Finding Our Roots

Last year, my brother Galen wanted some help in finding his birth father so he asked me to submit a DNA sample to Ancestry for analysis. He had already done one and wanted a way to eliminate some of the many, many, matches he had been given. It took me way too long to get my DNA kit sent in & processed but eventually, we had a list of common matches and uncommon matches. It was, and still is, a very long list (we're talking 400+ pages, each with more than forty entries) but narrowing it down by eliminating our shared matches helped immensely.

I don't know if you have ever done research on your family tree but it can get really confusing, really fast and that's when you have solid information to work back from. When you're trying to build a tree without knowing anything about anyone who is in the tree, you're essentially building a puzzle while blindfolded...Luckily, Galen had two matches fairly close to him that weren't shared by me so that's where I started.

Galen had reviewed some the matches he had been given and had reached out to a few of the closest connections but was still having trouble figuring how to put all the information together and how to use it to find his dad. Ancestry's relationship predictor has a habit of calling everyone cousins, even though the degrees of separation could constitute an aunt/uncle relationship; they offer charts with varying degrees of separations to help explain the distance and show possible common ancestors, which helps when you have literally nothing to go one. I started with the two closest connections; a father and a son whom Ancestry predicted to be 2nd & 3rd cousins to Galen. I copied down the tree they belonged to then I checked to see if these two connections shared any other connections with Galen. They did.

That was it. My curiosity was piqued. I dove in head first & wholeheartedly. This was a mystery I was going to solve.

I grabbed a notebook and again started copying down trees, tracing them back until I could find a common ancestor, every common ancestor adding strength to the connection. I wanted to 'practice' my new-found tree building skills some more so I went back to our shared matches and started building a tree of shared matches, gaining confidence in my investigative skills along the way. I contacted a few matches, shared our story and asked questions; I copied down more trees, traced back more shared matches, found more common ancestors, contacted more people; I had my mom submit a DNA test and added all three of our profiles to another DNA analysis site called GEDmatch.com.

Turns out, Galen's father wasn't the only mystery I was going to solve.

My mom, our mom, is also adopted.

Born in 1949, she doesn't have any of the information about her parents that Galen had about her. Her adoption wasn't done through an agency; it was more of a black market baby-buying kind of deal. A nurse at the hospital where my mom was born knew my adopted grandparents, knew they wanted to have a family but couldn't have their our children and she knew my mother was going to be put up for adoption so she tipped my grandparents off to my mom. They hired a lawyer, drew up adoption papers and walked out with my mom. My mom has never requested her original, pre-adoption, birth certificate so her parentage has remained a total mystery.

Until this hunt began...

One thing about DNA: it might be confusing and difficult to understand but IT DOES NOT LIE. If you share DNA with someone, guess what, you are related. So now with shared matches for all three of us & our varying degrees of connection to them, we had a pretty clear picture of who was who, how we were related and a list of 'suspects'. Excluding our connections to each other, the closest connection for each of us, was a cousin; three in total. As it turns out, each cousin belong to a different side of the family: one on each side of my mom's family and one on my brother's father's side. And that father/son connection of Galen's? We determined the father is his great uncle and the son would be his 2nd cousin, which was a prediction Ancestry did give as a possible relationship. I talked with cousins on both of my mom's sides and eventually found my mom's uncle on her mother's side; I exchanged numerous emails, confirmed secret pregnancies and adoptions, revealed the existence of unknown children & siblings and got two more DNA samples submitted (results are still pending!)

Confident I was now on target, I searched and scoured for every bit & scrap of information I could find on the man I believed was Galen's father and took it to him. I told him I wasn't positive but I had a few leads for him if he wanted to pursue them: three names, children of the man I thought could be his father, and a place of death for him, in Texas. He Googled the names & city and found an address that had two of the names plus three more and a couple Facebook profiles so he took a chance and sent out a message with his phone number. There hadn't been any activity on the profile in a while so he wasn't sure he would hear back. When my phone rang later that same day and his number popped up, I answered right away.

"We found him."

He'd gotten a call back, just hours later, from his father's ex wife. She had met his father in Vegas, they'd been together 10 years, married for one, had two kids together. His father had also had another child with a third woman, gotten custody of the girl then taken ill and passed in 2011. The kids are now 23, 21, and 16 years old. The youngest two are daughters, living in Texas; the oldest, a son, is living in Missouri, I think. The youngest daughter was adopted by a family who attends the same church as the half sister & her mother so they are all pretty close, it seems. They were very excited to hear from him and are looking forward to building relationships.

I couldn't believe it. I cried of course. I hadn't realized during this process how much of myself I had put into it but I really put my entire heart and being into this project. I had neglected housework and spent literally days at a time on Ancestry, searching through documents, pouring over trees, filled all the blank pages of two different tablets with family trees and connection charts and started filling in pages of a third. It had become a bit of an obsession and while I knew the whole goal was to find the answer, I was still stunned that we actually had it.

I am sure enough to write this post that I have indeed found my mother's birth parents and my brother's father but I am still waiting on the DNA results from what would be one of my mom's half brother and the uncle on her mother's side, both of which will be definitive and leave absolutely no room for doubt. After completing this adventure, I would highly encourage anyone who is adopted and wanting to find birth families to submit a DNA kit to Ancestry for analysis. It could very well change your life.

A lesson for all of us here is this: talk to your family. Share stories and histories with each other; grandparent to grandchild, parent to child, with your nieces and nephews; get to know one another. Time is a very precious commodity and once the source of vital information, oral histories, is gone, all the information is lost. Both of my grandparents have already passed, as has my brother's father. My mother's uncle, her only remaining connection to her mother, is going to be 82 in March.

 We need these wells of knowledge, these depositories of memories long forgotten, to connect us to the past we share so we don't unknowingly repeat the mistakes of our ancestors.


-- If you or someone you know would like help or information about using Ancestry DNA, finding your family or creating a family tree, please contact me --

When life gets in the way...

2014 is here.

I wasn't ready for another new year but it's here anyways. When I look back at 2013, there's so much that happened that I didn't share and it makes me sad. Last year (so weird to say that) was hard for me. Right now is still hard for me but I'm getting through.

Jay & I have struggled. Like, really, really  struggled. I've had a difficult time adjusting to life with a new baby and two older kids. Phoenix is doing great in school but is having some emotional issues, most likely because of the new baby. Paxton's probably the doing the best out of all of us, funny as that is.

My mental health has taken a major hit and I think not blogging was a part of that. This isn't just an outlet, it's a source of confidence. It makes me feel good to blog and to get these thoughts out of my head. I love documenting the twists & turns our lives take, even if some of the darkest stuff is next to impossible to write. It's something I need to work on; writing about the bad. This last year was full of it. Instead of letting out my frustrations, I let them fester and now, I'm rotting inside.

No more.

I don't want to rot.

I want to heal and be better.

I know I need to get back at it but it's been a bit of a challenge to get the blog-ball rolling again. My life is different; I have less time, less energy and many more woes & complaints. I'm still me though and this has always been a form of therapy for me. I get a chance to process and ultimately release emotions and thoughts I would otherwise bottle up.

I posted pretty sporadically last year and then just stopped altogether a few weeks before Korben was born. I'm disappointed in myself; this is really about documenting memories & I've let so many slip by in the time I've been gone.

It's a gap I can never fill.

I want to blog again. I love it. I miss it. I need to get back to it.

Now seems as good a time as any. It's a new year, a time for fresh starts and resolutions; I don't make resolutions but I do have the goal to BE A BETTER BLOGGER.

Even if it's just an hour or two a week, a recap of what's happened, I need to do it. There's no shortage of topics to write about; there is always something going on over here. When things get crazy-busy, it's even more important to find the time. These kids are growing up too fast; you can't blink without missing something. In the last 20 weeks, Korben has changed drastically and none of it is here. Such a short time, yet so much has happened.

I also need to lean on this more, personally. When things get bad, I shut down and retreat. It's my defense mechanism, I guess. The problem is: it doesn't work. I need to open up and allow myself to process those feelings the same way I do everything else. I need to stop fearing judgement.

I need to be more honest.

Taking care of the two older boys and the baby has been way harder than I'd anticipated. Way harder. It's not them; it's the baby. I forgot just how much energy/time/attention a baby takes and the reality I'd envisioned has been replaced by the Actual Reality. I'd pictured things much the way they'd been when Phoenix and Paxton were born. Jay & I were both active in parenting, sharing baby duties like early mornings, night feedings and diaper changes. I'll admit, it wasn't always an agreement but we'd worked out a system of Your Turn/My Turn that worked fairly well. With Phoenix anyways.

When we had Paxton, I planned on breastfeeding but we were also planning the move to California. After a few weeks of being the only food source, I was overwhelmed. I needed to be able to hand Paxton off to Jay the way I had Phoenix. Plus, with the move coming up, I needed to be able to feed him on the go. So we switched to formula. It made things easier; we were more of a partnership again. When Jay started working with his step-dad, I started taking on more responsibilities around the house, as well as the kids.

When he took over the business, I was officially a stay-at-home mom.

It took awhile to find the balance again; it was my job to take care of house, home and children; he would go to work and earn the money we needed to survive. He was still Dad; still played with the kids, just didn't want to do anything chore-like. Understandable. Frustrating at times but understandable. We fought about it & still do but I really do love being at home, most of the time, and it truly is a privilege so I put on my big girl panties and buckled down. I'm not perfect. I still let dishes pile up. We run out of clean underwear every now & then and sometimes, our bathroom looks more like a filthy barber's shop than a bathroom but I'm owning it. 

Maybe my "balance" was more of a "see-saw" but it was working. I thought we'd be okay, adding a new baby but things weren't as easy as I'd thought. Jay's exhausted every day from work. I'm exhausted from the kids. I want a break. He wants a break. We both feel overwhelmed and underappreciated. It's a bad situation. This time, I feel like I'm on my own and there's this gap opening up between us.

I'm tired of fighting. Tired of the anxiety. I want peace. I want calm. I want my partner back. I want my family whole again.

I have hope this is just another rough patch. That we will weather this storm like the ones before; that we will come out on the other side, stronger and wiser. We're all still adjusting to life as a family of five. A lot has changed for all of us; it's going to take more than a four months to get back to a state of normalcy. Things are slowly getting easier and getting the kids back in school helps to get all of us back on routine. I've got my fingers crossed the worst is behind us.

I'm ready to come up out of this hole.

The Return

I might be overdoing it a bit when I say it feels like I've completed some sort of epic, Iliad-like quest but I'm saying it anyways. 

This having a baby thing was IS crazy-hard!

I think we're finding our groove again but it's still a work in progress for sure. Life is always difficult when a new baby comes home, I just managed to forget how difficult it can be those first few weeks. In this case, it wasn't the baby that was challenging; it was everything else. 

Dealing with two older kids, a house & a business on top of a baby was what I hadn't really planned for. I mean, I knew I was going to have to do it; I just didn't think it would be as impossible as it was... Thankfully, I think the hardest part is behind us and OMG, is this baby adorable! 

He's almost three months old now. Phoenix & Paxton are getting used to him, although Phoenix isn't as interested in him as Paxton is. I think it's harder for Phoenix because he is the oldest; he knows now that another baby means less attention for himself and he's determined to make sure he doesn't get left out, even if it means getting into trouble. Negative attention is still attention, right? And if you can get the whole family to stop, you get a lot of attention. We're working on learning to explain how we feel and exploring what makes us feel the way we do. It's a hard concept for anyone to grasp; it's even harder for a seven year old with processing issues to understand. 

Paxton, on the other hand, is doing fabulously. He's adjusted much better than I had expected. No major regressions; no real jealousy over Korben; no behavior problems at school. He's had a few moments of dislike when I need to take Korben with us to lay down for nap (which I totally get: that's our us time) but he's pretty much in love with his little brother. He's doing really well in preschool & his speech is getting better every day. He's farther along at this age than Phoenix was so I'm hopeful he'll be caught up in another year or two; he's even spelling words, including his name!

Jay's been working non-stop; no maternity leave for the self-employed dad. Wah wah wah. We had his Grammy with us for a week or so after Korben came home & there have been a few visits from family but for the most part, we've been on our own. Jay works as much as possible, booking rentals on the weekends and any open weekdays. Which leaves me alone with the three kids a lot. Yes, it's my job as a SAHM but that doesn't mean it's sunshine & roses 24/7. Especially with a newborn, two older-but-still-dependant kids and a house to maintain. Keeping us all fed, clothes & bathed has been a challenge, to put it lightly. Something to do with a baby constantly latched to a boob, I dunno...

I'll admit I've learned to do so many things with one hand or while breastfeeding. In fact, I should probably get a medal or something, for real. Physically, I'm back to the old me. Scratch that. I'm back to a version of old me but one that has BOOBS. Yup, one perk to breastfeeding when you've got smaller-than-average chesticules and I am enjoying them immensely. Getting back to myself, mentally & emotionally, has been harder. That whole perception-meets-reality conundrum. Things just weren't what I thought they would be. They still aren't and they probably will never be. That's the thing with perceptions; even when they are yours, they aren't always right. 

I'm coming to terms with my new reality, getting used to things & finding a balance that works for us, building a new routine. I'll fill you in on all that's happened between this post and my last over a few posts but this will have to satisfy you for now. You can put your mind at ease and finally breathe a sigh of relief:

I am back.

We choose NOT to spank. Here's why.

This last weekend, I came across a great article about alternative 'disciplinary' tools to use in place of spanking and, being that we're a family who has forgone spanking, I shared it on my page.

I was not expecting to get the reaction I did.

It was not good.

I was floored. Really?? I'm a bad mom because I don't want to hit my kids? Are you kidding me?? Are we still that primitive? Sure, your parents may have spanked you. Maybe your grandparents used a switch on them. That doesn't make it okay. At all.

Times change. We learn new things. We change and evolve. So should the way we raise our kids. We aren't sending our daughters off to get married at 12 and 13. We don't reserve education for our sons alone. We have learned the brains of infants are much more malleable than we had ever believed possible. Science has proven that sustained physical punishment has caused brain damage. Yes, brain damage.

Don't believe me? Here's an example of what Dr. Laura Markham, a clinical psychologist specializing in relationship-based parenting, has to say about spanking.

"A 2012 study reviewed the previous two decades of research and confirmed that children who are spanked have less gray matter in their brains, and are more likely to exhibit depression, anxiety, drug use, and aggression as they get older. The only positive outcome that's ever been shown from corporal punishment is immediate compliance; however, corporal punishment is associated with less long-term compliance. Corporal punishment has repeatedly been linked with nine other negative outcomes, including increased rates of aggression, delinquency, mental health problems, and problems in relationships with their parents."

Read the whole article for yourself here. No, really. Read it. Even if you do believe me.

Think about it like this; childhood is preparing you for adulthood. If you're repeatedly being hit to gain your compliance, what are you likely to do to get others to comply with you & your desires? You just might try hitting them...

I was rarely spanked as a child but I was never really taught how to properly deal with my anger, anxiety or any negative emotions. I learned early on to bottle shit up and I can clearly remember having anxiety attacks as young as 7 and 8 years old. My mom didn't deal with "bad" feelings well and I followed in her footsteps but worse, even. 

My mom and I have only had a few physical confrontations but in my book, one is too many. I remember the first time she ever really hit me and the damage it did to our relationship. My dad was much more of a 'presence'. He hated spanking me; he came from a very abusive family and he felt that spanking was a slippery slope. 

I feel the same way. 

I have anger issues. I have had to learn in adulthood how to deal with my "bad" feelings in a positive, healthy way. It is hard. When I am stressed out, distracted, busy, I get angry faster than I normally would. I'm pregnant and hormonal and that makes it even worse right now. I'm a yeller and a "loud talker" and I can be scary. Straight up.

Moms are not supposed to be scary.

Moms are supposed to be soft and cuddly and occasionally tough but always filled with love, understanding and comfort. 

If I believed spanking was an acceptable form of parenting and punishment, I can see myself using it as an outlet for my anger. I said it and I mean it. I can see myself taking my anger out on my kids through spanking. 

And that scares the fucking shit out of me. 

It should. It's not right. It's horrible. The idea that I am so angry and incapable of dealing with that anger that I would resort to hitting my kids to get it out is disgusting to me and a very real problem for a lot of parents. 

We are here to teach these kids and we are obligated to do better for them than our parents did for us. It's the only way to keep getting better. It's the only way to grow as humans, emotionally & mentally. We are not the primitive cavemen we once were because we learned.  We learned to make tools, to farm & cultivate food. We evolved. We became smarter. 

Aren't we smart enough to see the damage we cause when we use our hands instead of our words? Our kids are smarter than we realize and they are more than capable of thought. They can understand right from wrong when it's explained to them. When they are shown there are consequences for every action, good and bad, they learn. They become capable of thinking for themselves and they make better choices because they see the benefits. 

I want my boys to grow up strong, confident and full of love and self-respect. I don't want them to question themselves or their worth because someone tells them they aren't good enough. I do not want them to be fearful of anyone, at any time. I want them to feel powerful enough to speak out when they see wrong in the world. I want them to stand up for themselves when people treat them badly. I want them to know that love is unconditional; I want to teach them they don't need to be someone else's idea of perfect to be loved, that being themselves is perfect enough. 

I choose to parent in ways that don't resort to physical or corporal punishment and I ask every parent out there to at least look at the other options available out there. It's about being the best parents we can be, right? Don't we owe it to our kids to change if changing is what's best for them? 

I think we do and I hope I'm not alone. Next Monday, April 30th, is Spank Out Day, USA. On this day, parents, guardians & caregivers are encouraged not to hit or spank & to seek out other forms of punishment. Programs are available nationwide; at churches, schools and other community outlets. Sometimes, they're even free or have low-cost options. You can find a link to the Spank Out Day, USA website here. 

For one day, give your hand, and your kids' butts, a rest. It's only one day. 

Here are a few more links to some articles, websites and books I find useful:
How to handle your anger at your child

Positive Parents

Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids

Parenting with Love & Logic

Spaced Out

Eight years ago, when Jay & I were pregnant with Phoenix, I don't think we had any idea how our little family would eventually grow and shape itself. We knew we were going to be a family, sure; I just don't think we had a set picture of what that family would look like.

We did know one thing: we weren't in a rush to pop out more right away.

Jay is one of three boys, born in three years. His older brother was born in October 1977; Jay was born in March 1979. September of 1980, his little brother was here. I have no idea how his mom did it, physically or mentally, but I knew I wasn't up for it, however she had managed.

We both started to get the baby itch as Phoenix got older and around his third birthday, we knew it was time to give it some serious thought. Four months later, we found out Paxton would be joining us. A lot has happened since Paxton became a part of the family; the move down south, another move and well, lots of growing up.

He was only four months old when we moved down here.

Four months.

He'll never remember Portland and I don't even think he remembers the first house we had, in Orangevale. Where we live now will be where some of his first memories take place. And some of his first memories could very well be of Mom being 'pregnant' (whatever that means to a three year old), but hopefully, he'll have a few memories of life before he became a big brother.

That's one reason why we waited between kids: we wanted to be able to give them all the attention they deserve. With Phoenix in school during the day, Paxton is pretty much an only child til 4 PM, every day. He gets my undivided attention and it's just the two of us. When Jay is home from work, the three of us go on adventures like Jay & I did with Phoenix, before Paxton came about.

Sure, we feel a tinge of guilt Phoenix is missing out on fun times but isn't it important for Paxton to have one-on-one, just-him-and-Mom-and-Dad time? Yes. It is. And we deserve to be able to spend time with just Paxton. These little moments with just one kid give us the chance to really focus on that child. We get to enjoy them fully and it's in those moments you see how similar and how very different your kids truly are. You get to appreciate them as individuals instead of as a whole.

With Paxton getting ready to start preschool in the fall, I know I will have time to dedicate to the new baby, just the two of us. I will have a least a few hours every day with just one little person to care for, to feed & entertain. Then I'll have a few hours with Baby & Paxton before Phoenix gets home from school.

It's like a gradual progression from calm-craziness to crazy-craziness. I'll still get to Crazy Town on the regular but at least it won't be a constant. Hopefully, there will be an ebb & flow.

Being in the middle of this pregnancy, I can say I think it will be my last. It hasn't been particularly hard but it's seemed to snowball faster. I feel bigger, sooner, and I'm just more uncomfortable in general but I can see us following this 3-4 year pattern if we do decide to try for a fourth. It's really been a help to have those few years of adapting to our new human before throwing another new one into the mix. I am so thankful we waited to have Paxton because that time gave us a leg-up we desperately needed with Phoenix's speech & it gave us Paxton.

I'm not committing to anything right now, though; we still have 17 weeks to get through before we meet the newest member of the family and there is no telling what he'll bring to the table. If he is my last baby, I'm okay with it. I think the way we've spaced them out will help me be the best mom I can be, for each of them. I'm hoping it will give me a chance to learn to adapt to each of them as they grow up and change from boys to men. I'm hopeful it will give me time to devote to each of them, to create memories with them because in the end, I want each of them to know how incredibly special each of them is & that without each of them, our family would be vastly different.

Into the future...

On Monday, we went in for the ultrasound that would hopefully tell us what gender baby is. Well, it did exactly that and we found out we are expecting baby boy #3. While I had been holding out the tiniest shred of hope there would not, in fact, be a penis attached to my fetus, I knew deep-down we'd find one. And you know what? 

I am okay with it. 

Yup. That's a penis.

I posted on my Facebook page awhile back that I was trying to get into the "it's a boy" mindset because I had a feeling that's what we'd find out and I wanted to avoid total & utter disappointment. Yes, I am slightly bummed there won't be a little girl in the house. I won't have hair to braid and when I paint nails now, people will look at me funny but it didn't take long to get used to my new reality. I am quickly becoming excited about what three boys will mean for us as a family and what this little guy is going to bring to the party. 

There is a very special dynamic in every family and I think families that have children of one gender have an especially unique one. I'm not saying it's for the good or bad, just different. Boys with only brothers have a different experience than they would if one of those brothers was a sister. And vice versa. Girls raised with sisters and no brothers have an experience that would be wholly different if one of them was a boy. 

It presents problems and eases some burdens. While I can now be assured I will never own a bathroom that doesn't smell like pee, I also know I will always have help when it comes to moving furniture, taking out the garbage or yard work (when we get one!). I don't think we'll be able to get all three of them in a room together, just because of the age differences but there will always be one room with two of them, at least. 

Our little man had more surprises in store for us too. Like being another week ahead of schedule. Yeah. Not even 20 weeks in & we're getting our due date bumped up a second time, this one by five days instead of two. We're now expecting his arrival around August 15. I'm not really complaining about the new due date; if it's accurate, it means I have one week less in the summer heat, grossly pregnant. I can totally live with that. 

All that change is based on how big he is. At the time of the ultrasound, I was 19 weeks and 6 days along but he measured out to be the size of a 20-21 week old fetus. He "weighed" about 13 ounces, what my pregnancy calendar claims he should be weighing today, days later, on the first day of week 21. 

Honestly, though. I didn't need the ultrasound to tell me, this kid is big. I've been showing for weeks now and I look much farther along than I actually am. I can feel him moving almost constantly & you can see it on the outside now too. I'm getting the boys used to talking to him and trying to let them catch a kick or two but so far, no luck. 

We've thought about names and are saving up to store cord blood. I'm going to set up a gift registry for the cord blood so friends and family can help with the costs if they so desire (hint, hint. wink, wink). My mom found a convertible crib set she wants to buy for us and it's one we actually like so of course we said "Yes, please!" There is still SO MUCH preparing to do but really, we've been through this rodeo before; we're not buying all that crap you're convinced you need as a first-timer. NO WAY. 

I'm sticking to a few key things we'll need in abundance, like Summer Infant's SwaddleMe wraps. I was thinking about going with the new-school cloth diapers they have out there or at least Honest Company's plant-based disposables. All I know for sure is I'm not going out of my mind, buying shit that will never get used. I'll do what I did with Paxton & find a car seat/stroller combo on Craig's List if I can. I might even be able to find a really good one like an Orbit or a Bugaboo. I'd be willing to spend decent money on those since they will be getting used A LOT and I might actually be able to find a used one around town. 

I know the next few months will fly by and baby will be here before we know it but it feels like there is plenty of time. Until I look down or stand up or try to eat. Then I realize how long I still have to go and how much growing we both still have to do. I worry about how big he is, how big he'll get and how my body will handle it. I'm not at risk right now but I'm notorious for developing high blood pressure and pregnancy-induced hypertension around 35 weeks. Both Phoenix & Paxton were induced a few days early and I was on bed rest with both of them; 6 weeks with Phoenix and 1-2 with Paxton. 

For now, I'm taking it easy, pacing myself as I get used to my growing belly and shrinking lung capacity. I'm still eating small meals throughout the day to help with my blood sugar and because the Zofram can only do so much if I'm not eating every few hours. Still craving lots of sweets, fruits and juices. Chocolate milk is on the list now too, along with this trail mix I found and Cuties, those little mandarin oranges they market as 'perfect for kids'. 

I still haven't gained any weight, even with all the snacking and sweets (probably because of the morning sickness and baby's propensity to steal all my calories and whatnot), making this my tiniest pregnancy ever but I'm sure it's not going to last much longer. For now, the only things that seems to be growing besides my belly are my boobs; I've already jumped from a 34A to a 36B and now, that's starting to feel too small. 

IT IS AWESOME. Too bad I can't guarantee they'll stay...

He's already squished & he still has months of baking left!

We're heading into the downhill climb and if I remember correctly, this half will crawl by. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be comparing this pregnancy to the last two; it's already been so different. Maybe I'm completely wrong and this last half will go even faster than the first. 

We'll just have to wait and see. 

Starting Fresh

We made it to another new year.

I meant to write a resolution post. I meant to write about our New Year. I meant to write about highlights from 2012 and upcoming awesomeness in 2013. 

I meant to but I did not. 

Life has been happening here and I haven't been able to sit down and sort out my thoughts. I'm just kind of going through the motions right now. Doing what I know I need to do and hoping no one notices the stuff I'm neglecting. I'm tired; exhausted, really. I'm fighting depression and an ever-present anger that threatens to eat me alive. 

Anger and I don't get along. We have some serious issues. I've done stupid, stupid things because of anger; dangerous things that could have, should have, killed me. Anger has taken me down some dark roads and I let it turn me into a horrible, awful, miserable person. I do not like anger and I've tried so very hard these last five or six years to get it reined in and under control. 

Depression is more fleeting for me these days; I have more control over that aspect of my mentality but with the anger, it comes sneaking in. 

I don't want to rant, though, and there is no point in talking about things that can't be resolved and definitely no point in being vague as shit, which I feel obligated to be in this instance. So I'm left with a choice (it always comes down to choices, doesn't it??): fester or focus on the good. 

I chose to focus on the good. 

This year is going to be EPIC. We've a got a baby coming; the third and final addition to this awesome little family. Jay has just started his third year as a business owner. Paxton is working hard on potty training and speech and will start preschool in the fall, if all goes as planned. Phoenix has been doing phenomenal in first grade and has made leaps and bounds in speech and language. We're still trying to get the evaluation for CAPD and hopefully we'll get that done in this next semester then he'll have another year of summer school before starting SECOND GRADE.

I am going to dedicate more time to my blog, post more regularly and get a little deeper with you guys. I've made a promise to myself to continue on the journey to being a better mom. I still need to work on patience, letting them make mistakes and living in the moment. My anxiety still gets the best of me in some situations and when it does, it zaps all the fun out of whatever we are doing. That's not fair; to me, Jay or the kids. "Letting go" will be a big goal for this year, in many different ways. 

Letting go of the anger, the negativity; letting go of expectations and most especially, fears. This is a time for new beginnings and I don't want to taint what is to be with resentment for what has come to pass.

It will be hard; anger is not easily let go of.

It has its claws dug in deep and it wants to take me back to that awful, miserable place I was once in but I won't let it. I don't want to be that person any more, ever again. I will fight. I will conquer.

I will be happy.

I will welcome this new year with open arms. I will accept the chance to start fresh and make new beginnings. I will conquer some more of my demons. I might stumble and fall along the way; as long as I get back up and keep on going, I will win. 

Pining for Portland

It's been almost three years since we moved down to Sacramento from Portland. Three long, hard years. We've moved twice since first coming down. Jay started the company and its been going and growing. We've settled in and gotten used to California living but in all honesty, I miss Portland. 

I miss the people.

I miss the rain.

I miss the city itself.

As soon as we found out we were pregnant again, I really started missing Portland. I realized right away that this pregnancy would be vastly different than my other two. I wouldn't be going to Legacy Emanuel. I wouldn't be dealing with the team of Certified Nurse Midwives that I had come to know so well during my pregnancies with Phoenix and Paxton. I might not even be able to find a CNM. The idea of having an OB/GYN freaks me out to no end. I wouldn't even be giving birth to another Oregonian; this baby will be a Californian, through and through.

We left for a reason though. Several, in fact. I had spent 26 years in that city. I'd gone to elementary, middle and high school there. It was all I really knew and at the time of the move, I was feeling suffocated. I needed to get out of there and I needed to experience life in another city, a new place. I needed to know I could survive and thrive anywhere.

I've come to grips with the fact that I was running away from life up there. I wanted to get away from my mom and moving has really helped our relationship. I appreciate her so much more & I think she appreciates me and the boys more too. I've had to admit that life here in California isn't all that different than life in Oregon.

We are still struggling, a little less than before but still struggling. I'm still alone with the boys most of every day. Jay and I still fight and the boys still have speech issues.

Yes, we live in a new city, a new state, but we still have a lot of our old problems. Moving doesn't fix much, if anything, and sometimes, it gives you more problems. I feel more isolated, more alone here than I ever did in Portland. I have made friends and I am truly grateful for them; they have helped keep me sane, especially in this last year. I've grown exponentially since coming down here and have really gotten a grip on my anxiety and panic attacks. I've learned how to get around and I've gained an insane amount of confidence in myself.

I'll admit I have regretted this move A LOT in the last few years; life here is not at all what I expected, what I was made to believe it would be. Yet I can't really be disappointed or angry. This has been an experience unlike any other I've ever put myself through. I made the choice to move here. I am at least partially responsible for the misery I am experiencing and I am the only one who can stop myself from being miserable.

We can't go back to Portland any time soon; we don't have the finances to do it and with the business down here, we can't really leave at all. As much as I miss Portland, as much as I need to go back, this is "home" for now. I need to make the most of it; I need to focus on all the good that has come from this move and I have to remember that things weren't prefect up there, either. No matter where we live, no matter what we do for work, life will always be life.

It will be hard; it will have challenges and hurdles to overcome.

There will be bright and shiny spots and moments of awesome happiness.

Life will go on and wherever you are, life will be what you make it.

Christmas Booty

Christmas is over and I have survived. Jay and I rushed around on Christmas Eve day and got all of our shopping done. I managed to pull off his present before we left for dinner at his grandma's and I even filled his stocking, on Christmas morning. Thank you, CVS, for being open. We manage to lure the kids into our room Christmas morning & Jay kept them corralled there while I ran for Starbucks (and his stocking stuffers). Two grande Pikes in venti cups the double shots in each. We needed it.

I got home, stuffed Jay's stocking and gave the release signal. Like a herd of wildebeest, they trampled downstairs and dove under the tree. Well, Phoenix went under the tree for presents, Paxton just wanted candy. We got everyone sitting and handed out stockings. Paxton was happy with his Ring Pops and Smarties; Phoenix wanted the big stuff.

Watching them open presents has got to be the funnest thing about Christmas. Their little eyes lighting up, the excitement and joy when they open something they really wanted. It seems to fade pretty quickly though, when the presents run out or if one of them gets something the other one wanted. Then there's a mess of wrapping paper and boxes to clean up and a million toys to put away in an already-packed room.

Jay got a headset for Xbox Live and a new charge & play kit since we go through batteries in ridiculous quantities; he put them to use right away and has repeatedly told me 'Thank you', with hugs and kisses and all. He didn't think it would be that cool but he said the same thing about Live and honestly, Live and this headset are two of the BEST presents I have ever gotten him. He didn't know how much he would like or use either until he had them!

I'd be lying if I didn't admit to making out with an insane haul myself. I got the new phone I was asking for, some towels from the mother-in-law, (including one for the new baby!) and between my brother in Portland and my sister-in-law here in town, I probably have TEN POUNDS of yarn. NO JOKE. My brother, Galen, sent down some vintage Mary Maxim, some funky fun fur, a brick of yarn that could probably make a sweater or a couple shawls at least and a bunch of other stuff. My sister-in-law gave me four huge skeins of Red Heart and a skein of Lion brand Homespun that looks like boucle. Jay picked it up immediately and fiddled with it for a bit, which totally threw me for a loop. Yes, he's asked me to knit hats to give out but he's never really been interested in anything for himself. Slowly but surely, I am winning him over. Maybe I'll even knit him a hat out of it, if I can find the right pattern.

I've already dug into this new-found stash and I'm working on stuff to ship out that should have gone out before the holiday. If you're expecting something, forgive me; December is hard on me and these little fingers. I still haven't learned that holiday knitting should start right after Christmas and go ALL YEAR LONG.

The boys have cracked into their booty too; Phoenix has built ALL of his LEGOS, with some help, and Paxton has actually played with his some of his toys, since all the Christmas candy 'mysteriously' disappeared. Of course, his favorites are his Thomas the Train set, which is loud and damned annoying and makes Mommy want to go all Godzilla and start stomping and crushing and destroying and his Ninja Turtle skateboard, which is also loud and annoying but not as bad as Thomas.

We also seemed to catch Christmas colds and are nursing coughs and itchy throats. Both boys were hacking through the night and I woke up to that tell-tale burning, scratching, raw throat. Better to catch them now, after the holidays and with plenty of time off from school, than to have them during the holidays or right before school starts back up. I'm looking forward to this little 'vacation' and hoping you guys had a great Christmas.

Have fun during Winter break. Be safe. Stay warm.

NEW YEARS' IS ALMOST HERE.

The Greatest Gift

As Christmas draws closer and we all scramble to find those last-minute presents, I want all of you to stop & think.

Remember that the greatest gifts we can give are NOT bought in the stores.

You can't order them online.

They don't require wrapping paper and they won't cost you a penny.

These gifts will be more appreciated. They have the potential to change lives and bring happiness you never realized was possible and they are within your power to give, to anyone and everyone you encounter.

Kindness.

Friendship.

Compassion.

Love.

Just a few of the priceless gifts we take for granted. We focus so much on the monetary value of our gifts, we forget that these simple things can have a greater impact than anything you can buy in a store. These are gifts that benefit everyone; the giver and the receiver. These gifts can be given to anyone; the clerk at the movie store, the cashier at Safeway, the teller at the bank, your mom, your friends, the bum on the corner.

These gifts will not go unused. They will not be opened up on Christmas morning and tossed aside. They will be enjoyed, cherished and they have the potential to be life-changing. They are in your power to give, as often as you choose, to whomever you choose.

These gifts are more valuable.

They have more meaning.

They are long-lasting and they have a tendency to multiple; the ripple effect, if you will.

One simple act could set in motion a chain of events beyond belief, sending ripples of awesomeness and greatness farther than you could imagine. My challenge, yes, CHALLENGE, to all of you this Christmas is to give ONE GIFT of kindness; ONE GIFT of friendship; ONE GIFT of compassion; ONE GIFT of love. See how far your ripples go. Enjoy the moment. Spread the kindness, the friendship, the compassion, the love. Spread them thick and wide.

Make this Christmas one that is full of these gifts and you will make this Christmas extra-special and full of unforgettable memories. I have been given these gifts myself and I can guarantee they have made an immeasurable difference. I don't care what I get for Christmas, this year or any other year, because I know I have the greatest gifts ever in my friends, my family.

I am well and truly blessed.

Finding happiness in the dark

For the most part, I am a positive person. I try to look at the bright side of things and choose not to focus on the bad shit that happens. Bad shit is always happening and it always will happen but those bright and shiny moments of awesome happiness are rare and fleeting and deserve to be celebrated. Those moments are what drive me; they are what get me through the dark spots and the bad shit.

Every now and then, the darkness is too much to hold at bay and I break. My positive attitude crumbles. The bright things dull a bit and the fog of depression rolls in. The last few weeks have been a struggle for me. I've tried to shake this cloud. I've told myself it is there and have been trying extra-hard to burn it away with whatever tiny rays of sunshine I can find, to no avail.

It just keeps growing.

Jay and I have anything but a perfect relationship and a lot of our problems are based on one of two things:

1) Our unplanned pregnancy, a month after our first date.

And

2) Jay's unresolved anger issues.

The first is something we've dealt with, for the most part. We've been together for more than seven years now and we've only had one very short-lived break up, before Phoenix was even a year old. It hasn't been easy, in any sense, and we've struggled to stay together. The second, his anger problems, is part of being raised in a house with a step-dad who was suffering from manic-depression/bi-polar disorder and was undiagnosed & unmedicated for years.

Let me be clear here. Jay is responsible for his own actions; there is no excuse for his outbursts or for the things he says when he is angry. He is in charge of himself and can blame no one for the things he does.

HOWEVER --

The environment you are raised in, be it positive or negative, loving or abusive, is the environment you become used to. It is what becomes "normal". When kids are raised around violence, it is easier for them to identify that behavior as normal, acceptable behavior and much harder to identify said behavior as 'bad'.

Think about it.

The foods we eat as kids comfort us as adults. The songs we listened to, books we read, places we visited or lived. We attempt to replicate the feelings of our youth in adulthood, to find the comfort we had, however fleeting or distorted it was.

I'm not saying it's okay for Jay to mimic the behaviors and outbursts he saw growing up, I'm saying I understand what he's up against.

He has to retrain his brain.

He has to learn new, appropriate ways of dealing with his stress and anger.

It is hard. It is not impossible.

The last few weeks have been really stressful, with Phoenix's birthday and Christmas coming up. He's been working a LOT and as much as he's working we are still behind. Way behind. It's hard on him to go to work, knowing the money he is earning is already gone before he gets it. I do what I can to save money, stretching the food stamps as far as they can go, waiting as long as possible to get things I have to spend cash on like soap & t.p., but it's not a lot. We've been fighting lately and I said something I should NOT have said during a recent spat and he flew off the handle. Wiped the computer clean off the counter, scaring the shit out of me and the kids, ripping cords out of it and busting the moulding on the monitor.

I've never seen him like this. EVER. It's the only time in our entire, fucked up relationship that I have been scared of him. It happened in the morning and we spent the rest of the day apart. I had the kids and tried to explain as best I could when Phoenix said 'Daddy is a bad man' that Daddy's isn't "bad", he's just making bad choices. REALLY bad choices. That night, I told Jay I'd leave if anything like that ever happened again and I will.

I'm not going to let my boys see that. I will not let them grow up thinking that is normal; I will show them how to be strong.

He agreed and he knows he needs help. Things were calm for a few days and I was grateful. So grateful. Then last night happened. Like I said above, I try to use our food stamps wisely and stretch them through the whole month. I thought I had $98 and change walking into the store last night. I DID NOT.

I had about $65. And NO money in the bank. This is not a proud moment for me. I had to leave a cart full of groceries in the store I ALWAYS shop at and go home to get money from Jay. Except, he said no. Great. Right now?? We're gonna do this, right now?? I honestly hadn't looked at the total and thought I had spent all $98 and was still $40 short. He flipped. How can I spend that much money of food? Wasn't I watching shit?? I thought I had been and couldn't explain or understand why I'd gone so far over.

I went back to the store, empty-handed, to try and figure out what to put back. THAT'S when I figured out I'd only had $65 in food stamps, not $98 and the total bill was $102.90. If I'd had that $98, I would have been fine. Totally fine. But I'd forgotten my most recent shopping trip and hadn't bothered to call the hotline before loading up the cart.

It was my fault. I had $103 dollars worth of groceries and only $65 in food stamps.

So I was at the customer service desk, apologetically trying to find food I didn't really need. I was mortified. MORTIFIED. Especially when another customer stepped in line behind me to witness my stupidity and poverty. I now have TWO people helping me and the lady behind me shuffles to the side and beckons to one of the workers helping me. I flushed instantly. "Oh god. I'm so slow. This woman is trying to get her shit and go. Ohgodohgodohgod."

I hear her ask him, 'How much does she owe?' He looks at me and says "$38.71." And I watch her as she hands him $40.

NO. THIS. IS. NOT. HAPPENING. 

Yes. Yes it is. This woman, this total stranger was paying for my groceries. I couldn't stop myself from bawling. I grabbed her and hugged her and thanked her & her husband over and over. She simply said, "Don't cry. Have a Merry Christmas. Go home and take care of your family."

I couldn't stop crying. I cried all the way out of the store. I cried all the way home. I was so pissed off that I had been put in that position, so angry I had been forced to stand there and humiliate myself. And so thankful that a total stranger had been there to help me. I didn't say a word to Jay. I made dinner. I ate. I put the boys to bed. I sat down and knitted until ten and then, I went to bed. I still haven't told him how I got those groceries home and I don't think he cares. I think he feels like he was right and I'm not talking to him out of pride or shame that I was wrong.

He has no idea that we didn't have as much in food stamps as I thought we did; he has no idea that I was "on budget" for what I thought we had. He thinks I spent $98 on food and STILL needed another $40 and I can agree that that would be kind of ridiculous. Nowhere near as ridiculous as refusing to give me money for food but still, slightly ridiculous.

All of this blackness, the dark cloud that placed itself over me, took away the great feelings I had from getting 300+ fans yesterday. It took away the joy I was feeling and the excitement. Big things have been happening here and I've been patiently waiting to spill my beans. It's just been so negative, it hasn't seemed right. I'm not happy and don't want to celebrate when I should be shooting rainbows and sunbeams out of my eyeballs, screaming about how AWESOME life is.

I woke up this morning, feeling pitiful, angry and bitter.

Then I remembered: I HAVE SHIT TO BE HAPPY ABOUT. Yes, Jay was wrong and fucked up. It's over though and I can't do anything differently now.

I'm not going to let it go.

I'm not going to forget about it.

We will talk and things will change. One way or another, things will change.

We have a responsibility to these kids; we are obligated to show them how to love each other in healthy ways.

Relaying all this to you, I feel like I sugar-coat the relationship Jay and I have quite a bit. Maybe I do it because everyone expects us to fail, expects us to be 'the couple with problems'. We're not married. We have two kids out of wedlock. We are not the typical family.

Is it really a sugar-coating though? Or am I simply doing what I do and trying to focus on the good, the positive? There is good happening to us right now too. It's just being over-shadowed by this cloud. I wish the cloud weren't here and I could share the joy we're experiencing instead of this lingering blackness but that's not really how life works.

Sometimes, you get shit on your boots when you're picking flowers. You take the good with the bad and roll with the punches. You pick yourself up when you fall, dust yourself off and get moving again. Find the silver lining in that black cloud and wrap yourself up in it. Remember even the prettiest rose has thorns and you can never plant a garden without getting your hands dirty.

Stay positive.

Focus on the good.

Celebrate those bright and shiny moments of awesome happiness.

Our relationship is not perfect. It is flawed like we are but it is strong like us too. I know we will make it through this and I know we will love each other a little more, we will each be a little stronger and wiser and we will be better people, better parents, better partners for having experienced all our trials and tribulations.

We are happy together. We do love each other.

And we are pregnant. 

Yes, you read that right. In all this nastiness, there is a really bright and shiny, totally awesome happiness. We are expecting our third and final addition to this semi-dysfunctional-but-loving little family. I know this has added to the recent stress and anxiety. I know things will be harder with another mouth to feed, another body to clothe. I know the timing wasn't the greatest, even though we did plan this. I also know we can do this. 

We wanted this. We made this happen. We can do this and we will do it together, with love and hope and lots of hard work.

Christmas is coming

Seven days and counting.

SEVEN DAYS.

One week.

Christmas is coming.

It's right around the corner and if you're anything like me, you're nowhere near ready. Or you're not like me at all & you're completely done with shopping, wrapping and decorating. CONGRATULATIONS.

I have done NO shopping. I haven't wrapped a single present. I haven't even really thought about doing either. It's bad, I know, but December is just too overwhelming for me and for the third year in a row, we've waited WAY TOO LONG.

Pulling off a good Christmas for two kids can be difficult in the best financial situation. Pulling off a good Christmas for two kids PLUS two decent birthdays and you are doomed if you haven't been planning and stockpiling presents all year long. I told myself this. I told Jay this. I knew this in June; we should be shopping for Christmas. Did I start shopping then?? NO. If I had, I would have some shopping done and some presents to wrap.

Good thing Christmas is more than shopping and wrapping and presents, right?

Right.

Christmas is about caring and sharing and family. Its about being together and enjoying each other's company. There's the cooking and the decorating.  The tree and the lights.

Oh, the lights.

The lights are my absolute favorite part of Christmas. I'd leave them up all year if it wasn't the sign of complete laziness because they are just so damned pretty.

And while I might be totally slacking off when it comes to presents and wrapping, we aren't slacking at all when it comes to Christmas spirit. Our lights have been up since the first week of December and we got our tree this last weekend. It took us awhile to find The Perfect Tree; we went to THREE different tree farms up at Apple Hill but find it, we did. Jay cut it down; I helped him carry it out and Phoenix helped net it for the ride home. It was definitely a family affair.

We got it home and set up. Jay wanted to put the lights on it, which I usually do because they have to be just a certain way but I relented and let him do it. Phoenix helped with the garland and the ornaments, of course, and I found myself repeating words I heard so often when decorating the tree as a kid --

"Move that one over there."

"Too many ornaments here."

"Oh, there's a bald spot!"

In his defense, it is kind of hard to decorate a six-foot tree when you're only four-and-a-half feet tall. Considering this height limitation, he did really well and only a few ornaments had to be 'relocated'. I'm kind of surprised by how much he really loves Christmas. He's only seven and hasn't complained to us about his birthday being so close to this other, more widely-celebrated holiday. Yet. I know it may still come, as he gets older but right now, he doesn't care and he is totally in love with Christmas.

Paxton is too young to really grasp the concept of birthdays and Christmas but he's the one who's really going to be put out as time ticks by. His birthday is on the 30th, just five days after Christmas. Everyone is burned out and overwhelmed and we're all out of Valium by this point in the holiday season; we're all just waiting for New Year's Eve and the champagne. The last week of December has to be the worst time of year for a birthday.

THE WORST.

He doesn't have a clue, though. He's just excited to see all the pretty lights, like his Mama. He has no idea who Santa is or that this mysterious fat man will be bringing him presents. I'm not sure what he would do if I tried to take him to see Santa at the mall but I can't imagine it would be good. Avoiding the mall Santa is just fine by me; one less thing I have to worry about not getting done. Like the Christmas cards that won't be there before Christmas.

You'll be getting New Years cards instead. You're welcome.

All this stress and somehow, it's still fun. This is still a time of year I look forward to; I still get excited; I thrive on the last minute rushing around and the Christmas Eve wrapping craze. It's kind of a tradition, one my dad started many, many years ago when he'd take me out on Christmas Eve to get my mom's present but all the stress, all the hassle, all the madness are worth it when you see those little faces light up when they see the presents stacked up under the tree.

Christmas is coming and I am not prepared.

I'm not going to stress out about it, though. Why should I? It's Christmas time and I already have everything I could ever need: I have my family. I have my health. I have hope.

This year is going to be tight and tricky and it won't go down in history as the Christmas we all got everything we asked for but it will still be Christmas. We will still be together, we are still a family and we can make even the poorest, most-presentless Christmas rich with love and full of happiness because we are together.

A birthday I hope he remembers forever

We did it. We successfully pulled off a birthday at Chuck E. Cheese's. There were no melt-downs. Not one, single fit of tears. No one got drunk; I didn't even get my glass of wine. We didn't lose any kids, or adults. Our little plastic cups ranneth over with tokens. The Birthday Boy walked out with 1803 tickets, bags full of awesome toys and goodies. The final bill was actually less than expected.

It was one of the best parties I've EVER been to; as an adult, as a kid. In my life. It's partly just because I could never have one like that as a kid. And knowing how much Phoenix wanted this "perfect party". It definitely had something to do with the awesome people who came to celebrate with us and being able to get him the ONE present he really, really, really wanted didn't hurt either.

We got there fifteen minutes early, which was good because they were grossly busy. You know that kind of anxiety-inducing busy you see at some of the must-go-to birthday party joints? Yeah, that kind of busy. I told the gal up front we were there and she started getting our tables ready. We waited in the car, hyping the kids up and watching for family & friends. Jay's mom & step-dad didn't see us in the parking lot and went in ahead of us so we figured it was time to go in too. I took presents and cake to the table & Jay waited with Phoenix for his 'escort', -- GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTER. I'm talking about my seven year old son's birthday party here -- a special procession for him headed by a giant balloon with his name on it that I'm pretty sure we left behind. Oops.

Jay's brother, Mike came with his wife, Darla, and their kids Dylan & Sydney and Jay's grandparents brought our 'cousin' Annie. She's five or six and more like a niece than a cousin but she's Jay's aunt's daughter, which makes her a cousin. Then we met our hostess, got tokens and RELEASED THE CHILDREN. We ordered pizza and soda for the grown folk. It's not as bad as it used to be and is better than some of the chains we've been known to frequent. Our friends Jeff & Angela brought Angela's son, Andrew and our friend Carrie came with her son Aiden, one of Phoenix's BEST friends. Monica brought baby Johnny and Carrie's little sister Jordan, who's seventeen. It was one big, happy family and I loved it.

Party Time! Photo by Monica =)

Pizza came and we rounded up all the wee ones. We did cake and the kids got to dance on stage with Chuck E. Cheese. Phoenix got to go in the Ticket Blaster, where he could win up to 1,000 tickets! He went crazy and it was hilarious to watch. I'll post a video on the FB page. When our hostess opened it to let him out with his haul, she quickly ducked in and snagged him a few extras, including the Big 1,000 ticket prize. It was super sweet and awesome.

It was back out to the games and time for the part Jay & I were most scared of, all night -- the final bill came. She handed Jay a receipt he couldn't decipher and told him all she needed was x dollars. When he told me what the final amount was, I was SHOCKED. In a good way. It was less than I'd expected! We were now without a hostess, other than myself, so things went a little whack-ass for a minute. I soon realized it was all on me and I remembered the one thing every birthday has that we still hadn't done yet: PRESENTS.

I rounded everyone up and gathered all the cameras & Phoenix went nuts. He got Batman LEGOS, coloring books and crayons, clothes, a CAP GUN and CAPS (Thank you SO MUCH, Carrie!), an Avengers sword and shield, yo-yos, a Marvels poster and so much more. We saved the Big One for last and honestly, I think maybe we should have waited til we got home to let him open it b/c he wanted to play it right then and there. I don't know how he was surprised when he saw it was a Nintendo DSi and games when that's all he's been asking for since JULY but somehow, he was. I won't even lie and say I didn't get emotional throughout the night. I did. A lot. I kept myself together though and didn't actually cry or sob.

By this time, we were finishing our third hour of non-stop fun, the grand-folks had gone home and the tokens had finally run dry. Kids were getting tired. Parents were exhausted.

Everyone was happy.

We started to split up and go our own ways; the last of us looking real classy with our cars parked sideways in the lot, all our doors open as we said our final good-byes. It was wonderful and so. much. fun. We let Phoenix build his LEGOS when we got home so we could get everything else put away, tucked them both into bed and let out a huge sigh.

We did it. We pulled off one the best, most-memorable birthday parties ever. Yes, he's only seven and yes, there are many more to come but I know this one will be one he remembers.

Life Changer

Seven years ago. Today. Man, what a day.

It changed my life in so many ways. So, so many ways.

After weeks of strict bed-rest, high blood pressure and pregnancy-induced hypertension, we were going to have a baby.

I was excited, nervous, overwhelmed, scared and ready. My pregnancy with Phoenix was anything but pleasant, with morning sickness all day throughout most of the pregnancy and two hospitalizations for dehydration from the morning sickness. I wanted my body back but more than anything, I was ready to meet my son.

Besides the PIH, the morning sickness and dehydration, my pregnancy was rough in other ways. Jay and I had our first date about 3 weeks before we got pregnant and I don't think I need to say, it was a surprise when we found out we were expecting. Things were crazy. Lots of fighting. Lots of anger and resentment. I wasn't sure "we" would make it and I'm being totally candid when I say that.

It was rough and I was scared. I didn't know what my future held; I didn't know where my choices would take me or the consequences they would have. I knew I was in love, though, with this tiny little being growing in my body. I knew that before I ever saw him & I knew that he would change my life.

I didn't know then how difficult his labor was, which is probably great. I didn't know to be even more scared than I already was. They had to test the amniotic fluid before letting me go into hard labor because they weren't sure if his lungs were fully developed. They got an oxygen cart ready and called NICU.

I was oblivious. Blissfully oblivious, wrapped in a cocoon of fuzziness brought on by the epidural I had proudly admitted I was considering weeks before in birthing classes. I'd been the only one.

I knew things weren't so great when my monitors started going off, beeping and chiming, bringing nurses running. I knew the fetal heart monitor they told me they were screwing into my baby's head meant that his heart rate was dropping and the doctors were worried about him. I still didn't know to be scared.

I never felt the incision when they sliced me to help get him out but I definitely felt the tearing when he literally busted out of my va-jay-jay, shoulders at an angle.

At 3:51 P.M. on Sunday, December 4th, 2005, I met my son. Phoenix Samuel.

He came out wailing and as soon as they set him on my chest, he shit all over me. They suctioned out his mouth and nose and murmured inquiries about whether or not my fluid had signs of meconium in it. The word tickled my drug-addled brain but I couldn't put the pieces together.

I handed him back to be cleaned up, barely noticing he was more blue than red. I saw all the equipment and the oxygen tanks. It can't be serious or they would tell me, I thought. I hadn't noticed the surgeon come in or the ever-increasing crowd that was growing around my nether regions. I was watching my baby and listening to Jay coo at me, soothing me in a way I had never expected him to be capable of. He'd been there, at my side, through all of it. Holding my hand, wiping my hair out of my face. Every word his said was the right one. Never once did he upset me or make me feel anything but loved, adored and utterly cared for.


That day showed me that we could love each other in spite of the stress we had been through in the nine months we'd been waiting for this little boy. I knew I would never be with another man again in my life. I knew with the clarity that bespeaks of a divine intervention, if you believe in that sort of thing.

My reverie was broken when the collection of medical personnel gathered between my legs called Jay over with the words, "How does this look?". I will never forget those words or the look on his face and the color completely draining away as he looked at what had to be the most disgusting thing he'd every seen: a vagina freshly mangled by child birth, oh-so-carefully stitched back together. Not a pretty sight, I imagine.

We'd done it. He was here. They wheeled him away with a mask over his little baby face.

I didn't get to see him weighed. I didn't get to see him measured or watch them ink his little feet.

He was off to NICU. His lungs weren't as good as they'd thought and his heart rate was erratic. He needed oxygen. I was too exhausted to be scared, now. I'd been in labor for 20 hours, counting the pre-hospital contractions the day I was admitted, spending most of the night on that medicine ball I mentioned early and all I wanted was sleep. I had no idea what had just happened.

We got to see him a few hours later. He had stabilized and was doing good. Jay gave him his first bath and we found out he was born at 7 lbs 14 oz and was a whopping 22 inches long. The first time I got to feed him, we watched The Simpsons and to this day, the kid knows and recognizes anything and everything Simpsons-related.

Two days later, we went home. As he's grown, the problem with his lungs has stayed and will always be there. His distress during labor had been caused by a birth defect, a congenital malformation, called pectus excavatum; an indented sternum. His little chest cavity isn't as big as it should be; his lungs don't have enough room and neither does his little heart. Fortunately, we've managed to avoid any sort of heart trouble, so far.

I didn't know when we took him home what his first year would hold. I was blissfully oblivious. I had this beautiful, marvelous little being to occupy my thoughts and time. I had my baby and I was a mom. Seven years later, I am a much better mom, with vastly greater appreciation for the gift I was given that day. I have learned that to be a mom, you must put the needs of your children far above your own wants. You must love unconditionally, yourself included. You must be patience and kind, firm and strong. You must be willing to change and learn.

Phoenix has taught me all of this and volumes more. He has given me a gift I can never, ever repay; I owe it to him to be the best mom I can be. I am so grateful for him, so thankful to have him as my own. I would go through every challenge, all the years with no talking, all the tantrums and poopy diapers, the fights and stress, I would do it all again in a heartbeat, just to have him as my son.

So, to the little boy who stole my heart;
the little boy who gave me a light to see by;
the little boy who is no longer a little boy;

Happy Birthday. Mama loves you so much.

Coming together again

I haven't talked about my mom on here in over a year. I haven't seen her since Christmas 2012, when I cut her visit short and sent her home early after a blow-out the day after Christmas. 


It wasn't anything she'd done, just a lot of unresolved issues that all came to a head at once. A lifetime of issues. It wasn't a fight I wanted to have but it was one that needed to happen. Dirty laundry needed to be aired, boundaries needed to be laid out; the relationship between us needed to be redefined. 


Since then, we've both had time to ourselves to think & grow in ways we both needed. My mom seems more capable of seeing me as a woman and a mother than ever before; she's taking accountability for things she's done & cannot change; she's showing remorse for the mistakes she's made and is making the effort to be a better her. She's beginning to see that our mistakes don't make us bad people; they give us the chance to change.


I got beautiful letter from her a couple weeks ago & was incredibly touched by the insight she showed. For the first time in a long time, I'm not anxious over our relationship. I feel good about where we're at, right now.


She's coming down for her first visit since that awkward drive to the airport a year and a half ago. She and her boyfriend are setting up camp at a little R.V. park 20 minutes north of town. There's a lake with fish, paddle boats & canoes so Jay & I are going to trek up with the kids to camp for a few nights. 


They should be here sometime today. 


So much seems to have change and I'm getting more & more excited to see her. It's like my mom's been lost for awhile & now, I've finally found her again. I'm hoping I can talk them into coming into town for a bit; I'd like to show her where we're at now, maybe have dinner with the in-laws but no matter what, it will be awesome just to see her.

Under Pressure

I haven't posted in a couple weeks and I feel bad. I'm really trying to be more regular with my posts -- I'm not going to keep all you wonderful readers around if I'm not posting -- but I have an unspoken/unwritten rule to not write when I'm pissed off or to bitch about my personal relationships. I know what trouble that can (and WILL) get me into and I'd just rather avoid it all together. This does not mean I'm always perfectly content, in any way, shape or form. I have problems, just like we all do. As positive as I try to be, sometimes it's a fight I just can't win. Today, I'm not even trying.

Today, I'm pissed off.

I'm stressed out.

I'm worn out.

I feel drained & depleted.

And there's no end in sight...

I need help. I need someone to see how hard I'm trying, how much I need a break. I am falling apart. I'm seething under the surface and only an extreme amount of self-control is keeping me from unloading all my pent-up animosity. I'm so disappointed, so angry.

So sad.

I feel so let down.

Anxiety over shit I can't control is permeating my life and as hard as I try to stuff it down, it isn't going away. It's not just the business, the house or the kids; there's so much more I just can't explain without pissing someone off. I don't even know why I care; I don't want to censor myself but I don't want to deal with the backlash either. Even here, on my own blog, I can't fully express how I feel. I can't coherently describe the gambit of emotions I'm dealing with. Instead I'm ranting, hoping it'll be enough to relieve just a little of this pressure before it crushes me completely...

...it's not.

The Second Battle

When you have one child with a certain set of problems, you become hyper-aware when a second develops the same set of problems...

Fighting the Battle to Win the War

I've been open in the past about my oldest son Phoenix & his speech delay. I've speculated for a while now that his lack of progress is due to the fact we aren't addressing the WHOLE problem. Last year, when he was at his Montessori school, he made friends with a little girl & at a play date with her, her mother introduced me to the "wonderful" world of Sensory Processing disorders. I had no idea until then, that what was happening to Phoenix might not be just a speech delay; I am forever grateful for that day, that conversation and the on-going support this family has provided us with. I left that play date with a book call Sensational Kids by Dr. Lucy Miller and a insatiable need to fill my brain with all the information I could find on sensory processing disorders. 

Most of you would be surprised to find out how many of us have sensory issues. Think about it for a minute. We all have five senses; sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch. But what if one or more of those senses isn't quite right? Maybe you don't feel light touch or can't stand to hear loud music. Maybe you're the kid who wanted to swing all day long, as high as possible. Sometimes, the brain doesn't "get" the messages our senses are sending it; there's something going on in the brain that isn't normal. It's not taking the information in the right way, not sorting it into the right places. You're not handicapped; you're definitely not dumb. You don't have ADD or ADHD. What they thought was Dyslexia, might not be. You may have a sensory processing disorder.

Crazy as it sounds, 1 in 20 kids has some form of sensory processing dysfunction and most kids diagnosed with ADD/ADHD are in fact suffering from a sensory issue. Phoenix, it turns out, is most likely dealing with an Auditory Processing Disorder (APD) called Centralized Auditory Processing Disorder (CAPD). After everything I've read, all the information I've found, other parents I've talked with, his Speech-Language Pathologist (SLP) at school (her daughter has a different form of sensory processing disorder), all his past IEPs and the good ol' Internet, it has taken me this entire year of Kindergarten to convince the district he has something more than just a Speech & Language impairment.

After being on half-days for a quarter of the year, all the behavioral problems, falling to the bottom of the class in academics and a pretty depressing assessment from the Maryjane Reese Speech, Language & Hearing Center at California State University, Sacramento (Sac State) it seems the team at school is willing to admit I may, in fact, know what I'm talking about. I don't claim to be an expert on anything -- except my kids. I will absolutely claim an expertise on them, for the time being anyways. That's the whole reason I stay at home with them; I want to know exactly what's going on & what they need. If I wasn't home right now, I can't imagine what things would be like for Phoenix...

Our last meeting didn't go very well; I left feeling mollified, not in a good way, but gave the plan we'd agreed on a chance. I blogged about that here and about what lead to that meeting here. Oh, this has been such a long journey... So this time around, I came prepared to do battle. I forwarded the assessment from Sac State to his SLP, Karen, and the rest of his team; rounded up his past IEPs, this year's progress reports, work he's brought home throughout the year and my own observations; all the clinical jargon on APD, CAPD and sensory processing I could get my hands on and walked in there with "fight" in my eyes (I'd like to think I did, at least).

Can you guess what happened? I didn't even get to argue! Before I even had a chance to overwhelm them with all the information I had, all the knowledge I'd stuffed into my brain, the placement specialist I thought I'd have to fight with the hardest, says to his SLP "So you're saying you think he'd benefit most from a CH placement for first grade?" before she'd even finished her observations. I thought I was dreaming or dead. It had to be dead. This was going to be hard. I was going to have to WOW these people, convince them he needed this to thrive. Nope. Not the case. Maybe it was the semi-confrontational emails I exchanged with his newest Occupational Therapist before the meeting, maybe it was the fact all of this had been said in November, at the last meeting, maybe it was the "fight" in my eyes, whatever it was, I'm more than thankful for it. 

This is one of the few times I've felt like I truly have a team working with me to help Phoenix. His SLP has always been on my side and it felt like this time, she went the extra mile. His teacher even said the right things and was actually a bigger help than I thought she'd be. I think all my activism has made a world of difference in her attitude towards all this. She admitted she doesn't know much about sensory processing disorders but agreed that he did have the characteristics of a child with APD when she heard them. The OT agreed a sensory diet isn't appropriate for the CAPD but other auditory-based OT could be helpful.

On top of all this, we're going to a hearing specialist to address a Type B/Type C tympanometry, we're also going to get an assessment for CAPD done at Sac State next semester and Phoenix is going to start a CAPD clinic on the 27th; he'll have two 50-minute sessions a week, for six weeks. I think I might even have a better time with sensory help from his pediatrician after the hearing test she did showed a Type C tympanometry; she actually volunteered the word "sensory" and said his ears could be causing problems for him. Phoenix has passed at least six hearing tests in half that many years, always on the default that he reacted, but not always at the right times. It took the tympanometry at Sac State to find this problem. Now that we've found it, we may be able to say the speech delay is part of an auditory processing disorder and that of course, means we have an answer. 

I'm not counting my eggs before they hatch, even though I've completely convinced myself it IS an auditory processing disorder. Honestly, I'm just ecstatic that he's going to be in a class that's going to help him grow his communication skills next year. First grade is so crucial to a child; I want to make sure he has every tool he needs these first few years, so he can succeed and be happy in school, for as many years as is humanly possible. He won't be going to the school closest to us but the school he's going to is close & it's supposed to be a really good school. 

I'm debating on whether or not I should let him take the bus next year; I know he would love it but I don't know if I would. I like our to and from routines...He's also going to go to extended year again this summer at the same school he went to last year, maybe even with the same teacher. He'll still get pulled out for speech in the new CH class so they can make sure to address the articulation issues he has. He is doing well in his Kindergarten class, in most areas that don't deal with verbal communication; he's making friends, in his own way, getting them to help him write words and 'label' his pictures. 

In a way, I'm glad he'll finish out the year in this class; it was sort of a testing year. How far could he get when pushed to age level? How much is he really lacking? What seems to be behind his failing academics? He'll get to stay with the friends he's managed to make this year for a few more months & we'll get to see how much farther he can go in a regular classroom setting before going to the CH class. My hope is he'll only need the CH class setting for a few years; maybe by fourth or fifth grade, he'll be able to go back to a "normal" class and thrive. I just want to make sure he can do all that, as soon as possible. The kid has an amazing amount of potential; he's friendly, happy, curious and so, so funny. I want to nourish that. I want to see him able to express himself freely, sooner rather than later.

I'm so excited for him. I'm so proud of him. It's hard to remember, every day, that he is dealing with something so difficult. He copes so well & has adapted in so many different ways. I just have to remind myself every now & then how special, how amazing he really is. Knowing he's doing as well as he is, with the handicap he has, helps give me the strength I need to stay calm, rational and above all, patient. I was in no way ready for parenting to be this hard but I gladly accept the challenge. Seeing Phoenix succeed and overcome all these obstacles motivates me to be the best mom I can be for him because he deserves it. Part of me hopes he'll thank me for all of this one day; the other part of me hopes he will never know it wasn't exactly what I should have done. 

This is easily the hardest, most rewarding thing I have ever done and I wouldn't change it for anything in the world. Thanks for sharing this journey with me. It's still in progress and will be for many years, I feel. Please leave comments or questions if you have them. I truly appreciate all feedback & readership ;) you guys help make this the therapy it is <3