My extended family has begun to dread Fridays. With good reason, as every death in the family has happened on a Friday. In September it was my Grandfather, in December my Grandmother, two weeks ago, my Uncles Father-in-Law, last week, my Aunts Father-in-Law. Each one on a Friday.

Today my Uncle Mark passed away. My brother called me a few hours ago and told me. My dad is on his way to LA from San Fran and wasn’t able to call everyone. My other uncle found him this afternoon. Most likely it was a heart attack. Three family members in two weeks. It may be an all-time record. But hey, it was on a Thursday, which although is not any better, we were starting to think Fridays were cursed.. Then again, there is still time.

I am, by nature, an optimist. Once I was even called an insufferable optimist. I have always been the, it’s gonna be okay type of person. These days though, I’m having trouble not being a huge freaking pessimist. I had this feeling that it wasn’t done, this pattern of people dying and I was right. I find myself wondering who is next. I was not prepared for who it would be. My fifty-four year old uncle; not someone I thought to say good-bye too.

Tonight I’ve talked to friends and family and each time I’ve told them all how much I love them. Life is short people. It’s so short and there are no guarantees. I could live to see a hundred and God dammit, I want too. I want to watch my babies grow up and have babies of their own. I want to meet my great-grand babies. I want to dance with my husband at weddings for many years to come. But there are no guarantees in this life. This, my friends has become painfully clear too me this past six months. I am very painfully aware.

Hug your babies close, dance with your spouse, tell everyone how much you love them. We have to live like we will live to see 95 years old, because it’s the right way to live, but we need to love like we won’t. I am going to go all sappy and sentimental now and tell you all that I love you. I do, truly. You guys mean more too me than you know. I am so glad that you are all in my life.

To my uncle Marky, I will always love you and remember you. I hope you rest in peace.

Three years ago I started a blog, called Issas World. (Now that I think about it, the name of this site: not so inventive.) I’d been reading blogs for a few months and had made semi-friends with a few of the lovely people whose sites I stalked daily. A couple of them convinced me to start my own site. One of them was Matthew, whose blog is called ChildsPlayx2. It’s called times two, because he has twins. Two beautiful twins: SweetPea and Monk, whose lives I’ve been blessed to witness for three years. They’ve grown from these teeny little butter bean babies to adorable, intelligent, funny little three year olds. I’ve always loved reading the beautiful, heartfelt, eloquent letters that Matthew writes to his children. (Maybe I should steal some and put them in my kids baby books. Kidding. Sort of.)

Three weeks ago, Matthew and the twins lives were changed forever. The rug was very swiftly pulled from under their feet. It’s not my place to go into details, as it’s his personal business. However, I will say, those little kids have an amazing father who will continue to do a great job raising them. I know they will turn out to be phenomenal people, no matter what happens, because they have him.

Now here comes the paying it forward thing. Matthew is an executive director of a YMCA in San Diego. His job is to help people; too help kids and families in need. Along with all of the programs that all YMCA’s do, (i.e. sports, teen groups, summer programs), they also provide childcare for low income families. Every year in February, Matthew organizes some sort of a fundraiser to raise money for his YMCA, because they don’t turn anyone away for not being able to pay. This helps make it where they can continue to help out families who desperately need assistance. I’ve heard him mention it for a few years now. However, this year, because of his current family situation, Matthew is behind in his fundraising goals. He has sent out an email and posted on his blog, asking for help.

He is in the process of setting up an Internet auction for a few weeks from today. The auction is for the blog world. He’s asking for anything we might be willing to donate that could be auctioned off. (Artwork, signed books, trips; are just a few ideas he listed.) All money made from the auction will go directly to the YMCA where Matthew works. Any donated item will be listed with your name and a link will be added to your blog. Any monetary donation made, is tax deductible and you will receive a letter on YMCA letterhead acknowledging your gift. The letter will have the Tax ID number on it as well. There are some items listed on his site that have already been donated, a few of which I plan on trying to bid on. A cruise for two? Dude, I am so there.

I know this economy sucks. I know people are just struggling to make it. I know everyone is asking for money. But I’ve also seen quite a few people talk about wanting to do something, although not knowing what. Something to try and help the world. Basically what I’m asking you for is help. Help for a friend of mine who is doing his very best to help the world.

Matthew spends his days trying to help kids and families in his community and his nights and weekends trying to help his kids be okay, to deal with what happened to his family a few weeks ago. Please help by paying it forward to a very deserving cause. I have nothing to donate, I’ve racked my brain, but I’ve come up empty. I can donate money and bid during the auction, this I am capable of doing and will do. But I thought I’d put this out there, to see if more people can help. To see if maybe one of you has something to donate, or even would just be willing to bid, when the time comes. Please, for me, at least think about it. Thank you.

PS. If you would like to just donate, I have the link for his YMCA.

Yesterday, it wasn’t the day not being Friday that bothered me. Not really at least. Yesterday it could have been anything that made me sad, or angry, depending on the moment. It not being Friday made me sad all day, which really isn’t all that normal. It’s the depression. I don’t talk about it much on here, because it bothers me to discuss it. I like control and I have no control over my depression. I have no control over it and it sucks. Big time sucks.

Not having depression before a few years ago, I never really understood. I never knew how powerful it was. How it could take over. How a person could be fine one day and an absolute mess the next. I knew about it, I’d seen it in others. I even knew how one treats it, as my mother is a therapist. But I’d never experienced it, besides a few weeks ten years ago when we lost a friend. But that was situational and it went away pretty quickly. That was probably just grief. Now I have experienced it in all of it’s glory and I’d gladly give it back in a heartbeat. I just don’t know how to give it back. This bothers me as well.

After I lost the baby, I sank. That’s the only way I can describe it. It was like drowning in quicksand, but you’re still alive. You are there stuck, but you are still breathing. PPD is what my shrink called it. It took me three months to be willing to see anybody about it. I spent three months in this shell inside of my head. I barely ate, I slept more than I’d ever slept in my life and I basically ignored my family. I was not a nice, fun human being. I was a complete mess. I lost myself. Then the meds started to help and therapy started to help. I started to feel like a person again, I started acting like a mother again, a wife. Then Harrison was conceived. I’ll be honest, it was not planned, nor exactly wanted. Not because of him, but because of me. I wasn’t ready. It was way too soon for me. We’d lost the baby in July and was having another by the following September. The first few months of pregnancy, I sunk again. Maybe not as far again, but I did. I was afraid. Afraid to loose him, afraid to love him, just plain afraid. It made me anxious and sad. But I managed to keep living anyway. I was a little crazy, but I could deal with it. Plus, I was still medicated and that made it easier. Some people are against medication. I have no problem with that. My own mother is a big fan of healing through therapy and vitamins and herbal supplements. For me, I need the meds.

I have this husband who I adore; he’s amazing and the greatest man one could ever hope to meet in their life. Of course he has faults, but they are livable. I have two beautiful, amazing, big girls who make me insane, but are an absolute joy as well. Then there is this baby boy. The one I wasn’t sure I could ever love. He is an absolute miracle. I can’t imagine my life without his drooly little self. He is pure light and joy.

However, I expected to be miraculously healed by now. PPD isn’t one of those things you have for life. It’s supposed to go away. It has, but it left a little moving gift when it left.A little consolation prize, if you will. It left the depression. It comes and goes;, it’s not constant. But it lingers. Maybe it will stick around for a time, maybe forever, I really don’t know.

Days like yesterday happen though. Days where I hate the world. Days where people talking bothers me. Where people who drive too slow or fast bug me. Where people who chew need to be shot. Where the dog barking makes me want to send her packing. Where something as stupid as me thinking it was Friday and it not being, make me cry. Once I start a day like that, I am not good at not falling into it. I haven’t figure that out yet. Hopefully in time I will.

I am lucky in that I have a supportive family. A supportive husband who holds my hand and lets me scream about the world. One who will listen to me rant or cry. One who will take the kids out to dinner and then put them to bed, because he knows I am better left alone for a bit. And friends, I have amazing friends. Ones in my real life and ones online. Friends who will keep my girls after school and after five minutes of listening to me cry, came over to get the baby for awhile yesterday. I am also lucky that these moods don’t last long. Also on bad days, my kids are not bothersome too me. Unless they are too whiney. This is a good thing, because I’d hate it if I felt about them the way I feel about everything else, on bad days. I couldn’t stand it, if they thought it had anything to do with them. I have noticed patterns for when it comes. During my period for one, which is probably the cause of yesterday. After too many cold and dreary days in a row. Besides that, it’s a toss up. Like I said, it comes and goes.

Today, even though it is grey and cold outside, I feel good. I showered and dressed and took snack to Bailey’s class today. I feel normal. Today there is no darkness. But it is a part of me now, one that I’m going to have to come to terms with one day.

My depression has a first name. It’s name is asshole.

Last night while watching the Inauguration and eating pizza and those tasty chocolate dunker things.

Morgan: There are more people there on the streets than at Disneyland on a Saturday.

*****

Bailey: Mommy you can’t be president.

Me: Why not?

Bailey: Only little girls can live at the Big White House (The Big White House is what she always calls it) , they don’t let little boys live there, cause they are too dirty and stinky. No Harrison’s allowed.

*****

Logan: Michelle Obama is taller than Bush. There is a joke here, I’m sure of it.

Me: Yeah, but it’s not short people friendly.

Morgan: Mommy, I’m the tallest in my class you know.

Me: Ok, fine then. It’s not child friendly.

Morgan: What’s that mean anyway?

Logan: It means I was going to tell a rude joke, but your mama is mean and won’t let me.

*****

Bailey: Urethra Franklin has a crazy hat. Do you think she bought it at the Halloween store?

*****

Me: Oooohhhh I adore Itzhak Perlman. In my next life, I want to play as well as he does.

*****

Morgan: Why’d he stop saying the words?

Logan: Because the guy messed up and Obama knew it was wrong.

Morgan: He’s a smart guy. He should have just said the right words.

Logan: That would have been rude though.

Bailey: And you are not aposed to be rude on TV.

*****

Logan: Iss, you really need to stop crying; you’re worrying the baby. Look he’s getting those little old man wrinkles on his forehead.

Me: He’s POOPING. Here, you take him.

*****

Seriously, only five minutes later.

Me: Um babe, who’s crying now?

Logan: I have an allergy. Yeah, an allergy to poop.

*****

At around 9pm, after she’d been asleep sitting up on the couch for half an hour.

Bailey: Is My Barack Odbana President now?

Logan: Honey, he has been President all day, remember? We clapped and jumped around for him? Your Mama cried.

Bailey: Okay, then I need to go to bed now.

Pause

Bailey: Daddy, my legs don’t work. You’re gonna have to carry me to bed.

*****

Me: Mariah really needs to find a new career.

Logan: Didn’t you have her CD once.

Me: Yeah, when I was ten. You couldn’t pay me to buy one now. Funny, but I think this song is from that same CD. Of course back then, she could hit half the notes.

*****

Logan: Babe, come here for a second.

Me: Give me a minute…

Logan: No, you’ve got to see this. Beyonce is wearing a whole dress. Girl looks good.

Me: I’ll give her this much, she can sing. That is a nice dress though. Someone besides her mom must have dressed her today.

*****

Logan: Dam, Michelle looks hot. Oh shit, that was a good thing for him to say first. Yes, Mr. President, your wife does look dam fine.

Me: Ok, that’s enough for tonight. No more fine babes for you.

*****

This morning:

Morgan: Mama, it was real, right?

Me: What was real?

Morgan: Barack Obama is our new president, right? It was real, not just a dream?

Me: Nah, it wasn’t a dream, it was real. I promise.

Morgan: That’s good. I’m proud of him.

Mme: Me too. Me too.

Vitamin water is not an evening drink. When you are thirsty at night, drink water. Or wine. Do not consume an ENERGY drink. Just because it says water in the title, does not mean it is not an ENERGY drink. Because believe me, your tiny adorable son could care less that today is a holiday and mommy got no sleep, when he wants to get up at sunrise. He likes to greet the sun, it’s his thing. It’s not his fault that you drank an ENERGY drink at 9pm and then couldn’t sleep until 2am.

Signed, your tiredy self.