A raindrop in the ocean of life...

What a week! If the world doesn't kill me.. my family's going to. My Grandma went into the hospital with congestive heart failure this week. It was totally unexpected, and happened to come one day before the five year anniversary of the the day my Grandpa unexpectedly went into the hospital and died that day. It was very scary for me. She's home now and doing much better, although she now has an oxygen tank to drag around with her. I also got a phone call from my mother. I was a little suprised she was calling me, I had just been thinking about her and debating about whether or not to call her. Calling my mother is the sober equivalent of a drunk- dial. I debate, I go back and forth.. I get all emotionally driven and call.. we talk for 30 seconds and she says something that either pisses me off, makes me cry, or leaves me in a blackhole of worry for the following two weeks.. and all of that is always followed by regret that I called! Anyways, it said it was her on the caller id but when I answered it was a man, he was yelling at me asking for someone else.. long story short my mom took the phone and apologized because her friend had called me on accident. I found out a few days later, from my Aunt, whom my mom always tells the real story to.. I only get the version she thinks I am old enough to hear apparently (she has yet to realize I am 26 and not as stupid as she is) Anyways, I found out that whoever her "friend" was had beat her up again and stolen her phone.. I can now reach my mother by calling an apartment a few floors up in her complex and theyll go get her...RIDICULOUS! So classy. Whats abnormal about a 45 year old woman who has to be tracked down like a highschool drop out drug dealer??? (totally sarcastic) I should have known better than to even answer that damn phone when she called. I am so gullible with her, she pisses me off. Thus, my list of motherly what not-to-do's is always growing based on my relationship with the one who birthed me. Anyways, I hope my blog doesnt make me have an air of negativity. I'm not unhappy, I' very happy. My therapist used to sit in awe and listen to me tell story after story and at the end she always would ask how I could say all that without crying.. but it never made me sad. I dont feel sorry for myself, no matter what I go through there are always people in the world experiencing far worse at any given moment. I am thankful for all the blessings that surround me everyday and I am grateful for all the experiences, both good and bad, in my life.. because without them, I wouldnt be me, right here, right now, existing in this very place in the world. No worries ;) Y

cant sleep.. too much on my mind. I feel like my mind is its own torture chamber of thoughts I dont want to think. I lay down and visualize myself inside my own head.. I am trapped in a steel box. I punch and kick and tear and claw to try to find a way out of the torture. I push my weight against one side.. then I stretch my legs out with all my might against the otherside. It wears me down and I never make any progress. Finally I am laying spent and defeated.. succumbing to the reality of the thoughts I cant excape. Like a horrifying movie you cant close your eyes for. Like someone holds my eyelids open and forces me to see the images I dread. I think about my mom too much. She takes years off my life I am without a doubt. I think about my babies and the way I hope I dont shortchange them because of my own weaknesses. I hope I give them the things they need even on the days I dont get what I need. I hope I am not so selfish that I cheat them the way I have been cheated. I need a hug. I get the best hugs in the world from my oldest boy. There are times when I honestly feel like the kids are the only ones that get it. Does that mean I'm functioning on their level emotionally? Ahh.. I just want to turn off the switch and get some rest. I want to wake up and everything be okay so I can just go back to the monotany of just simply having fun, the daily grind..existing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just had a few free moments, thought I'd post a pic or two from over the weekend. This was taken at Round Valley, Grandma Colleen & Papa Barr took the boys hiking...they had an awesome time, Trenton even found a snake!

these are the days of our lives....

So I havent posted in quite awhile. Just for the record, I am still alive...still breathing, still occupying space, just cant exactly bring myself around to write it all down and truly express the rollercoaster that my life has become lately. Stay tuned..dont forget that I am here occupying space... the saga continues, the author just hasnt found the appropriate words yet....?

The one recipe that truly warms my soul

I'm a little busy being mid-move right now... so we're doing things to save time and effort at the end of a long day of home improvement projects and dragging boxes from one house to another. One of the biggest ways I save my sanity is to make easier meals that will last for a day or two. Which of course, is a one way path straight to my beloved crockpot. That being said, I thought I would share my favorite recipe in the whole wide world. Its a bit of an odd one, all the canned items considered, but once stewed together it creates the most warm, wonderful, happy belly producing concoction that I am capable of bestowing upon the hungry men in my home. Its my own interpretation of an old recipe for Chicken Tortilla Soup...aka Mamas Mexican Soup

2-3 frozen boneless skinless chicken breasts
2 150z. cans black beans (undrained)
2 15oz. cans stewed tomatoes
1 can chicken broth
1 can tomato sauce
1 4oz. can chopped green chiles
1 7oz. can salsa verde
1 cup salsa
1 15oz. can corn (or about 1 cup of frozen)
1-2tsp. cumin powder
Dash of garlic salt
Cook 4 hrs on high or 6-8 on low

Remove chicken breasts, shred and add them back in…
Garnish with shredded cheese, crushed tortilla chips, and a scoop of sourcream

enjoy! (I always do)

My nervous breakdown...

So I couldnt sleep last night regardless of the fact that I couldnt hold my eyes open and went to bed at 8pm. By 1:30, the nervous breakdown I knew was pending finally hit me. Probably the first of many to come throughout this process. See, its been an emotional rollercoaster of a week for me. Finally got the keys to the house, cried happy tears. Went back and looked at the size of the house, cried nervous tears. Husband neglected paying union dues till his primary source of income fired him, cried very very nervous tears. Heard my cousin is in a coma and possibly wont make it out, cried sad tears. SO yesterday to take my mind off everything Justin finally gave in and took me to the new house to start my ritual cleaning process. I had been so excited about this move for so long, I think I mentally rebuilt the house to be the way I wanted...because after not seeing the inside for weeks I forgot how small it was in there. That was the breaking point for my 1am breakdown. I cried like a baby grieving the loss of my nice, new big house. The house with more room and more huge cupboards than I could ever fill. I honest to God dont think my dinner table will fit in that dollhouse sized dining room. I laid awake and visualized my kids eating on a card table. I really dont think my dresser will fit, and the closet is about 1/5 of the size of the one I have now, so I cant just get rid of the dresser and live out of the closet. I think this whole time I fooled myself into being happy and excited because I knew we really had no other choice. Now I am sad for it. I visualized myself getting a job and working overnight and missing out on ym kids' lives the way my husband has for two years now..but no more. I cried thinking of how theres no place for their toybox..no place for our sofas. No place for my coffee pot on the no counter. No place for my tupperware in those microscopic 1970's cupboards. I really hate that kitchen by the way. No place for this, that, or our family. Its done now, nothing we can do but make it work for us. I just feel like I have taken this house and the things we have for granted. Sure there were times where we couldn't or shouldn't have afforded it.. but it worked for us and it was beautiful. I spent a lot of hours complaining about the way things were set up in this big house, now it seems like such a spoiled thing to complain about. I'm afraid as a family we have way more love than can fit within the walls of that house. I guess we'll see what happens anyways, but this will be a bittersweet move. Maybe after I finally get some sleep, someday..I will be okay again. But for now I must pack..and grieve...like a big emotional baby.

Dear Mom,

This is the letter I will never give you...because I dont have the balls to hurt someone I love so much. Here is the letter straight from my soul filled with everything I've ever wanted you to know, but I cant tell you because I am afraid of what it would do to you. Do you have any idea how bad you drug addiction has hurt me, and the woman I have become? Do you have any inkling if how many hours of my life I have wasted longing for a mother the way a thirsty man in the desert longs for water. Absolute desperation! Will you ever understand how many tears I have cried over the choices you've made? I love you far more than you will ever love yourself. I have finally understood that because of the lack of self love you live with, you will never truly be able to love me the way I've always needed you to. I have a scar of sorrow on my heart for my inner little girl that never wanted anything more than a Mother that could love me the way I deserved to be love. Even now Mom, even at the age of 26... I need you as much as I have ever needed you. I seek other mothers out as if someone could adopt me, a full grown adult, and fill that void that will never go away within me. It absolutely kills me to admit that I have a mother that has chosen horrible soul theiving drugs over the unconditional love that motherhood brings. The very second my sons were born I loved them more than I loved life itself. I will never in my life understand how that didnt happen for you. How could you not love me the way nature intended mothers to love their daughters? How? I just would like for you to know you have taken away a piece of me that never got to blossom. I would beg for you to be sober enough to just be my mother if it would do any good. You have made it hard for me to know how to love my children in a healthy way. In a way that shows them its okay to grow up to be loving adults. You have made me be hesitant to speak to anyone, the precisou words "I love you" out of fear of no reciprocation. I just want you to know I love you with all of my heart and I want nothing more to fill that same love back from you.. but I know you cant. I love you anyways Mom, you break my heart, but I will always love you!

A new hat to wear?

So, not really sure how I feel about this... but someone very important to me has assigned me a new mission in life. She said she found my passion...and she knows how I should channel it. Apparently I was born to write a book. A book on motherhood and finding a path of goodness within it, having grown up in a world that was somewhat lacking of real mothers and real family situations. It is something I truly struggle with, maybe struggle isn't the appropriate word, but something I stress about. Its hard to know how to be the kind of mother I truly want to be, when I didn't grow up with a mother anything like that. Instead of a laundry list of things I should do and should be, it's the opposite. My life as a mother is based purely on what NOT to do to my kids. It's hard. I think my best motherly influences came from television and everyone knows how healthy that is for the psyche. I strive for June Cleaver-ism and thats very unachievable. I don't know how I feel about the entire book idea, but I shall bounce it around in my head from now either until forever, or until the day I decide she's right and actually do it. We'll see what happens. It is kind of a compliment to know someone thinks I'm successful enough at what I do to write an entire book on it though. Very flattering actually, considering I'm rather hard on myself and would usually consider myself far from having achieved what I set out to be. Thanks for the ego boost lady! lol

Moving makes me sleepy!

so we are in the middle of packing for our big move. Its only a big move in my mind actually, since we'll only be about 2 miles from where we live now. But nonetheless, it is exhausting to go through all the clutter, try to de-clutter, and put the survivors in a box securely wrapped and accurately labelled. All the while two little boys walking around my house think "ooh a new box, lets climb in it and explore whats inside, perhaps we can somehow use everything in it to build today's fort!". Exhaustign I tell you! I am too worn out to even estimate how many times I've repacked the same boxes after finding their reminants strewn about the house. It makes me think I'm losing it, I sit there confused for a minute scannning my mind for some memory of whether or not I thought this particular item was already taken care of. The decluttering is a whole 'nother nervous breakdown waiting to happen for me. I don't know where I got so much stuff, or why I can't seem to part with it. I'm not a hoarder or anything by any means. I don't keep trash, just things that mean something to me....but you'd be suprised by what I can seem to attach meaning to. I cant make myself get rid of anything that had belonged to my grandpa when he was alive. Now that he's gone there is such a limited amount of things that he actually touched, things that he had loved, things I can pass on to the boys some day. But to anyone else, they would look like completely useless objects. I also have a irrational inability to part with anything from when the boys were babies. Who knows if we'll ever have more, and the two we do have grow like weeds, so I think I kind of cling to these tiny little blankets and booties and what nots... they smell like sweet little babys. God, it just occured to me that if I ever get alzheimers or anything I'll drive myself even more crazy losing memories. I hold all this stuff, so that I don't forget the memory attached to it, if I couldnt remember the memory anymore.. what would I have? Interesting. Anyways, to make me even more crazy the exact day (or week) of the move isnt even known yet. I think we get keys today, but first we'll be bug bombing, then hiring a cleaning service to make sure any reminants from the bug bombs are gone and don't poison my little angels. Then finally the new carpet and wood floors will go in and a few repairs and touch up paint.. yay! I cant wait till we're all moved in and I can begin the dreaded task of unpacking all this stuff! If I have any energy left at all that is!

Don't deny it..own it

So.......(extra drawn out), my next assignment is to rid myself of my childhood experiences and get them all out on paper (virtual reality paper works for me) and relieve a little of the pressure. This is FAR easier said than done. I acknowledge everything in my life, and I don't feel all that traumatized by anything I have been through, but I have come to realize this is part of my coping method. (Long pause to cook dinner and further procrastinate)...For years I have said that I never wanted to be one of those people that blames my parents for the flaws I have... one of those that thinks I get a free pass to be faulty in this department or that because my foundation wasn't perfect. I have always been aware that many other people in the world have had it far far worse than I. Nonetheless, that doesn't mean I haven't been affected by my experiences..they are a part of me and have shaped who I am today. I will preface this whole thing by saying that I have struggled with my self image. The way I see myself, I wouldn't necessarily describe as weak, but certainly not as strong as those around me seem to be.

I grew up being raised by my grandparents. My father, I never knew until about a month ago =) and my mother was in my life but only at her own convenience. It was pretty clear from a very early point in my life that I was low on her totem pole of priorities. I've always said my Grandmother tried the best she could, I think now I would say she tried the best she knew how. She was from the school of "divorce is not an option". I never in a million years would have wanted her to leave my grandpa, but being the woman I am today, I can honestly say that if I had been in her shoes nothing in the world would have made me stay.

My grandfather was for many reasons my hero, which will sound unimaginable by the end of his blog I'm sure. For other reasons he was hell in cowboy boots. He drank like a fish, by the end of his life he'd had so many D.U.I.'s that his license had been permanently revoked. I can clearly remember the sound of his cowboy boots clomping down the driveway at 3am...and then the sound of him falling. It killed me to hear him fall. He was a very tall man, and very round..he was larger than life in many ways. I was so afraid of him or anyone else I loved getting hurt in any way, be it emotional or physical. I have always been very protective of my family. He would finally make it into the house and then either yell for us to get up, or hit the walls as he walked though the house with his fists until my grandma and I awoke. My 3am purpose was making him drinks, scotch on the rocks...and putting on an old 45 so we could dance in the living room. I was probably five years old at this time. In my mind those memories aren't bad, they're actually slightly warm and fuzzy for a lack of any better regular memories to take their place. The smell of scotch is something that will always remind me of him, and the old music from the 50's and 60's will always be something that we shared a love for that many people my age don't understand. Usually my grandma would make some wise remark to him about not coming home or being too drunk, which led to much yelling and screaming and more times than I can count it ended with her face bleeding and buried in her palms as she cried. There were many times that I dialed 911 and hung up before there was an answer because I was afraid of any part of my little family being taken away and torn apart. I clung very tightly to what I did have. I don't know if he was trying to make up for hitting her or what the deal was, but the night (early morning) usually ended with him driving us in a drunken stupor to his favorite all night restaurant..which I always loved. Other nights, their fights ended with him forcing her into bed while she cried. The next morning everyone would go on with business like nothing had ever happened. None of that ever seemed significant to me, but I knew it wasn't a normal thing other families did. The thought of five year old me sitting on the stairs like a fly on the wall kills me. I would scoop me up and run if I could. It sounds insane, but the pain I feel now, I feel for five year old me..I have a complete disconnect from that little girl then and the woman I am now..like as if it happened to someone else and I just knew the story, smells, sounds, and feelings. I feel cruel saying all of this because while he was awful to many others, he was wonderful to me..he treated me like a little princess and loved me unconditionally, like no one else ever did.

The other half of who I was at that time, was a little girl that longed desperately for a normal family...a father (or grandfather) that could pull himself together in a sober fashion long enough to go places and do things with us. Long enough to be an actual part of my life anytime other than the one week out of the year where he was normal...fair week. I longed for my real father to want me. I, for years, could not wrap my mind around how he could walk away and never wonder what happened to me. I longed for a mother figure who wanted to be in my life, wanted me in hers. Someone that did mother things with me and influenced me in positive ways so I would later in life know what path to follow. My mother never tried. I love her to death, but we have never had a mother/daughter connection in any way shape or form. My Grandma tried, but she didn't have the tools and knowledge to do it in a positive way. She bought me things I wanted and took me wonderful places but I honestly don't think I have hugged or been hugged by her since I was maybe 4 or 5. I don't think I've heard her say she loves me since I was probably 10. My mother says it to me every time we talk on the phone but its the absolute most empty words my ears have ever heard...as if she is required by law to say it to me or something. I am jealous now of the girls I see with moms that call everyday, moms they can tell anything to and get support from. My grandmother did a wonderful job the best she could, but in many senses I had no parents...I mothered myself.

Now, like I said, I don't feel sorry for me, and I don't want anyone to. It sounds bad on paper ;) but in real life it could have been far worse...but that doesn't make it alright. It doesn't mean those adults who made those decisions. I was the kid in the situation..I didn't make any of those choices, I just lived with them. I am working on uncorking the emotion behind it all.. over many years I have completely numbed myself to it and it doesn't hurt the way it should in order for me to heal. My views are skewed and I try to see straight through them so I don't pass this vicious cycle on to my own children. It is my theory that if each generation messes their kids up a little less than their parents messed them up, evolution is inevitable. Right? .... this is not the end of my story but I have had enough spilling of the beans for tonight. Its very cathartic to put it all out there, because it makes me see I'm not weak at all...quite a strong mother in fact all things considered.

Out of Darkness Comes Light

A few days ago I was going on my merry way, a routine day, nothing out of the ordinary... then I was stopped dead in my tracks, when, by what could be explained by nothing less than divine intervention I was made to cross paths with the story (blog) of an amazing little spitfire girl and her family. Her name is Aviana and she was with her grandma and grandpa in Roseville and as he held her crossing the street a driver ran a red light and hit them. Aviana barely survived and her chances looked grim. I read her moms almost daily blog with tears soaking my cheeks. There were times I had to put the laptop down and just cry for this poor mother and father and the pain and helplessness they must have been feeling..and for their beautiful little angel girl that fought a fight no one should ever have to at the brave but tender age of not even 3 years old. It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming to me...and I wish Aviana and her incredibly strong parents all the best in the world. I wish I could express to them that they truly are my heroes for all they have survived, because I dont think I could have, and certainly not nearly as eloquently as they have done. Anyways, as I read on and on it made me think about how I scold my boys for climbing the furniture, pass out time outs for talking back, and revoke special treats for not doing what they've been told and instead emptying out their dresser drawers. It made me feel so unappreciative when faced with what this other mother was witnessing. It made me realize that the things that seem like such big deals right at this moment, could become meaningless things in the face of bigger obstacles a moment later. It made me think of how selfish and silly I must be to sit here and cry with frustration on days when it seems like they just wont listen to a word I say and will do nothing but wrestle and fight at naptime. It made me realize that that mother would have given anything she could to have those moments back with her daughter. To be able to see her climb the furniture, make mischief, even talk back would have been music to her ears after all she'd experienced. My point is, I hope I never take my kids for granted and never fail to not realize the magic and blessing in every single second I get to have them in my life...healthy, happy, and true to themselves. I know we all forget, and I know its so easy to do...but because of sweet little Aviana and her story I will never again think of the ways I wish my kids could be and act...the places I wish we could go if they would just cooperate.. I will be thankful for the lack of stress and strife we've had in our wonderful lives. I will play one more game even when I'm tired, read one more bedtime story everynight, and request and deliver more hugs and kisses every chance I get. Thank you Aviana and Family for making me realize just how very very blessed I am and how quickly your blessings could be taken away and turned into other things you never in a million years thought you would live through. Like I said.. I wish her all the strength, happiness, health, and love in the world...because were it not for her I might have thought today was just another day and not my own little world of miracles because of the amazing people I have in my life and the angels we have watching over us.

I love you boys! And I will love you more than anyone has ever loved you...till the end of the world!

so I'm a blogger...

I can do this.. it will be good for me, a new hobby *wink wink* But how do you start these? I have said it before...and I will say it again, I am not good at beginnings or endings, just middles, so all you will get from me is ther cream filling of my life. Get used to it.. some days the cream filling may be sweet, some dyas it may be bitter... but it is what it is (most overused phrase in the world by the way)... so for lack of a deep philosophical thought, heres where what consumes my mind at this minute.
My house and my wild boys and I were without air conditioning for the past three days, today we are vacationing in our own house..in wonderful blessed 70 degree air..ahhh..."this is the good life" in the words of Dylan. Yes son, it is. We are packing for our big move to our new home. Its not new, but new to us and we couldnt be more excited to begin this new chapter in our lives. Finally our money will be going into something we can call our own instead of some faceless landlord somewhere. I dont want to jinx myself, but things just keep getting better. First I find my Father, my two twin sisters, a new house, less bills and debt, abeach camping trip followed by a trip to the beach house, and a baby boy thats doing great at pottytraining. What more could a girl want? Ahh.. Dylan is so wise..lol..life IS good! I am so thankful for the countless ways my life has been sprinkled with beautiful blessings. Thank You Great Spirit ;)