Rerun

I wake up everyday, but everyday seems like the same day. One day end to end. No real clear cut lines- just one LONG day. It feels too much like time is slipping away from me, and that I am letting it go. I am waiting. Not sure what for.

There has been so much loss. Everday we lose something. Some losses are greater than others. The loss of time. The loss of home. The loss of security. The loss of youth. The loss of our identities or jobs. The loss of loved ones. I lost my uncle this past weekend. I lost my aunt about two years ago- not really sure how long- and I lost my grandmother almost 20 years ago, but it all just feels like yesterday.

I relive the loss often- having difficulty letting go. With each loss, I was many states away lacking for some real closure. Maybe the wound is never meant to heal. Maybe the pain is meant to be taken with us on our journey to who knows where. I have a hard time accepting they are gone. It still feels like they are just far far away and I have been neglecting to visit them. Maybe its easier this way. The weight gets heavier each time, but maybe it is just the pull of the ties that bond us that keeps tugging at our soul. Maybe we are just forever anchored to our loved ones. Through life, death, time. Maybe it still feels like they are not gone, because they have never left. There is only so much my puny brain can understand, so little my eyes can see, but my soul can see, feel, hear something greater that my other senses cannot. It lacks interpretation. Someday. maybe.

Synopsis of 1700 Miles Traveled

3 days, two kids, one mini van, one truck, and three adults all stuck in a moving vehicle or nonsmoking but still smoked in motel room

A midnight swim in a pool and spa by fully clothed adults and naked children

A trip to a Mexican restaurant led to an immediate rush to a toilet that thankfully only needed one trip to the toilet for the situation to be remedied.

Previous trip to the bathroom lead to sore intestines, gas, and a hesitation to eat anything solid.

Miles and miles and miles of desert.

I've seen all the cactus I need to see, thank you.

Frequent rest stops for potty breaks led to having boy pee in an empty Gatorade bottle - fluid in, fluid out.

When older boy was not peeing in bottle, he was peeing on my leg as I tried to fly him over toilet seats cleaned only once a millennium.

There was much eating of fishies, Cheez-its, and Mexican food.

Lots and Lots of videos played over and over and over again - most notably Thomas and Stewart Little with a sprinkle of the Simpsons.

Occasional blood curdling screaming coming from the rear punctuated by kicking and flying objects.

Some swear words were spoken and threats delivered and not just by the adults.

According to the boy, I should be reported to the police for having him restrained in his seat for three days.

I can't blame him.

Overall, an okay trip considering the circumstances. We made it physically intact, if not mentally intact thanks to my mom. She apparently did much praying to many different angels, guardians, and virgins over newly bought candles so that we could make it to Cali safely.

Thanks mom. I'll miss you.

Chaos

My life is crazy right now. I am trying to take an online course through UCSD, pack, work, get our house ready to rent, try to get it rented, and still keep up with all the regular daily activities that keep me very busy when I am not busy moving.

Yet, it only takes a few pictures from all the natural disasters that have recently occurred in Asia to put my life into perspective. My kids are alive and at the moment safely sleeping in their beds. I look at them and I just can't fathom what all the mothers and fathers are going through who have recently lost their babies to the earthquakes or the cyclone.

I am angry that this has happened to them, and so very sad. I view the pictures wanting to reach in and help them, but right now I am constantly being blinded by my own troubles and daily life that seem so meaningless compared to theirs. I try to go on everyday remembering that there are people in Burma and China struggling to survive who are grieving the loss of their loved ones, home, and security.

They are in my thoughts and unconventional prayers. For it is during times like these that people seek religion for comfort and answers - a religion that may have long been forgotten by many, just as I have now. But it is during times like these that we will make an effort to piece what we do remember together and to make up what we can't in an effort to create some semblance of a religion. I have lost my religion many times, and have attempted to recover the shattered fragments of what it once was in times of distress. I hope the people in China and Burma can hold close to their faith and can find the strength to push forward during this nightmarish time.

Why the world turns

One sunny day last week, as we were walking home from the park, Big Brother looked up, pointed at all the "pretty" colors in the sky, and spewed forth an endless stream of questions.

BB: Look momma, the sun is setting
Me (huffing and puffing up the mini hill where our house sits): Yep.
BB (looking up at the sky): Why does the sun set?
Me: Because the Earth turns and the sun hides on the other side of the Earth.
BB: Why does the Earth turn?
Me (pausing for a moment trying desperately to think back to my Earth History class in college): I think it's because of the pull of the sun, but I'm really not sure.
BB (looking puzzled): How do we not fall off?
Me: Gravity is a force that makes us stick to Earth because Earth is enormous. It's shaped like a big ball - a sphere.
BB: So grabity keeps us stuck? What's inside the earth?
Me (Thinking I seriously didn't expect these kind of questions until at least 4th grade): Rocks, metals, dirt. The world is made up of several layers - the crust, mantle which is more of a lava-like substance, and a dense core.
BB: Can we go inside the Earth?
Me: Not very far. The Earth is so huge, we just don't have the technology to go inside the Earth.
BB: Can we leave the Earth and go into outerspace?
Me (trying to remember I am still walking on the street and should look out for cars): Yes, but we can't go too far. We need to use powerful spaceships or rockets to break from gravity's force.
BB: Can we visit the sun?
Me: No we don't have the technology to go as far as the sun, and even if we did, we would start to melt before we got anywhere near it. It one big fiery star.
BB: What if we wear astronaut suits?
Me: It would still be too hot.
BB: Can we go to other planets like Saturn or Mars or Jupiter?
Me: (attempting to gather all our things including kids into the house): We can't go yet, but we have sent satellites and robots to Mars.
BB: Can you show me pictures of the Earth?

The conversation went on for another 30 minutes like that that led to a display of a ball revolving around a lamp, a visit to google earth, and further discussions of Earth years, seasons, and the Earth's orbit around the sun.

I'm sure some of the informations mentioned was incorrect like the part where I said the Earth spins because of the sun. What I should have said was that it's probably because of the cosmic explosion that formed Earth and hurled it into space, and other collisions that sent it spinning. In my defense, his question caught me off guard, and no one really knows exactly why the Earth spins. I'm sure he'll ask me about all these wonderful cosmic forces I know little about next time we see a sunset. I really thought he and I would be much older before he started asking me questions I couldn't answer. There are still so many questions I myself am searching for answers to - like how it is two tiny bodies can produce soooo much laundry.

Pilot and CoPilot

This is what we call Pilot and Copilot over at my house. Once or twice a day, Big Brother will hop on the chair to do some fun PBS games and the Bee will climb on behind him and watch - waiting for Big Brother to let go of the steering wheel, and take over. This has been going on since the Bee was twelve months when he learned to climb on chairs, and soon after learned to climb on tables. This did not bode well for the computer since he likes to climb on the desk, too and sometimes attempts to throw the monitor down when it is not flying in the same direction brother takes it. Big Brother started using the computer at 3 and the Bee thinks, he's ready now. Me thinks this will not fly!

Intimacy Lost

It's been one WHOLE week since I nursed my baby. One whole week, since I lost that intimacy I had with him, and maybe a whole other lifetime before I will get to do it again. That is of course, if I am in the mood of believing in reincarnation, and I make my way back again as a woman. I wonder how I can miss something that I reluctantly did. Something that brought me so much physical pain and consumed every moment of my life for the first year. How nursing my babies hardly ever felt like that fantastic bonding experience people talk about. I wanted to quit nursing everyday, but when the time came to end it, I hesitated. Just one more month I'd say, and now as Bee turned 19 months, we both felt the time was right.

The night before I had set to end our nursing session, the Bee asked for his usual "night, night" nursing session, but as we sat down on the couch instead of the usual rocker and I proceeded to latch. He paused. He became distracted by the TV. He turned around, and refused to nurse after I attempted to relatch, and I didn't fight it. He fell asleep on my lap that night for the first time without having had his usual bedtime snack.

The next night he proceeded to ask for "night, night" again, and I proceeded to tell him we were all done. He responded by patting the boobs and saying "ah dun", and I shook my head to motion yes and repeated the all done. He lay his head on my shoulder and we rocked in our usual rocking chair until he fell asleep. I envisioned having a much more difficult time ending my nursing sessions with him with a lot of kicking and screaming, but it was just as easy as when I uttered those exact words of "all done" with Big Brother, and he rolled over and fell asleep after having missed his early morning session. Both boys gave it up with ease.

Maybe I would have been less sad if they had fought it. Maybe I would have been less sad, if they showed they wanted nothing else but to nurse, and maybe I would have obliged them for just one more month - one more month to have that intimacy only we shared, but maybe it was just time.

I have a new found freedom I am relishing. I have gotten my body back and it is just mine, but that same freedom scares me and saddens me, too. This little person no longer needs me in the same intensity he once did. I am no longer his only one, because what I now provide can be given by others. Yet, I am consoled by the fact that we were both ready. We were both ready to move on to a new phase in life, and that is much better than having it shoved in your face.

The Nomading Life I Lead

I hate moving. In my lifetime I have lived in 20 different houses, in three different states, in six different cities, and two different time zones. I would like to say that I have also only moved 20 times, but that would be too simple, because between moving in and out of dorms, shacks, basements, government housing, my parent's many homes, and my in-laws, the number of time I've moved may be close to thirty. That basically equates to about a move a year, not that I lived in each place a year and then moved.

There were some places I have lived in for a year or two, others I lived in for only a month: 7 months, 3 months, and still others I wished I hadn't lived in for no more than a few hours. My longest has been five years. As a kid, I vowed that I would never move more than just a couple times. I would be in control of my life, and I would be wiser and more decisive than my mother who dragged me across the country on what often seemed like a whim. I was nothing more than a piece of luggage to her then.

Now that I am older and wiser and in control of my life, I have realized that there is only so much control we have. That so many of our choices and decisions are driven by circumstance, by chance, by our bank accounts, by our jobs, by the people we love, by changing attitudes and lifestyles, and by all other mysterious or not so mysterious forces we call life. Nothing is ever black and white, its all a very murky gray. This of course is not a realization I just happened upon today. I am not that naive, although I am one of those people who sometimes needs to learn things the hard way. I have also come to realize that I am not a decisive person and may never be, and I do realize that this has led to missed opportunities and wasted time.

We have gone back and forth on our most recent decision to move about a hundred times already, and every decision has a weighty number of pros and and its equally strong cons, so much so that each decision seems like the right one and the wrong one all at the same time -- a decision that can be easily swayed by our mood. We are at a point where we are trying to prioritize our mental list, but really we are just going to drive forward with our decision to move.

Oh, and do I loathe the whole moving process. The planning, the packing, the carrying of heavy stuff, the canceling of utilities, the renting of a moving truck, the renting of the house we now own, the fixing up the house we now own, the finding new schools, new friends, new tenants, new jobs, and so much more that would just add to an endless list of boring details if I continued on in this manner. But really, wasn't life much simpler when we were childless and out of college when all that needed to be moved could be fit in a small trunk of a Mazda Protege, and the only person that needed to be notified was our mother. Life is about making sacrifices, and we have decide to make the sacrifice of moving and losing our own home so that we can live in the same area code as our family - well, at least part of it.

Conversations with Brain Rot

I feel guilty for not keeping up with my blog and writing more often, but it always seems like life gets in the way. I always want to wait to write when I know I will have time to finish writing a post, but those moments are few and far between. I am the kind of person who does not like to start something unless I can finish it. I get plenty of ideas for posts all the time, but I am usually lying in bed or busy doing something else. There are also plenty of funny things that spew out of Big Brother's mouth to write about, but I can never seem to remember them for too long. What makes it even harder to remember now is that he just doesn't say funny phrases anymore, but we can have whole conversations about his take on the world.

One short conversation revolved around the topic of leg hairs that I overheard him have with his dad in the shower while I was busy nursing the Bee. It went something like this.

Big Brother: "Daddy, what's all that fur on your legs?
The Dada: "It's hair. When boys grow older and become men, they grow hair on their legs."
Big Brother: " I don't want to become a man, I just want to stay a boy."
(I can't say I blame him.)

It continued on from there, but like I said, I can hardly remember these conversations unless I've had the opportunity to repeat them soon after with others.

One conversation I still remember from about a year ago when I also decided it was a good time to stop walking around the house naked looking for clothes after my showers, I discussed with big brother my lack of an accessory.

Big Brother: Mommy. You don't have a penis?
Me: No.
Big Brother: Why not?
Me: Because I don't need one. Only boys have a penis.
Big Brother: Daddy has a penis.
Me: Yes he does.
Big Brother: the Bee has a penis.
Me: Yep.
Big Brother: But you don't have a penis???? [giving me a very perplexed and puzzled look with a hint of worry followed by a very pensive pause]
Big Brother: Maybe you can borrow daddy's penis.
Me: [Laughter ensues] I don't really think daddy would like that.
Big brother eventually loses interest in this conversation and runs off with a puzzled look.

The only reason I even remember this last conversation is because I just had to call to tell everyone in my family about it. It was too funny to forget.

For now I will continue to blame my inability to remember things on my pregnancy brain.
Has it been too long from my last pregnancy to keep blaming my inefficient brain on that? Hey, if you can still have postpartum depression two years after you've had your last baby, I think I can blame my less than perfect ability to remember things on "pregnancy brain".

Roses are...

I got flowers today for the first time in a LOOOOONG time. When my husband and I were first dating in high school he use to come over with a bouquet of flowers almost each and every time he'd come visit. Sure he usually cut them off of someone's lawn, but nonetheless, I loved the gesture and still have a box full of old dry roses he use to bring over.

Many years went by and eventually he stopped bringing me flowers. I didn't even see flowers when I gave birth to my two boys. Today, though, I got flowers from a new little man. My eldest decided that he would cut some off our yard and bring them to me. In his words they were "Fowers for when you and daddy get married". How do I break it to him that mommy and daddy are already married , and that there were no flowers then? I probably should also not mention that he's picking those flowers off some unknown weed that is quite stinky for fear that I may never get flowers again.

I love the fact that he can now occasionally think outside himself, and do something nice for someone else. Today he decided to do something sweet for me. I just hope that he continues to step outside his own shoes, and see the world through the eyes of others, and to on some occasions see that maybe someone could benefit from a small bouquet of "fowers". His thoughtful gesture brightened up my day.

Oh sleep. Wherefore art thou?

The Bee is up to his usual wakings these nights. He wakes every two hours. The only progress we have made in that front is that now when I bring him into our bed he doesn't kick and scream for the boob.

Oh thy cranky Bee,
why can't you see?
Thee needs nothing but sleep.

Tis only two, tis only three, tis only six,
but thou just sends out kicks.
You cry and scream to be free,
and in the process awaken thee.

You roll over and throw that little arm around my neck
hogging my pillow and pushing me to the edge.
The gesture is oh so sweet,
but can't you see you've got me beat.
You render me motionless from my head to my thighs,
and I lay still for fear that you might rise.

Big Brother who must compete,
has crawled into bed near my feet.
Because not long after you, he begins to scream, too.
For your screams make him ill oh too soon.
Big brother who will request drinks and potty breaks.
Big Brother who is afraid of monsters, the dark, and snakes.

Oh why won't they just be afraid of me?
Because, maybe just then,
only then
will I sleep.

* Please excuse my lousy poetry skills in advance, since my only knowledge about poetry was acquired in elementary school and it has since been forgotten. This post didn't start out as a poem but it just naturally transformed into one (or at least as an impostor of one) and has undergone many MANY changes and may undergo many more.