You think you mow what you will do. You spend months, sometimes years telling yourself what you will do. What you won’t do. How you will be. How they will be. You are so sure of it.
Private school. Soccer. No sugar cereal. No TV except on weekends. No video games. No yelling. No fast food. Your kid will never act like that. They’d never sleep with me. I’d get rid of binkies at one. They’d potty train at two. They never wear mismatched clothes in public.
Man I was dumb. Deluded too. Nearly nine years later and I laugh at the woman who believed that. If I could, I’d go and flick myself on the back of the head, for ever believing that to be true.
No, that’s not really it. I wanted what we all want. Perfection. Happy. Beautiful. Everything wonderful. We want them to have better than us. No drama. No hatred. No heartache. Nothing that can’t be fixed quickly. I wanted to give my kids a life that only exists in Disney movies.
Here I sit, nearly nine years later. Three kids. No perfection in our lives. Public alternative school. Dance and gymnastics. We eat whatever is easy most of the time. I *may* have let them have cookies after breakfast, because I couldn’t think of a reason why not in the moment. I currently have one kid sleeping with me. Harrison very likely may take his Binky to college and I’m not even considering potty training him until next summer, when he’ll be nearly three. We watch TV and play video games. We play apps and taunt each other with our scores. And I know, this is just a small portion of our life. In fact, its the things that don’t truly matter. This I have learned.
Then comes the harder stuff. The explaining of life issues. Disease. Death. Divorce. Birds and the bees. *shudder* All things you don’t want to have to explain. Things you didn’t think about when picking out names and buying wee bitsy little socks. Which is okay. If we thought about those things, how hard it would be to explain those things, maybe we’d of not had children. I would have….but it would have given me pause. Yet, I didn’t think about it. I don’t think I thought much past kindergarten. There are good reasons for it.
I’ve managed to get through some of the hard conversations. They get it logically. Or Morgan does at least. The real hard part? Watching them hurt. Knowing I can’t do anything about it. Man, no one and nothing can prepare you for that. How do I stop that? Her hurts? I can’t seem too. Even small things are now beyond my control. She’s almost nine.
She wants to read a book. A great book. A hard subject book. Number the Stars. It’s about the Holocaust. She wants to read it, because it’s on a list. A list of great books that everyone should read. She’s in an accelerated reading program and they hand out these lists. But she’s eight.
The Holocaust. How do I explain the Holocaust to an almost nine year old? She still sleeps with a blankie. She has an arm full of Silly Bandz on at all times. She drinks out of crazy straws as much as humanly possible. She’s still so innocent. How do I explain this topic and not take away her innocence?
It’s not as simple as a novel. For our family, it’s real. How do I explain that for our family, or at least my dad’s side, it’s not just a story of once upon a time? That there is a reason there is no family on that side. How do I explain that my great grandma, great-great grandpa and two tiny little boys (one of whom was my grandpa. he was only 5 at the time) escaped with their lives, never to see another family member again? That our name was changed and our religion discarded, as a way to protect what little they had left? How do I explain how entire countries let Hitler kill 6 million Jews? That no one stopped him. I remember the exact day this was explained too me. I do feel like I lost something that day. How can I do that to her? I know I can’t protect her forever, but eight seems too young.
This is the same kid who cries if a dog or cat gets injured in a movie. How do I explain dead children? Dead families? People burned? Starved? I can’t hide it from her. It’s part of history. Part of our history. I’m just not sure I’m ready to explain.
This parenting gig is hard. It was much easier to worry about what I was possibly going to do with all those wee little socks.
Did you know you could use breadcrumbs for more than just making meatballs?
I didn’t. Not until yesterday. Seriously. My best friends are still laughing at me, I’m pretty sure. I was shocked to learn it has other uses.
I am not what one would call a cooking type person. Meaning, I am just now learning how to cook. I have about four recipes that I’ve perfected over the years…three of which are my moms. What I mean is, I have four things I make well. I’m not joking. You may think I am, but I’m really, truly not. BBQ chicken. Spaghetti sauce. Chili. Chicken fajitas. Those are my four things. The rest of the time? We eat out. Or we eat cereal, grilled cheese, chicken quesadillas or breakfast for dinner. I am a big fan of it. The eating out.
Just so you know, my kids aren’t deprived. They eat tons of veggies and fruit. They are healthy, active kids. Their dad was the cook in the house. So…yeah. Moving on.
There is this whole budget thing I’m working on. So I’ve put a kibosh on eating out. Like at all. Which is sad, because I really enjoy eating out. By the way, I’ve failed at the budget this month…I’ll explain more on that another day though.
I’ve taking up cooking this month. It’s gone okay. I’ve made some good things. I’ve made some nasty things. Nights where we ate cereal are becoming a bit farther between though. I’m a work in progress. I have taken to scouring the internet for good, easy, semi-cheap recipies. I ask my best friends for ideas all the time. I send them recipes and ask, do you think I could make this? I’m surprised they are still talking to me.
This is where you all come in. I need help. I need ideas. As someone who has spent, oh my entire life avoiding cooking, this is hard for me. What do you cook? What are some easy recipes that you love? What are your standbys?
Things to know about me… I am eeeked out by raw chicken. The only way I will use it (and I do often) is boneless skinless chicken breasts. That being said, we eat mostly chicken. We do eat some fish. Although, I’m a complete fish brat…because I was raised near an ocean. Ahem. We also eat beef, but I know nothing about it.
I do not like soup.
I am not really a fan of things made in the crock pot. Normally. I do on occasion use it for spaghetti sauce or chili, if I know the evening will be crazy. Mostly it just takes up cupboard space.
I don’t believe I own a food processor anymore. I also do not have the money to buy one right now. If this cooking stuff works out, I’m sure I could ask my mommy for one for Christmas.
I have one kid who won’t eat pizza. One who won’t each chicken nuggets. Neither of the girls will eat Mac N Cheese in any form. The boy however will eat absolutely anything.
Am I a hopeless case?
I am way too tired to form real thoughts this morning. It can really be explained in four simple words: two year old molars. Anyway, I have a few questions for you guys, if you are willing to play along.
1. How old do you think a kid should be for a cell phone? At what age will you let your child have one?
2. What new TV show are you most looking forward to watching. Also? What is your favorite returning show?
3. How often do you change your sheets? Come on fess up. Help me out…I was having an argument about this with someone the other day.
4. What is your go-to dinner? The one you can make with your eyes closed?
5. What is your favorite memory of the summer? The best thing you did, the best thing you saw, whatever.
I saw this at Carmen’s place and thought it would be a good idea to try it out myself. I am now remembering why meme’s were invented. For times where you can’t say what you want to say.
The layers of me
layer one
name: Issa
birth date: April 20th, 1980
birthplace: Los Angeles
current location: Colorado
eye color: Blue-grey
hair color: Brown
height: 5’4″
righty or lefty: Right. Although because of a shoulder surgery on my right shoulder years ago, I can do a lot with my left hand.
zodiac sign: I’m on the cusp. Was born right after (like two hours) it changes to Taurus. I say, I’m a Taurus with Aries tendencies. Although, it could probably be said either way, depending on the day.
layer two
your heritage: Half Polish. Half Heinz 57. (My dad’s family escaped from Poland during the Holocaust. My mom’s family has been here since the 1600′s.)
the shoes you wore today: flip flops. Tevas.
your weakness: Coffee, chocolate, bread.
your fears: Ending up the crazy goldfish lady. Being alone. Loosing my kids. Pushing away my best friends, because I’m too much work.
your perfect pizza: Margarita NYC pizza. Dude. Yum.
layer three
your most overused phrase: Take your pick: Seriously. Awesome. Dude.
your first waking thoughts: Go back to sleep son. PLEASE.
your best physical feature: Eyes.
your favorite memory: Holding each of my babies for the first time.
layer four
pepsi or coke: Coke.
mcdonald’s or burger king: McDonald’s. Although we tend to go to Chipotle mostly. Or Panera.
single or group dates: meh
adidas or nike: I don’t care
lipton ice tea or nestea: Black unsweetened ice tea from Starbucks.
cappuccino or coffee: Whatever. Long as it comes from Starbucks.
layer five
smoke: No. Have been an asthmatic since birth.
cuss: Like a sailor, when I’m not with my kids. I have the ability to turn it on and off at will.
sing: In the car and to my kids at night.
do you think you’ve been in love: I believe so. I know I was.
want to go to college: No. I hated school. I went though.
liked high school: No.
want to get married: Again? Am unsure that I believe in it, in this moment.
believe in yourself: Some days. Am a work in progress.
get motion sickness: I get seasick. Like even on rides at Disney. A cruise looks fun, but I doubt I’ll ever really try to go on one.
think you’re attractive: Eh
think you’re a health freak: Hahahhahahaha. No.
get along with your parents: My mom. I get along with my dad…but I only show him a 5th of myself. My step-mother despises me. I rarely see them.
like thunderstorms: Yes. I adore them. As long as I’m not in the middle of one.
play an instrument: No. I used to play piano. From five to say fourteen years old. I want to learn again.
layer six
in the past month…
drank alcohol: No
smoked: no
done a drug: no
made out: No
gone on a date: No
gone to the mall: Yes. Too many times most likely.
eaten an entire box of oreos: In one sitting? Hell no. Have whole boxes been consumed in my house? Yes. Although, we are currently fans of Golden Oreos.
eaten sushi: No, which is sad. I’d like some. Right now.
been on stage: no
been dumped: no
gone skating: no
made homemade cookies: No, unless slice and bake ones count
gone skinny dipping: no
dyed your hair: no. I’m sure I should. But I’m too lazy.
stolen anything: I’ve actually never stolen a thing. Except meme’s. But I doubt that counts.
you sound boring: No, I sound like a parent. (This was Carmen’s answer…I’m gonna say DITTO.)
layer seven
ever…
played a game that required removal of clothing: yes.
if so, was it mixed company: yes.
been trashed or extremely intoxicated: yes
been caught “doing something”: yes
been called a tease: no
gotten beaten up: No.
shoplifted: no
changed who you were to fit in: Yes. Way too many times. Am trying to just be me now. But that can be hard. And lonely.
layer eight
age you hope to be married: meh
numbers and names of children: Morgan (8), Bailey (6), Harrison (Nearly 2)
describe your dream wedding: pass
how do you want to die: At 124 years old. In my sleep.
where do you want to go to college: I do not. I went though.
what do you want to be when you grow up: Heck if I know.
what country would you most like to visit: England.
layer nine
number of drugs taken illegally: none
number of people i could trust with my life: Shrug.
number of cds that i own: Oh sheesh, I don’t know. Way too many. I don’t buy them anymore, but I used to buy tons.
number of piercings: none. My ears actually mostly closed up.
number of tattoos: One.
number of times my name has appeared in the newspaper: Twice.
number of scars on my body: Five. Three from shoulder surgery. One where I nearly sliced my finger off one time. One on my toe, from the last time I didn’t wear shoes while on a bike.
number of things in my past that i regret: Too many
I have all these things in my head. Things I can’t talk about here. Not yet at least. It is hard to know what to say, what not to say. I keep hearing my mother’s voice telling me, don’t write anything on your blog that could come back to haunt you in a court of law. Which sounds silly I’m sure. However, in the midst of a divorce, it makes complete sense.
My problem is, I blog what is in my head. It’s my process. It’s how I grieve, deal, learn, heal. I’ve always said what I wanted. I’ve always posted what I needed too. This has always been my place, for just me. I’ve been able to say things I wouldn’t because most of my family doesn’t know about this blog. Yet, he does. He knows it’s here.
It’s not even that the things I want to say are bad. It’s just, there comes a point where a line was drawn. The line between him and me. What can be said, what can’t be said. The line seems fuzzy to me in the moment. I’m unsure what to do.
So what does one talk about, when everything you want to say, seems off limits?
This online world is strange. You meet people, you become friends with some of them and then the day comes where you realize that these are your people. That the names on a screen, the words on blog posts, the 140 character tweets have become real people to you.
The people who live in California, Oregon, Florida, Wisconsin, Washington State, Texas, Washington DC, New York, New Jersey…I could continue. These are your people. The women you count on. The women who listen, who make you feel heard. They support you. No matter what you tell them. They still support you, because somewhere in them, they understand; the emotion, if not the words. They make you laugh. They let you cry. Sometimes they make you cry. They accept you as you. Your people.
**********************************
We sit at lunch at a small sidewalk table. The city that never sleeps carries on around us. One on one, during a weekend filled with people. Honest. Real. Raw. It’s the moment that sticks in my head most from that weekend.
**********************************
I watch my cell phone. I wait for a text. This happens to me sometimes. When someone is hurting, I wait for texts like farmers wait for rain. It’s a need. Nothing is okay in that moment, until my phone chirps.
*********************************
I realize I’m cupping my hand. Have been doing it for over twenty minutes. It’s my attempt to hold her hand. 1300 miles away. I hope she feels it in some small way. Me here, holding onto her.
********************************
Curled up in bed, two people in the bed next to me. We talk and laugh for over an hour after we all should have been asleep. Maybe two hours. Even though we feel like we are still on west coast time, our bodies aren’t used to this hour. The conversation is always worth the lack of sleep.
********************************
I call her for the first time. Her voice sounds just how I thought it would. Because I know her. I’ve known her for months. We pick up our conversation like we’d been talking forever.
*******************************
I waited for her to get off the plane. We’d texted each other the night before, okay, I’m scared. It was almost funny, because how can you be nervous to meet someone who you talk to every single day? The second she got off the plane, I knew, this is all okay.
******************************
Not a day has gone by. Not a day. In a year at least. Without at least one text or email or DM.
*****************************
I look at my desk calendar and smile. They both have one too. I purchased them at Christmas. Silly little desk calendar. I’ve never loved one more in my entire life.
****************************
There was a day that I thought I’d just lay down and cease to exist. One of the harder days of this year. Doorbell. Flowers. For me. Just because. I still have the card. To brighten my day it said.
***************************
I cry into the phone. Late at night. I cry into the phone to her. She lets me. Always. No matter what. She sits there and lets me cry in her ear until I’m done. Then? She changes the subject. Asks a question. Tells me about something silly her kids did. Tells me about her dessert. Something. Anything. Because she knows me. She knows I need that, almost as much as I needed to cry.
**************************
An Italian restaurant. I was on vacation with my kids, but I made a point to take time to go meet her. Two hours of non stop talking. I felt like I’d known her forever. Even though it can go weeks between a tweet, I still consider her one of my people. It’s easy to pick up right where we left off, no matter how long it goes.
************************
One of us starts an email each morning. Generally just during the week. Four names. It pings back and forth all day. California. Colorado. Florida. Oregon.
***********************
You realize that as hard as it can be to have none of them live near you, it’s still worth it every day, to have them in your life. No one said your people had to live on the same street as you. There doesn’t need to be a definition for it. It just is.
These are my people. This is why I do this. Because of my people.
Last week, I wrote about post about me. I thought this week, I’d do something a bit different. A get to know my readers post. This is really going to be a long week for me (two jobs, packing, BlogHer) and posting may be light. (It could also be normal, because I’m a big giant spaz, but who knows.)
Truly though, I thought it might be cool to get to know all of you. A lot of you have blogs that I read. You know, when I get around to reading blogs, which is rare these days. Some of you don’t.
If you think I’m being strange asking these questions, you should see the things I make my best friends do, when I’m having a bad day. I tend to call it, humoring Issa. See, aren’t you glad I don’t do this to you often? No need to answer that one.
Moving on:
1. Married? Kids? Names and ages? Animals? I mean if you are willing to tell me. I adore names.
2. If you could have any super power, what would it be?
3. You’re given 1 million dollars, what do you spend it on?
4. You are having twins. Congrats. What would you name them?
5. What’s one thing you miss about being a kid?
6. Where would you like to retire too, if money were no option?
7. Favorite cereal?
8. Autobots or Deciptcons?
9. Who was your first celebrity crush? Who is it now?
10. Do you have a best friend? More than one? What’s your favorite quality in each of them?
11. What is one thing you adore about each of your kids? (or spouse. or pet.)
12. What is your most listened too song on iTunes?
13. What’s a new blog that you love?
14. Ever been to NYC? What’s one thing I should see/place I should eat?
15. Are you going to BlogHer? Would you like to meet me?
We are playing some perverse game of musical beds in my house. It has to stop, I am just not sure how to stop it.
It started out all innocently. See, when Harrison was born, we had a scare in the hospital. Nothing big, but scary enough that I was a neurotic mess the night he came home from the hospital. When the choice came to put him in his crib, I hedged. The girls had always slept in their cribs. But that was a different time and I was a different me. So….I brought him to bed with me. Logan raised his eyebrows at me, but didn’t say a word. It just sort of worked. Harrison was a great sleeper as an infant.
Fast forward about nine months and he stopped being a pleasant bed baby. We transitioned him into sleeping in the crib. Which worked out okay. However? He’s not a great sleeper. At nearly two years old (Sigh. When did that happen?) he still wakes up and cries out for me a couple times a night. He’s lost his bink. He’s gotten caught up in his blankie in a way he doesn’t like. He…well whatever, he just doesn’t sleep through the night. Or he won’t and he screams, which isn’t pleasant for me or his sleeping sisters. However? In January when Logan moved out, I started going to get him when he woke up. Bringing him into bed with me. Partially because listening to him cry, made me weep. Partially because I already wasn’t sleeping, so what did it matter.
Also, Bailey has pretty much slept with me non-stop since January. I put her to bed in her bed. Most nights at least. However, as soon as I leave the room, she gets up, takes her blankies and goes and gets in my bed. Two or three hours later, when I go to bed, I’m not willing to move her, so I generally leave her.
I don’t mind her in my bed. She’s like the perfect sleep buddy. She rarely moves. She barely makes a peep. She’s cuddly. I do mind Harrison in my bed though. Yet, I don’t seem to be able to stop it.
Reality is, it’s hard to say no at 2am. I know he wants me. He knows he wants me. I am weak. It’s hard, this single parent gig. Some people do it non-stop. I don’t. We share custody. But still, there are three of them and one of me. at night, when I’m tired? I loose the will power to be strong.
I am also very, very tired. He’s rolly. He’s like a baby steam roller. He’s a blanket thief. I don’t even think I can explain to you what happens to the sheets. He’s insane. He’s a toddler blanket dictator. Bailey and I wake up shivering. He kicks too. Some mornings, I play, where are my children. It’s a fun game. Where fun equals weird.
This is a night/morning example from a few days ago: (I copied it out of a chat with Liz from last week.)
At midnight maybe, Bailey came into bed with me. At 1am Harrison woke up.
I brought him into bed with me. At 3am I know Bailey got up and went to the bathroom, at 6:45am I woke up, I was alone. Went to see where my children all were, can only assume Bailey got tired of Harrison kicking and left. She was on the couch. Maybe Harrison went to sleep with Morgan for some ungodly reason, because that’s where he was. He Probably kicked her too many times she got up and slept in Bailey ‘s bed? Is insane. No fucking wonder I am so tired today.
Yeah. That was a few days ago. Last night? I slept with the little two in my bed. I woke up on the edge, with Bailey basically huddled right next to me…probably for warmth, since Harrison had stolen all of the covers.
Is it a wonder that I’m tired all the freaking time? I should know how to do this. But I don’t. It’s hard to break a habit that I started. I never started it with the girls. The reason Bailey sleeps with me, is solely because she was just too sad when her dad and I separated and needed me. She may still, which is why I’m not willing to kick her out of my bed yet.
I feel bad that I’m okay with her in my bed, but not him.
He’s gotta go. I just don’t know how to be a hard ass at night. I’m great at it during the day. At night though? I’m a big ole wuss and he knows it.
Halp? Any ideas? Tell me I’m not alone. Please someone. Anyone?
I saw a post a little bit ago written by Maggie Mason. A letter to her 20 year old self. When I clicked on the link in her post, I found even more posts write by a bunch of other bloggers. They wrote to themselves in their 20s. There is a whole little collection of them over here. I thought it might be worth doing. (I really am becoming an idea thief these days.)
Dear 21 year old Issa,
Congrats on the marriage….he’s a keeper. At least for a first husband. What? I’m not telling anything. Just enjoy okay? Try to enjoy what you have. Stop looking for the next thing. Enjoy your time with him. Soak it up. Live it up. Don’t worry so much about stuff. Stuff, money…it comes and goes. Time is what is important.
Spend less time at work. Spend more time at home. Don’t check work email on vacations. It will still be there when you get back. Use up every second of your vacation time. Use sick days for stay at home and play days. You work too hard. 14 hour days are okay sometimes, not all the time. There will come a time when you will regret this. So try to slow it down some now. The person who dies with the most hours put in at work, does not win.
Take a cooking class. Yes you live in Los Angeles. But honey? You won’t always. Trust me, learn to cook. Learn to bake. Learn these things now and you won’t have friends making fun of you online later for you lack of whip cream making knowledge.
Congrats on the little pink stick with the two lines. I know it’s fast. Hey guess what? You are very fertile. Ahem. I know it’s scary. I also know that it will be okay. Try to stop worrying. You will make a great mother. You are right, it’s a girl. A tiny perfect, little girl. Be prepared early, because she will be early. To everything, every milestone, her entire life basically. That’s just her way. Word to the wise? When your water breaks? PUT DOWN THE PANCAKES.
Before she comes? Eat out. Go spend days at the beach. ENJOY THE SLEEP. Sleep as much as humanly possible. Know that one day? They all learn to sleep. There will be nights where you wonder later if it was the right decision. Starting so young. That’s the hormones and the lack of sleep.
She’s worth it. Every single day, she is worth it. The two that come after her are just as amazing. I promise. Enjoy them. Enjoy the smell of newborn head. Enjoy the way they sleep in the crook of your neck. Enjoy the time before they learn to speak. It comes quick with the first one. Know that once they start talking, they never stop. With the second? Know she will do everything in her own time. Not her big sisters time. It’s okay. It’s all okay. Don’t be in such a hurry for them to get bigger. It happens way too fast.
Don’t sweat the small stuff. Ice cream can be a dinner food. Late bedtimes won’t kill her. Read an extra book. Let her watch an extra show. Buy that toy. That outfit. Sometimes, let her sleep in your bed. She’ll be better off for it.
Learn to love coffee.
Friends come and go. This I know. You need to start learning that now. Look around. Enjoy the friends you have. Just know that later, when things get tough, you will find friends who truly understand you. The good, the bad and the ugly. Friends who you can show your true self too.
No matter what? Andrew’s death wasn’t your fault. You probably couldn’t have kept him from doing what he did. Let go of the guilt.
Find a therapist. Talk. Don’t stuff everything. Trust me, I know. Stop playing the what if game. It will get you nowhere.
Enjoy your grandparents. I know you will, but enjoy them as much as humanly possible.
Don’t listen to dad or his wife. They know nothing. You are beautiful. Amazing. Talented. They don’t deserve you in their lives. They won’t be in the kids lives, so don’t even bother trying. Save yourself some heartache.
Think about what you want to do with your life. When you figure it out, please write 30 year old me a letter. That’d be dam helpful right now. Snort.
Think before you type a little more. Speak your truth a little more to family and friends. Your words? Are just as important as theirs.
Mostly though? Love hard. Live. Be happy. Have fun dammit.
You are amazing. Please to be remembering.
xoxo, 30 year old me
I’ve always though that these things can tell you a lot about a person.
I see people do posts where they ask their readers questions. I always answer. Mostly because I love to answer questions. I used to buy all those silly teen magazines to fill out the multiple choice quiz’s. I am well known for coming up with random questions and making forcing begging bribing my best friends to answer them. Aren’t you glad I’m not your best friend? Never mind, you don’t need to answer that one.
Have I mentioned I have a problem?
Anyway, I thought I’d give it a try. Please play along if you’re willing. It doesn’t hurt, there are no wrong answers and you won’t be graded. I just sorta want to get to know my readers a bit more.
1. How do you take your coffee?
2. Are you pro or against Blue Cheese?
3. What is your absolute favorite blog to read? Also what is your guilty blog? The one you don’t want to tell me that you adore and read without telling anyone?
4. What would be your perfect meal?
5. If you could vacation anywhere, money was no option, where would you go?
6. Last movie you saw in a theater?
7. What’s a baby name that you have never used and may never use but always wished you could?
8. Favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry’s Ice cream?
9. Last book you read that doesn’t have pictures?
10. How many siblings do you have? Do you get along with them?
11. What is one random thing about you, that I may not know?
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