I'm Done...

I'm baring my soul tonight...how is this any different from all the other blog posts you may ask? Well, this is about a subject that I've written about before. It's about a topic that I've fought with my whole life. It's a topic that I have failed with for the last 36 years. My weight...I'm fat, in case you didn't notice. And there are certain points throughout my life where I hit rock bottom. Can you do that more than once? I think you can...and I just might be there again tonight. Writing about Brian dying is uncomfortable. Telling you all that Amelia has sensory issues was difficult. Telling the world, or at least the people that read my blog, that I struggle with weight is excruciating. I'm not sure why. I mean, you can all look at me and see that I don't exactly shine health and skinniness. I have struggled my whole life with my weight. I've always been heavy. I was active. But I was heavy. I hid behind my weight problem by joining every club and playing every sport. I was a three letter winner as a freshman, and a two letter winner my last three years of high school. I was overweight, but I played sports so that made being heavy ok in my head. Then I got a job at Olympic High School's pool as a lifeguard and a swimming lesson instructor. Yup...glutton for punishment right here. I had to wear a swimsuit as a fat person. I was mortified to stand on the pool deck in my suit and lifeguard tank top, with window open to the hallway of the gym where all could see me. I was ashamed. And then I left for college where I gained the Freshman fifteen. And the sophomore seventeen. And the junior...um...huh...a lot more. And then I lost a bunch and got married. Then I got pregnant and gained a bunch. And then I had Amelia and lost a bunch. And then I got pregnant again and gained a bunch. And then I lost a bunch. And then Brian died and life sorta threw a wrench into my weight loss plans. And I really haven't gained control back since then. Notice anything? I'm kind of an emotional eater. I eat when I'm stressed. I eat when I'm sad. I eat when I'm anxious. I eat when I'm depressed. I eat when I'm happy. I must like to eat, right? Lately, I'm stressed. A lot. Things were going pretty well there for a while. Remember my euphoric posts between October and December? Yeah...me too. I'm stressed. Work is stressful. I'm behind on things with my house. My sister came for a visit and I missed seeing her as much as I wanted because I was sick. Work is stressful. Some things happened that set me back emotionally a bit. I'm driving again, which is amazing, but it's also terrifying. I'm also good at hiding and faking emotion. I'm terrified to drive my children. I'm terrified that I might have another seizure. And rather than share this with anyone, I hold it in until I feel like I'm going to explode, like I do tonight. Right now, in fact. But I'm going to see if I can twist this for good. I tucked Amelia into bed tonight. I laid down next to her and hugged her and then I tried to get up. I have some joint issues, but I've also gained quite a bit so getting up wasn't as easy as it should have been for someone that's only 36 years old. Amelia asked if I was ok. I grumbled a bit, looked at her, and said, "Yeah, I'm just fat." She gasped and glared at me. "Mommy! Don't say that! You are NOT fat!" And then the tears welled in my eyes and I couldn't help it. I've read the articles on Facebook about positive body image and how we need to stop using negative self-talk in front of our little girls. But I couldn't help it. I looked at her said it again. "Amelia, I'm fat. And I've got to say that out loud so that I make sure I hear it. Because I'm tired of being fat. I don't want to be this way." Her quiet, hurt voice wavered a bit as she grabbed my face in her hands. "Mommy, listen to my words. You are not fat. You are beautiful. And I love you. So please don't say that word." Tears ran down my cheeks, and are running down my cheeks at this very moment because I have the best daughter in the entire universe. With just a simple gesture and a few words, she not only tried to stop me from talking poorly about myself, she also managed to make me realize my motivation for losing weight. My girls. I am all that they have. And I am not doing them any good by eating my stressors away. Is the enjoyment of a burger and fries really something that should trump not shoving it into my face and being around to watch them graduate? Or get married? Or, for Emerson, simply survive to turn four... And I know some of you may have read my blog posts from before where I said I was done, and I was losing weight. But humor me once more and believe me when I say "I'm done!" I can't live like this anymore. I am changing things and working up to my full potential. I'm gaining control of this very piece that's been spinning out of control for too long. It's time...and I'm coming up with a plan to change TODAY! Not waiting for Monday. Or the beginning of February. But tomorrow. I have two precious little girls snoring in the rooms down the hall that are counting on my being here for them for a while longer. And although work might be stressful, I need to think of the stress that Amelia and Emerson have already endured in their brief walk on this earth and know that I don't want to be responsible for adding to that stress. Amelia is right. I'm not fat. And I am beautiful. I just need to do some things so that I can see that beauty in myself. And I'll work on the negative self-talk piece. Because I know that I shouldn't talk about myself like that, especially in front of them. And hopefully this will be the last post where I write that I'm done! Because if I look up the meaning of the word done, most of the definitions indicate that something is finished. So, I'm thinking you can only be done once! So, I'm done! For the last time...

Go Hawks!

I kinda like football...anyone that knows me knows that this is most certainly true. Since the Seahawks are playing this Sunday in the NFC Championship game, there is a lot of talk on the Internet of bandwagon fans. You know, those fans that are only cheering for the Seahawks because they happen to be a great team this season. So, it got me thinking that I should write a blog post about my history with football. I am absolutely NOT a bandwagon fan. I have loved the Seahawks for a long time. But, I didn't learn to love the Seahawks in my house. A little secret? My parents don't like football. In fact, I'll go as far as saying that my dad hates it. I remember being little and hearing my dad talk about how overpaid the players were. His favorite sport? NHRA drag racing! I also developed an appreciation for that, but football was my favorite! So, if my parents didn't watch, then where did I get my affinity for the Seahawks? My grandpa... He loved his Seahawks. We would visit them every Sunday after church. Dad usually helped do a few chores around their house. My mom would be with my grandma in the kitchen. And I'd be sitting at my grandpa's feet watching football. He taught me everything I know about football and I soaked up every word. I loved spending time with him watching football. Eventually, my parents would finish whatever they were doing and want to head home. I begged to stay and was usually allowed. We lived right next door to my grandparents so I'd hike through the cow pasture when the game was over. I loved these days with my grandpa. Over the years, my grandpa and I stayed close. I called him several times a day, even when I left for college. I missed him so, but we always talked sports. My grandpa would ask if I'd gone to any Husky games since I attended UW. I told him I didn't have time. I was too busy studying. But I came home often and would still sit at his feet, watching the games. In January 2001, the Huskies made it to the Rose Bowl. My grandpa was so excited! That day, though, he wasn't in his leather chair right next door. He was at Harrison Hospital and wasn't doing so great. So, I packed up my homework and went to the hospital and sat in his room and watched the game with him. We laughed and talked. He taught me more about football. And we watched that game together. The Huskies won! I packed up my things and headed home. The campus was so excited about the win and I'd call grandpa often to tell him about celebrations I was going to, or news of our quarterback, Tui, that I'd read in the newspaper. Just a couple weeks after that Rose Bowl victory, my grandpa passed away at the age of 93. I was devastated. Watching football just wasn't the same. I missed my partner. When I met Brian, I found out relatively early on that he loved the Seahawks. Match made in heaven! So, for our first Christmas together, I bought us a spot on the Blue Pride wait list for season tickets. It took us a couple years, but we finally got our tickets. I didn't go to many games with Brian, but I loved watching football again! And then Brian died. That year I sold my tickets in my panic of being a single mom and many friends took me with my tickets I'd sold. I had a blast and it soon became my happy place! And then I found Kristi...my football partner! I had a partner back that loved football just as much as I did. I have only missed one game since then. It is my favorite thing to do. I love the sport. I love showing off my knowledge of the plays. I love watching the hits and trying to make the calls before the refs do. I love everything about it. I also love that I'm carrying on the tradition of watching football. There is always some point in every game that I catch a thought of my grandpa, sitting at his feet watching the game. And it sucks the wind out of my sails and I'm overcome with emotion. This most often happens when they are raising the 12th man flag. Seeing whoever it is to raise the flag come out makes me think of my grandpa often because it is typically the sports figures that I knew from watching with my grandpa. And I'm passing the tradition on to my girls and that makes me happy too. Amelia and Emerson quite often will watch the games with me. I remember Emerson being tiny in her high chair. When I would say, "Touchdown!" she'd raise her arms high in the air and grin. Over Christmas break, I overheard Amelia teaching her cousins Richard Sherman's Pre-game huddle chant...soon all four of them would be on the trampoline yelling "Who's got my back!" The girls know many of the players and help me get dressed for games, picking out my ribbons or which shirt I should wear. It makes me a proud momma...and makes me think of my grandpa and how proud he'd be. So, tonight, I tuck Amelia into bed and she said, "Hey, mommy...one more thing?" "What's that, Amelia?" "Do you know who the Seahawks are playing this weekend?" "Yes, honey...they play the San Francisco 49ers..." "No they don't." "Um, yes they do!" "Nope, you're wrong mommy...My friends and I talked about it at school today...they play the Forty-WHINERS!" And then she erupts into fits of laughter...and I join in. That's my girl!!

Hakuna Matata

Amelia's favorite movie of all time is Disney's The Lion King. Her obsession with the movie started shortly after Brian died. She asked to watch it and I sat down with her. We cuddled on the couch together and started the movie. As it got closer to the scene where Mufasa is killed by Scar, I started to get anxious. My daughter had just recently lost her father. She was three years old and I wasn't 100% sure that she understood what had happened. That death was permanent. That Brian was not coming home. But we continued to watch the movie together. I pulled her in tightly to me as Scar threw Mufasa off the cliff and into the canyon below. My gaze bore holes into the back of Amelia's head as I watched her blonde little pigtails, trying to figure out what was going through that little brain. What was she thinking? What was she processing? Was she crying? Did I upset her? I held my breath and waited. Without looking back at me, she walked closer to the TV and stared at the screen. I still couldn't determine my next plan of attack. Do I ignore it and hope it goes away? Do I turn the TV off and put something gentler in for her? I continued to hold my breath...waiting for her next move. Without turning to look at me she shouted, "Rewind it!" "What?" "Rewind it! I need to see it again!" I picked up the remote and backed it up. I wasn't sure how far I was going, but when Amelia could see wildebeasts running through the gorge she shouted, "STOP!" I pressed play and let the movie continue. Once again we got to the scene where Scar threw Mufasa off of the cliff. A pained feeling ran through me as I watched my little three-year-old witness the murder of Simba's dad...again. We got to the part where Scar was about to run Simba out of the Pride Land. "Rewind it!" "Again?" "Rewind it!" So, I rewound it...again. And again...and again. We must have watched that scene at least 20 times... Tears began filling my eyes with each rewind as I strived to determine what I should do. Was this healthy? Was this good? Or was this an obsession that I needed to stop now. As a mom, there is no rule book. Nothing is laid out on how you are supposed to raise your kids. There's no guide that is magically delivered when you have a baby. And this is most certainly true when life lessons like death are involved. I spend a lot of time agonizing over the choices that I make with my girls in the day to day stuff. Did I pack them a good enough lunch? Should I let Emerson wear a tank top to school in January? Did I deal with Amelia appropriately when she was mean to her sister? Did I use the right words with Emerson when I was explaining to her why I was upset? These questions are impossible to answer and leave most parents wondering if they are really cut out for the parenting thing. But add to the mix things like this Lion King scene I'm laying out for you? Yikes!! The stakes get a lot higher. The questions I ask myself now? Should I have pictures of Brian around the house? Does Amelia understand that death is permanent? Should I call Amelia's therapist over this? How will I know when the time is right to share things with Amelia regarding Brian's death? It's a tough call and I question myself every day. Every...single...day...the choices I make are agonizing. What if the thing I'm telling Amelia today is something that she needs therapy for when she's 20? What if I hesitate in my decision to share details with her, and then she hears it from someone else? What if...that's the question of the day usually. So, how did The Lion King thing turn out? We watched it 5000 more times in the time since that first viewing. We have collected figurines and stuffed animals. We write stories about the Lion King and we read books. We sing the songs and play with the toys for hours. And, bless my mother, we are going in March to see the Broadway production of The Lion King at the Paramount in Seattle. Occasionally, we interject The Little Mermaid into our movie time. Or Toy Story. Or Barbie movies. But, we always go back to The Lion King. At one point shortly after introducing the Lion King to Amelia, I asked her what she liked about it. "That's easy! Mufasa died." "You like that Mufasa died?" "No, Silly...I like that I'm not the only kid who had a daddy die. Simba understands too." Simba is still her favorite. And The Lion King has been a reassurance for her. She knows she's not alone in her pain of losing her father. And, she has learned Hakuna Matata! She uses that phrase often and she has told me that it makes her feel better because it's important to have "no worries". Tonight as I was reading our bedtime story, we were reading her Children's Bible. One of the stories we read was about John the Baptist. I was reading how he wore clothes made from camel hair and he ate bugs and honey and Amelia interrupted. "What?!" "What..." "What did you just say? Did you say that John the Baptist ate bugs and honey?" "Umm...yes...bugs and honey." "Were they grubs?" "I don't know what kind of bugs they were, sweetheart. I wasn't there. This Bible says bugs and honey." She looked at me, grinned with her big, beautiful dimple, and said, "Well...Hakuna Matata!!" in her funny little voice. And then she and I lost ourselves in a fit of giggles and snorts. I was tucking her into bed, and her one more thing mommy moment came about. "I love you, mommy. Remember the first time I watched the Lion King?" "I do! I was thinking about that since we were laughing about poor John the Baptist eating bugs." She giggled and said, "Me too! Do you remember why I told you that I like the Lion King?" "I do. You told me it was because Simba knew what it was like to have his daddy die." "Well, I guess that's true, but that's not really why I like it." "Oh yeah? Why did you like it?" "Because it gave me hope!" "Hope? How so?" "Well, Simba had a lot of bad happen. His dad died. He thought he did it. The hyenas chased him away and tried to kill him. He almost died in the desert. He had a rough time." "Yes, he did." "Well, I had a rough time for a while too! But, watching The Lion King, I saw that even after all that rough stuff happened, he found some good friends. And he came back home and his mommy still loved him after all that time. And he married Nala and he had a baby and he got to be king. So, just because I had a rough time, I'm going to be king someday." "You can be anything you want, La!" "I'm not REALLY going to be king, mommy. Number one I'm a girl and number two that's just a symbol. I mean I'm going to rule my world. We made it! And we had the best year ever last year! Let's do it again! I have hope!" With tears in my eyes, I grabbed my little, wise girl and squeezed her tight! "I love you SO much, Amelia! You teach my so much everyday and you're right. We are going to rule our world! We are fighters and survivors!! I love you..." "I love you too, mommy!" "Good night Amelia Esther..." "Good night, mommy! Oh, mommy...just one more thing?" "What, La?" "Hakuna Matata!!" "Hakuna Matata..."

Stand Up!

This is like the fourth time that I have started the blog post tonight. I am having a hard time because on one hand I have a few topics that I would like to write about. And on the other hand is the hesitation that I have about sharing certain thins on a blog post that is on the internet. I know that I have already shared some very personal stuff with you all that might be frowned upon as too personal by others. And I know that there are many posts that I haven't been 100% forward with my posts because although I have a fan base apparently, and although I'm sure that you all would be interested in some of the off-limits things that bounce around in my head, my main obligation is to my family. And there are just certain things that I don't want to post because they could totally come back around and wreak havoc at some point. So, I choose to not share every detail of our lives. I will always be honest...that's not the question. I just won't always share everything that is on my heart and in my head because some of those things need to stay there. And yet, there is the emotional release that I share when I type the words out. And I think about the positive I could do for others if they only knew certain things. And I think about the stories that I have to tell. But, I quickly go back to this cannot be good to have floating out there in the vast expanse that is the internet. THIS is exactly why I'm having a hard time tonight and why I've had to start this blog post so many times because I'm walking a fine line here and I'm not sure where on that line I want to be standing. So, I'm going to ramble for a while and see where this leads me. This weekend was amazing and impossibly hard all at the same time. Saturday, I was at a football game where the Seahawks won and are one step closer to the Super Bowl. It was a super fun day, and I got to be with some of my most favorite people. The home team won, and it was a fun-filled day! Today, was emotional and draining and hard and...that's all I can say about that before I get to the point where I've said too much. I'm tired. My girls are tired. It was a hard day for us. Do you ever do something that you don't want to do, just because you think it's the right thing. And then, as soon as you're in the midle of that moment, you realize that it's not what is best for you or your family? I found myself in a similar situation this weekend. I had all sorts of advice about how I shouldn't do it. How I needed to think what was best for me. How I needed to think how it would impact my kids. But, I went with my gut and decided to move forward. And then, in the middle of it all, as the events were unfolding, I realized it was all a big mistake and no matter the feelings I have, I need to be stronger and stand up for what I need and what my girls need. The chaos and the fallout and the uncomfortable-ness (Ha! I think I'm just making up words now...I'm super tired!) of it all is just too much for my little family. I need to be momma bear and protect our fragile little lives. It's hard to do sometimes. Sometimes, just doing what you don't want to do is easier than facing the aftermath of pushing back and saying NO! Or is it? I think for me, it's more about not wanting to hurt other peoples' feelings. I don't want there to be discomfort and hard feelings. I don't want to make waves or cause a scene. I don't like hate and discontent. So, if I'm so worried about protecting this in other people, why on earth can't I think this way for myself? It's not ok for me to say no to someone because I don't want them to feel bad, but I can be ok with feeling badly myself the whole time it's going on? What?! How does that make any sense?? How does it make sense that I don't want to hurt other peoples' feelings, but I could sacrifice the way my kids are feeling? Yeah...typing that out I can see that it's just crazy! I shouldn't be sacrificing the way that my daughters feel and the way that I feel to make someone else feel better. As I was tucking Amelia into bed tonight, I hugged her close and told her how proud I was of her. She smiled back at me and told me she was proud too. I turned to walk out of her room and I heard, "Mommy, just one more thing please?" I stopped in her doorway and looked back at her. "Mommy? Remember how I told you that 2013 was our best year EVER? That I loved our year and I loved how much fun we had and I loved that you didn't have seizures for a long time and that we got to do such awesome stuff?" "Yeah...I remember. It was awesome, huh?" "Yeah, it was. But, mommy? I'm worried a little bit." "What are you worried about, La?" "I'm worried that we are making bad choices and that 2014 isn't going to be even better than last year." "Why do you say that, honey? I think we're going so good this year!" "Well, you can drive now, and that's good. And we took Emerson to see her first movie. But, something's just not right. We need to be living for us this year!" I stared at her because I knew what she was referring to and she is right. We do need to be living for us. This is OUR life. This is how me and my girls are fighting for each day to be better than the one before. This is us making decisions for our family, for loving each other. I can't keep worrying about other people. I can't keep doing things that we don't want to do just because I don't want to rock the boat and I want to keep everyone else happy. We have to live for us. I have to make choices that reflect this. So, this is where the blog for tonight has ended up. What are you doing in your life that isn't for you, but for someone else's happiness? Too often, we get wrapped up in this. I think it's human nature for some. But, stop it! You only get one shot at this thing called life! Live it to the fullest for YOU! Not for anyone else. Life is too short to spend it pleasing other people while you take a backseat. I'm done! I've been a people-pleaser my whole life. I have fought and struggled to make everyone around me happy. And I am thinking about my six-year-old in bed telling me to live life! Don't worry about the haters because they are always going to be there. It's not my job to turn them into something that doesn't hate. I can't control their hearts, just as I don't want them controlling mine. It's time for me to be doing what I want to do...because I want to do it. Not because I'm worried someone will be upset. Because I was upset. Amelia was upset. Emerson was upset. No more! 2014 will be our happiest! I can't wait! Join us! Make 2014 your happiest ever! Live life for you! Make choices that make you stronger!

Finding the Balance

We are having an interesting time in our house lately. I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm sure there are a combination of factors that are playing into the goings on of our little home. I'm pretty sure that I don't feel well yet so my patience wears a bit thin after working all day. The girls are tired from being back at school after a fun Christmas break. Focus is hard. Attention is not on homeword. We miss our California family. Life in general right now is still working on finding our usual rhythm. Amelia is usually my level-headed one. Emerson is strong-willed and is sometimes sneaky and like to pick on her sister and cause a little bit of trouble. Amelia is the one that I can usually count on to be kind to her sister. She is compliant and follows my directions. She is my little helper. I can tell her to go and do her homework and she sits right down and completes it on her own. But, not lately. She is distracted. She is whiny. She picks on her sister just to get a rise out of her. These things have happened for the past couple days. Bath time has been cut short because she is a bit mean. Story time isn't our usual calm, snuggly time. It's just been...different. Tonight in the tub, for no reason, she scratched Emerson. She just lashed out and scratched her across the chest. I looked at her with my best mom look and asked her what she was doing. "Sorry, Em..." was her reply. Emerson didn't seem too upset by it so we continued playing. Emerson filled her little cup with cold water out of the tap and was drinking it and Amelia hit the bottom of the cup as Emerson was drinking out of it. I again looked at Amelia with even more exasperation. "What are you doing?" "I don't know. I just wanted to." "Well, we need to be done with bath because I'm not going to leave you here so you can keep hurting your sister." And bath ended...and Amelia started to cry. I ignored it for the most part because for the past few days this is what our nighttime routine has eventually led to. Amelia then took off running out of the bathroom to her room. I continued to ignore her. Emerson picked out story for the night and she and I settled into bed and waiting for Amelia. I could hear her crying in her bedroom. "Amelia? Come on! We're going to read now." "I'm not coming!" "What? Yes you are. This is YOUR homework." "No, I'm not. I'm the worst sister in the whole world and I'm embarrassed." "Come on, Amelia." Amelia slowly walked into my bedroom and sat at the foot of my bed on the floor and kept crying. Emerson walked to the foot of the bed and hung over the side. "Come on, La!" Emerson encouraged her sister to join us. "No! I'm not coming up. I don't deserve to be with you guys." "La! I forgive you! I'm OK. I'm not hurt! Come read with us." Slowly, Emerson begged her sissy to come up to the bed and read with us and before long, we were well into Poppy the Piano Fairy. After the story, I got the girls' waters and went to Amelia's room to tuck her in. "Just one more thing, mommy?" "Of course, Amelia." "Mommy, I'm sorry I was mean to Emerson." "It's not ok to hurt your sister, but I'm glad that you two worked it out and we could move on." "I don't think I've moved on. I'm sad for what I did to my sister." "I know...but something that I've learned is you can't keep dwelling on the negative things. You have to make peace with your past so it doesn't ruin the present." "What does that mean?" "Well, what's our most favorite time of the whole day?" "Reading together." "Right. And you were sad and upset from what happened with Emerson. So, instead of being ok and moving on, you were going to continue to cry and be mad and miss story time. Not only were you going to let this one thing mess up bathtime fun, you were going to let it carry into the rest of our nighttime routine." "Oh, I see. It was sure nice of Emerson to forgive me, wasn't it?" "It was very nice! And I'm proud of her for doing that. And I know you were still sad, but it was over and time to be done so it didn't get in the way of the rest of our evening." "Yes, mommy. You're right. I'll try to remember that next time. Oh wait...there won't be a next time." "I'm sure there will be a next time, honey. But we'll work together to remember that it's done and over and time to move on." "I love you, mommy...good night." "Good night, Amelia." And I walked to the living room. Sometimes as a mom, I feel like such a hypocrite! I preach things to my kids that sound so good, like the message I just typed above, but do I practice what I preach? Far from it! I guess part of the preaching to my kids helps with reminders to me that I need to follow suit and do the same. There have been many event that have happened in my life that have gotten me stuck. They happened and I should have let them go, but I didn't. I struggled with a piece of my past and I had a hard time letting go. I had a hard time moving forward. And it messed with my present! And I know that there is some hierarchy to this. There are some events that happen that should never have any time wasted on them. And there are some things that happen that are no doubt going to bog you down for a while. I tend to stew and worry about everything. EVERYTHING!! I have to stew and vent and mull over every tiny little thing. And this is where it gets silly. Because sometimes I am so busy fretting about something from the past that it prevents me from enjoying the present. And it's silly! Sometimes it is necessary. Sometimes there are things in life that happen that need your time and attention, but at some point it's time to make peace with the past so that you can live in your present! The other end of this are the things that happened that I didn't deal with at all, and they have come full circle to bite me in the butt. That's not the way either. There is a delicate balance of fretting, and I am not the person that should be giving advice on this at all! Ha! So, don't be reading into this as a manual for fretting. Because I kind of run on the two extremes. Either fret about it non-stop, obsess, lose sleep, spiral up, and add a million different "what ifs" to the worrying scenario. Or, don't think about it at all. Shove it down as far as you can and let it fester until one day it just explodes. But somewhere between those two extremes is the healthy processing of information that needs to happen. Somewhere in there is the correct way to grieve and be sad, or be angry, or deal with things that come up. I've gotten a lot of practice, and I have a lot of learning to do on this topic. But maybe, as I teach my daughter the balance, I'll pick up some good information from myself. It is a delicate balance and I am far from an expert. But, I'm getting stronger every day and I have realized that there is life out there...amazing life! And I can't sit back anymore and let my past mess up my present. Is this a perfect system that I have? Absolutely not! But I'm dealing with things as they come up, and moving forward when I can! And hopefully, I'll be able to help Amelia to do that same.

Bipolar?

Do you ever feel like you might be bipolar? I know that I do all the time. And it is a question that I ask my therapist often, praying that the answer is still, "No, don't be silly. You are NOT bipolar. This is all just the normal ebb and flow of emotions. Especially emotions following the trauma that you have been through." Yikes...I hate that word. Trauma. I know that my family has been through a trauma...or maybe even a mini-series of traumas. I have been told by many people that I should sell my story to someone and make millions off of the amazing chain of events that have happened in our lives. Or, maybe I'll just stick with this blog and my maybe two readers that keep up with it. Ha! OK, back to being bipolar...hmm...maybe I'm ADHD also!! The range of emotions and feelings that I run through at any given time make it seem like I am bipolar. My blog posts are probably amazing evidence of this. Just yesterday, I was posting warm fuzzies regarding my truck and how excited I am to drive. Today was also good and happy. I had a doctor appointment that I may blog about later, but I feel that every day I'm getting closer and closer to answers that will "fix" me. I had some anxiety with a good friend for a few days and that was resolved with the resolution that I was hoping for. Dinner time was the best! I came home, didn't really want to cook, packed the girls into the truck and headed to McDonalds. I drove...to McDonalds...and we sat in the PlayPlace for over an hour and played and laughed and ate and had a marvelous time. I took tons of pictures and we rejoiced that we can do normal activities again! I texted my sister pictures of the girls at McDonalds and just said, "It's amazing the things that you take for granted until they're gone." We got all philosophical and emotional for a bit, and then we started the trek home for homework, bath, and bedtime routine. And that's when things started going downhill. Emerson cried most of the way home because she noticed the three other families at the Play Place that had a mommy and a daddy. She didn't think it was very fair that we didn't have a daddy. And that conversation started. Why did daddy die? How did daddy die? Why can't I bring daddy back? Why do we have to be without a daddy? I think I've blogged before that I wasn't prepared for Emerson to go through this. I don't know why and I feel like stupid mom for not thinking about that, but she is having emotions about this and it's so so hard! It was hard when I did it with Amelia...to a point. Amelia just sort of accepted it and moved on. She frequently talks about how thankful she is to live in a house of girls and how she loves our family of three. But with Emerson, this is different. She has no memory of Brian. Emerson was born in April of 2010. Brian died in October of 2010. She was six months old. She does not remember her father, other than from a few pictures and stories that Amelia tells. And her grief and this whole process feels very different to me than it did with Amelia. And it's hard on mommy too. Amelia is going through a tough time at school. It's not really related to this, but then it's also hard to not think that of course it's related to this. Just as I feel I am bipolar, I'm sure the range of emotions that hit my girls throughout any given day is difficult as well. So, when Amelia has a hard time at school, it makes me question everything that is going on. I know that she's allowed to have tough days, but as a mom of little ones who are growing up short a parent, PLUS having that growth compounded by grief and trauma, I often over analyze everything. Why is Amelia having a hard time? What is going on at school? What is she thinking about? What is she trying to process? What is happening in her little brain? It's exhausting to predict all of that, and sometimes I just can't. It can be a full-time job trying to anticipate the needs of a six year old that has been through what she's been through. So, I was not surprised when she asked to go straight to bed after we were finished with our 30 minutes of reading. She fell asleep almost immediately. I kissed her forehead and moved onto the next room. She was laying down crying softly to herself. "Emmy? What's wrong?" "I'm so sad and I don't know why." "Is it because of daddy? I know you were sad that we don't have a daddy. Is that why you're sad?" "Yes. I want daddy to come back." "I know..." "It's not fair that my friends at school all have daddies." (This is true, by the way. I am the only single parent in her preschool class which is hard on both of us apparently.) "I am so sorry that you don't have a daddy. I wish you did." And then the questions started all over again. Why did daddy die? How did daddy die? Why didn't he stay with us? Why did his heart stop? Didn't he love us anymore? And I lay next to her and answer them the best I can, knowing that I will never be able to make this ok to her. Knowing that anything that I say isn't going to help. But I do the best I can. And I try not to feel bipolar. And I try to stay strong in spite of the sadness and grief and anger that fill my own heart. Death and trauma are not simple things. There is no simple explanation for my little girls. This is true at 3 and 6, but I feel like it will also be true at 23 and 26. Many of the conversations with my therapist revolve around when is it a good time to bring up (insert death, dying, trauma topic here) to my girls? And there is no right or wrong answer. My therapist always tells me "you'll know" and I suppose with divine intervention and incessant prayers I will know. God usually gives me the words to say to my little three year old when she asks "Why did daddy die?" and I have faith that he will continue to give me the words and strength I need at the exact moment I need them. And I've learned it's OK to feel bipolar. It's part of the grief process that we go through. And it sucks. There's no other way to say it. It sucks. It sucks as a wife. It sucks worse as a mom because you experience it on your own level, and then again on a tiny level. But it's important to go through. So, we plunge forward. Pray. Hope. Carry on. And make going through life without a daddy as normal as possible. It's ok to feel bipolar. It's ok to run the whole range of emotions. The trick to noticing growth and healing is observing more peaks than valleys. Knowing that the driving of the truck, and the happy moments and memories we are creating will far outweigh the tears over being a house of all girls. We had a rough patch tonight. But, the girls in this house are tough and we move forward. And we will laugh again because as Amelia points out often, who needs stinky boys anyway?

6 Months...

I always knew that I was going to drive a truck...a shiny, red one! So, when I was finished with grad school and got hired on by CK School District, the first thing I did was buy a shiny, new red truck. I loved her so! I drove her everywhere. Carted my friends around in it everywhere. Cried real giant tears when my friend Tim gave her her first scratch right across the hood...stupid belt buckle. Used her as a get-away car for many stupid pranks. Drove her a few times to the Gorge and back for concerts (It was never as cool as the year we took my mom's mini-van to Warped Tour though). I remember where I was at 100 miles...at 10,000 miles...and in like 40 miles she'll have 100,000 miles. I bought her brand new in 2002 and I loved her to death. So, when life started unravelling and I couldn't stand to have Brian's Kia at the time, my parents hid his car from my sight and I drove my beautiful red truck. I was thankful that we had been a two-car family so that I had that option. I still loved my red truck. And then, gas prices went insane. And being a newly single mom on a budget I no longer saw a beautiful red truck. I saw 13 miles to the gallon, while I had a Kia Spectra tucked away that got 35 miles to the gallon. After many sessions of therapy and many hours of pacing and convincing myself that I could do it, I parked my pretty red truck in our driveway and started driving the Kia to work. It took me a few months of driving it every day, but I eventually only cried to Chico. And then only to the freeway. And then only to the end of the driveway. And eventually the tears stopped altogether. I was never comfortable driving the Kia, but I was very comfortable with the idea that I was saving so much money on gas. And then, I started having seizures. You don't know how much you take for granted until you can't do something anymore. Driving is not something they recommend when you are prone to seizures. I think I've blogged about my seizures before. I had no idea I was having seizures. I thought I was having panic attacks, or mini moments of anxiety. I did not think I was having seizures. But, when my second neurologist recommended I have an EEG and in that first EEG they saw seizure activity, I finally knew that I was having seizures. So they started me on meds and for a while, they got worse. Much of the fall of 2011 is a blur to me. I was being bounced from seizure med to seizure med, trying to get them to stop. Nothing seemed to work. I was out of work for a few months on sick leave while they tried to figure out my seizures. They admitted me to Swedish for a week to do a video EEG to see if they could pinpoint my seizures and of course nothing happened while I was there. So, they diagnosed me with psychogenic seizures...or as I liked to call them, fake seizures. These seizures look like seizures and act like seizures, but they are stress induced and there are not brain changes during the seizures. They are not epileptic. But, there was not 100% certainty that I wasn't also experiencing epileptic seizures also so they kept me on seizure meds and I went on my merry way. I was still having seizures. So, in order to keep me, my children, and society safe, I stopped driving. I cannot say thank you enough to all of the amazing people in our lives that helped out when I needed help. So many of you jumped in and carted my girls and me all over the county and I am so appreciative. I will never be able to repay you all for your generosity and graciousness, but there were so many of you that helped out. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart. So, I was dependent on many people to help us out. In a time when you would more than likely need a car, I was stranded and dependent on so many to get me to work, doctor appointments, my kids to daycare. I researched and found ways to get around driving. I ordered my groceries online and they were delivered to my house. I had amazing friends that would pick up and drop off chicken and rabbit food. And then I would have a streak where things seemed ok, and I would drive, but then would quickly be back to not driving. It was very frustrating for me. A few neurologists later, a couple miracles, and a new seizure drug and I have hit a milestone this week. Six months with no seizures. Washington state law states that you have to be seizure free for six months before you are allowed to drive again. And I was given the all-clear from my new neuro to start driving again as of this week. Our first trip home was yesterday in the Kia from ballet class. The girls were ecstatic and so was I, but today's was even better. I loaded the carseats into my beautiful red truck and off we went to meet a friend for dinner. It was only a ten minute drive to Silverdale, but it was the best drive ever. The girls were beaming. Amelia asked to turn the radio on. Emerson pointed out that she had never ridden in my truck with me before, which is probably true...she wouldn't remember since I stopped driving it when she was a baby. So many good things have happened in our lives. And to quote one of my friends, 2014 is starting out great! As I was tucking Amelia into bed tonight, she wrapped her arms around my neck and said, "Mommy, today was so amazing! I'm so proud of you! I'm so proud of us!" I squeezed her back and told her that I was proud of her and I was proud of us too. We have been through so much! She has been through so much. During the time I was having my worst seizures, she was such a trooper, following our protocol that we have put together perfectly and never wavering. She was brave and helpful and always did everything she could to help me out, and help Emerson out if I was having a seizure. Even at four, five, six years old, she stepped in and helped out in a big way. And I'm so proud of her! Even after just experiencing the loss of one parent, she still was able to remain calm for her sister, and get help when we needed it. I owe my life to that girl, in more ways that anyone will ever know. So, we are back! We are cruising around town in my beautiful red truck again. And I have hopes and prayers that we will stay that way for a long time! It's tough not driving and having that piece of independence back is an amazing feeling. Don't believe me? Check out the picture of two little beaming faces I posted on Facebook. As Emerson said on our way to Silverdale, "Mommy, I think this calls for a celebration!" Celebration indeed! A new lease on life! A new sense of independence! A new chance to make memories with my girls! I think we're going to the zoo...no, the park...no, the ocean...no...