Doctor My Eyes...tell me what is wrong???

Jackson Browne was right on the money with that question. Doctor My Eyes, have I kept them open for too long?? I see things all the time, over analyze, absorb, everything. Is seeing things the price for learning how not to cry? It seems like the "better" I appear at dealing, the more often I find myself in situations requiring me to deal. The stronger I seem, I get, the more detached in a way that I can make myself in that moment. So that I can cope, make it through, with minimal damage, to the other side of sadness. The more life seems to plunge me smack dab in the middle of those moments. And so I train myself to "check" my emotions at the door, to be able to keep going with life in the face of tragedy, despair, disillusionment, confusion, pain. Pain is kicker, the transformer. Your pain, the pain of loved ones, it changes you, fundmentally. It's strength lies in it's link to fear. Fear of loss, of losing what and who you love. So we do what comes naturally to us, we protect ourselves from pain by avoiding love, of really attaching ourselves, of offering all of ourselves to another person. We hold back a part of our hearts out of instinct, in the name of self-preservation. Just enough so that we know we can make it through if , just in case things go wrong...

I was at a funeral this last weekend for my cousin. It was surreal to say the least. He was 26 the day he died. The sky was grey and something that day cut me to the soul, every single second was so incredibly raw, paralyzing. I watched his mother bend over his casket and straighten his tie, smooth it. And break down, choking on her sobs while she held him for the last time, kissed his cheek with the tenderness only a mother could have for her child.

I was frozen. I felt overwhelmed and full of emotion, it was all there held tightly back, underneath the surface, tears sitting on the edge of my eyes waiting for permission to fall. Permission that they were not granted. And so there they stayed. And the lump that had risen in my throat was swallowed and pushed back down to where it had come from.

I thought of my children, and parts of my heart broke all over again for her, for all the days of sorrow yet to come for her. For all of the hours and minutes of silence that will come to her, to remind her of all she's lost. The light in her eyes was gone. To be honest I'm not sure that I can say that you'll ever see it there again. Maybe a pale reflection.

When I got home, I tried to hold onto that tenuous thread of honest emotion and memories. I tried to keep that moment in my heart where in a way, he was still here, alive, real, tangible, even though my mind had already started sorting and closing the boxes that contained him. I was conflicted within myself, my heart longed to cry and release this, but my mind was in survival mode.

Just then my baby girl walked in on me sitting in the silence of my bedroom, and she looked at me with her big blue, and surprisingly perceptive eyes. She reached for me and I swooped her up in my arms, she looked at me for a moment, and honestly I swear she understood me. She wrapped her little arms around me and we laid together until she fell asleep petting my hair.

There in the darkeness, in the arms of my 1yr old, I couldn't hide any longer and grief finally found me. And I wept, openly, and silently. Sobs racked my body for what felt like an eternity. Until I felt empty, purged of feeling. Tired, but ready. Ready to keep going.

Every day since I've thought about that day, him, her, all of it. Life goes on, and yet it creeps into your head in those moments that you least suspect, but in a weird way you wait for. Until one day.... you don't.

Every time something like this happens to you, you treat it like a disease that you don't want to catch. You don't want to feel this way again, so you allow yourself to build up an immunity, you disconnect a little, so that the next time you're ready. You arm yourself with the false sense of security, telling yourself that you'll be able to handle it. Be careful what you wish for. There's a difference between strength, and living a life afraid to feel, afraid to see and experience the things that really matter. Don't close off your heart in an attempt to survive hurt and circumvent pain, you'll miss the true connections life has to offer. The beautiful depths the heart will delve to in the name of love, and that.. that would be heartbreaking.

I don't want to survive life, I want to live it.
I have to remind myself all the time, a life of love and tears, or solitude and silence?

I choose love. Always.

The 7th Shade of Grey

Run from all the memories that burn quietly in the corner of my mind.
This still, empty candle that melts it's thoughts and feelings away.
Turn from all confusion that dwells in my head from season to season.
This hurt growing deeper and colder with time.
Hide from all the rage that cries out in my heart.
This darkness in which anger and sorrow slumber, is bent, then broken, and collapses within itself.

Hope and Faith are what we cling to in times of torment.
We seek them out of desperation, because we are forced to.
This comes from one basic need...
The need to survive.
Hope and Faith are what keep us strong when there's nothing else left to hold onto.

All you can do is believe.

One Minute

My mind turned to dust.
My memory soon forgotten
My name a distant cry.
My soul died before the body.
Feel it closing in.
Death is silently creeping.
Whispers of the end.
Shadows of darkness,
run through my head.
Feel my dreams slip away....

The Way We Are

I sit here, staring at your smile.
Watching, trying to catch a glimpse of what's behind it.
You know me, as well as I know myself.
I wonder sometimes what it was that made me come to you.
What crazy thing it is that makes me follow.
My eyes betray me,
and once again, they talk to you in whispers.
It's funny how you give me all I need,
with just that smile.

Just a quick question

Why is it that my 1yr old daughter can parade around topless, with her belly hanging out, half a nutri-grain bar stuck between her fingers and the other half stuck to her face, dried milk in her hair, bright pink tights, one boot and still be adorable? Seriously, beyond adorable. And I wake up after a bottle of wine (shared)looking like a 60yr old bloated, balding male with a severe comb over? It's cruel and unfair is what it is. If I walked around like she does, people would think I just walked out of a frat party and was completely blitzed. Man, babies, well kids in general really, have it made. Enjoy it while it lasts. Now your cute Baby-Tubby, then you'll be the Crazy-Tubby topless broad with the drinking problem. The only difference will be about 30yrs, and the contents of the bottle.

mixed clarity

Something lost and nothing gained.
Holding on seemed harder than letting go,
or did it?
I can't remember now.
I can't feel things.
or maybe I just don't want to.
It's funny how happy memories only seem to create pain.
It hurts more to remember than to forget.
The problem is, forgetting is impossible...

Once upon a Monday morning .....

There was a sleep deprived masochistic mother who decided to take her children for a leisurely morning walk, in her recently purchased "double-wide" stroller/mini-bus. So there I am, the kids all packed in, cruising along, or so I thought, when a woman and her stroller fly by me. hmm... I didn't think much of it and continued on my way.

Moments later 2 more moms, strollers in tow, pass by me in tandem, at what I would say was a rapid pace. This time however I got the "look" or the "stink-eye" as I refer to it, from one of them. Like i should have moved out of the way? Welllll, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that this sidewalk was the "fast" lane. Here allow me to move my 2 ton stroller complete with my 2 kids who weigh the equivalent of a pack mule, over to the 4ft x 4ft section of grass that requires an all terrain vehicle to navigate through, all so you don't miss a stride. Yeah, like that's going to fucking happen.

I was enjoying my pace, the day, being alive. I make no apologies that I don't feel the need to "Power Walk" and blackberry, every fucking second of the day. Like take a pill, settle the fuck down and breathe. If you are in that much of a hurry, then here's a thought, T-A-K-E..Y-O-U-R..C-A-R!! It's called a sidewalk for a reason, not a siderun or a siderude. You wanna street race your strollers? Go ahead, take it to the blacktop and giver but don't shoot me the side glare or the over the shoulder quick shot steely stare. For two reasons:
1) I'm not intimidated.
2) Your writing checks your ass can't cash and Mama likes to rumble;)

So just as I'm calming myself and advising myself that I'm an adult and just to ignore it, the other mom looks back at me, tilts her head to the side and hits me with the full on, "awwww, that's too bad" pity look and head shake.

Seriously?!

At this point my self control went out the window and I flipped her the bird, loud and proud. What can I say it was a weak moment. She's lucky I didn't go all Steven Seagal on her ass!! I'm telling you, I was this close to pulling out the beat stick and dropping her where she stood. Whoopaw!! Whoopaw! I DO NOT need to be patronized by stroller moms in matching track suits and headsets. Like what, you each have ONE baby in those strollers? What's that weigh? Maybe 12lbs a piece? Give me a break. I eat 12lbs babies for breakfast. What else ya got? huh! Bring it on.

I would have taken them both out, but I'm a lady, and there where children present. It was their lucky day.
After that I picked up my coffee and all was right with the world once more.

The End.

Danger's my middle name (wink)

I tripped again today.. on NOTHING. No, I mean literally there was nothing there. Who may i ask, trips on air? ME. That's who. Like there aren't enough real objects in life that I can trip on, now my body in an apparent attempt to either really challenge itself or assassinate me, has decided to randomly hurdle pockets of air.

So there i am, walking out of work, it's nice out. Mild. Talking to a co-worker and enjoying what I think is a safe stroll out to my vehicle, when out of no where,'WHOOPS!!' the half jerk, lurch forward, and stumble haphazardly. At the last second I manage to pull out of the nose dive towards the pavement only to appear oh so smooth, like pre-teen with a motor function disorder. Now of course I'm stuck with the expression of serious surprise/fear across my face, that then turns into an awkward smile,giggle. It totally sucks the cool right off you. Nothing like ending the night like that.

I mean it's not like anyone would refer to me as graceful, but how clumsy does one person have to be? Co-ordination in sports was never an issue, I excelled. But in regular life, eating, walking, carrying things, has always been arduous and tricky. Talking this out right now, I realize that maybe competition is the motivating factor that drives my body to unite with my brain for the greater good...WINNING/BRAGGING RIGHTS. Being the BEST. Based on this recent revelation it seems logical that if I place a competitive stipulation on my regular mundane life tasks it should in theory, trick my body into preforming at it's optimal level, thereby effectively transforming myself into dare I say it... a graceful lady?

Yes. YES indeed.. mwah ha haa ha!!! Excellent! (insert evil laugh and strumming of fingers)

Inspired - if your lucky

What inspires you?
What moves, and compels you? Causes that pause, followed by the notable and physical shift in your heart? What makes your breath catch in your chest just short of your throat. The feeling like you just sunk into yourself.
Or maybe the question is .. . who?

Have you ever experienced a true emotional connection that is SO powerful in and of itself, with no prompting or coaxing that it's moved you to tears instantly? And at the same time it ignites a passion and desire in you for a deeper understanding of everything you thought you knew, about yourself, about love.

It's rare, I'll admit. Almost a myth, but I can attest to it's existence.
I've been fortunate enough to have another affect me in such a way. I wonder what it would be like to be that for someone else. To offer a part of yourself, and know that some one's response to you could actually physically change their breathing pattern. That is a profound idea to say the least.

The concept of really loving someone more than yourself, not just in words, but in reality. Overwhelming, yes. Unfathomable, almost. The gravity of that kind of love is looming and expansive, like crossing oceans of time. It touches every corner of your life, your being, whether you want it to or not. It doesn't ask for permissions from you, it just is. It won't be ignored or controlled. It's silent power brews forcefully under the surface, like a tidal wave beneath the sea, crashing against the shore to shape it to it's needs.

In the end you become whatever it is that you need to be, to allow it to exist. To be true to it, to you, is a balance that is almost impossible to find. But what you will find along the way is pain, loneliness, loss, anguish sometimes, and of course confusion. They are all sides of the same coin and one cannot exist without the other. Like day and night, you need one to appreciate the other, to realize it's brillance. To find and understand the many, and vastly different sides within yourself.

Oh to be inspired like that, to feel the life in it. It really is amazing. A gift.
To experience real love. To immerse yourself in someone else and awake a heart long afraid to feel. To find and lose your hearts desire. If that is tragic than give me tragedy because I wouldn't miss that for the world.

what we have here is a failure to communicate

Honesty. A game neither of us plays all that well.
Why can't we talk?
Maybe because we can't find the words.. ..
Seems like the only thing that I can find these days... is you.
Even when I'm trying to hide, you see me.
I used to think that it was just myself that I couldn't run from.
Turns out that you're not as easy to lose as I thought you'd be.
Funny, that when I try to run from you,
I'm the one who ends up getting lost.
All my attempts to escape are futile,
and the illusion of freedom fades.
The cunnundrum is that you are the only real freedom that I have ever known, yet still you are my prison.
I am yours, as I've always been, your name burnt in my heart.
Kept by you, I move when you move me,
and pray for the day that you say it's over and end this game.
We both know that you've already beaten me.

WOW - Shock & Awe take on a whole new meaning when you have kids

What I was witness to today folks was spectacular to say the least. Let me start off by asking how many of you have seen the movie Stand by Me?? You know the movie starring Wil Wheaton (nerd), Kiefer Sutherland (bully), River Phoenix (troubled teen/Bff/younger brother), Corey Feldman (son of a "Looney" & all around off kind of guy). It's a great flick, it gave us the "goocher", and "sincerely guys". But most noteably for me was the story told round the campfire about a kid named Lard Ass and his creation of the "Total Barfarama".

yep, you guessed it today, unbeknown to me, my children haphazardly created their own two-man version of this, which was epic in scale.

join me on a magical journey back in time....
(my son shall take the role of male-child#1 and my daughter the role of girlbeast) scene: my entrance way.
I decided that it was a gorgeous day outside and to make the most of it. I put on my best positive attitude and rounded up the gang to make the formal announcement, that indeed, today we would venture out and see what fun awaited us.

My son, the 4yr old shut-in, logged his usual complaints of being too tired, and that we should just stay inside. My daughter drooled sporting her famous single tooth grin and tried to put her shoes on her head. I took this to mean she was in for the walk. I promptly told my son that he had no choice in the matter and to locomote.

At this point he did say his tummy hurt, but in my defense, he says that like every time I ask him to do something he isn't particularly fond of.. so.. yeah.. i should've heeded his warning, but I didn't.

So at this point I'm between them, he's sitting on the bench, I'm helping him get his shoes on my daughter is just behind me on the floor. Then all of a sudden I hear a very alarming noise gurgle up and out of my son's mouth followed by the sickest stream of projectile vomit that I've ever witnessed come out of a person that size, or any size for that matter.

Luckily my cat-like speed and reflexes allowed it to only nick my shoe. I quickly stepped clear and took off my top leaving me in my sports bra and ready for action. As I was preparing myself to get him undressed, the sour stench of it hit my daughter and she too began to vomit. She puked on my son's feet and this initiated what i refer to as the second insurgence.

So now there I am, standing topless, starring in disbelief and disgust as my children barf on each other...repeatedly. Of course something in me still asks the stupidest question, "honey are you ok?" to which my 4yr old responds in between mouthfuls,"uh, hellooo, McFly? i'm puking over here."

I know right? You're thinking what kind of kid genius, slash disrespectful kid am I raising? Actually this was a weak moment for him manners wise, he is normally thee most proper kid I've ever met. (Not sure where he picked that up exactly). But I was SOOOO proud/grossed out. I couldn't help but laugh. What other 4yr old do you know that references Back to the Future quotes while blowing chunks. Now that's some chutzpah there.

Despite my sensitive gag reflex I was able to get them both undressed. I placed girlbeast in her crib (which she despises) and listened to her serenade us with her shrill screaming. I got my son in the tub and turned to get him a towel, when I turned back something in the water caught my eye.....

me: "male-child#1, did you just puke again?"

male-child#1: "no."

me: "then what is all that stuff floating around in there?"

male-child#1: "well, i don't know.. i farted though."

me: "HOLY shitballs!!! quick, stand up, you are sitting in poop!"

he stands up and gets in the corner. yelling "get it OUT, GET IT OUT!!! gross!"

So I let the water out and wash the tub/fill it again, all the while girlbeast is getting louder and louder. All I keep thinking in my head is that there is NO WAY this happens when dads home. Poor him, always the bridesmaid, never the bride. What is with my luck? I mean, I can't even win a free coffee on the Timmies roll up the rim to win, but I hit the JACKPOT when it comes to body fluids?!!? unbelievable.