Fierce.
May 14, 2010
Google is a winding path of sorts.
You start off at one subject and end up someplace completely unexpected.
Most of these journeys are fruitless, some teach you a little something.
I following a meandering Lish path not too long ago and ran across this gorgeous couple, Karen and Todd Andrews from Minneapolis.
The path leading me there is not important at the moment, but when I arrived there I ‘met’ 2 gorgeous people on CaringBridge – folks about my age (though a million times better looking), successful young people with a strong relationship with each other, supportive family and friends, and a really horseshit road to travel.
Todd’s got cancer.
And not just cancer, he’s got Cancer. With a capital C. But he’s also got a supportive wife, a supportive job, a good outlook and this willpower that keeps him going when the Cancer keeps trying to kick his ass.
Had this bastard disease not jumped him, he’d have beautiful kids and a long life ahead of him.
But the first has been rendered impossible biologically with the chemo treatments. The second is up in the air.
And his beautiful wife – she’s the one that gets to me the most. She’s sunny and sparkly and so fierce. I think she would literally kick Cancer’s ass if she could just get her hands on it. Just by sheer will. You can tell she’s one step away from screaming it out of him… dear heavens, I wish that would work, too.
Together they have taught me, without even realizing it – because they don’t know who the hell I am, a little bit about marriage and the unexpected and how it changes you – but not what your marriage is.
It’s a bigger word than I thought originally.
And they get up in the morning (or afternoon) when I’m not sure I could. And they go to the park and to baseball games and they keep LIVING because this damned cancer isn’t going to take that away from them if they can help it…
They’re just simply beautiful.
And I PRAY, so hard, that there is a treatment that can help Todd.
Life is so precious.
Don’t even THINK about mentioning food to me.
May 10, 2010
There are fun things about being pregnant… but they don’t happen until you’re a bit further along than I am.
I’m only five weeks, guys.
Five weeks and though the morning sickness has not hit with a vengeance there are mornings like this one… Where I’m not sure if I’m going to vomit or cry, when nothing tastes or smells like it’s supposed to and where my ability to deal with people has gone totally down the drain.
I’m really. really. really. uncomfortable.
The rain outside has turned the entire city a dim sort of grey and I would love nothing more than a nap. A nap where my stomach and my boobs cannot move an inch.
Ah. The things that make me happy right now.
It’s how I spent much of my weekend.
And is not at all how I get to spend next weekend, when my husband will join me in the Memphis area and tell me that I need to move around more and nap less.
Right before I punch him in the face.
Actually, he’ll more than likely be 100% understanding, as he’s been great 99% of the time during my pregnancy so far (a whole 5 weeks in) and has even surprised me in some of his opinions on things…
But.
Because he did this to me.
And because I feel so icky.
I want to punch him in the face.
It’s nothing personal and I mean it with all of the love in my heart.
This is just… first trimester pregnancy talk.
Life is DEFINITELY about to change.
May 7, 2010
C’mon Thursday!
April 13, 2010
My nerves are getting the best of me.
My mood is sunshine-y and bright the past few days and I am almost jumping out of my skin waiting for Thursday to get here for me to see those gorgeous brown eyes get off that plane from Minneapolis – hopefully with the rest of my husband’s body of course.
Tax prep and daily bumps in the road have served to show me just how much better my life would be with him around from a pragmatic reasoning… but the grin on my face and nerves in my stomach tell me that I just need him around as a woman needs her man around – I’ve not ever dated someone that still gave me butterflies almost 6 years into it!
He confounds me and unnerves me. Angers me and humors me. The days may sometimes be the same but they are never boring with my Dr. Husband.
He would laugh if he could see me trying makeup and clothes on in the hopes that he’ll think I’m beautiful – as though we had just started dating.
I’m ridiculous.
But, it’s a great feeling.
Abbey’s a bit jealous that she can’t go see him this week – I feel so bad that she hasn’t gotten a chance to spend time with him lately.
He and I will have to make plans to change that – she misses him terribly.
In the meantime, for her, summer visitation is rushing up to greet us – only it greets us with a kick in the nads – we hate this time of year.
Oh, she’s excited to get out of school, but says she ‘needs her mama.’
Her mama needs her too.
Still, I am lucky that visitation started when she was 2 – that means that I rarely face any screaming fits and refusals to go anymore. She’s used to it – it’s all she can remember.
It’s hard to think that, but hopefully her life with me has convinced her that a slightly abnormal family in the sense of the traditional definition isn’t so bad.
She’s a good kid and I adore her.
Still. I’m going to enjoy crawling into bed with that man of mine this weekend.
Time is taking forever to pass before the 4 days of Nick time – 4 days that will feel as short as 4 hours.
He better be over the moon to see me, damnit. 
Clenching the armrests.
February 16, 2010
Ah, I love Valentine’s Day.
Well.
No, I don’t.
But with my husband in Minneapolis, I’m not subjecting to much of the pink and red stuff.
In fact, the only thing good about Valentine’s Day is the guaranteed flowers. I LOVE getting flowers. LOVE. And cards. But Nick hasn’t quite picked up on the fact that getting a card – A real card – means way more than a gift does to me (hint.) and so we’re still working on that one.
This V-day didn’t bring flowers though – no, it wasn’t giftless. Nick’s very aware of the date – he likes the holiday! Go figure! But the gift was unusual even for him and that makes it neat in its own way.
As for Nick, I bought him a coffee gift card.
That sounds lame, I know.
But anything electronic or hobby-ish he’d prefer to pick out himself and doesn’t tend to hold back on buying. He’s pretty stocked on clothes – way more than me at the moment – and his only real activity, other than racquetball and gaming, is drinking coffee.
It’s his new addiction – and Caribou is feeding it nicely. Now, I’m helping Caribou along and my thrifty husband will be enjoying coffee for at least a week or two on someone else’s dime.
For him, that’s a win-win.
I won’t say the day wasn’t depressing in a way.
Now that we’re married I’m quickly heading towards devastated that we aren’t together yet. But.
I’m still counting my blessings – and there are many.
Not enjoying much of Fat Tuesday – never do.
Though this year I think I’m going to try the mother of all sacrifices for Lent.
SODA.
I know.
I wasn’t sure about putting it in print. This would take more willpower than I’ve ever shown towards anything in my life. So. I don’t want to put it in print and have people nag me about it.
But. I’m thinking this may be the real deal – the big attempt.
I don’t want to. Who wants to give up their addictions?
But I will. I can. If I just say it often enough.
Now, if my husband would give up internet gaming we’d be at full sacrifice mode. But he isn’t likely to do so – I don’t think the symbolism means much to him.
But. I’m growing in some ways that I never expected and it’s become important to me for me to make a Real Gesture. Not just for myself or my faith, but for other people as well. And for the me that I’m becoming.
The notion that I get to choose what I go without doesn’t sit well with me, especially when I think of those in Haiti and what change this path month has brought to their lives. People all over the world are sacrificing things that I take for granted and the notion that I am so incredibly lucky that I’ve been able to have a chance to become addicted to something as soda – when so many can’t even get clean drinking water – well… that’s pathetic.
I need this, I think, to teach me about taking material things for granted and to help me get in touch with my lost willpower.
Such a small thing to symbolize so much, I suppose.
It may even sound stupid.
But it’s a start.
And it’s definitely much harder than it sounds.
I currently drink a little over a gallon of water a day, two gallons of milk a week and soda every day. I’m like a camel with a liquid fetish.
So, this is Big for me. And some people may not survive my attempt. (She says as she takes a swig of her Coke.)
Ah yes. This next month or so should be interesting.
Pray for my family.
A jumble of truths.
February 5, 2010
I want to say something meaningful.
Something big and deep and thoughtful and… POSITIVE.
I’ve been mired in negativity this past week – this sense that everything is going downhill and that things aren’t going to turn out okay.
PMS is a bitch.
But more than that – the fears that I have that my life isn’t going to get on track.
That I’ve signed up for this long and hard journey with Nick, that these positive hopes and dreams that we’re having together aren’t going to come to fruition.
I have this great, wonderful husband who, because of complications in my life is having to put off starting his own family and buying a house and moving forward – and he’s not putting any bitterness towards me about it. He’s being wonderful.
And I have this daughter – this love that is totally encompassing – who can drive me crazy and make me pull my hair out – but at the end of the day makes me happier than any human can make another human… and I’ve put us all in this terrifyingly scary position of Change.
Change isn’t bad.
But change that you aren’t in charge of.
A destiny that you don’t have much of a hand in – well, that’s terrifying.
How can I feel so guilty and so angry and so blessed? All at the same time?
Guilty that I’m asking this of my daughter. Nick is a grown man and made his decision as such. But Abbey doesn’t have as much say in the choices she has – oh, she has more than enough say in the choice of which of the two to pick – but she wasn’t in on the discussion of the types of choices she was going to choose from.
How do I ask her to choose between not great and not great? Especially when I KNOW being with me is the best choice for her future – if not the most comfortable and happy NOW.
I don’t like change either!
And I’m angry. At myself. At the weight I’ve become. At this letting go of myself in these areas that I had always prided myself on before. Where did it go? That pride? That sense of self?
I can’t blame it all on the ‘well-meaning’ comments of the men that love me the most. They knocked me down, for sure, but only I can keep me down. And I have. Why? The distance? The futility of this never-ending court case? The changes coming?
I’m not sure. Which makes me angry.
I’m making the decision to put my family in this situation and that makes me angry.
I’m angry that my knees and back hurt. Angry that Nick brought me a small hot chocolate. Angry at my father for telling me to avoid sodas. Angry at looking like a blueberry in the shirt I’m wearing today. Angry that I don’t automatically get custody because I’ve spent all these years taking care of Abbey and her business and it’s just The Right Thing – and yet I have to fight to prove that to someone who can be taken in my Ben and Melissa’s big brown eyes and emotional plea for their rights.
What about Abbey’s rights?
Her right to understanding? Her right to say no? Her right to have her own opinions and voice them? Her right to speak her mind? Her right to grow up without the racial prejudices and stereotypes that keep her father’s household prisoner? Her right to learn AND CHOOSE about love and God and faith and relationships without the yelling and worrying and ugliness that comes along with emotional immaturity? Her right to HAVE rights in the first place?
So I’m angry.
Angry and guilty and it’s mashing together into this overwhelming ball in my guts that just waits for the conclusion to this most recent battle.
Good or bad, it’s my fault.
MINE.
So there are ups and downs.
On one hand I’m carrying around my self-made concrete albatross of guilt and anger.
On the other hand I’m overwhelmingly happy with the love that I’ve found and my child and my life. I’m blessed in that. In our good health. In our finances. In our family. In our emotional maturity and the ability to talk to and have fun with one another. I’m blessed that Abbey can have privileges that I provide for her – so many families fight for that. I’m blessed that I have the parents I have, that have given so much. I’m blessed in my dogs – they are healthy and crazy and wonderful.
And I’m blessed in my husband – a man I respect and love in a way I never thought possible.
I suppose this is being an adult.
Being a human.
I can’t protect my daughter from Life.
Wouldn’t want to – she needs to learn and I make a good home base on that particular playing field.
I’m scared of losing this.
Scared of what it would mean to Abbey.
Good or bad I want it to be okay for her to make choices and learn from them.
I want her to know that there aren’t any good or bad religions or races – but good and bad people.
I want her to have freedom to find her own way, to be who she wants to be and to aim for HER dreams. Not someone else’s dreams for her.
And I think I’m the only way she’ll ever get a chance to do that.
I’m fighting a battle I cannot lose – and only a 50/50 chance of winning.
God, please bless my family.
Please watch out for my daughter during this time.
Please strengthen us so that we can get through this with as little hurt and fear as possible.
And please help us to choose the right path.
And please, please make sure Abbey is okay – REALLY okay – through this all. I love her. So much.
Amen.
Power of Suggestion – Illogical suggestions.
January 27, 2010
Power of suggestion has always had way too big of a hold on me.
If you suggest a certain meal, more than half the time the suggestion will sit in my mind until I’m drooling over something I wasn’t in the mood for before that conversation.
The mere mention of things, both good and bad, songs and stories, stay with me for days – sometimes forever.
Worries more so than anything – I’m a paranoid person by nature, worrying about everyone I love and wishing that I had the power to protect the ones I love from anything that could go wrong in their lives.
I can’t.
But I worry about myself too.
And when I started getting sick this week I discovered a new paranoia and a new part of being married.
The Baby Phenomena.
Logic would tell folks that with my husband and I being separated the majority of the time that getting pregnant is somewhat low on the probabilities list.
However, when you’re a newlywed, apparently probabilities don’t matter that much as Every Single Person close to me has asked me ‘Are you PREGNANT?’ when I’ve mentioned my nausea.
Including my husband.
What? He’s been there every single time I thought of… eating Jello.
So, surely he knows… just how much Jello I’ve had and the odds of that… Jello making me sick.
Right?
But, apparently, if you’re a newlywed, a female and sick – that is The Most Logical Cause.
I’ve been home a week from Minneapolis and the paranoia had begun.
A visit to the grocery yielded chicken soup, applesauce and pepperoni.
The smell of frying potatoes almost sent me outside to hide.
But, this morning I woke up feeling very differently, a little silly, and completely glad that I know this about myself and don’t have to worry for the next two weeks.
You know.
As long as someone else doesn’t mention it again.
Runneth over.
January 22, 2010
I don’t talk about this much.
Not out loud.
I lost a friend during my wedding.
It started long before the actual official losing and I’m still not sure why.
I lost someone I love very much, who knows me about as well as anyone.
I hurt that person unintentionally during my busy day and for that I’m incredibly sorry.
The reason behind the hurt makes sense logically and emotionally but the continuation and holding on to that hurt/anger does not.
So. That hurts too – that it seems such a small thing to throw away a friendship that has lasted more than half of my life.
That I’d hoped that person would know that I would sooner step in front of a bus than hurt her intentionally.
That that doesn’t matter stings.
Right now that person apparently has some changes going on in her life.
They’re not mine to speak of, but knowing that she neither cares nor wants to hear from me seems. Wrong.
It hurts.
So, I’ll say here, because I can’t say it anywhere else.
I love you, Les.
I love you like a sister.
I’m so glad that these changes in your life are bringing about happy things and that events in your life are happening that you never really thought would.
I wish all of you – the entire lot of you – the very best.
And I hope you know that no matter what, you can always come to me.
My Spoonful of Sugar.
January 21, 2010
I stare at my rings a lot.
When I was dating Nicholas, I’d walk through with my soon-to-be Sister-In-Law (Lots of hyphens, yo) and we’d try on costume jewelry designed to look like incredibly gaudy rings.
It was a bit of fun in our frustration – our guys hadn’t caught up yet to the very bit of knowledge we were already in possession of – they were stuck with us.
But we tried them on and laughed and had tons of fun.
And as our relationships got more serious we tried on real rings… and laughed when the salesperson thought WE were getting married.
But now it’s real and concrete and sits on my finger with the beautiful band that I chose to go with it and it shines at me.
It’s beautiful.
And surreal.
I am a married woman.
My decisions and life is now tied to something more than just me.
Not more important or bigger or the beat-all-end-all… but something MORE.
I’ve spent the past week in Minneapolis visiting with Nick – a treat, as that’s the longest visit I’ve ever had up there and the only visit that he’s ever taken off days to spend with me.
We had a moment or two, but for the most part it was like sitting in a comfortable armchair.
Every part of me can relax around him in a way they haven’t around anyone else. The tense insecurities may still exist, but when I curl up next to him at night I feel at HOME.
That’s what I miss when I come home to Mississippi.
Oh, I could tell you the bad things that happen. We’re both so stubborn and we aren’t used to being around one another so there are misunderstandings and expectations that don’t get met. I’m a night person (who’s turning into an afternoon person as she gets older) and he’s a morning person that thinks every morning would be complete with a few hours of exercise beginning starkly at 6am. Because he’s insane.
I lounge in bed while he bounces off the walls complaining about not leaving the house. Later in the evening he’s closing his eyes at 8pm instead of watching the oh-so-exciting American Idol…
But these aren’t new discoveries. They’re just part of Who We Are.
And while we expect/hope at times that they might change, the truth is that his motivation for staying up late involves video games and mine for getting up early involves sex.
So there are bad.
But every time I look at my ring I think of the million different moments that brought us to this point.
And I’m excited and scared about the million that we have left to create.
But how lucky am I that I get that chance?
It’s like that with child rearing too.
I missed my daughter tremendously while away – The Absolute Best Feeling in the world is sitting in the same room with my husband and daughter and hearing them talk or laugh or learn together.
And while I may not get that option very often, I DO get to feel that thing – that absolute planets-aligning feeling that comes with having the people you love most near and safe. And I know, because of that feeling, that home is going to be where THEY are… and that this fear I have inside of me – this not knowing what is going to happen is going to pass and that we’re all in this together.
And so I’m feeling pretty blessed right now.
I look at my rings and remember this surreal relationship and life of mine is full of happiness even though it may be difficult at times.
And I look at my daughter and know that the choices I made in my husband and for our future are Right.
And that’s kind of nice.
Should I decide to undergo a career change…
January 11, 2010
While I’ve enjoyed many aspects of my ever-changing life, especially during these three whole months of marriedness, one thing that I have NOT enjoyed is changing my name.
Not that I don’t like my new last name.
I do.
I just like it better after Nick’s first name. It’s familiar and comforting that way.
Much less so after my name, which is why I’ve chosen to go by my full name instead of abbreviating. A mixture of comfort and familiarity combined with new exciting future.
After all, 30 years of one name doesn’t make the jump any easier… especially for one as stubborn as me.
Mostly it’s fine and dandy.
Sometimes… it’s just a litany of repeated spellings and pronunciations.
Today though – a bit of humor to go along with the incorrectness of it all.
A client called in to the 1-800 number at work requesting to speak to me… only. Not me.
Instead of “Alisha Labello” this client requested “Lisa Libido.”
Luckily the operator didn’t put two and two together until a moment or so after the frustrated client hung up – or one might have had to cue the 70s disco music.
