just gonna get this off my chest

For the past few weeks I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad. Almost as though I can’t get him out of my head. Sometimes I’ll be driving and suddenly I break down with this angry sort of sadness that I can’t help but feel all the way down into the pit of my stomach. Occasionally I’ll see someone with eyes just like his and my heart catches in my throat. I walk past someone in a store that smells just like him and I want to go stand next to them to soak in the smell because I know one day it may not be familiar at all.

I miss my dad not because he was a wonderful father or the most important person in my life. Most days he didn’t even come close. I don’t miss him because of what was. I miss him because of what wasn’t. For many years he was in and out of my life. When he wasn’t there, I was angry. When he came around he was this idolized figure high up on a pedestal. I wanted so badly to see him and love him the way other kids got to see and love their dads. I wanted his presence in my life to feel normal.

As a kid, you don’t understand the big picture. You know what’s in front of you, and even that isn’t always as clear as you think. I wasn’t able to differentiate the good from the bad when it came to my dad. At least not for a long, long time. Some of those realizations that had to happen left a pain and I wonder if it will ever ease or go away completely.

I have a lot of good memories with my dad. Or at least I used to. Those memories have been marred by knowledge. My dad was a Coca-Cola guy. Because of him I learned to strongly prefer it over Pepsi. When I was a kid we would sit side by side and drink our Cokes. Only, mine smelled like Coke and his smelled like rum. To this day the smell of rum takes me back to second grade when I lived with my dad in San Diego and I was happy. At the same time, it makes me feel queasy and angry. I remember my dad taking my brother and me to Joey’s Barbeque for dinner one time. Being that he didn’t have custody of us most of our lives, time with him was rare. We had a great time together and on our way home I was so excited to tell my aunt (and guardian) about the experience. We pulled up and my aunt came flying out of the house yelling at him. He had taken us without letting her know we were leaving. As soon as she looked at him her anger shifted. She was no longer mad that we were gone without her knowledge. She was now angry because he was drunk. I don’t know how many beers he had at Joey’s, but it was obviously a lot. Once she said it, I knew it was true. His speech was slurred and his temper flared when she confronted him. Our great time at dinner was no longer that. Deep in my little heart I began to question how my own dad, who’s supposed to love and protect me would drive drunk with my brother and I in the car. Did he need beer that badly? I remember seeing my dad for the first time in over two years. I sat down next to him and we drank Cokes and talked. We sat for a long time catching up and I listened to him crack hysterical jokes about the people walking by. This visit took place in the visiting yard of Chino Prison. The people he was joking about were the prison guards. Memory after memory; all stained just like this.

I’m sure if I thought hard enough, long enough, thoroughly enough, I could come up with a few memories that aren’t stained with alcohol. But that’s just it- I shouldn’t have to. I should think of my dad and be flooded with joyfulness over all the good times we’ve shared. I’m not. He’s been gone for four and a half years. Never once I have looked back on his life and smiled amidst the sadness of losing him. There is only remorse with the sadness. The thing is, he was a good dad. Really. Or at least he had it in him to be a good dad if only he had put down the alcohol.

My dad had a few philosophies he seemed to live by. Two of which I remember well; “You can’t get lost if you don’t care where you’re going.” As a kid I thought that was interestingly true. This coming from the guy who hitch-hiked across the country. And his other philosophy was, “Everyone’s gonna die of something. Might as well die of something you love.” Well, he sure picked his fate well, then. I think it was his ability to strongly cling to the second philosophy that fed his mediocrity with the first one. He really didn’t care where he was going most of the time. Or at least that’s how it seemed. And that’s just wrong. Kids should be able to look at their parents and see certainty, determination, conviction, passion, pride, etc. Even if their parents fail, those qualities should be there in a very obvious and consistent way. My dad rarely had any of those qualities. Deep, deep down, he probably did. I didn’t see them.

I struggled for a lot of years over how my dad could pick alcohol over me. He, like my mom, had done drugs for a long time. He kicked that though, and I was so proud of him. He was openly honest about his intention to never give up drinking. I had asked him why he kept drinking and his reply came, “I like my beer.” With a smirk. He wasn’t ashamed of it. Though, I think he should have been. I guess being a drunk makes you mostly blind to your drunkenness.

I always held onto hope that he would change and realize that he had great kids that he was missing out on. We were now adults beginning new chapters of our lives. Surely he would see what he had missed thus far and decide to do things differently. Coincidentally, this is also when I began to realize how extremely naive I can be.

The stark realization, or my admittance and acceptance of reality, came on June 27^th, 2004. I hadn’t seen my dad in about two years. He was at my cousin’s wedding and I was so excited to see him and to have him meet my husband of 4 months. Prior to the start of the wedding we were all taking pictures and I remember him being so antsy and fidgety about everything. He kept saying he just ‘needed to get out of here.’ Such a disappointment to his little girl who had waited so long to see him outside of prison for the first time in years. He wasn’t interested in being with me or my family. Then the wedding happened and then the reception. Open bar. No sooner did we get through the door did he have a Jim Beam in both hands. It stayed that way the entire night. I distinctly remember sitting at a table with my husband and a few others that I didn’t know very well. I watched my dad sit at a table all alone with his drinks. While it killed me, I realized that’s exactly how he wanted it to be. Nobody else mattered more than Mr. Beam. Upon leaving I gave him a hug, told him I loved him and walked out the door wreaking of liquor. I left hurt and a little more grown up. That was the last time I saw my dad.

I realized as I stepped into my role as an adult, that I resented him a lot for his choices. Because he took so much liberty with selfish decisions in his life, I had no choice but to suffer the consequences. I praise God for the guidance and protection in my life in spite of my parents. My life is proof that God really does make all things good for those who love Him.

The more I struggled with my resentment, the more I felt the need for closure. Not that I intended to never speak to my dad again, but the need was there to bring it all to the light and call it what it was. He chose alcohol over me. Before I could accept that, I needed him to admit it.

Eight months after I saw him at the wedding he began calling me randomly to see how I was and catch up. The calls were always short, but I was nonetheless happy to hear from him and know that he was okay. After a few phone calls he asked me why I didn’t have him give me away at my wedding. I walked down the aisle alone and he wasn't able to be there. I told him “Dad, you gave me away a long time ago.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, defensively. “You chose your alcohol over me every time you had the chance. I’m trying to accept that.” First he argued with me for about five seconds. Finally he admitted that I was right. For my whole life and for every situation, he said he couldn’t remember a time that he didn’t drink when given the chance. What ensued from there was a very enlightening conversation. Well, it wasn’t enlightening then. But recently it has hit home a lot more for me.

He went on to explain that he didn’t mean to chose that way. He didn’t mean to become an alcoholic. He didn’t mean to hurt me. He didn’t mean to fight with my mom or abuse her. He didn’t mean to end up in prison. He didn’t mean to be angry. He didn’t mean to neglect us. He didn’t mean for anything to happen that has happened in his life. He didn’t say this as an excuse. Just pure fact.

The thing is, it started with a first drink. Then a few more. Over time, a few more. Drinking when he was out with friends. Budwieser during football games. Somewhere along the line, without him even noticing, it got just a little out of hand. He couldn’t go more than a couple weeks without going a drink. Then that span shrunk to a couple of days. That shrunk even more. He didn’t realize he had any sort of problem. To him, it was just a choice. He could put it down if he wanted to. But I don’t know that he ever tried. Everyone around him could see the risk and the issues that were arising. They talked to him about it, they bargained with him, they offered help and support. But he still didn’t have a problem. Or so he thought. His own stubbornness allowed the problem he didn’t know he had to grow and grow. It took a long, long time. However, it eventually ruined his family’s lives, and ended his years and years before he should have died.

This was all plainly obvious a long time ago. What gets me now is that it isn’t just MY dad in this scenario. It’s lots of dads and moms. My dad wasn’t alone in this struggle. I’m not the only one who has watched a parent spiral downward. This is a growing issue. The sad part, is that you don’t see it coming.

You may enjoy drinking. That’s fine. I’m not going to sit here and condemn people to hell for drinking. While I don’t drink, I shouldn’t say I never would on occasion. Although, I can almost assuredly say, I never will. It isn’t appealing to me because of what I’ve seen.

Understand a couple of things: First, when I say ‘drink’, I’m not talking about the occasional glass of wine with dinner. I’m talking about drinking and getting drunk. Secondly, I’m not judging people who drink. Please understand that. I’m judging PARENTS that drink.

So, to aforementioned parents:

Who do you think you are? Are you so high, mighty, and powerful that your judgement isn’t ill effected by alcohol? Somewhere along the lines you made the decision to have kids. And even if it was an ‘accident’, you made the decision to keep them. Or you failed to make the decision to give them up. Either way- proactive on your part. Do you think your kids would chose a partying alcoholic if given the option to chose otherwise? No. They wouldn’t. Do you really think your kids won’t notice you coming home so late? They won’t begin to smell it? They won’t be able to look at you and recognize your selfish irresponsibility? Sure, maybe they don’t understand it completely right now. But I promise you one thing- they’ll understand it easier than you can give it up. They’ll know you sooner than you will admit you have a problem. Maybe right now it’s not a problem. But you won’t know it when it is. My fear for you is that one day far from now, your kids will feel towards you the way I feel towards my dad. I love him and always will. But I didn't care to know him or be anything like him. Disappointment is a horrible thing. Especially when it's you doing all the disappointing.

Sure, it’s just a few fun nights out. Or it’s just a few ball games. If anyone, and I mean ANYONE has confronted you on this, you have more of a problem than you think. Especially if it was a spouse, a sibling, or heaven forbid, your child. If you can’t put it down for longer than a month or two, you have a problem. How dare you be so selfish.

I know, I know. You would never let it get that bad. You’ll keep it under control so it doesn’t affect your marriage, your children, and your relationships. Those are all important to you. You are in control and will remain that way. This isn’t very believable because it lacks possibility. Just ask my dad.

Honestly, are you that different?

graceless ballet

In order for me to get ready for the day without my entire home being destroyed, I have to keep my two year old with me at all times. A prime example of this could be yesterday. I spent a few minutes blow drying my hair while I let her play in the living room. When I came out, what did I find? Black permanent marker all over my white counter tops. Where did she get the marker? No idea.

Having her with me all of the time can be frustrating as she is in to everything I have. Plus, she's at the adorable age where words never cease flowing from her mouth and she hasn't quite mastered volume control. Never a moment to think or process anything before starting the day. It's chaos from moment one.

Recently I was getting ready for work as I grabbed a pair of my favorite Lucky jeans. She was rambling on and on and on about how Mr. Johnson- our neighbor that she is terrified of- is 'such a nice boy' and 'he is not scary. We like him.' as if trying to convince herself of those facts. Needing to say everything she thinks, and lacking the skill of tact at her young age she exclaims mid sentence and wide-eyed, "Mom, you did a plie! You are a ballerina too!"

Sweet, sweet girl. I'm not a ballerina. I'm just getting too fat for my pants. Even though I've gained a few pounds due to being a gimp after foot surgery, there's no excuse to not get rid of them. Otherwise I'll end up being the fattest professional fitness trainer around. Sick.

Peace out fatty. Jade, thanks for the kick in the pants.

lame

I guess I better come to terms with the fact that while I own a dirt bike, I don't actually get to ride it.  I'm done trying.

Dear Christopher,

I love you. You're my best friend and I can't imagine my life without you.  I don't believe in soul mates, but I do believe that God made you just for me. Thank you for loving me so much and always making me feel beautiful.

♥ ,  me

If she won't change, I will.

Some things never change. You’d think when something never changes you’d get used to the way it is.  Why doesn’t it work that way?  I got a phone call from my mom tonight and I can’t shake the disappointment it left behind. I hadn’t heard from her in a while and was beginning to wonder if she was okay.  She even missed my birthday.  While I can consider the crappy excuse for a mom that she’s been over the years; she’s always remembered my birthday.

As soon as she started talking I regretted picking up the phone in the first place.  She was high. You know, high on the drugs she swears she gave up years ago. She had no idea that I was even saying words.  Not once did she have an appropriate response to anything I said to her. Not once did she even say anything that mattered. She just rambled on and on like some crazy fanatic. 

I hung up the phone grateful to no longer try to make small talk with someone who couldn’t make any sense.  It kills me that she thinks I don’t notice when she’s high. I hate that she thinks she pulls it off so well.  I hate that she thinks I’m so dumb and naive not to know the difference.  Does she really think she’s so unaffected by her own actions? 

I guess the hardest part for me is that she used to do a lot of drugs. A lot of very hard drugs.  Those drugs and her choices were what got us kids taken away from her and put into foster care for the majority of our lives.  It was such a crappy experience and she was to blame.  Years go by and I try with everything I’ve got to build a relationship with this woman because she’s my mom.  I give her the benefit of the doubt even when I know better. For a long time, I fooled myself into accepting her little flaws as part of who she is.  In my mind, the fact that she still does drugs is as commonly viewed as my name and the fact I like coffee.  

As I sat with the phone pressed to my ear listening to her talk about dry boogers and nasal moisturizing saline solutions, I was watching my little girl run around.  Then my sweet little two year old did something that shook me from my hiding place.  She asked if she could talk on the phone to Grandma.  In that very brief moment I was hit with the weight of the world.  I had to tell her no. Luckily she just scampered off without another thought.  There was no way I was going to let her talk on the phone right then. I had no idea what words would come pouring out of my mother’s mouth.  I realized that rightfully, I didn’t posses the ability to trust my own mom.

I can handle my mother and all that comes with her. I think I have done a pretty fine job of subduing the battle between my emotions and my sense.  I’ve pretty well burried the scars she’s left and the hurt she’s made.  Tonight I realized thats wrong. Tonight I realized and can see for the first time how much effort it took to build whatever fake view of her I have. Somehow I have forced myself to accept these issues and I shouldn’t have. Never would I tolerate somebody coming into my home stoned. Is Grandma really an exception to that?  

Never do I want my children to feel the need to justify moral issues.  I’m terrified by the thought of them growing up into adults who do so.  I wouldn’t be able to blame them as I am currently a prime example of ‘poor judgement justification’. 

That ends now.  I am going to let myself be shocked when she calls drunk. I’m going to allow myself to feel the sadness and disappointment of her higher than a kite monologues.  I will let myself feel these things because it will keep me raw and aware enough to protect my children. 

joy of my heart

Here are just a few pictures of the girls from Easter.

+ and -

+'s

1. It's Saturday and other than a baby shower and laundry, I haven't got much to do

2. It seems as though we might be near the end of the adoption process for Jade

3. Haley's getting married and moving back up here to Hume, which means I'll have a friend

4. My husband thinks I'm beautiful

5.  Meranda has stayed healthy and Lord willing she will continue that way until we can get her medical insurance

-'s

1. I'm so tired of not having enough time Monday through Friday to get everything done

2. There is still such a long legal process before Meranda is ours, and the paperwork is overwhelming

3.  Christopher is at work on his day off and i miss him

4. My right foot is messed up and the only way to fix it is surgery... like I have time for that

5. It's supposed to snow tomorrow. what the heck.

give me a break

Here's a question- why is it assumed that because I didn't give birth to my daughters that I'm a moron? No, really? Is it some sort of natural law that I don't know about that unless you experience childbirth, you're an idiot when it comes to children? This is a touchy subject to me (consider yourself warned). I understand that there are a lot of people, even women, who know next to nothing about babies. I get that. Just because someone hasn't pushed a person out of their body doesn't mean they're ignorant. Even more- just because you have carried a pregnancy full term, doesn't mean that you're some how some sort of baby genius. So here's the deal; stop assuming I'm stupid. I know how to hold a baby. I know how to change a diaper, and I even know how to feed them. While I appreciate your advice, (well, sort of, but mostly not at all) you might want to give advice that's needed, or wanted. Don't assume that you're some sort of 'super-mom' and that I need you to tell me how to hold a baby or how to put the S and H together to make the shhh-ing sound. If you have advice on more trivial things, I'm all ears. But think before you speak and stop talking down to me.

pictures

Here are some pictures that have been sitting on my camera for a little while. I shot a lot of Meranda so I could have some cute pictures to send to Lindsay in Iraq, Evan in Virginia, and Cait who's in Missouri. They haven't met her yet so I figured it the least I could do. Aren't I nice?

I ♥ my mac

See? I told you I'd come back.

Yesterday we went and got a new computer. Finally. Ours had been hating us for a while and it finally decided to die. We're better off. It was old and annoying. It ran slower than slow and would freeze all the time. Not to mention how it would just shut off randomly. Although, I will say this- back in its prime it was a great computer. Anyhow, with part of our tax return we bought a Mac. I love it! At first I wasn't so sold on Macs. But once I played with one for a little while I fell in love. I'm very glad my pc died. Having a Mac is fabulous. :)

from the silence

Dear reader,

I haven't forgotten you.

My computer died.

I will blog again when I get a new one.

Soon.

♥

morning sickness

if you've ever experienced it, you know it so unmistakeably well. It's a sickness that sits dull and deep, not relenting. Each time you've felt it, you knew what it meant. A baby was coming. That's what it all boiled down to. This same bottom line showed it's face to me last Thursday when I woke up feeling sick.

I woke up really sick. The day was dragging on and it was miserable. Never once did it cross my mind that our lives were about to change dramatically. Never once did I stop to think that maybe, just maybe, a baby was coming. I was just sick like the rest of them.

I should have known last Thursday that it was actually morning sickness from my 24 hour pregnancy rather than the flu. I would have been much more prepared.



okay, for some serious details...





Most the world knows that our little girl, Jade, isn't actually ours. We're adopting her. It was a long journey to get to where we are, and we're so thankful for her. I think back to a year ago as we eagerly waited to go through each step of approval through the foster care system so we could have her specifically. I remember talking to her birth mom on the phone when she told me that she wanted to get Jade back, but she was pregnant again and couldn't possibly have two babies. She said that she would get Jade back and then adopt to us the new baby that was just starting to grow. Only- she failed to get Jade back from social services and we got to bring her home instead. We were (and still are) blown away by how God orchestrated all of it.

God didn't stop there. Jade's birth mom had her second baby at the beginning of October. A little girl named Meranda Rae. Shortly afterwards, she gave the baby to a family who wanted to adopt. We felt like Jade and Meranda should be together. For a while, my heart was very set on having her. We had hoped that we would be able to raise Meranda if she couldn't be raised by her mom. We wanted Jade to have her sister. In spite of all that, we knew that God is sovereign. We could rest in the fact that His plan is better than ours. We knew that Meranda was being well taken care of and loved, so we went our way.

During lunch on Thursday I got a phone call out of the blue from a social worker who is in charge of Meranda's case. She wanted us to come down to get the baby the next day. Without hesitating we packed up and headed for southern cali. Well, I hesitated a little so I could throw up from time to time. ;)

Friday afternoon we met with the social worker to sign papers, and best of all- to finally meet Meranda for the first time. Though we had come to peace with the way things were, my heart had this special, very sensitive spot just for that sweet little girl. After months and months, she was finally to be ours. We were so surprised!

Through a series of details that I'm still unsure of, the family that was going to adopt Meranda could no longer do so. Even more than that- Meranda's birth mom decided that she wanted her to be with us. Because of time restraints, things had to move quickly. We had less than 24 hours notice from the time we found out about her being placed with us until we actually had her in our arms. Today ends day 4 with her and we couldn't' be more in love.

Jade is slowly coming around to the idea that there is another child in the house. At first she wouldn't have anything to do with the baby. When asked if she wanted to see the baby, she would sigh and reply, " No thank you please." and walk away. Today she helped feed her and made sure meranda had plenty of toys all day long. She even sang "Jesus Loves Me" to help the baby fall asleep. They are so precious and wonderful.

The road ahead is still a long one. We don't really know exactly how to accomplish everything we need to accomplish, but we're trusting that God will get us through. Because Meranda was never a ward of the court like Jade is (a foster child), we are having to do everything without the help and support of Social Services. We have to file for guardianship and all of that on our own. Not only is all of it daunting because we don't know what we're doing, but also because we're paying out of pocket for all the expenses. We know that God will provide, but it is a lot to take in all at once.

Anyway, there's the update for you. So stop bugging me. Just kidding.

Thanks to all of you who have been praying for us, and more so for these wonderful little girls God has allowed us to have in our lives. Pray that it's permanent. :)