Giving Thanks

As moms we all know what it's like to send our babies away somewhere without us for the first time. Whether it's a school field trip or a plane trip to stay with relatives we all think and feel the same thing. Will she be alright? What if she gets homesick? Is she eating right? Is she brushing her teeth? And always the dreaded, sickening thought....what if she gets hurt and I can't get to her?

Our Roma tomato is in Sydney right now staying with her big sister. This is an extended stopover on her way to New Zealand to live with her mom for awhile. She has been visiting all of her Uncles, Aunties and cousins, eating good Australian food, petting koalas, kangaroos and wallabies, getting to know her two new brother-in-laws and for the most part, having the time of her life.

Putting her on that plane, not knowing when I would see her again, all of the what-ifs going through my mind, was the most difficult thing I've had to do in my life. That she has been in such good hands, being so well taken care of has taken much of the sting out of this for me. I've been able to get on with things because I know that she is getting all of the love and attention and care that Superman and I would be giving her here.

A few days ago, while visiting her Uncle, Roma Tomato jumped up from the couch and ran to the kitchen to give her Grandad a hug. She either passed out and then had a seizure or she had a seizure that caused her to black out. Either way, on her way down, she grabbed hold of her grandad and pulled him down on top of her. Grandad got up, Roma T. did not.

The phone call from Sydney as they were taking her to the hospital was my worst nightmare come true. Superman and I were in a state of shock for about an hour. Of course, we were thinking, we'll have to somehow, SOMEHOW scrape together the money, get Superman on a plane IMMEDIATELY and bring our baby HOME! We just kind of paced about the house waiting......waiting...for word.

The news was not good. Roma T. was OUT OF IT. Not speaking, unable to remember anything that happened just prior to and for several hours after the seizure. The lights were on but she was most definitely not at home. I was so sick with dread and worry. Superman was making light of things, kind of acting wacky and cracking jokes. Trying to stay moving and busy and then...I went in for the hug....and the world turned upside down.

Everybody has seen the superhero in movies reach the point where the villain has the upper hand. The world is about to be destroyed and the bad guy has exploited our hero's ONE WEAKNESS in order to carry out his evil scheme. Our hero is almost always on his knees, holding up his hands defensively, knowing that the future of the world rests on his shoulders and the burden is just too much. Defeated, crying, beaten...he simply cannot go on. As dramatic as this is in the movies, I promise you it is NOTHING compared to experiencing it, watching it happen in real life, before you very eyes. I felt that a chasm had opened beneath our feet. I could see Roma Tomato and SM tumbling down down into the darkness and I only had ahold of them with one shaking, slippery, tenuous grasp. Superman's kryptonite is his children. He can take any beating, slay any monster so long as his children are safe. His little girl in pain, frightened and without her daddy by her side brought my super hero to his knees.

That is the moment when you can do nothing else but hold on tight and pray. And I prayed. Even as I held him and comforted him and told him everything would be alright I prayed. Oh God oh God oh God, please I love my family, Lord. Please, let Roma Tomato be alright. Please slow down SM's heart rate. Help him to BREATHE! Please, Dear Lord, what do I do? I don't know what to do!....

Thank God, Roma T. is going to be OK. She has had a time of it, let me tell you. But at the same time, we have all been very blessed. She is in Australia and being a New Zealand citizen, she qualifies for Australia's free health care. We have not and will not have to pay a dime. She has had every test run on her including MRI, CT scan, EKG, blood draws, etc. all in record time and all clean except for a fracture to her cheek. She's been to see a plastic surgeon, an eye specialist without waiting. No co-pays, referrals, finance agreements, deductibles. Just, here's what she needs, let's get it done. She will be having surgery tomorrow to repair the fracture and she will be treated in the finest children's hospital in Australia. She will be put under general anesthesia, the surgery will be quick and minimally invasive and if all goes well, she won't even have to spend the night.

I sit here at 2am on Thanksgiving morning so full of gratitude that I can't even sleep. I am humbled and amazed by all that has taken place. Of course, I must first thank God. You have watched over our lovely girl and gotten her the help she needs, when she needs it. If this is not your doing, I don't know what is. You have given us comfort and peace and the ability to think rationally and not reactively. You have placed her in the care of Sydney and her Prince Charming, which right now, is just where she needs to be.

Thank you Sydney and PC. It has been an unquestionable relief that Roma Tomato is being so well cared for by the two of you. Here you are, two young newlyweds, with no children, no experience in this kind of thing and you have stepped up in every way possible. If we didn't have you there, taking such good care of your little sister, we don't know how we could cope. Because of you, our worry has been so much less. We are so proud of you and feel so very blessed that you, Sydney, are such a wonderful big sister and that Prince C. is such a good, good man. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

And thanks to my precious Roma Tomato. The blessings you have brought into my life are without number. You have made me a better person, a better companion to your daddy and a better mom. You have been through so much the last few days and throughout all of it you have kept your sense of humor and your tenacity. Your bravery has astounded me. I am so so PROUD of you. You are much stronger than I have ever given you credit for and I needed to see that so it will be easier for me when you are away. Now I know that wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you will be alright. I love you so much. I wish I could be there tomorrow when you go in for your surgery. I know you will be surrounded by people that love you and your daddy and I will be sending every ounce of love we have to you. Our every thought will be with you. I know you will be brave and I know that you will come out of surgery and this whole awful ordeal will FINALLY be over. All that will be left will be for you to heal.

I have so much more to be thankful for. This would be an awfully long post if I were to list them all but I do want to say that I am so thankful for my Superman. I am thankful for my beautiful daughter Izzie. I am thankful that the Lord chose me to help Superman raise Stella and Roma T. and be a friend and stepmother to Sydney and B1. My cup is overflowing. It is with thoughts of my family that I will shut down my computer and try to get some sleep before I have to get up and put in the turkey. I do not know what I have done in this life to deserve so much.

Skinny is as skinny does...whatever

If you haven't been over to Barefoot Foodie's Blog lately you need to go check it out. You have to read the letter she wrote to Marie Claire mag regarding an article published about (gasp!) "fatties". Her response to the tripe that magazine puts out is fabulous. They would be fools not to publish it, especially after the response Brittney's letter got. I'm telling you now, if you've ever struggled with your weight, looked in the mirror and not liked what you see or even if you have a "supermodel" (gag) body, her post is a must read.
HOWEVER, the post is NOT what prompted me to write today. It was actually the video she posted the next day. This is Brittney and her cute as pie hubby having a discussion with her lovely readers about the effect her size has on her hubby's life. I made my Superman watch it with me. Not because I wanted to say "SEE! That's there's a good man!" I knew my darling hubby would get a kick out of the whole thing. It happens to be the same discussion we have ALL THE TIME!
Our little talks go something like "Love of my life, your size has no bearing on my life except for the unhappiness that it brings you. It makes me feel bad when you cry in the fitting room or when you don't want to go out on a date because you don't like the way you look."
In the video I believe the words Brittney's hubby used were "I just wish you would adore yourself as much as me and the kids do." Awwwwww! (sigh and maybe a little tear).
Now, you wanna hear something really effed up? I am SO DEEP in my own self-loathing that although it does temporarily warm my toes to hear Superman say such sweet things, I really don't believe him. I WANT to believe him. I KNOW that he wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it but I FEEL like he's pretty much full of crap. Hmmmmm.....howz little confession sound? Crazy, I know but that's just the way it is. I mean, how could he adore me? I look like hell! And I'm snappy and bitchy and tired all the time. I don't resemble in any way the cute, skinny girl he once knew. (ok somewhat) skinny cuz let's face it, we all know this is something I've been battling a long time.
So, to end this little rant let me tell you what's been rolling around in my brain since I watched Barefoot Foodies MOST AWESOME video:
#1 Watch the video. You will relate. I promise.
#2 I love food. I really do. Food is the main component in some of the best memories of my life. It tastes good. It makes me happy. Gets the endorphins flowing if you know what I mean. It's not an addiction. I don't hide in the closet and binge on ding dongs. I can very easily skip a dessert or turn down a chocolate bar but I LOVE to entertain my friends, my family. I love sitting at the table, watching the people around me thoroughly enjoy what I've prepared and how crappy would that be to sit at the same table picking at my lettuce and tomato with fat-free dressing on the side while everyone else is stuffing themselves sick. I actually have a plaque in my entry that says "Come often, laugh lots, eat much." It's kinda our motto.
#3 I got bad genes. Now come on, no eye rolls, it's true. I got 'em. Most of the people in my family struggle with their weight. There's no one in my close immediate family that is just naturally skinny. We all gotta work at it, HARD. What can I do? Have them sliced out? Get gastric bypass which to me is EXTREME to say the least?
I've decided to change my goals a little bit. I think I'm going to attack my weight issues from a different angle. I got a new attitude, you might say. I will eat what I want, when I want. I will eat when I'm hungry. I will not feel bad about it. Feeling bad about eating what I want equals feeling bad about me.
Now don't get me wrong, I will exercise. I will use portion control. I will taste everything. I will eat slowly and I will stop eating when I'm full. I will consider low-fat options in my cooking but only if it doesn't make my food taste like garbage. I will skip dessert only cuz that's easy for me and if I do want dessert, I'll have a little. SO WHAT!
I think the most important message I received from that Goddess of the blog, Barefoot Foodie, is that I am not alone. There are literally THOUSANDS of women out there JUST LIKE ME. The women that are on our tv's and our magazine are exceptions. They do not represent the bigger, wider world of normal, everyday, hardworking women. I really believe that most of THOSE women (haha) are as consumed with food and weight as I am. Just not in the same way. And they probably aren't as happy as I am most of the time. Really, who am I to say. But I know when I was at my lowest weight, I spent more time exercising and worrying about what I put in my mouth and how many calories I'd tallied than was necessary or normal. And I enjoy my life a lot more now that I'm not doing that anymore.
What I need to do most of all is focus on the things about myself that I like. The things my children see, the things my sweethearts sees. I need to learn to "adore myself" as much as they do. I need to learn to love myself as I am, skinny or not and if I never get down to the size that Marie Claire thinks is appropriate or beautiful at least I can say I thoroughly enjoy my life, every part of it. I've got the love of a great man, great children, many many girlfriends who struggle just like me and while the skinny girls are at the gym, we'll all be sitting at my house laughing lots and eating much!

Open Letter to my Roma Tomato

It started with a voice on the telephone. All the way from New Zealand. This little munchkin giggle and the sweetest "Hi daddy". Sugar dripping from every syllable. "Can I come see you daddy? When I get there will you take me to chuck-a-rama? Does papa still live in the same house? Do you still live in the same town? What does your house look like? Do you have a cat? Are you gonna get a cat?" And a million other questions blasting out of speaker phone and a daddy's smile full of love and longing for his little girl. I couldn't even conceive how much that one phone call would change my life. How much YOU would change my life.

I was so scared when you came to live with us. You wanted so many things and none of them from me. You wanted to live with your daddy. You wanted your mum to fly over from New Zealand and live with him too. You wanted your sisters, your cat and your dog to live at daddy's house but you didn't want me. There was no room on your drawing of the family for a girlfriend and her daughter. In your barely 8 year old mind I was the REASON you couldn't get what you wanted. I had to battle for your love and there were times when I thought I might give up but little by little, we became friends. I began to notice when I left one room for another you would miraculously show up in the same room. If I left the house, I got grilled. Where are you going? When are you coming back? Can I come?

We went to back to school night and your third grade teacher informed me that almost every sentence you uttered started with "Lee says..." When people came to the house, you were glued to my side, whether standing at the door or sitting on the couch. And ALWAYS that insatiable curiosity, those constant chattering questions, "Lee, why does Cleo lay like that? Lee, when is the rain gonna stop? Lee, is it OK if I beat up Colton on the bus? Lee, did you know Michael Jackson used to be black?"

It's been almost six years now. I've watched you grow from an adorable vivacious, chattering little girl into a charming, bright beautiful young woman. I've been so blessed to share these years with you. You've enriched my life in more ways than you can ever know. You taught me how to love in a way I didn't know was even possible. I think that in raising and caring for you, a child that is not my own, I love you even more because I had to EARN IT! I had to prove myself to you. No lip service. No faking. You would take nothing less from me than the real deal.

You will be leaving us tomorrow to go back to New Zealand. You will be leaving me. There are so many what ifs floating around the air. What if your mum never lets you speak to me. What if you hate it there. What if you are homesick. What if you are hurt and I can't get to you. What if you forget me. What if you doubt how much I loved and will forever love you.

Please be brave my Roma Tomato! Please remember what we have taught you. Always be kind. Always speak kind words. Keep your mind open to new people and new things. Just because someone is different or dresses strange or listens to different music, it doesn't mean they are not worth knowing. ALWAYS stand up for yourself! You are so smart and have a good head on your shoulders. I know you know right from wrong. If you know you are in the right, SPEAK UP FOR YOURSELF! It's OK to please the people in your life but not at the risk of losing yourself. BE STRONG! Make your OWN decisions in life. You are old enough now to start choosing for yourself. Don't let anyone make decisions for you that you know in your heart are wrong. And most important, don't EVER EVER EVER FORGET THAT YOU ARE LOVED. And you are NEVER ALONE. You have a daddy who loves you with every fiber of his being, three big sisters and one stepsister who would cross oceans for you if you needed them.

And you have me, you will always have me. No matter what. Whatever you need, wherever and whenever, you have me. A phone call is all it will take. You are my light and my joy. You are part of me. I carry you around in my heart everywhere I go. I will think of you everyday. I will miss you everyday. I will be sending you my love over that big blue ocean every minute until you come back.

Love,

Lee

Ghost Story

I grew up in a haunted house. For REAL people. A REAL honest to God HAUNTED HOUSE. Actually it was a haunted trailer. I know, weird huh? BUT TRUE. See, I've told this story many times to my friends and their friends if I'm asked to tell it and the story has been perfected in order to elicit as many chills and thrills as possible cuz honestly, what's the point in telling it if you're not gonna get the full effect. And people are thrilled and chilled and I can tell they WANT to believe it. Or maybe they don't. But here's the truth, the story is true. When I was living it, scratch that, when WE were living it, there was no thrills and chills. It was terror. Pure shivering, heart pounding, panting, sweaty terror. And I lived it.
I'm sure people wondered about me when I was little. They thought me strange or angry or quiet or whatever. They couldn't relate. Most people chalked it up to "oh, she came from a broken home." or "Her mother is single and works full time." or "Her daddy has a new family and he's never around." And that was probably part of my personality make-up and later rebellion but what they didn't know is that I was scared. ALL THE TIME. Scared. And I thought maybe I was crazy. But now I know better. You see, I think about that house quite often and I replay "the moments" in my head and I ask myself, "Did you imagine this? Did you make this up? Could what happened have another explanation?" And the answer is NO. I saw what I saw. I heard what I heard. I felt what I felt. And YEARS later all of my experiences were corroborated by my mother who heard, saw and felt the same things I did.
So, for your Happy Halloween pleasure and because I've been asked to BLOG this little tale...here you go.
From our family room you would go down a long hallway that ran the length of our house in order to get to first, my room, then my brothers room, the bathroom and then my mother's room at the end of the house. Our television sat in the family room in direct view of the hallway. Because it was a trailer home you could hear every footstep any person made as they walked through the house and you could discern by the weight and noise if it was my mom or brother.
I was sitting cross legged as close to the TV as I could get when I heard the footsteps. These steps were heavy. Like a large man and as the footsteps came down the hallway towards me, I found myself looking that direction in puzzlement as they weren't a step I recognized. I was actually panting in fear as I realized that although I could distinctly hear the footsteps coming directly toward me, there was nobody there. At the end of the hallway, a few feet from where I was sitting, they stopped. My impression was of a very large man. I don't know how I knew, I couldn't SEE him with my eyes but my mind saw that he filled the doorway. He was looking at me and again I don't know how I knew. And I say HE because I instinctively KNEW it was a HE. I was afraid, frozen to the spot. I was totally unable to look away and after about a minute I heard the footsteps receding back down the hallway. My fear evaporated and was replaced by a general unease and I moved to the couch, as far from the hallway as I could physically get.
I would hear those footsteps and feel his gaze MANY times over the next few years. I never told anybody. My brother and I called him "the invisible man." My brother refused to go down that hallway by himself and I would get frustrated with him cuz it was always me who had to escort him down the hallway to bathroom or to bed. I gave him a really hard time about it and called him a scaredy cat or whatever but the truth was, I DIDN'T WANT TO GO DOWN THAT HALL. For anything. I remember getting spanked one night cuz I refused to escort my brother to the bathroom. I think they called me a "stubborn little shit". Of course, they didn't know I was terrified.
At night while I was sleeping I would be awoken by those footsteps coming from my mom's room to my doorway. I would pull the covers over my head and I foolishly thought that if there was no part of me outside the covers and he couldn't see me then he would go away. Under those covers was a little girl who was literally trembling in fear. I can still feel it to this day. I almost couldn't breath I was so scared. I remember thinking any minute now I would feel those covers be pulled off of me and he would be standing there. Every once in a while I would feel a small tug at my feet and I would wet the bed in terror. There was NO WAY I would get out of bed, go down that hallway in the dark and go to the bathroom. I would hold it until I was almost bursting. Somehow I would drift off to sleep and as soon as my body relaxed, I would pee the bed. That's how frightened I was. You know, my parents must have spent hundreds taking me to doctors to cure my "bed wetting" problem. All they needed to do was call an exorcist.
I don't know for sure when I stopped hearing the invisible man. Eventually I did though. I don't remember any certain event that brought it to an end for me although I suspect it was the arrival of my stepfather. One terror replaced by another and I actually forgot about it as little kids are so blessedly capable of doing. I didn't hear or feel my stalker at all from about six years old until I was fourteen. THAT day I was in the bathroom at the end of the hallway. I had the house to myself and I was curling my hair into my oh so stylish Farah fawcett, feathered bangs. The mirror faced the doorway so I could see into the hallway from where I stood by looking into the mirror.
It was an almost nostalgic feeling when I heard the footsteps. I remember thinking "Oh my gosh! I haven't heard that in AGES." I froze with my hands above my head holding the piece of hair I had been preparing to wrap around my curling iron when he stepped into the doorway. Plain as the keyboard I am typing on, the computer screen in front of my face was a tall, dark muscular man. His hair was dark and wavy, his clothes were simple, not old fashioned, not modern, just a plain short sleeve shirt and pants, his face was obscured in shadow but I very clearly saw his arms at his sides and his hands clenched very tightly into fists. His entire posture reeked of anger and hatred. I gasped, turned to face the doorway and he was gone. By gone, I mean I couldn't SEE him but he was most definitely still there. And he hated me. He wanted to hurt me. He wanted to rip me apart. I have never to this day felt so much anger and rage directed at me. I knew I had to get out of that room but in order to do that I would have to leave from the very doorway he was standing in.
I was panting heavily and sweating from fear and I had to force my feet to move toward that door. I started to pray, kind of. You know the kind of praying people do when they think they might die. "oh god, please. oh god, don't touch me. oh god, help me." I went slowly because the animosity grew the closer I got to the door. Now, you have to realize that the doorway was empty to my eyes but there was, without a doubt, someone there. HE was there. I was so sure of this that as I went out the doorway, I remember shrinking myself against the door frame, praying I wouldn't feel his touch as I squeezed past him. I almost felt suffocated in hate at that point. I literally thought I was going to die. Everything got darker. I don't know how to describe it so people will understand but it was like I had stepped into shadow from sunlight. But it was a darkness that almost had mass.
Once I got out that door, I started to scream and I started to RUN. I could almost feel his breath on me as I ran down that hall. I ran through the family room and straight out the front door. My friend Derek happened to be walking to my house and he said I came out that door like the devil was after me, completely hysterical, trembling and screaming "there's a man in the house. the invisible man, help me."
I have relived that moment so many times, I've tried to explain it away in so many ways but the facts are this. I heard him, I SAW with my eyes a man, one second there, the next gone. I felt his hatred and I KNOW he wanted to hurt me but was unable to. I felt his frustration that he couldn't hurt me and I also felt it was because I was a woman. Again, I don't know HOW I know but I KNOW.
Years later, after I became a mommy, I overheard my mother tell a story about her house being haunted. I listened in disbelief as she told her friend about a man walking down the hallway to her room every night. She said he hated her. He was evil and he wanted to hurt her. She talked about having to call people in the middle of the night because her fear was so great, she thought she would die. She told us how her father, my grandfather, would drive over from another city in the middle of the night and check under every bed and open every closet in the house because my mother had called him hysterical telling him there was an evil spirit in her house.
Then she talked about how, finally, at the end of her rope, she had told a neighbor, who in turn gave us her calico cat. She told my mom that Cally could help. My mom said that Cally would sleep at the bottom of her bed every night and when the footsteps came down the hallway Cally would wake, stand up and stare intently at my mother's bedroom door until the footsteps reached the doorway. As my mom cowered in her bed, Cally would jump to the floor, step out of the room and instantly the feeling of the man would be gone. After a few moments of Cally's nocturnal wanderings, she would return to the bed, curl up and go to sleep. My mother knew she was safe, the man was gone and she would be at peace.
I was so excited hearing this tale that I blurted out "are you talking about the invisible man?" She turned to me and said "What did you say?" "The invisible man, mom! I heard him when I was little, I saw him!" She was dumbfounded. She had had no idea that I knew. And it was such a RELIEF to me. To finally be able to tell my story and know I would be believed. At least by her.
Now that I'm older, I am able to recognize when things aren't quite what they seem. I am also aware that even if something wanted to hurt me, it cannot. I've heard things, experienced feelings of something not quite there. I have had the extraordinary experience of a loved one coming to see me a few hours before they passed from this earth. It was both exhilarating and devastating for me. I have NOT, since that one time seen a full fledged apparition. I can't honestly say I wouldn't do the same thing again and run screaming in the other direction. But part of me wants to believe that next time my curiosity will get the better of me and I will take a moment to study what I'm seeing. Maybe even try to communicate?
So...anyway, that's my story. You can believe it or not. It's not going to change the fact that it happened to me. But here's something to think about...my mother sold the house to a single mother, whose son I happened to be dating. He asked me one night if we had experienced anything unusual in that house. I told him my story. I had only told a select few my story at that point and didn't know anything about my mom. He was white as sheet by the time I got done and told me that both he and his mother had heard the footsteps and his mother experienced that same feeling of evil and dread I had described. I knew that his mom was getting married soon and told him that once his new stepfather moved in, it would stop. I don't know why I said that. I didn't even know if it was true and don't know if that ended the haunting for them. But the fact that they experienced the same thing makes you stop and think, doesn't it?
The house is still there. People are living in it. I drove by one day and saw a young women sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarette. I wanted to stop and ask but then again, if the haunting has ended why freak a young girl out, ya know? But I felt dread as I looked at the house and I wondered...does he know I'm out here? Does he recognize me? Is he watching me even now? Is he still waiting for me to come home?

Love This Girl!

So...How's YOUR Day?

Raves, Rants and Other Random Stuff

So... Another St. Paddy's Day! Whoopy doo! The sun is out. There is not a cloud in the sky. Yesterday the temperature got up to 58 or so and while it is now only 34, I think by lunchtime it will be close to 50 or higher. Spring Fever Is Killing Me! The sky, the sun both calling my name and it's So Close! Right outside my office window, just out of reach. Ugh! Why do I have to be at work on a day like this?

But the good news is, on Friday I will be taking off early, driving to Colorado to see my Superman. I will be staying in the most lovely hotel in the most lovely little town. I will be shopping, eating, taking pictures OUTSIDE! IN THE SUN! Aaaaah! I can almost smell the air right now. I can't wait! I will have HOURS for myself to do absolutely anything I want. Heaven! And then after my skin has absorbed the sun and my lungs are filled to the top with fresh, clean, mountain Spring air, my superman will get off work and take me out to romantic dinners and back to the hotel for some much needed, much missed cuddling and loving and holding and (sigh). I can't wait! Did I say that already?

My diet is going well. I've lost 13 lbs. And that's after a girl's weekend trip to Denver where I ate and drank whatever I wanted. But it's getting harder everyday. I'm getting resentful that I have to plan EVERYTHING that I put in my mouth. I'm a convenience eater. Whatever is quick and in house. Or at the drive thru. And the only good thing about Superman working out of town is that he is not cooking any number of fabulous, delectable and calorie filled Polynesian dishes. But still, 13 lbs. is pretty good for 3.5 weeks.

I know, there are miles to go before I rest. I have to stay focused and be a good girl. I don't want to be here, in the BEST years of my life and not like what I see in the mirror. Or have health issues that are the result of my own laziness. It's ridiculous that I would have that one thing, one of the few things I have the power to change, hanging over me. So I continue the battle, probably for the rest of my life due to my damn fat gene inheritance and I will try to be positive about it. Maybe while I'm in Colorado this weekend, I'll go shopping at one of those stores that only caters to size 6 and below. That will keep me motivated right?

Speaking of the best years of my life, my 20 year class reunion is coming up. WOW! My high school years were NOT the best years of my life. NOT EVEN CLOSE. In fact, they rank up there as possibly the Worst. There are a lot of reasons for this, the least of which being that girls that age are just plain mean. Really mean. I was also being raised in a home by a stepfather who hated my guts and had a father who's only interest was in his NEW family and his NEW kids and seemed to take no notice of me whatsoever. In order to cope with the above, I searched for fulfillment through drugs and alcohol which only opened up a WHOLE NEW WORLD of problems for me. I spent my high school years getting into a lot of trouble, being judged by a lot of people and fighting everyday to keep my depression and addictions from killing me.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't all bad. I had a small batch of friends, good friends who meant the world to me. They accepted me then, warts and all, and they accept me now. I wouldn't have made it through without them. But lately, one of those dear friends has been driving me NUTS about going to the reunion. She is REALLY making me crazy about this. And I promise you, I am sincere when I say I DO NOT WANT TO GO! I have NO desire! NONE!

"Come on!" she says. "Don't you want to see all those people? Don't you want people to see how good your life is? Show off Superman and your kids? It will be so much fun!"

But my answer is NO! I don't want to see all those people! I don't care what they think of me, good or bad, And they don't give a hoot what I think about them! It won't be so much fun. It will only bring back a ton of memories that I have spent my life moving in a very positive direction to get away from. Does this make me a bitch? Does this mean I'm bitter? I don't think so. I'm not bitter. I don't have any animosity towards anybody I went to school with. I don't really think about them or that time in my life at all. That is, unless someone smacks me upside of the head with it by doing stupid things like inviting me to reunions. I just don't want to revisit that time of my life. I certainly don't want to celebrate it. The reunion day will pass me by and leave not even a ripple of regret. Except maybe for the fact that I would be disappointing my friend who seems to think I have unresolved issues that I might be needing therapy for.

The truth is, any people I would want to run into at a reunion or anywhere else I already have in my life. My girlfriends from high school are still my friends today and I would much rather meet them for lunch one afternoon than hang out in a ballroom somewhere, eating bad catered food with a bunch of strangers. Cuz seriously, after 20 years, those people are complete strangers. So Jenny, my dear friend, I love you very much, but even enlisting the help of my Superman and my mother is not going to convince me to go to my 20 year reunion. I will not be attending. Ok. Enough said.

Now, it is lunch time, the temperature has risen to a balmy 43 degrees. The sun is beckoning and I am going to the park to listen to some music, eat my steamed broccoli from a Tupperware dish, take some pictures of ducks or dogs or kids or whatever else catches my eye and soak me up some SPRING!

Happy St. Patrick's Day Everyone!

Rewind

Your mischevious grin.
Your laugh.
The sound of your voice and the way you say my name.
Your smell.
How you teased the cat when you thought no one was watching. And how we laughed when you got caught.
Your great undying love and devotion to our Peyton.
Your stories.
Your quiet dignity.
Your beautiful and heartfelt prayers.
Your strong, enduring love and pride for your family.
Your sense of humor.
Our trips to "chucka" when Gram was out of town. Just the two of us.
The way you checked on me and "cased" my apartment to make sure I was always safe.
Your faith in God.
Your acceptance of me, everything about me.

And so much more.

When times get hard. When I'm lonely. When I'm afraid. These are the things I rewind and replay. Some of the best things in this world are things YOU gave me. Even though you're gone I can still rely on you to help me through. I miss you so much. I love you heart and soul.
Happy Birthday, Gramps.

Lost

What do you do when your best isn't good enough? When nothing you say or do is enough to make a things better.? I have tried to be positive and smile even when I want to scream. I try to find the funny and laugh instead of cry. I try to take care of the small stuff so my partner in life doesn't have to worry. I take care of the kids, clean the house, feed the dogs, take out the garbage, go to work everyday and hold our lives together.

When 9 o'clock rolls around and my Superman calls from his hotel I give him my undivided attention. And when he's home for a few days, I put everything on hold to take care of him and make sure that he's nourished in body and soul before he has to leave us again.

And for a year now, that's how we've gotten through and it seemed to be a way to make it through a difficult situation but somehow lately, it's not good enough.

Everyday I see a man who is struggling to keep it together. I see someone who is torn between being able to provide, knowing that right now any job is a job to be thankful for and missing his family so much.

I really don't know what to do. I can't tell him enough that a local job is fine. That we will make do with less money. That being together as a family is enough. But he's afraid. He sees his friends losing their homes to forclosure and having their cars repossessed. He sees them moving away and struggling to start over in a new place only to have them come back again, with their tails between their legs, begging to go back to work to this job, THIS JOB!, that takes them away from their families and lives. And they don't respect him. They don't treat him like a valued employee. They tell him that he'll do what they ask and without complaint because they know he can't get a job around here that even comes close to what they are paying him. And I'm here to tell you, it doesn't matter how much a person makes, if you don't feel valued, if you're always away from the very people you're doing it for, it makes for a very empty life.

He's worn out, burned out. And I am tired. Tired of putting on my happy face, my happy voice and hearing over and over again "I hate my job". I just want to scream "THEN DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!" There are other jobs out there. So what if they're less money. SO WHAT! Doesn't he know how much we need him here? Doesn't he know he's our hero? Doesn't he understand that money is not the only thing that feeds this family? I would eat ramen noodles every night if it meant he was sitting at our dinner table.

I know the stress he is under. He wants so much for us. But it doesn't mean anything without him here and present and smiling. I might be the one keeping things running but he is the center, the support, the pillar that holds us and keeps us standing tall.

I love you my Superman. This job is not worth it. It's tearing you down. Come home. We will find another way, a better way. You cannot fail us. It's an impossibility, my love. Come home.

Things I Miss..

Cheese. I miss cheese. And salt. And butter. Alfredo Sauce. Yum. Superman's Coconut Buns and Chop Suey. Prime Rib. Mashed Potatoes. BREAD!!!! Someone PLEASE let me have a piece of bread!

I have officially begun my New Year's Resolution Diet! Da da da DAHHHHHH! Or more like DUN Dun dun....

It's been one week and I've lost 7lbs. Yeah for me. But I am struggling man! STRUGGLING! Pizza! Cheesy Garlic Bread. WAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! sniffle.

But SEVEN POUNDS PEOPLE! I can't give up now. I gotta do this. For me. For my kids. For my Superman who swears he loves every single fat roll and cellulite dimple.

I need strength. I need someone to sew my mouth shut and feed me through a tube in my nose. I am looking forward to a weekend trip to Denver with the girls and I will be packing my lowfat yogurt, mozarella cheese sticks. Celery, carrots and no fat ranch dressing packets (which if you haven't tried no fat ranch...um...well...I think it might be really good if you added a cup of Mayo to it....) MMMmmmm...mayo. Oh Lord help me.

HAPPY FRIDAY!

Best Friend's Little Beast, Daisy May

Resolute -adjective 1. firmly resolved or determined; set in purpose

New Year's Resolutions: (yes. I know it's the 28th. I've been busy.)

1. Stop procrastinating.

2. 30 minutes of Cardio EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!! (except maybe Sunday, and every other Monday. hmmm.....and maybe Wednesday too cuz by hump day, I'm exhausted.)

3. Speak to my children in a calm, rational and loving manner at all times instead of the shrill, curse word filled tirade that only makes them laugh at me behind my back. (they think I don't know this but I really #%*&ing do.)

4. Go over my budget and see how many of my NEEDS are actually WANTS and cut them from my life, such as Mississippi Mudslides from Main St. Espresso and DVR. (wait...isn't DVR a need? and Mudslides? Yup. Need. ...Crap.)

5. Um...have a budget.

6. Put 10% of my income into a new & shiny account at the bank entitled "Our Australia Fund" and don't touch any of the money unless the spending of it will directly result in us moving to a house by the beach in Brisbane.

Unless it's for camera equipment cuz what's the point in living by the beach if you can't take pics of yourself in said house to send to your friends in Utah.

In the wintertime.

While they are getting snowed on.

(oh and I really need a new washing machine. I'll need something good to wash the sand out of my underwear.)

7. Keep New Year's Resolutions.

Hiber Nation

Sooooooo....been away for awhile. No. I'm not depressed. No. I haven't been any more busy than usual. No. I haven't been out of town or been thrown in jail. No. I haven't run away to a tropical island with no phones or wi fi. The truth is that it is winter on Planet Vernal and it is just damn COLD. The kinda cold that makes you want to do nothing else but run from your car to your house, jump into your bed without taking off your socks, hoodie, gloves and hat, pull the covers up to your chin, turn on the TV and not move until the next day. And only then if you have to get up and go to work. That has been my life for the past couple of months. I'm cold people! FRIGID! FREEZING! BRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!

View from my front door

We have been living off of ramen noodles, canned beans and body fat as I will not venture out to the grocery store. I don't wanna go to the basketball game or the movies and I absolutely do NOT want to take my kids sledding. That would involve cold toes, cold fingers, hypothermia and my demise in a snowbank somewhere hidden in the cedars.

There have been some happenings in my world since my last post. Thanksgiving was spent with my sister's family. They came out to Planet Vernal and stayed with me. I LOVE having my nephew and nieces stay with me. Nothing energizes a household more than little ones. They make me laugh out loud and my 7 year old nephew and I hugged and cried like we would never see each other again when they left to go home.

Niece Bobbie, LT, Nephew Iaan, Stella

Niece Sami

Christmas was craziness. Superman was working right up to Christmas Eve. Our car broke down halfway into our trip to the city and we limped into Salt Lake desperate for a car shop that was open. $500 later we were able to drive to a mall where we spent the rest of our money on a few presents for the kids. Needless to say, by the time the big day arrived we were exhausted and stressed. None of it added up to buckets of Christmas cheer.

IZ, Niece Shelby and Twin Brother (isn't he cute?)

LT and her new IPOD

We arrived at Grandma's house on the morning of and I was shocked by the force of nostalgia and grief that hit me as I walked through the door and was not greeted by my Grandpa. For a moment I was overwhelmed with sadness. But excited children, hugs and greetings, soon pulled me out of my funk and I was able to enjoy the moment. That was the most peaceful time of our day. The remainder was spent driving from one end of the valley to the other trying to see everyone while we were in town.

Superman's Daddy. (Yum. Lobster)

We capped off the day by taking the kids to see Avatar. It was amazing. The perfect ending to my day and the good feelings carried over into the next until the car broke down again going home. (sigh).

IZ on the right and two of her best friends

Since then, Superman has been working off and on out-of- state and me and the girls have been hibernating. Sometimes we venture out to forage for food and fresh air but for the most part we spend our days cuddled together in my big bed, watching Bones, talking about school and boys and their latest obsessions and confessions. It's really quite nice. It has not been a choice between spending time with my girls or spending time with my blog but I have missed everyone and it's nice to be back.

Stella on the right and her friends. They aren't wearing coats but it was only 10 degrees when I took this. What these girls won't do for fashion. (eyeroll)

It's still cold here. I think we have another 8 weeks or so of single digits and below zeros but I wanted to check in, poke my head out of the cave and feel the sunshine for a moment. Now I am heading back into the dimness and the warmth and maybe, just maybe you won't see me again until spring.

My big girl, Cleo, peeking out the front window.

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