Anchors, ERs , and A Heartfelt Thank You

Sometimes, I can get way too far in my head. Little, everyday things start to bother me, bigger things that I usually can overcome become too much. I feel like I am treading water. I get caught up in the fast pace my life has taken the past two years, and start to feel really alone. Without anchor. It can be a lonely place, and it can swallow you. But sometimes? Something beautiful happens and I see clearly once again how incredibly blessed I am, and I can feel nothing but gratitude.

Last night my son Sam had a medical emergency. It wasn’t life threatening, but it was scary to see, and for him it was completely terrifying. I took him to the Emergency Room, fighting back a panic attack the whole way, because I needed to be calm for him. Once we were there and checked in I went on Facebook to distract myself from panic. I posted a brief, vague message about where we were and requesting positive thoughts. I pretty much forgot about posting as soon as I did it. Then, magic happened.

About ten minutes after my post, Sam looked at me in between the steady stream of doctors and nurses and said”Hey mom! Look at Facebook! People are commenting on your post!” As soon as I picked up my phone, it lit up. I was receiving test messages back to back. I received  phone calls, Facebook messages, and yes, responses to my post.

Within an hour, a stream of people gathered with us. My friends pretty much took over the ER, arriving sporadically, some armed with sodas, some coffee, all with love and concern. With tears in my eyes I looked around at all of these amazing, beautiful people who had left their homes, their families, their lives, because they were concerned for us. I was still scared and worried, but at that moment I realized clearly that I am not alone. Sam and I have people who love us. Really, truly love us, not for what we can do for them, not for what they can get in return, just genuine, honest, real love. I have never been more grateful, and more thankful in my entire life.

We were in the ER until around 1 in the morning. We finally left, armed with instructions, wrapped in our love bubble of friends. Today Sam is doing much better, I am exhausted, and relieved, and absolutely blown away by the amazing people in my life. Literally everyone who cares about me, who cares about my son, has contacted me in some way. That is so amazing, and I want to offer the most heartfelt thank you possible to every single one of you. You all mean more to me than you will ever know.


Today I feel like I am unraveling. Little by little, piece by piece. I don’t think there is any one reason why. I am tired. I am physically tired, I’m emotionally tired, I’m tired of being stressed out, I’m TIRED! Mr. Wrong is being, well, Wrong lately, he’s probably tired too, but he is definitely adding to my unraveling right now. Communication is at an all time low in Casa de Wrong, and that worries me. No communication is what led to my unraveling before, and I am not going back to that time. I can’t. I won’t. I’m not.

During our entire separation, Mr. Wrong was The Great Communicator. Always wanted to talk, really talk. About feelings, about what we wanted, about anything really. I came to really enjoy that, and count on it. Now that I live here, does that mean that we no longer need to talk? I don’t think it does. It doesn’t for me anyway.

So we are stressed, and not talking. That really makes me feel as if I am doing all of this alone. With no one to share it with, no one to support me, no one to vent to. I don’t know, I guess for men that’s ok, for me it isn’t. So, how do I restore communication? Not sure about that one. If anyone has any ideas, I would love to hear them!

Nine years ago

Exactly 9 years ago today, a little baby boy was born. This was no ordinary little boy though, this baby was sent with a very important purpose. He was born into a family that had experienced heartache and loss, and had come to heal the family.

He was a tiny little guy, but had a huge spirit from the very first minute of life, and that spirit has grown along with him every day for the last 9 years. Today his family is complete, and he is the light of everyone’s eye. Without exception, everyone in the family lights up when he walks into a room.

He is sensitive beyond his years, this little man child. He has an understanding of human emotions that surpasses my own, and true compassion for all. He has a truly generous nature, rushing to share even brand new birthday toys with his brother and sisters. He is a natural comedian, his stories, though often a bit long, never fail to leave everyone in laughter.

This special child has been the most incredible gift any family could ever hope to receive, and I am proud and honored to call him my son. Happy birthday, Bug. You are loved more than you will ever know.

A Bad Mommy Day

Today was a bad mommy day.

My usually sweet, sensitive, caring Bug got in trouble in school today. Apparently, my 8 year old Mr. Sensitive called a little girl in his class a “fat slob”.

Oh. My. Hell.

Where to begin listing my problems with this? There is the fact that I make a very conscious effort to raise my children to be sensitive to others feelings, and until today, thought I had done the best with Bug. He really is an amazing kid most of the time. This is the child who, just 2 days ago made everyone in our house sign a peace treaty, promising not to yell or fight with anyone. He is always the most verbal when I ask how he feels about something. Actually, he is usually the only one that doesn’t run away when I ask about feelings.

Bug is, by far the most sensitive of all of my children, the most like me, and someone saying that to him would devastate him. He has been known to get teary eyed because of a dirty look. Honestly, I cannot imagine those words coming out of his mouth.

I have had a weight problem my entire life, a battle that has led to food disorders, body image issues, diet pill abuse, and terminally low self esteem. I have always tried to convey to my children how badly words like fat can hurt, how the damage done by those words never goes away completely. Coupled with the recent case of a sweet young girl killing herself because of the torment of constant bullying by classmates. No, I don’t think that this is on the same level, but could it be the beginning? I know that words hurt, and wounds from words don’t heal. It breaks my heart that my son has done that to another person.

So, as a punishment, Bug wrote a letter of apology. He told her he was sorry, that he thought he was joking. I felt better after he wrote the letter, and after a LONG talk from me. I thought we made headway, thought I had demonstrated good parenting. As I sat to write this, a disagreement escalated between Bug and his sister. As I listened, my hand frozen above my keyboard, I heard it. He called his sister a fat pig. It is definitely a bad mommy day.

An Ordinary Day

In the midst of my ordinary, same as usual day, I had a HUGE revelation. I can’t identify the exact moment of this revelation. Was it while I was playing with Baby G? Was it while talking to Mr. Wrong about ordinary, every day things? Maybe it was while Mr. Wrong and I waved goodbye to Bug on his school bus from our front porch, or when Mr. Wrong and I hung laundry outside on our clothes line, surrounded by the sound of our children playing. It could have been at any of those moments, or a thousand other moments in this ordinary day. At some point, I realized I am happy.

Happy and I don’t have a very good relationship, I should point that out. I have gone to ridiculous, life changing lengths to find happy, and ended up in a depression so deep I am still amazed that I survived it. The problem was, I think, that I wasn’t clear about what happy IS. I thought I was supposed to have adrenaline coursing through my veins, heart beating fast, my mind fuzzy all day every day. Writing it now, it doesn’t even sound appealing, let alone realistic. Sadly, I haven’t been happy in a long time, not really, and that is what I thought I was supposed to feel.

Another major problem happy and I have is that usually when I do get it, I worry myself right out of it. Every. Single. Time. I thrive in times of catastrophe and chaos, and when I have times of the peace and tranquility that I want so badly, I am waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. My glass becomes half empty. I look for the bad in every situation, and if I don’t find any I CREATE bad. I’m not sure why I do these things, why I try to sabotage myself at every turn, but I do it well, of that I am sure. Hopefully, now that I am aware of doing it, I can stop.

My outlook on life is changing, slowly but steadily. I look for the good in situations, and people. I make a conscientious effort not to judge a book by it’s cover, and take time to get to know what is inside. I have removed toxic people from my life, and replaced them with positive, uplifting people who validate me and encourage healthy life choices. I make every effort not to hurt anyone, including myself.

I know myself well, and it is completely possible that I will be here tomorrow with a list of complaints about what is wrong in my life. Today, however, today I am happy. It was a really awesome ordinary day.


Today I went to a viewing for a friend and co worker. I was planning to tell her story here, and make my case for health care reform. While I still think that health care is important, after this afternoon, that is not the story I want to tell today. I have been told that everything happens for a reason, and while I don’t believe that, I do strongly believe that we need to try to make something positive come out of terrible, tragic situations. I fall sadly short of that mark on many occasions, but today, I would like to try, for my friend.

So many times in life, we take for granted the people we are around every day. The co workers, friends, and family members that we see on a daily basis, sometimes never for a second considering the possibility that a day will come when we won’t see them ever again. We exchange cell phone numbers with vague promises to call “sometime” and get together. We work long boring nights together and remark that we should do something together “sometime”. Well, what if “sometime” never comes? Today I watched my co workers and supervisors crying over these very things. I saw my friends family devastated beyond anything a person should have to withstand because they will never have another day with their daughter, fiance, mother. There is a lesson to be learned from this experience, one I hope to never forget.

If you care about someone, please, do not assume that they know how you feel. I cannot express how strongly I feel about that. I will no longer make plans for “sometime” with anyone. I will make sure to make time, no matter what the situation, to have a cup of coffee, a beer after work, lunch on a day off. It is too important, too vital to let people you like and admire know how you feel. Much more important than anything else I might have to do that day. We lead busy lives, to be sure. We juggle jobs, and homes, and families and still try to have a few minutes of peace for ourselves each day. I get that, I really do, and I would be willing to bet the person you want to do things with “sometime” does too. Why not make sometime now, and find out?

Too Much Information

I think I am a reasonably nice person. I try to listen to others thoughts and feelings, and give them value. I genuinely do care about my friends lives, and I am more than happy to talk to any of them when they are having a problem, or when they are happy about some new development. I really, really am. Also, I should add that I pride myself on being friends with a wide variety of people. People of all different ages, religions, political beliefs. I am proud to say that I am able to maintain meaningful friendships regardless of our beliefs, and I enjoy learning about their perspective. However, there comes a point when enough is enough.

Lately, my homepage on facebook is filled with mildly nauseating status updates. “Going out with my baby”, “missing my baby”, “I love my baby”. Gag. Do I really need to bear witness to people, supposedly adults, running their love life online? Is there no point that we keep some things behind closed doors? Mr. Wrong, being not the most mature person on the planet, has ran wild with this. For an entire week, I have recieved updates, texts, and even him SPEAKING “crossing the street with my baby”, “shopping with my baby” , “My baby called me an ass”, “Why did my baby just punch me? Now I’m sad”. I’m telling you, it’s out of control.

Just about an hour ago, while I was mentally preparing this very post, I logged into facebook. “Happy three month anniversary,baby! I love you!” So, this, though belated, is for my dear Mr. Wrong. Happy 212 month anniversary, baby!