of man he will be.

On the rare occasions I talk to him, he sounds so jaded and lost. He puts on the “dude bravado,” but I can still hear it.

I can tell that he wants so much more out of his life than what he has, but feels like he doesn’t deserve it and it’s too fucking late to get it.

Kinda shatters me.

It’s not too late, but if he doesn’t fight his way out of the cycle he’s stuck in, time will be less and less on his side.

It’s hard to watch.

One minute I want to hold him, and the next I want to strangle him.

Both of my siblings, really.

They’re miles better than crap like this.

My sister has kinda started to find her way out, I think (I only get occasional secondhand info) but my brother has gotten left behind.

I see my brother often in my son.
It makes me smile, but it also makes me sad…

I wish I could go back to when he was 3 and would climb up in my lap when something scared or hurt him and I could fix it…

If only.

24 was the year that I started becoming more of who I wanted to be.

I hope he can find that birthday gift as well.

Happy Birthday, sweetheart.
I love you.

Lovely Legumes.

In the womb, he was my little jumping bean.

When it came to be her turn, she was my little peanut.

And so they shall always be:

Mommy’s Bubu Bean and Lulu Peanut.

They are truly the personified halves of my heart.

I Hate New Year’s Eve

NYE is filled with too many expectations.

Either we want the coming year to be as good as the previous, or we’re desperate for it not to be as bad.

For my entire life, it’s always been the latter.

A plea as I stand on the precipice of a new year for it finally be “my Year.”

Granted, some years have been slightly better than others, but that elusive turning point year, the one that catalyzes a life into it’s peaceful, fulfilling course?

Not so much.

Any year where it felt like I was getting *close* had something shitastic happen-furthering the divide.

When the Huz and I married, we thought that was going to be “Our Year!”

Instead, it’s been 5 long, increasingly hard years.

We had our joys in our children, but honestly?

Other than that, we feel beat DOWN.

The last 5 have taken their toll on us.
(Particularly in our marriage.)

We’ve prayed, wished, begged (plus everything in between), for some sort of miracle/eleventh hour help that would lift us up and out of our hole.

We’ve gone into every new year with the hope of finally reaching “Our Year.”

Finally being able to go to bed at night and sleep soundly rather than having anxiety attacks at 3am.

Finally losing that sick pit that gnaws at our stomachs and hearts.

Finally having the stability to actually live and grow as a couple/family instead of just surviving.

Finally breathing.
Because constantly holding your breath in fear of what’s next is fucking exhausting.

That’s what “Our Year” would look like…

2013 is here.

I have no expectations that this year will be any better than last year.

It’s entirely possible that it will be worse.

And we’ll deal with it.
Like we always do.

What we WON’T do however, is keep looking for a miracle or a last-minute save.

It ain’t coming.

So we’ll keep on shoveling our way through this shit with teaspoons as in years previous, and take any bits of good we can, grateful…

…and hopefully, we’ll make it out in time for “Their Years.”

I don’t care about my dreams anymore.

I care about my children’s.

I’m terrified at the thought that they might spend their NYEs like I did:

waiting for things to GET BETTER.

I want better, GOOD, to be their normal–not their dream.

As such-

If you need me, I’ll be down here with my teaspoon.

Resolute. (ish)

I love blogging.
I love reading other’s blogs.

I love it if for no other reason than the fact that it’s allowed me to connect and grow.

2012 was a fairly stunted year in that respect, despite the fact that I think of things I want to write/comment on almost every damn day…

So now that 2013 is here, I’m gonna try to get my bloggingshit together and post/comment every day.

Every one.

Even if it’s just a sentence.
A teeny word….

My blog isn’t widely circulated or famous, but it IS a part of me.

And your blogs are a part of you.

I’ve been neglecting myself and my blogships*-which has sucked so:

Here goes…

something.

I’m so terribly lackluster at this kinda shit, so let’s hope?

*Love to you all. I hope that 2013 is kind.