20 years ago… May 19, 2008

I was 12 years old and we had just moved into a new house on a small lake.  I spent my summer swimming and paddle boating around. My grandfather was still alive and he lived one street over.  I loved spending time with him, playing checkers, riding bikes and getting Taco Bell.   I hated my sixth grade teacher, Mrs. R.  She was nasty and mean and threw erasers at kids who misbehaved.  I went to sixth grade camp and started “going with” Adam while we were there.  He wanted to meet me outside the cabin after dinner for our first kiss.  I left dinner early and hid, I chickened out.  Then I had the nerve to act like he stood me up and broke up with him. 

I did a lot of dumb things with friends.  We spent our unsupervised time making prank phone calls, throwing rocks through the windows of new construction homes in the neighborhood (can’t believe I just admitted that), and pretending to get lost in the woods behind our house.  It was when I was twelve  I decided to change my career path.  I went from wanting to be an astrounaut to deciding a teacher would be a better fit.  I came to that conclusion after joining service squad at school.  They put me in charge of the special education class and I loved it!  I would watch them in their classroom for about 15 minutes every day after lunch.  They were loud and obnoxious but they loved me and I loved them! 

It was in sixth grade that my future high school basketball coaches “recruited” me and some friends and started our 4 year training program.  Imagine that, finding some young girls and spending the next four years developing our skills and hoping we would pay off in high school.  God I loved my coaches.

15 years ago…I was 17 and in loving high school.  I played varsity basketball and was a starter.  My team and coaches were like a second family and I couldn’t imagine life without 3 hours of basketball a day. When I was seventeen I learned one of my beloved coaches was an alcoholic and was human. I still have the goodbye letter he wrote me after he was terminated.   I was part of a group of friends that self proclaimed themselves the “Erotic Eight”.  The three Jennys, Tracey, Carrie, Katie, Kelly and me. We cruised Gratiot, ate dinners at fancy restaurants and frequented the teen dance clubs. We thought we were the shit and damnit looking back I think we were.  I had a ridiculous crush on a guy name Pete.  I was obsessed at looking at the back of his head in Spanish class.  He drove an EXP and bass that could be heard for miles.  He was quiet and shy but what I loved most of all was the gold bling he wore around his neck and the greasy foreigner hair he had.  His best friend lived across the street from me and one day as I was walking home from the bus stop he pulled up next to me and asked me if he could give me a ride.  I replied, “no thanks” in the most standoffish tone I knew how.  What the fuck is all I can say about that.  Can you say idiot? I’m all bark and no bite.  Two months later he had a girlfriend with the same first name and last initial as me.  Irony is a bitch.

When I was seventeen I was looking forward to going to WMU for college and majoring in Special Education.  My three closest friends were going with me and would be my roommates. I was working at Major Magics as a birthday hostess and would let my friends steal the mini wine bottles for upcoming house parties.  When my little cousins came in I would give them free tokens and candy.  I would meet husband at Major Magics in the next year. 

10 years ago…I was 22.  I had just graduated from college and landed a 2nd grade teaching job in an awesome school district.  Oddly enough one of my co-workers was the aforementioned Mrs. R., my old sixth grade teacher.  She was wonderful, I adored her as a person.  She was kind, giving and had a great sense of humor.  I couldn’t believe she was now my mentor and friend. 

I still lived at home and was waiting for younger husband to finish up his degree.  I spent my weekends visiting him at college, going to alternative music concerts and clubbing with friends.  Most of my Saturday nights were at a club that played 80’s retro music.  It was a huge old stone church and the dance floor was on the former altar.  My friends and I would drink and dance all night long in our hoochie clothes.  There was something about that place, some of my fondest memories spent with my girlfriends happened there. 

5 years ago…I was married and had just moved into our home.  We sold our condo and had this house built as the first step in starting our family.  We vacationed 3-4 times a year, layed around alot, and hung out with our friends at the bar on weekends. Our bank account was fat and we were living very comfortably…DINKS as they say.  We were still kids with very few commitments and plenty of free time.  We went to the movies at least once a week, ate dinner out all the time, rode bikes, and were just plain lazy.  Life moved at a much slower pace and we were very happy and content in the place we were at. 

Today… After a knock down drag out fight with IF I now have two gorgeous twin boys.  It is as if every day before they came was the preface to my life book and the day they arrived was when Chapter One began.  This new found love I have that radiates for them has opened my heart and my mind in ways I never thought possible.  Our life is hectic, stressful and moving at a lightspeed pace but we love it.  To wake up everyday to their smiling faces and my husbands warmth next to me is amazing to say the least.  This euphoric high has been ongoing for 16 plus months and I’m hoping that though it might fade that it will never leave.

So much for optimism May 15, 2008

FIL told us a very unsettling story the other day.  A family member’s cousin died from falling 21 stories from a construction site. That sucks to say the least.  I’ve always been afraid of death but now that I have children of my own I am paralyzed by the thought of dying.  Eternity doesn’t seem like enough time to spend with them.  I lie awake at night wondering how I can keep them from going away to college or convince them to live at home forever whilst I continue to give them their bedtime bottles.  I have even given husband specific directions on what to say and do with my lo’s if I die.  I want them to know how much they were loved and adored.  That they changed my world and softened my sharp edges. 

Not sure about heaven, I would love to believe wholeheartdly but it seems to defy logic.  Sure would make things easier to believe.  I’m a firm believer, however, that “everything does not always happen for a reason” so it looks like Iike I’m shit out of luck when it comes to finding some comfort in death.  Oh where oh where did that good Catholic girl go that trusted and never questioned?  I think she departed right around the time she found out that the priest that married her was sexually abusing young boys and women didn’t always have the children they wanted when they wanted them. 

Ah well, a little bitter disapointment traded in for some self realization isn’t too bad of a trade off.

“How did it go so fast, she said as she was looking back and then we’ll understand we held golddust in our hands”  Tori Amos

I may be evil May 9, 2008

I feel guilty.  I did something knowingly evil today.  I ran up the fabric store with the boys, I was on a tight time schedule and frankly I just didn’t want to be bothered.  As I pulled into the parking lot I saw MIL’s car.  She has a personalized plate so I knew it was her for sure.  I immediately picked up my phone to call her and ask her where she was.  Then I wondered what in the hell I was thinking.  She would totally go gaga in the store, slow me down and inevitably want to take the boys out of their stroller.  Once they are out, they are out.  There is no putting them back in.

So I dropped the phone and decided to take my chances.  I did my shopping and avoided the area I thought she might be in.  The whole time I felt like I had to pee even though I didn’t.  It was the feeling I used to get when I played hide and seek as a child.  I never did see her but I immediately called my husband and ratted myself out.  I felt bad, still do, but if I had to do it over again….yep you guessed it.

I feel like a dumbass May 2, 2008

A few weeks back I went to see my dr. because I was having chest pains that were happening on and off.  Some days I would have none and other days I might have a few episodes of pain.  The dr. listened to my symptoms and asked me if I thought it was stress related.  I quickly dismissed the notion, I do get stressed from time to time but I never feel the same sort of stress as I did when I was riding the infertility train.  Now that was stress. 

So the dr. sent me with orders to have a stress test, echocardiogram and just about every box was checked on the bloodwork paper.  I completed those tests and was pretty certain he would find some reason for the mysterious chest pains.  I had my follow-up this morning and was told everything was absolutely normal.  Hmmm, not that I wanted to be sick but I really didn’t want to buy into the stress induced chest pain theory either.  Enter in the prescription for an antidepressant.

WTF.  I didn’t see this coming.  I am not a minimalist by any sense of the term but I’m anything but a pill popper.  I HATE pills.  I can’t even swallow pills!  It’s no joke.  I have to chew all my pills like a little kid.  My throat closes up and I choke on them if I try to swallow them whole.  I even chew my BC pill and that as small as a grain of sand. I had a nose job and didn’t even take the pain meds because I didn’t want the hassle of chewing them up.  Can you imagine how painful a freakin nose job is after the numbing meds wear off?  Swallowing pills aside, I don’t need antidepressants….do I?  I don’t know, now I’m more confused than ever.  I don’t think I’m depressed, how can I depressed with so much joy and love in my heart for my bubbies?

I do feel isolated and like I am out of touch from being cooped up in the house all the time but I don’t know if I’m ready for Paxil.  Never in a million years could you convince me I might one day be taking an antidepressant. Not that I am a scientologist or anything but I thought I was mentally organized.  So I reluctantly took the script and hid it.  I don’t have any intentions of filling it but I can’t bring myself to throw it away either.  I have to hide it because I’m afraid if family or friends were to see it they might think less of me or better yet might be afraid of my possible fragile mental status.  Good God, I didn’t need this thrown into the mix today.

The women in my life May 1, 2008

The women in my life play a large part in my emotional status and regretably seem to be the biggest source of stress in my life.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not SO bad but it ain’t so great either.  There is room for improvement by all parties.

I’ll start with the Queen Bee, my mother.  Let me start off by saying I love my mother and in many ways I am a carbon copy of her.  I resent the fact that I have seemed to have inherited her most undesirable personality traits.  My mother always seems to have a hidden agenda.  She is manipulative and probably one of the most close minded people I know.  She cuts me no slack and she never gives anyone the benefit of the doubt.  She uses affection as a bargaining  tool and now that I have children of my own I realize just how cruel that is.  I must give her credit where credit is due.  About a month ago I laid it all on the table to her, it was ugly but I was desperate.  The relationship was slowly eroding and I felt like I had nothing to lose.  To my surprise she has begun to make an effort to repair things and it seems sincere.  I know I’m a better mother when my relationship with my own mother is a loving one.  I’ve been trying to tell her for over a week that I appreciate and acknowledge the fact that she is trying but I can’t seem to bring myself to do it.  Sometimes my stubbornness is f’in paralyzing.  Its a vicious circle, I don’t tell her because I’m stubborn, I’m stubborn because she’s stubborn, I get resentful that she never taught forgiveness so I don’t tell her. Time for change.

Next on the docket, my sister. My only sibling.  My sister is five years older than I am.  She is wonderful.  She gets me and she lovingly looks past the rough edges of my difficult personality.  We weren’t always close, the age gap was an issue growing up but once I entered into college and she got married it all changed for the better.  She is the first person I call when the boys are sick, when I can’t take another moment of screaming babes, and when I find a great deal shopping or a new recipe.  She understands, she empathizes and she expects nothing in return.  Let the record state she is not a source of stress in my life.

Last but not least the MIL.  MIL is all over the place.  She is everything I am not and vice versa.  She worships my children and my husband (we do have that in common)  which leaves a very small corner of the chair for me to sit on.  She can be overbearing and pushy at times but her intentions are mostly good.  She is kind hearted, thoughtful, and generous.  She longs for a close relationship with me but I’m afraid to get too close.  Most of it has to do with my relationship with my mother.  My mother is jealous of MIL.  If I were to carry on with MIL then I would in some way be betraying my own mother and weakening what is already weak.  It’s not rational but it is what it is.  MIL offers parenting advice often which makes me cringe.  She  says things in passing that she never gives a second thought to but it often times plays on repeat in my head over and over.   It’s a typical “she thinks I’m not good enough for her son” syndrome.  One thing that has been on repeat for two years is her reaction to telling her our pregnancy news.  When we told her it was twins she said “I hope your not going to have a litter of babies like those women in the news, HAHAHAHA”.  No, MIL.  Glad we got that cleared up.  As if I didn’t already feel freakish enough for not being able to bear babies on my own, now I’m worrying the family about birthing litters.  Like I said, no second thought to thoughts she verbalizes.

Just skimming the surface here, hope it didn’t sound too whiny or righteous.  My own faults are for posts to come.  I don’t discriminate when it comes to criticism.