When I was a boy, See that picture? That was me, Grass-stained shirtand dusty knees

Recently a friend tagged me on Facebook to notify me of a Kickstarter project. While I appreciate the need for this and I may buy this if found on a discount, here's where I lie on getting clothes (and general upbringing) for my daughter: why choose?

I don't think clothes should have to be either girly or boyish. Yes, there is a distinct lack of printed fabric with pirates or dinosaurs or zombies (except, I guess Monster High) in the girls' department, but why should this stop anyone to shop in just the CHILDREN'S department.

During her infant stage, I did encounter several Moms who would just take a glance and ask how old my baby boy was, based purely on the fact that she had short curly hair and a NY Giants onesie (or Mets, or a blue shirt), and I couldn't really hold it against people like that and their quick categorizations. That's fine. But that's not what irks me. I dressed her up (and still continue to dress her up) in things that are undeniably 'girly'. Examples:

But, there's nothing stopping me from doing this, either:

Mixing and matching from the entire department gives me options. It gives me the freedom to mix deep blue, a 'boy' color, with a pastel color, a 'girl'. But, wait -- there's more!

Why choose between girl activities and boy ones? I was in T-ball, jazz tap, baton twirling, volleyball, stage crew for the drama club, and babysat on a regular basis. There's nothing spectacular about this. And, I'll tell you, there was a long stretch of time where I thought to be a girl, I had to know makeup, and dress cute and not know about boy things. I got over that eventually.

The pushback also drives me a little batty. To put a label on yourself like 'tomboy' just because you are so emphatically trying to distance yourself from 'girly' forces girls choose on the flip side of the coin you are trying to fight against. (And, it also corners boys into feeling like they have to choose, too.)

I have Violet enrolled into ballet classes because at the time, that was the only class I could put a 3 year old girl. Do I have visions of Sugerplum fairies dancing in my head?

While she does make an adorable fairy, no - I had her in that class to learn teamwork, listening and to play with other kids her age. The VERY MOMENT she is old enough to try to throw her hips in an attitude position, pout and sashay around, I will let her finish out the recital and get her into T-ball or ANY OTHER activity that will help teach her teamwork, sportsmanship and listening skills. Mamma ain't got time for divas. (Not when she wants to get dirty like this:)

Nothing should really limit me in what I encourage. My only concern is to make my daughter a better human. Sports? Sure, go for it - in participation or knowledge, or for the pure enjoyment of watching. Fashion? Sure, go ahead and know what styles you like. But, just as Coco Chanel is a style, so is Punky Brewster. Construction? Sure, you should know how to operate simple tools without fear.

Dress down, dress up. Original Legos, Lego 'Friends'. Dinosaurs, baby dolls. DC/Marvel Comics, Disney princesses. (Disney princesses is an entire different can of worms of which I will eventually jot down ideas.)

When I Was a Boy - Dar Williams

It's 'and', not 'or'. And to play.

(ADDITIONAL NOTE: I know this is going to be slightly harder to apply for people raising boys, namely for the clothing part. But I don't have a son and only know about raising a daughter, so keep that in mind.)

You're older than you've ever been and now you're even older, And now you're even older, And now you're even older

Today I had a very alarming realization about age. In this context, age when it pertains to babysitters.

Scott and I will celebrate our 3rd anniversary next Tuesday and we've decided to spend the day as a family and then have a dinner without Violet in the evening. Which means, using a babysitter for the first time at this base. There are several people I've been alerted to as babysitters via the Facebook world, but this would be the first time we are planning to use one.

For the last couple of weeks, there has been a printout in the elevators (and then reinforced on a couple of the FB groups for Yokota-related subjects) from a 16 year old girl who is looking for babysitting jobs. Since Scott and I are only looking for a dinner out that can happen after we put Violet to bed, I figured using a cold contact would be fine since all she really has to do is make sure Violet isn't in imminent distress while sleeping, and that hardly ever happens.

So, I called her this morning to see if she was available and to give her a few details if she was. On the whole, I felt the phone conversation was... disappointing. She was completely noncommittal on her availability and spoke to me as if I were a teacher asking her if she had handed in her homework in my staff mailbox - very spacey and evasive. I even had to suggest that she makes sure that she is available for that evening and for her to text me back either way. She still didn't sound like someone who was being offered a job.

I was a babysitter from middle school up until college. I had a regular Wednesday night family, and I'm still in contact with the mother. I was never brought up in a "yes, sir/ma'am" family, but we sure did know how to talk to an adult, ESPECIALLY if they were an employer in any sense. After I got off the phone with her, I thought back on the conversation, reminding myself that she is, in fact, just 16, and was trying hard to remember how I was at the age. I was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt and thought, "well, I'm not really someone who looks/sounds authoritative and I'm only... wait, I'm 35. That makes me more than double her age..."

It was then that I realized that, yes, I can expect her to speak to me with some amount of respect for I am an adult. She is being asked to take care of my child and she should not act as though I'm just one of her peers. This made me feel a bit sad at first, weird for a while, and now it's really clear that I'm an adult MOMMY.

And then I got a different babysitter, who is another mommy and didn't sound spacey or evasive.

Christmas Eve will find me, Where the lovelight gleams, I'll be home for Christmas, If only in my dreams

 

As Christmas time nears and we contemplate what to do for our first Christmas with Violet, I've been thinking more and more about where I consider "home". Yes, it's where the heart is; yes, it's also where I hang my hat. But one of the questions often asked of where I'll be while Scott is in Thule is, "Oh, Colorado, is that home?" and the much longer response is far too involved to give to the casual conversationalist.

To me, home has to be 129 Wyckoff Ave, though it no longer exists. I lived 6 years in Japan, another 6 years in Fort Lee, but Wyckoff was where we spent the most time growing up and making the friends I still hold dear today. We survived Hurricane Floyd, the Blizzards of '96 and spent a total of 15 years celebrating all kinds of milestones together. Since my parents sold the place in 2005, I've known that I'll never be able to go "home" again. Especially now since the new owner tore the whole damn place down to make another monstrosity of a house that will hopefully be someone's new place to make memories.

I'm sad that I'll never be able to bring Violet to my old home to show her where I threw the stapler to make the dent in the laundry room door, or the fireplace my siblings and I huddled around to have our Dad teach us how to play poker with Lite Brite pieces on a snowy Sunday, or the cozy kitchen our family spent good quality time together. I know I'm waxing nostalgic, but I think that's what usually happens around the holidays.

And now as a grown-up with my own family, I've been preoccupied with ideas of how to make a home for Lady Violet. Within her first 5 years of life, she will already have 2 different houses in Mountain Home, a place in Pagosa Springs and at least one other home in Japan under her belt. And being that Scott has another 9 years before he can retire from the Air Force, more moves will most definitely be in our future. Violet won't really have a building she can point to and call "home", but I will do everything I possibly can to give her a home-feeling wherever she goes.

Because of all of the moving I've done in my life thus far, I remember thinking I just wanted to find a home and live in it for as long as I had children to raise. But I now realize that not only is that not really a feasible childhood dream to accomplish, I should and will continue to count my EVERY blessing that I have a family that can make me feel at home wherever we go or however many times I have to pack boxes.

We're leaving together, But still it's farewell.. It's the final countdown

We have made it to December. We should be just concentrating on Christmas and decorations, but I'm finding it hard to psych myself up for Violet's first Christmas being that we have to break it all down within a matter of weeks to pack up for Thule/Pagosa Springs.

Since hearing the news of Scott's orders, I keep reminding myself that when he and I discussed the possibilities of what could happen in our first years of marriage, this was definitely a possible reality. And I also keep reminding myself that a year is not that long, especially when factoring in Scott's leave time, the visits to my parents' and the support I'll be getting from my sister and her network of mothers. And yet, the freaking out is starting to set in.

It's partially because we are now in the month before all of the crazy transitioning is going to happen. It's also partially because Scott and I got to see the house I'll be living in Pagosa Springs. And another part is due to the great progress we made over the weekend in clearing the garage from all of the random boxes from my move from TN, Scott's move from ND and our move from the first apartment he and I shared across town. We have whittled things down to very manageable groupings of "stuff" and I feel better prepared for the packing that will happen after the Christmas holidays (and after the short trip to KY to visit with Scott's family.)

But something else set me off this past weekend. The reality of a year apart. The realizations that things will be slightly (if not significantly) harder than I'm believing (pretending?) it to be. A day sidelined by hurt feelings, stewing about it and the eventual discussion and a so-so resolution. I'm still trying to get over it, but my own self-image problems (I'm still about 20-30 lbs away from where I'd like to be), in addition to me being mad at myself for being so ticked off by the origin of the hurt feelings. All in all, I'm starting to question my confidence.

I know I'm just allowing myself the freak out in the hopes that if I mostly get it out of my system now, I won't be crippled by it when things need to get done. People have asked if I'll be ok and I'd say, "sure, no problem" and a really good friend called me separately and gently asked again "are you sure", knowing that sometimes a PR line is not the whole truth. I said, "yes", and I still think I was telling the truth at the time. It's still mostly the truth now.


The the other part is that I'm starting to definitely freak the f-- out and letting the slightly small things get me down.

But I would not feel so all alone, Everybody must get stoned

For three weeks now, I've been slowly, but steadfastly, irked when people keep linking the word "tragedy" to Amy Winehouse's death. I do believe that this was a tragedy to those in her immediate circle for losing someone so desperate for help. But, for anyone else, fans or the voyeuristic lookie-lous, I'll grant you it's sad that she was never able to pull herself together, but not 'tragic'. She took the God-given talent she was blessed with and did worse than squander it. She traded it away for the chance to disappear into nothingness.

I was recently berated on Facebook by a young man who vehemently argued that her death was tragic and that addiction is a disease and not a choice. To which I can express my opinion that to a point, drug or alcohol abuse is a choice. Until these substances physically alter your body and brain chemistry, it is still your choice to smoke a blunt or drink into oblivion or smoke crack cocaine. People who have become severally addicted will be an addict for the rest of their lives because they have caused something in their psychology, and eventually their body, to depend on it.

However, there are such people as recovering addicts. People who not only realize the problem, but search treatment and continually readjust their mindset to reach for help and not the crack pipe. This is not an issue where you can just flit it off by saying , "this is me, accept me for who I am." Winehouse's first real big hit was about not only rejecting help, but celebrated in refusing it. Yes, this could have been a work of creative fiction at the time, but given her actions, they spoke louder and clearer than her sultry voice and would eventually make it the punchline for her life. Her autopsy was inconclusive, so it is pure speculation as to what the actual cause of death was, but you cannot put your body through such torture and expect it to live while only a few days, perhaps a few weeks, sober.

My true point isn't even really about her life and death. It's people's insistence to call it 'tragic'. Yes, she died young and it's too bad she didn't let her talent take the headlines. But, I consider other things tragic. Like a Louisiana man confessing to decapitating his disabled 7 year old son with Cerebral Palsy. Or a three year old little girl's death and the evidence found couldn't convict a selfish mother who didn't report her missing for nearly a month. Or a countries so wracked poverty but the severe violence around them prevents any aid from reaching them. These are things I find the cause for great suffering.

Life used to be so hard, Now everything is easy 'cause of you

My parents always had music playing in our house. It would be a potluck of music from their generation, their parents' generation, the current soft rock and Christian contemporary. There are a few songs that really stick out in my memory and "Our House" by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young is one of them. When I finally got to the age when the words I was mindlessly singing started to grab real significance, I remember thinking that this song is what represented being an adult with a home and a family and not just a place to live.

Well, I finally have my home, an awesome husband and a cutie daughter, so I decided to buy a bunch of frames and decorate the walls and bookcases. As we were figuring out the best placement and arrangement of the photos, I started to see how some of my favorite photos/artwork represented some of the people and memories that mean a great deal. Here are some examples.

 

This is at the edge of the kitchen and dining area. The bagel sign on the top is of Finagle a Bagel, a chain bagel shop I tried to eat at every time I visited my friends in Boston during their college years. Boston still stands as one of my all-time favorite cities because of all the great times I had up there.

The frame in the middle with the colored glasses and champagne flutes was taken at a bachelorette I threw for a friend. Actually, that was from the first try. There was a do-over for the party, which is a much longer story.

The framed quote to the right was decoration taken from Derek and Ashley's weddingish, May 17, 2009. It reads, "The quality of your life is the quality of your relationships. ~Anthony Robbins." That weekend is still one of my top 5 best weekends ever, and it was also very significant to my relationship to Scott.

The house is where I grew up in Wyckoff. It was a lovely home and sadly, it no longer exists. The man who bought it from my parents in 2005 decided to knock it down and build a monstrosity. Very sad.

The Chinese garden was a photo I took from an outing to Duke Gardens with Cyrus Chi. The Man-Chi and I had a great time wandering around the huge indoor botanical gardens and I was able to take a bunch of great pictures. For anyone who lives in NJ, check it out - you will not be disappointed! Duke Gardens

The picture of the waterfall is from a family trip to our relatives in Montana. I have no idea where this particular waterfall is located because I took this photo either in middle school or early high school.

The collage of pictures are of my friends from NJ. The group photo of the girls are of my close gal pals from high school; the group photo above it was from our prom weekend (with the Funqwat buried underneath us); and there are a couple other pictures of a different prom, my favorite of which is the one with all the guys hanging off a swing set.

The large frame hanging on the wall is something that Scott received when leaving the base in Minot, North Dakota. A bunch of people saying how awesome he is, which is all true.

The frame on the left sitting on the bookcase was taken from my exploring Jonesborough, Tennessee. Every year they have a festival dedicated to storytelling and it's a big, big deal. The town is so tiny and quaint, I couldn't help but feel like I've been transported to a different time. The hats are bolted to the side of store and people can stand underneath them for a photo. I just thought it was super cute. Oldest town in TN

The two smaller frames next in line are both mementos from my brother-in-law's wedding. This was one of the first few 'dates' I got to have with Scott back in 2005 and I'm happy to have kept the escort card.

The frame to the right is a collage put together by Derek and Ashley given to us as a wedding gift. There are several pictures of Scott and me from their wedding and a couple from when our group of friends would just hang out at the Sonderfans' home in North Haledon or at the pool hall in Pompton Lakes. The quote on the top is, "The art of love... is largely the art of persistence. ~Albert"

The frame on the top shelf is a group photo at the Cheesequake rest stop. I forget who started the tradition, but anytime our group of friends went down to the Jersey shore, there had to be a photo taken at this rest stop. I believe this one was from summer of 1997.

The black and white photo is from our wedding ceremony at The Garden of the Gods in Colorado. There were a ton of pictures taken by our family and friends, but this is my favorite of the few friends who got to come to our very small ceremony.

The frame on the right is of my family at Hershey Park, Pennsylvania. I can't remember how long ago this was taken, but it was before my sister had her two little daughters and when I still lived with my parents.

There are more pictures and artwork I tacked up on the wall, but I just wanted to share a handful of the love mementos with which I surrounded our home. Pretty soon, there will be many photos of Violet as she gets to meet the rest of my relatives and friends. I look forward to all of it.

Please standy by...

Because it's been many months since I last blogged about anything, I was going to dedicate my first entry back to explaining all that has changed. And believe me, there has been A LOT that has altered since the spring.

I was going to give the background needed to explain why my romantic life seems to be like a whirlwind, when if fact, this love story has been a long time coming and everything is just now falling into place.

I was going to write about the excitement and apprehension I feel about becoming a mother. And the fact that my sudden and conscious abstinence from caffeine has left me feeling bizarre and out of sorts.

I was going to get into my thoughts about my new surroundings and the relief I feel about the prospect of being in one place for longer than a year.

However, all of this will have to come at a later time. Right now it's about 5:30 in the morning and I feel I need to be a bit more eloquent to give justice to any of the aforementioned topics.

I hope you have the patience (and the desire) to come back for these stories. They are pretty good ones.

Is it all in that pretty little head of yours? What goes on in that place in the dark?

The clock struck 3am just a little while ago, and I am still wide awake.

I am laying here awake and desperate for sleep- not just because of the racing mind that won't stop worrying or planning or trying to scheme ways out of issues for myself and others whom I love; not just because my back is emitting a dull ache that has prevented me from finding a comfortable position; not just because I am tremendously anxious about how I am going to transition to my next phase. No, it's not any one or any combination of all of the above. It's the ever-frustrating unknown - the "Nothing" that ripped through the movie "Neverending Story", though in that case it was a lack of imagination that was the culprit when in my case it's the never-ending imagination of the terrible what-if's.

In my upbringing through the church and my short stint of being a Sunday School teacher myself, I know Philippians 4:4-7. "Do not be anxious about anything but in everything, with thanksgiving, bring your requests to God..." (ignore any accidental punctuation errors or paraphrasing- I'm not attempting to revise the Bible, I just don't feel up to looking it up and writing down the exact verses.)

So, here's where things go sideways. In one answer to prayer, my time here in TN was cut short and I have a clearer idea of my departure time. But it was at the cost of job. For those who want to kindly tell me that it's a blessing in disguise or anything about God shutting doors and opening windows, please put a sock in it. It's boring and impersonal. You might as well have Bobby tell me to "don't worry be happy." Sorry for the rudeness there.

In another answer to prayer, my father was finally given a "yes" to a job application and it looks like the opportunity will be not only good for the short term, but may turn into a wonderful long term deal. Great! However, just days after he got a job, my brother lost his. This may end up helping him as it did me, but there is still the painful 'nothing' that ebbs away at confidence, finances and worst of all, faith.

I thought that for a while I could just try to figure out my path without having to widen my scope. There are some that say that this is still my right to just put on blinders and forge ahead without taking on these other issues, but that's simply not an option. For those who know me, they accept this; for those who don't, they try to indicate me that my efforts are wasted if I'm not just concentrating on my own life.

One day soon I will be able to whittle things down so that I can take the time to marvel at my own story unfolding. I don't have all my faith or confidence depleted, but it is getting a bit harder to find places to put one foot in front of the other.

Coping skills

Anne Shirley: Can't you even IMAGINE you're in the depths of despair?
Marilla Cuthbert: No I cannot. To despair is to turn your back on God.


Even though I read not too long ago that the unemployment rate has been dropping from 10% to some fraction in the 9%, I was put there in the ranks of the jobless. A couple days ago I was laid off from my job. And I reacted the way I usually react to bad news or any sudden change. I tried to controll whatever I could.

I went straight to my part time retail job and explained the situation to my managers and changed my hours. Since I'm now more available, I'm taking steps to take advantage of that. I needed a new computer since I don't know if I can successfully re-install my wireless card into my tower without breaking anything. So, I asked for help on the research for the spec's and I was lovingly taken care of with acquiring my new laptop. (Big props must also be given to Molly of the Johnson City Best Buy who spent a better part of an hour working out a way I can walk out of the door with the purchase.)

Of course, I am going through all emotional swings one might go through. Moving to Tennesse has proved to be ... character building. At 32, I thought I was mostly through with 'finding myself', but like any piece of furniture you try to put together, sometimes you have to go through the painful disassemble to rebuild a part to make things stronger or prettier or more functional.

Even before the shock of a couple days ago, I had been contemplating the people in my life. The people whom I have and will continue to love and who will continue to love me back. I have been a part of intensly beautiful relationships of all stages and levels. And that love and support from all I can count on, emotionally, spiritually and physically, is what is going to help me find where I'm going.

The silly things we do to ourselves

One of the songs that comes up on my Christmas station (Pandora) is “The River.” Usually sung by Joni Mitchell, but it comes up a couple times since several people have covered it (one of my favorites being Robert Downey Jr.)

But every single time it comes up, wherever I am, it makes me sad. Sometimes near tears and even fewer times does it actually succeed in making me cry. About 10 min ago, there was success.

I just suddenly started recounting everything of this past year. From last Christmas when I was sad and crying my eyes out from being away from family and missing Christmas to the events of my last couple of months.

I sat there and I listened to the whole song without skipping it. Whenever I do that, I call it my lyrical cutting. I do it just to feel that emotion out until I can get past it.

It normally doesn't plague me for too long and I do calm down and breathe through it. But, man, it's hard sometimes.

Reverse order: something that's been weighing on me today

Who doesn't know what I'm talking about
Who's never left home, who's never struck out
To find a dream and a life of their own
A place in the clouds, a foundation of stone

Many precede and many will follow
A young girl's dream no longer hollow
It takes the shape of a place out west
But what it holds for her, she hasn't yet guessed

She needs wide open spaces
Room to make her big mistakes
She needs new faces
She knows the high stakes

She traveled this road as a child
Wide eyed and grinning, she never tired
But now she won't be coming back with the rest
If these are life's lessons, she'll take this test

She needs wide open spaces
Room to make her big mistakes
She needs new faces
She knows the high stakes

As her folks drive away, her dad yells, "Check the oil!"
Mom stares out the window and says, "I'm leaving my girl"
She said, "It didn't seem like that long ago"
When she stood there and let her own folks know
She needs wide open spaces
Room to make her big mistakes
She needs new faces
She knows the high stakes

I'll trip, fall, pick myself up and Walk unafraid

In honor of my year anniversary of moving to Tennessee, let's review what's happened:

-I have been at my full time job at BCTI for 6 months and continue to keep my part time job at Bath and Body Works
-I'm slowly, ever so slowly, making friends and starting to have a bit of a social life
-Of my friends, there have been 4 couples who have become engaged, 3 who have married, 2 babies born and one old friend who has passed away
-I am in the process of finding my own place to live.

After giving it more than just the college try, Max and I have come to the conclusion that we will not continue our relationship. It's taken the couple months since the final decision to come to a point of being able to talk freely about it, and to even consider picking up my still packed boxes to my very own place.

There was no catastrophic event that broke us up, so there's no lasting anger. It's not how I would have thought things would go and but there's no hate. And after three years of a relationship, there is still the detanglement that needs to happen. I have some really fantastic friends who has been helping me limp along and I'm still slipping on the basket case clothes from time to time, but everyone, including Max, has helped in their own way. And I love all of them dearly for it.

And now I'm looking at a different benchmark. Even while incredibly nervous of the unknown, I know that I was lead here for the purpose of finding out what I've been about for the past 31 years. While living in the same area and having friends since middle and high school is great, sometimes it just doesn't help you figure out the 'you' of the younger years and the 'you' of the adult years. Now that I'm basically starting from zero with no one here in my day to day who knew the 'me' from before, I get to really figure out what I'm made of. I've never lived alone, so that in itself will be a new challenge.

I am hoping to chronicle what I find out, but I've never been great about documentation and I find that most things should be in the 'duh' category and feel embarrassed about broadcasting. But who knows? Maybe it'll be as cathartic as I hear it's supposed to be.

If I just breathe, Let it fill in the space between, I'll know everything's alright

Today was my first day of yoga. My manager at Bath and Body Works has been promoting her parents' studio and encouraged me to go. Plus, it turns out a coworker at BCTI has been long-time friends with the couple and she also was insisting that I join. So, after weeks of promising myself I'd go, I finally got myself out of bed this morning and went.

I met my coworker on the way in and she picked out the spots for our mats. The only problem was, mine was right next to the decorative water fountain. Throughout the full hour, there were the gentle sounds of relaxed breathing, lovely music, and the tinkling of the water cascading and draining. No matter how smart I was in using the bathroom before going to class, I had to concentrate hard to not be... too relaxed. Which leads me to think of 'Friends'

Because my mind works by running clips and blips of all kinds of media, while I was supposed to clear my head, I, instead, had a plethora of brief images of what I've seen, but not really songs because the instructor had some mellow tunes running in the background. First image: the first episode of the 3rd season of 'Friends', Phoebe was trying to get Monica to relax so that she could sleep, and with the even-tone and relaxing voice she was trying to have Monica concentrate on the 'plinking, plunking' sounds of the music and 'the lovely waterfalls, and the, the trickling fountains. And the-the calming sounds of the babbling brook....' and making her friend need to pee.

My mind then shifted to stand-up comedy.

In Ellen Degeneres' stand-up she spoke of two commercials and this popped into my head as well: 1) the old Clorox jingle, "Mamma's got the magic of Clorox 2"; 2) the end tag-line jingle "By Mennen". So that took my thoughts for a while as I tried to suppress the urge to laugh out loud.

I got serious and tried to do the following things:
-Commit to myself the next hour
-Appreciate my feet
-Become a dead bug or a happy baby

...with minimal success. Commercials were going through my mind.

During the time when we were just supposed to lie down, relax and clear our heads, I continued to resist letting go of thoughts and could only theorize on "Lost". I'm working on a different idea of why there are some in the 70's, some in the 'present' and what was supposed to happen when 815 was first knocked out of the sky. And to make it even funnier, we ended our session by saying to each other-

'Namaste'

The class on a whole was fun and the people there were nice. I'll go again and do better next time.