It’s late at night. We are in bed. Holding hands. Pondering quietly the reality that has smacked us squarely in the face. Neither of us speaks for nearly an hour. I listen to him breath. I play the evening over and over again in my mind. I wonder to myself, is this real. God, I hope this is real.
Finally he speaks. Well that happened fast, didn’t it?
Yeah, I guess it did, I responded.
So….we’re going to be parents then? Dam that’s rad.
Yeah, it is, huh?
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We were on vacation. 1992 maybe. I’d of been twelve that summer. Driving through Oklahoma. We’d stopped at Sonic, which he’d only mentioned about 73 times that day. Sonic. Jalapeno burgers. Cherry limeade. You could almost see it dancing in his eyes. His idea of heaven, if he were one to believe in such things.
We stopped at the first one we saw. We all ordered huge drinks and burgers. Chili cheese fries to share. We sat outside the car in the humid summer heat. The radio in the car was on. Turned to a silly country station, that he never would have normally made us listen too. Maybe it was Oklahoma that did it too him. Maybe it was Sonic. Who knows. My dad is an odd guy.
The moment was over before it really began.
He jumped up and started grabbing food and shoving it in the car in seconds. I didn’t recognize that look in his eyes. Get in the car now, he said. His voice was raised. He meant business. The man rarely raised his voice. We all got in the car. He drove away like a bat out of hell. He didn’t speak for 30 minutes.
We were all silent as well. No one said a thing, even though he was driving us back in the direction we’d just come from. Considering there were five of between 10 and 14 years old, this was a strange occurrence.
Eventually my step-mom broke the silence. What happened? Tornadoes, was his response. Headed our direction. The radio said tornadoes. More than one. Never again will I deal with tornadoes. Give me an earthquake any day.
It would have been funny, except it really wasn’t. On a vacation once, in Texas, my dad almost lost my mom because of tornadoes. She happened to be out shopping and she nearly died in a storm drain. It was about six months before they got pregnant with me. The town my grandparents lived in was over a third gone, after the tornadoes that day. Three major ones.
We will be going around Oklahoma today, was all he’d say.
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Family dinner. My family. His family. We’d ordered in. Mexican food. What? It wasn’t like I knew how to cook. Our new condo. It was the first time we’d had everyone there. There wasn’t enough seats for everyone, so a lot of people ended up sitting on the floor.
They believed it was to celebrate the condo. They’d brought us gifts. As we finished opening them, I got up and said, there is actually two more. Hold on one second. I went into our bedroom and came out with two gifts.
White satin wrapping. Purple and green ribbon. I remember that I’d spent an hour at some specialty shop in Beverly Hills, finding the prettiest paper I could find. I even made my friend Kate wrap them for me, because I wanted it to be perfect. One gift for his parents, one for my mom. Two picture frames.
Our butter bean in a frame. Ten weeks. Her first fuzzy photo. The frames said first grandchild.
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Same vacation. 1992. We’d been in Albuquerque the day before and had gone to Water World. I’d managed to step on a lit cigarette butt and had a blister the size of a fist on my foot. I have always been known for this type of thing. They should have just named me clumsy.
We were camping in Carlsbad. Had been swimming the night before. Every one told me to pop that blister, but I decided limping around was a better way to go. I didn’t want to miss walking down Carlsbad Caverns. I knew if I popped it, I’d not want to walk for days. See, I’d heard a rumor the night before, that Mario Lopez would be filming something at the bottom of the caves the next day. I wanted to meet him. Oh how I loved Saved by the Bell.
I was determined. I didn’t care how much it hurt. I did it anyway. Not because I cared about a silly cave. National monument? Who cares about that? I was twelve. I’d of rather been in a mall. Or at home, spending my days boogie boarding with my friends.
I could have cared less that it had an actual cafeteria at the bottom. I didn’t want to see bats. Or ride the weird elevator back to the top. Nope. I did it too see some cute famous boy.
Saw him too. Somewhere I even have a signed autograph. Totally worth the foot pain.
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Sometimes I get down, when I realize I have no one here. It can be very lonely. All of my friends live elsewhere. My three best friends, each live in different states, scattered over the US. There are days where I’d give just about anything to be able to go have coffee with them at their houses. To sit and talk. To go to dinner. Something. Anything. There are days when it makes me feel bad to know that without the Internet, I’d have no friends and social life.
Other times I realize how absolutely lucky I really am. I have the greatest friends in the world. People all over the US who I am lucky enough to call true friends. People I can chat with, text with and email with. People I could call if I needed someone to talk too. People who would open up their home to me for a few days, if I was in their area. People who take me, as me; just as I am. You can’t beat that type of friendship. I count myself blessed every day that I have it.
I spent a long weekend in California. A long amazing weekend. It wasn’t amazing because I did extraordinary things. I was just there. I spent time with friends. I played Angry Birds Halloween. I watched my friends son, when she ended up having to take her daughter to urgent care. I got sick on my last night there. Life you know? Just normal life.
It’s the small things though, the small moments that help me stay positive when I am home. The small moments that I can pull out and look at in my head later, on days when I need them. These are the things that remind me that I’m not alone.
Things like spending a few hours sitting on a couch, talking and laughing about the idiocy of sports figures. *cough* Brett Farve *cough* Making fun of a certain pitcher who has now famous facial hair. Joking about his weirdness. Reminding ourselves and each other that just because they do one thing so well that we all know who they are, doesn’t really make them anything other than human beings, who just happen to be famous.
Things like spending a day running errands with my best friend. Do I care that we went grocery shopping? Nope. We did other things too. But I don’t care that we did the normal things that all of us have to do every week. Doesn’t matter. I spent a day with my best friend. That’s all that matters.
An afternoon spent with this amazing woman, who drove a total of 18 hours this weekend, with her three children, to spend a few hours with friends. Priceless she said in her post and I have to say, I fully agree. At the end of the afternoon, we both stood there, continuing to talk, not wanting to leave the mall, even though the reality was, we were both going home to change, to then have dinner together. But she knows, as well as I do, how precious these minutes can be.
Dinner at a cozy restaurant with four friends. A conversation that covered a little bit of everything. Simple, easy, fun. Trying to hug people enough times until we meet again.
A day spent talking with friends, about sleep training, how fast the newborn phase goes and laughing about the most coveted baby toy on the market sounding exactly like a dog toy. Nom’ing on tiny baby cheeks.
Playing swords with two crazy little kids one night. Watching him play soccer a few times. Laughing as she does crazy things, such as eating an entire spoonful of butter at brunch, instead of her muffin. Knowing that I adore these kids as much as I could possibly adore kids that aren’t mine.
Was I sad to go home yesterday, yes. I always am. However, I’ve gotten better about it. I know now, there will be a next time. I’ve proved that to myself. These are my people, there will always be a next time.
I drink these moments up. Soak them into me, as deep as they’ll go. All the way to the bones in my toes. I hold onto them, knowing that it will be awhile before the next time. It’s not the same, as if I lived close to all these people, but it’s still great. I’ll take it when I can get it and know, that they are all here for me, even when it’s just over this crazy Internet world.
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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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Not a day has gone by. Not a day. In a year at least. Without at least one text or email or DM.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
A watched cell phone never texts.
Two weeks? One week too long.
Blog Her Blues, still not gone.
Professional worrying skills, keeps me awake.
Twitter and Facebook: follow suggestions suck.
My new iPhone? Named Potter Jackson.
Morgan, Bailey, Harrison: coming home tomorrow.
Liz, Jenna, Lu: Best friends. Love.
Missing my roomies: Kari, Stacey, iNater.
Want to do six word Friday? Here’s the link.
For you at thirty,
Today you are six years old. If you want to be honest though, you aren’t really six yet. Not until 11:47pm. It’s about 9pm. I tried to tell you this multiple times today, but you just didn’t want to believe me. No MOM, I am six. Okay fine. Bossy. It’s okay, I remember saying the same thing to your grandma when she would tell me, you aren’t really this old until 2:26pm. One of those joys of being a mama, we get to harass our children. Trust me, you’ll do it one day. Maybe by the time you read this, you already will be. Who knows?
I am writing this for you, for your thirtieth birthday, because I am thirty. Welcome to thirty baby girl. Guess what? It’s not as scary as you believe. Or as scary as some of those around you would have you believe. I’m thirty. I have very little figured out. It’s okay. Hopefully by the time you read this, I will have figured out what I’m doing with my life. One could only hope you will have as well. If not though? It’s okay. You have time.
I figure by the time you read this, you will have lived enough of life to understand the things I am going to tell you. You will hopefully have forgiven me for my faults by then, or at least come to understand them a little more. I hope by the time you read this, you have a baby, or two. Hey even three is nice. Somehow I bet I’ll make a great grandmother. No pressure though.
Today was your birthday. Today you turned six. I wish I could bottle you up at this age. You are so entertaining. You are sweet and kind. You are extremely loving. You are a totally cuddle bug. In all honestly though, you were born that way, so it may never change. I hope it doesn’t. I hope at thirty you will still being willing to hug your mom in public, hold my hand often and cuddle on the couch while we watch movies. (Hey, a mom can dream right?)
Two weeks ago you asked me for a birthday gift that I wasn’t sure I could give you. Not the puppy you’ve been asking for months to have. (Sorry love, but no.) Not the new bike you are convinced you need. (You don’t.) Not a toy you saw on a commercial. (Mommy can you get me that? What is it? I don’t know, but it looks fun. Um, I don’t think so. Not now. Okay how about one day? Sure, when you can tell me what it is and why you need it.) Not even the iTouch your daddy gave to you from us today. No, you asked to go to an amusement park. With me, your sister and your daddy.
I’ll be honest, this gave me pause. I think it did your daddy too. We had to think about it and discuss it a few times. We decided we could both do this for you.
I’ll be honest with you my love, this was not an easy request to fill. I had to think about if my heart could take it. This year has been tough. Your daddy and I are in the process of getting divorced right now. I know that at 30, this is old news to you. But honey? It’s still new for us. For all of us. I understand why you asked. You love nothing more than to have your whole family with you at all times. You miss us together. Truth is, I do too. You wanted one adult per kid for rides. Logistically it made sense. Like I said though, it was a hard thing to do.
We did it. We had fun. You and your sister had an absolute blast. I had fun. It was hard though, I won’t lie to you. It was hard for me; it is hard for me, each time I do something like this. Something that involves a day spent with your dad. It won’t stop me from doing it though.
I fear you won’t remember us together. (It isn’t lost on me, that you were the exact same age as I was, when your grandma and grandpa got divorced.) Maybe it’s better that way. Maybe all you will remember are days like today. That is okay too. I don’t have memories of my parents like this. I want this for you. I promise you more days like today. Days filled with light hearted conversation between your dad and I. I promise you more day adventures with your family. All of us. I promise you more days filled with face paintings, funnel cakes and rides. I promise you this, because you deserve it. I promise you this because I adore you enough to make it a reality. Because I never want you to look at a picture of us from before and say to me, I just can’t picture us together. I never want you to wonder what we all looked like in the same room.
I can’t give you back what we used to have. That, is just not possible. I can however swear to you, that your dad and I will continue to put aside our own feelings for each other, for the good of you and your siblings.
Today is your birthday. Sixth and thirtieth…because I am printing this out and saving it for you. It will go in the box for you for someday. Filled with letters, pictures, strange mementos from over the years and the outfit you came home from the hospital in. One day, it will be yours.
You are currently laying in bed asleep next to me. This was something that started when your dad moved out, something I’m not sure I’m ready to stop yet. You are so beautiful. I can still see a bit of glitter on your face, from the butterfly you insisted you needed pained on you today. You are so full of life and love. You care about people and animals more than anyone I know. You are one of the most empathetic children I’ve ever met in my life. You are also the funniest child I’ve ever met in my life. Each day, I am blessed to have you in my life. I’d give you the world if I could baby girl. I’d hand it to you right now on a nice pink glittery platter next to a huge stack of Silly Bandz. I know that it’s not possible though.
What I can give you is my promise. My promise to try to do this right for you, Morgan and Harrison. My promise that I’ll keep putting my feelings aside from time to time, to make sure you have memories of your family together. For you.
I love you to the moon and back. I love you more than all the stars in the sky. Happy birthday Bailey.
Love, mama
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 really wish I was still in the mountains. We drove up there on Friday afternoon/evening. I went and took Morgan out of school an hour early, mostly to make it easier on her father when he picked up Bailey. See, we decided to just not tell any of the kids that I was doing this. It did make it easier for all involved. The look on her face, when I told her why I’d come to get her early? Priceless.
It was a five hour drive; through: rain, sleet, hail, snow and a pretty impressive thunder and lightening storm. Oh and the fog was insane. I tend to have issues on mountain passes. However as we climbed up to the major one we had to drive over, it was so foggy, I couldn’t see over the edge of the mountains. It made it easy to pretend I was just driving on any random highway.The roads were just wet, so it wasn’t ever a problem. I just had to drive slower than I normally would have. It was only a four hour drive home.
Morgan talked pretty much the entire way up there, which was no different than any other waking second of her life.
It was interesting, but the farther I drove, the more relaxed I got, despite the insane weather. I am pretty sure I needed this trip as much as my girl did. Maybe more. We had fun, drove around the entire town (Which only has two major intersections. Major being, one three way stop sign and one four way stop sign.) and saw a ton of the outer areas as well. It’s a ski resort town and we were staying in a family members vacation home. Their vacation home? I could fit my house into it twice. It was gorgeous. Breathtaking views, out of every single window. There was a hot tub on the deck, where we spent a bunch of time.
We played a cut throat game of Monopoly, where I realized that my kid cheats as much as I do. I finally let her win, not because she or I cared who won, but just to end the game already. We played for two hours on Friday night and by hour three of the same game on Saturday, I was just over it.
We ate out. I let her have more candy and treats in three days than she normally has in two weeks. We sat in the hot tub and talked for hours. She told me silly jokes and I told her silly stories about when she was a crazy toddler. We discussed the reality that is our life. The fact that her dad and I aren’t getting back together. Which sucked. That conversation just sucked. I’ll just leave it at that. We took turns reading a book I’d downloaded onto my Kindle. One she’d been wanting to read. We took six walks. We met tons of nice people.
Everyone we came across was friendly. Too friendly. I only say that, because I could seriously see the draw of living up there. Which scares me a little. I am the last person who could ever make it in a town of 2,000 people. I am the last person who could survive 7-8 months of winter. After this past weekend? I can see the draw. I can see how it would be a great place to raise my kids. I have mentioned I’m crazy, right? I mean, there is no Starbucks in that town. Or a Target within 200 miles. Or any single fast food restaurant. None. At all. I’d have to learn to cook to live there.
I’m not ready to be home. I didn’t honestly want to come home yet. I have tons of things planned this summer, which is a good thing. Because I, like my daughter, don’t really like the reality that is my life right now. All I can do though, is keep making baby steps and moving forward. I’m finding that weekends spent elsewhere, tend to help with this.
And that’s what I know. Well that and the fact that I didn’t sleep well the entire time (Hard beds. impressive lightening storms at 3am. Sleeping with a snoring child.) and my brain is still on vacation. Which is why it took me until 11am to remember that neither of my best friends were going to be working, or online today. Also why I went to put gas in my car this morning and parked on the wrong side. Which is awesome, considering I’ve owned this car for nearly five years now.
My brainz? They are still on a mountain somewhere.
Usually take one last pass through town, Stop the car and touch the ground, Watch those streetlights swayin’ in the breeze, Decorated store fronts, Rusty old gas pumps, Try to fill my mind up, With somethin’ before I go, Picture postcard memories, You know they always make for good company. –Turning Home, David Nail
Picture Postcard Memories. Somehow that line has stuck with me for days. Just a silly line in a song, but I can’t get it out of my head. In a lot of ways, I think like that. In postcard memories. Have you ever seen the movie, Elizabethtown? The girl, played by Kirsten Dunst pretends to take photos of people, of places, just to remember. When I saw that movie, I realized I’ve done that my entire life. Although, I do it in my head, so as not to end up in a round padded room, being asked to find the corner.
I have been thinking a lot about this lately. When I’m having a bad day, I try to search through my mind for happier times, simple times, just memories that make me smile. I’d like to write some of these memories down. For me to remember, for my kids maybe one day. Just so I never forget. Thought I’d try a few today. Maybe I’ll keep doing it. We’ll see. You all know how I say I’m going to do something and then I never bring it up again. But it’s a thought.
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We told Morgan for months that she was going to have a baby brother. Each time we told a random person and that person said anything to her, she’d say: nopes, no baby bruder. We thought she was just having trouble adjusting. Turned out she was right. Bailey, despite the doctor being SO SURE she was a boy, was born a girl.
She was born near midnight and it was around lunch time the next day, when my mom brought Morgan in to meet her new baby sister. I can picture her little eyes sparkling and her screechy voice when she came in the room and saw me. HI MOMMY!!!! All decked out in a new outfit from my mom; red shorts and a red striped Dora shirt. She suddenly seemed like a full grown child, compared to her teeny tiny, new baby sister.
She got up on the bed with me and held her baby sister. This Ian, she asked, because we’d told her for months that would be her brothers name. No baby, it’s not, I said. This is…well she doesn’t have a name yet, but she’s your baby sister. No brother. Sorry honey. No Ian? Okay.
A little bit later, she got off the bed and started looking around. She looked under the bed, in the bathroom, heck, she even looked in my bag that was by the bed. When she walked out of the door, I called her back in the room and asked her what she was looking for. I looking for Ian mama. He’s lost. I will find hims for you.
She thought we’d misplaced him. Like he was a shoe or something. A missing item to find.
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The pool was shaped like a kidney bean. We were in Waikiki, Hawaii on the last day of our vacation. In the deep end there was a weird window, about two feet down. We’d been going down and making faces at it for a good hour. My step-mom was in the room with her eighth migraine of the week. My dad was somewhere.
I bet my brothers to moon the window. Told them, I’d pay them a dollar each. I could have offered them a piece of gum, they were easy marks. Eight year olds are easily buy-able. At ten, I could pay them next to nothing, or just dare them to do anything and they’d do it.
They each took a turn, going underwater and mooning the window. Seconds later my dad showed up. He rarely yelled, but he yelled loudly that day. Get out of the pool right now. Come with me.
Turns out, it was a bar. With a window. To the deep end of the pool. Weird, huh?
He made us apologize to a bar full of hysterically laughing people. The bartender gave us each a Shirley temple. Even added extra cherries. Little tiny boy butts are nothing. I’ve got kids at home. You have no idea the things I see, he told my dad. Whoever thought of putting this window in, was smokin something crazy.
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Our last night in Las Vegas. We’d been there for three days. Three fun filled, easy days. Neither of us really wanted to go back to the hotel. It was admitting the end of our trip.
Sitting at the Bellagio. In a back hallway, in comfy chairs, eating gelato for an hour and a half. Talking about nothing and everything. Being shocked that we couldn’t hear a single sound, except the few other people doing the same thing. We could have been anywhere. In fact, from the second we went into that hotel, until we left it, we never heard a casino. It was a perfect end, to a perfect trip.
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I was fourteen. Summer. Camping. Half Moon Bay. I got up at dawn to go to the bathroom. It was cold and foggy and the sun hadn’t even considered coming out yet. I knew I couldn’t get back in the pop-up trailer without waking everyone else up, so I decided to go on a walk. I walked and then sat and watched the fog roll off the ocean. Listened to the waves crash. Peace. I felt more at peace in that moment that I had in years. I sat there alone and watched the sun come up. Then I walked back to the camper, where no one had even gotten up yet.
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Morgan being held by my Grandpa on his 80th birthday. She was only six days old. Perfection she was, full of that newborn awesomness. I can picture everything he wore that day, her too. If I think hard enough, I can even smell them both. I ignored his words that he might not be strong enough to hold her and placed her in his arms. He was pale and shaky, one of the last few times I’d see him standing and walking around. She’s barely six pounds Grandpa, I said. She won’t break. I watched him take a finger and gently run it on her nose, watched him kiss her head. Angel kisses, he whispered. What, I asked him? Those red strawberry marks on her eyelids. Oh those will go away in a few weeks, I said. Or that’s what her doctor said.
Angel kisses, he repeated. This child was kissed by angels.
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I can’t live these memories a second time. I wish I could, but it’s just not possible. But the stories in my head? Are something I’ll never forget.
I remember
Every time I see a little toddler with big beautiful blue eyes and blond curls, I remember you.
Each time your mommy and daddy post about you…words, pictures, songs, videos, I remember you through them. Each day, I am thankful to them for sharing you and your sister with us.
I look for purple flowers in the super market. When I can find them, I buy them. If there aren’t any, I buy bright yellow ones. They always remind me of you.
There is a huge sign, for March of Dimes that I’ve passed almost every day for six weeks. I see that little boy on the sign and I imagine your beautiful face on it instead. Each time, I think of you.
Your beautiful baby sister, although so different and so amazing in her own way, reminds me of you.
When someone says, I’ll never understand the draw of Twitter, I think of how our community came together to try and support your parents and grandparents and I remember you.
I will always remember the day that the Internet stopped, for you. For your mom and dad, for their amazing Maddie moo.
We never met. It doesn’t matter though. I’ll still never forget.
Hugs baby girl, wherever you are.
Madeline Alice Spohr. November 11, 2007 – April 7, 2009. Remembered today, remembered tomorrow. Never forgotten.
Smoosh,
Today you are 18 months old. A year and a half. In some ways it seems like you were a tiny newborn yesterday and in other ways, I’m already beginning to forget what you were like then.
You are so big. Truly. You look about two and a half years old already. You are tall and sturdy and already loosing the baby look in your face. Women always look at me all weird when they see you with your binky and blankie in the middle of the day. Don’t take it personally son, they just think you are too old for it. If you were actually two and a half, maybe. But not yet. You are still my tiny little baby boy. You hold onto the bink for as long as you want. The other day we were in Target and a woman asked you a question about a toy. I laughed as you said HI!!!! She I think expected more of a response. Then you showed her your Mater truck and said YUK MAYER!!!! I had to tell her that you were not yet 18 months old and that you really had no idea about Batman yet. She was surprised. I am starting to think this will be a trend.
You are a pretty good toddler, if not completely destructive. There is not a table you won’t stand on, nor a plant you won’t over turn. You can destroy the living room in 2.5 seconds. I wonder why I even bother picking up all the toys, when you systematically go from room to room taking all toys out of the bins. Not that you play with many of them, you just believe they should be free. You love destroying anything that your sisters are playing with. You hide just about everything. Seriously son, where is the dogs Frisbee? I’ve cleaned this house from top to bottom and two months later, I still haven’t found them.
You are addicted to the movie Cars. I think I may be staging an intervention one of these days. You love all cars, but OMFG MAYER!!!! You adore Mater. You have about six Mater trucks. You literally sleep with a stuffed MAYER!!!! Each and every time you say Mater, you say MAYER!!!! He may be your favorite. Just a guess.
You have tantrums which I could have done without. It seems a bit young too me. But you know, third kid, you have to be advanced at this, right? I am a tantrum ignorer, which annoys the ever loving shit out of you. You throw yourself on the floor and scream and flail about. When I get up and leave the room, you get up all quietly and follow me, and then throw yourself at me again, screaming and flailing. It’s really kind of funny.
You eat. You adore food. I have never had a child that liked to eat anything besides air before. It’s new and strange for me. You will eat absolutely anything. Your favorites are hot dogs and yogurt though. You’d eat a hot dog for every meal if I let you. You ask for one each meal. When I say, sorry bud, no hot dogs, we’re having french toast this morning, you say, otay mama. As long as I feed you often, you are a pretty happy boy.
Wah dat mama? Is your new term. You say it often, as in all dang day. You are still a yes boy, although you do say no often. You are loud. I am constantly telling you, shhhh baby, inside voice. You think I’m very funny. Also most likely that I’m talking to hear myself talk.
You do this funny thing that we call, Bub’s adventures. You take us by the finger and make us follow you and then you force us to sit or do or see whatever it was that you wanted. Sometimes, you want me to sit in a different chair, so you can have mine. Sometimes you just want to show me what you’ve destroyed, or to have one of us retrieve MAYER!!!! from wherever he has gotten stuck this time.
Son, you are amazing. You are kind and gentle and super sweet. Your sisters and I adore you.
Happy 18 months.
Love, mama
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