Kindness of a Stranger, Strength of Yourself

Yesterday got off to a swinging start.  Running late at 8am to meet an installation technician at Lazy Mon, I knew I had to get gas or I would never make it to the bar at all.  Hoping on all hopes that I wouldn’t run out of gas before getting to the station, I headed out of town to spend over $5 a gallon… yea, that’s right.  Keep all of the posts on Facebook coming about how cheap gas is in the States right now, I REALLY LOVE seeing them.  Not.

Where was I?  Oh, right.

So, there I was, almost at the gas station and sure enough I ran out of gas.  Taking it for what it was and not freaking out, I grab the empty gallon container out of the trunk and walk the half mile to grab some “get there gas.”

Sure enough, upon arriving at the gas station on foot, one of my not-so-favorite local “pharmacists” is pulling up on his moped and laughingly asks if I want a ride.  Of course he already knew the answer, but I politely declined.  He laughs and rides off.  I curse him in my head and smile.

Moving on.

I grab my $5 gallon of gas and head back to my truck.  It’s not a far walk and I actually don’t mind it with the clouds clearing and sun shining over head.  Walking along the road, I mentally check my list of what I need to fill my tank.

Empty water bottle. Check.

Stick. Check.

Gallon of gas. Check.

Knife to cut open bottle.  GOOSE EGG.

Being resourceful, I figure I can make a hole with my keys and then rip it open.  Clearly, this is not my first rodeo running out of gas.

I get back to my car and start to assemble my goods while not being side swept, when a random older man zooms past on his motorcycle.  I notice that he sees me, passes me and then turns around.  When he comes back he asks if I need help and I ask “tienes un cuchillo?” Do you have a knife?

The man sees the bottle in my hand, says something incomprehensible and zooms past me in the direction he originally came.  Figuring he was trying to help, I wait a beat for his return.  A minute later he comes back with a cut 2 liter bottle, grabs a stick and like a well-oiled machine we work together to pour the gas into the car.  Mission accomplished, I close the tank, thank him and without another word save for “con gusto” he jumps on his bike and leaves.  No strings.  No expectations.  No lingering.  Just good old fashioned help.

And to be honest… I didn’t need his help.  I had already done the “hard” part of walking a mile or so to and from the gas station with the gas.  I essentially had the tools I needed or at least the creativity to make it happen.  But there is an adrenaline rush that comes with both receiving and giving help to a stranger for the sole purpose of doing good.  The rush that comes with truly selfless acts and glimpses of a positive society.  Who was I to deny either one of us of that rare luxury?

The point of my story is two fold.  For one, we are embarking on a new year in less than 10 hours and resolutions aside, let’s just do selfless acts.  Let’s help people for no other reason than to help people.  You don’t have to help someone every single day, but most days or even some days can change a lot of people’s lives… even if it is just BRIGHTENING someone’s day after they ran out of gas on the side of the road.

And the other point of my story is to the ladies.  Often we are stuck in a world between trying to show how strong and independent we are while being beautiful and soft.  I once had a wise woman tell me that I didn’t have to be so scared to let other people help me- that it didn’t make me weak.  I think she was right.  I can be strong and beautiful, independent and ladylike.  I didn’t need that man’s help, but I took it.  Allow yourself to be treated like a lady, but be prepared like a warrior.  Either way, you’re good to go.

Happy New Year to everyone.  Love your family, enjoy your friends, laugh a lot, love often, show kindness, show gratitude, be strong, be soft, be accepting of help and offer it whenever possible.  The simplest of gestures can turn out to be grander than you think.

 

Resolutions Don’t Have To Be Cliche: Improvements in 2015

So we’ve all heard it year after year, “New Year, New Me!”  While there always seems to be people who snicker at the concept of resolutions, I personally don’t see a problem with it.  In my opinion, a bold starting date, such as the 1st of the year, seems like a great jump off point to get your goals and butt in gear.

I think the problem comes when people try for something either unrealistic or something they probably already know they won’t follow through with.  Why start something you can’t finish?  Of course, resolutions are meant to be challenging, but keep it within the realm of reality and your sanity people.

So for me this year I have 3 small New Year’s resolutions.  One is for me to feel better, one is to help Kennedy in the current (and get Abasi off my back : ) shhh) and the other is to help Kennedy in the future.

The first is pretty par for the course for me these days… I just need to really commit to it.  Ever since being pregnant I have developed an intolerance to beer, bread and pasta.  To take those 3 delicious staples from my diet, you would think Kennedy hated me even before she was born!  In fact, Abasi says he got suspicious that I might be pregnant when I told him I “wasn’t in the mood for pasta” right before we found out about Kennedy.  HELLO RED FLAGS!!! Well after the pregnancy it continued and me being stubborn it definitely took some time admitting to it.  I have done pretty well with getting the main culprit out, which is pasta, but I still dabble in beer and bread.  WHO WOULDN’T RIGHT??  Well for this upcoming year, I want to go from Jan 1st to my birthday, April 22nd, without any of it to truly see if it makes a difference in my health.  Pray for me friends, this will be TOUGH!

Secondly, I want to work on something SUPER EASY!  I am the first to admit my downfalls and as a parent I am certainly not perfect.  But this one is so easy, I know I can fix it if I am just MINDFUL about it.  So here it is…. I’M BAD AT WASHING KENNEDY’S HANDS BEFORE SHE EATS!  Whhheewww, weight off my shoulder, save the ‘Mom of the Year’ award until next year, you now know my dirty (literally) little secret.  I am super good at getting home cooked meals ready in a snap, serving it up exactly how Kenny will eat it and setting up her little table.  I GET SO CLOSE… and then I just let her go to it.  Well, it is kinda gross, especially being a tiny little force of nature constantly doing things in every conceivable nook and cranny in the house.  AND this is one of Abasi’s BIG hangups… he is super good at remembering this.  So, as silly as it may seem, I am going to be VERY mindful about washing Kennedy’s hands before she eats.  Moving on.

Finally, this is something I have been very aware of for a while, but until Kennedy really started mocking every little thing I did, I didn’t think of the consequences of.  I think I do something that easily 75% of America does without thinking twice.  When I walk past a mirror, especially the more I work out, I stop and check myself out, flex or lift my shirt to see my tummy.  One day, I was walking by the mirror in my bathing suit and stopped and checked out my figure.  I saw Kennedy stop playing with her toys and notice what I was doing.  I decided then, that I wanted to make this change.  I am not going to completely stop “analyzing” my fitness results but I am going to stop fussing about myself in the mirror in front of Kennedy.  I want my daughter to know that she is strong and beautiful from the inside out, not the other way around. I am happy with the way I am physically coming along which is a great thing.  I am glad Kennedy sees Abasi and I working out, getting stronger physically and mentally, but I don’t ever want her to obsess about her looks.

One day, I was walking by the mirror in my bathing suit and stopped and checked out my figure.  I saw Kennedy playing with her toys beside me stop and notice what I was doing.  I decided then, that I wanted to make this change.  I am not going to completely stop “analyzing” my fitness results but I am going to stop fussing about myself in the mirror in front of Kennedy.  I want my daughter to know that she is strong and beautiful from the inside out, not the other way around.

So that’s it.  Nothing too crazy, nothing too unobtainable.  I will work hard at these (and I’m sure many other things that need constant fine tuning) but I will not punish myself if I slip.  I will acknowledge it and move on. Friends and family feel free to hold me accountable… slap that damn piece of bread from my hand!  And then run fast my friends, very fast ; )

I hope everyone had a fantastic Christmas and has a new year full of health, wealth and happiness. What are your goals for the New Year?  Share ’em with me and let’s work on ourselves together! Here’s to a fantastic 2015!!

The Hand of Ignorance Blinds Us All: Moving Past Hate and Racism

I feel like I’m suffocating.  Perhaps that is a poor choice of words in respect to recent events and it is meant to have zero comedic relief in it, but it is truly how I am feeling at the moment.  I feel so lost and confused, embarrassed and sad, ashamed and defeated.  How can this still be such a violent and ugly problem in almost 2015?  Normally, living in such a remote place, it is easy to cast the troubles and tensions of the U.S. into the “not my problem” box, but I feel like I can’t ignore it anymore.  My gut is wrenched and my heart is almost in pieces as people are dying daily because of… what?  Police brutality?  Black vs white? Thugs?  No, it’s more simple than that.  It’s because of hate.  All because of hate.

And quite frankly, I need you to explain it to me.

I hear things like “you people” and “those people” as if all people of one race, religion or occupation subscribe to the same deplorable behavior and actions that have been wreaking havoc on our nation.  I read such hate being spewed throughout my newsfeed about black people or police as a whole, choosing to forget that every person is an individual and responsible for their own actions, not those of their people.  Truly you cannot believe in your heart that all police officers are killers… if so, then please know you are talking about my cousins who risk their lives every day to serve and protect, all the while having 2 little boys to come home to.  And certainly you do not believe that all black people are ignorant thugs, as I have read too many times to count in various news feeds and comments.  If so, then you are speaking also of the father of my daughter, my best friend and one of the most honorable men I know, whom mind you served our country as well… but he’s a thug right?  It goes beyond just generalizations of white people, black people and cops.  Too often people of the Islamic religion are also generalized as part of a whole, attacked undeservedly and tagged terrorists just for being Muslim.  Who are we in this world of constant diversity to assume anyone is anyone other than themselves?  Being a part of or from something does not make you ALL of that something.

Please do explain it to me, because I just don’t get the generalized, automatic hate.  As a white mother to a beautifully mixed daughter, I can’t understand the fact that some people will hate her, just for being “half her.”  What do I say to her as her white mother, that there are some people from my race that will simply hate her father’s race for no good reason?  Can we not see, as a supposedly evolved people, that one person’s actions only depict their character, for better or for worse?  I can’t explain it because I never conducted my life by the color of the people I interacted with. Being in a biracial relationship doesn’t mean my world is “colorless” but to the contrary it is that much more colorful.  I neither fell in love with Abasi because he was black, nor would I ever NOT love him because he was black.

Recently, I  re-read the saying “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind” but I am beginning to think that possibly we already are.  Can we not see the small patches of beauty in this world enough to want to continue to move in that direction.  Towards a better future for our children, towards equality of all people: black, white, purple, gay, trans, Muslim, robot?  How can a country that has seen so much destruction and hate feel compelled to fester with that instead of rise against it and show that there is such a thing as being the better person?  Of moving forward.  Moments like Sergent Barnum and Devonte Hart putting aside their differences in Ferguson to embrace in the presence of pain.  Moments like Pakistani teenager Malala Yousafzai being the youngest recipient of the Noble Peace Prize after being injured by the Taliban and continuing to fight for human rights.  Or moments just in your own, simple life such as when my daughter grabs my face and says “I wuv you Mama.”  There is beauty to behold, but the blindness of hatred does not allow us all to always experience it, thus continuing to walk through a world, seemingly filled with pain and darkness.

The truth is, people are dying… on both “sides.”  This isn’t about who was right, who was wrong, was he justified, etc.  What I am talking about right here, right now is the bottom line hate that stirs the ignorance and fuels the fires.  No matter what “side” you are on, and it is nauseating to see the depths at which some of you will blindly defend your side, no one is winning.  There is no winner to be had here.  Children are still becoming fatherless and parents are still mourning their children.  Yes, it is true black lives matter.  So do white lives and cop lives.  So do gay lives and straight lives.  It’s really simple… ALL LIVES MATTER.

The only side we should be on, is a united front for humanity and equality.  When that day comes, then perhaps I will have the courage to look my daughter in the eye and explain that our pasts are all etched with dark times but we have risen above it and are a united, accepting people.  I truly do fear, as not only a woman who does not tolerate racism nor hate but especially as a mother, that not even my daughter will ever see that day.  But I can continue to pray for it.  And I can continue to teach my daughter that the beauty in this world starts inside of her.  That her actions to others not only have negative consequences but have the opportunities to enrich the lives of others as well.  I can continue to conduct myself and my actions with tolerance (which is different than patience Abasi, thank you very much… I am working on that as well) and to choose to love instead of hate. Please do not get me wrong… I am the last person in the world to say there are not people out there that I would love to put on an island just for them, but to hate someone really only defeats yourself and darkens your own soul.

So let’s do something.  Let’s start today, before the holidays, before the New Year.  Not as just a resolution to work on for one year, but forever for our futures.  TODAY.

Today, I vow to recommit myself to the achievement of peace.  Today, I vow to refocus my prayers to the people that cannot open their hearts to others.  Today, I vow to replenish my soul daily with love and acceptance instead of allowing myself to get wrapped up in petty problems or linger on negative actions.  If we all take a moment to look inside ourselves then maybe, just maybe, we can rid ourselves of the blinders and begin to see the wonder that this world truly holds.  Though we may feel foolish and cheated for ever living a day prior with a hand of ignorance held over our eyes, we can solidify and promise a beautiful and accepting future for our children… and what a day to look forward to that is.

Will you join me?

The epitome of love ❤

Everything in life should be as simple as this moment right here… ❤

Epic Parenting Fail: Lesson Well Learned About the Letter “K”

Friends, every now and then you screw up in such an innocent but epically bad way that you can’t help but to laugh at yourself.  With all of the sadness lately, the stress over the holidays, the protests and injustices happening around the world, let’s take a quick second to laugh.

Any parent that is teaching letters to their child knows the first letter of their first name is typically the go to starter.  Miss Kennedy can point out a “K” like no ones’ business, but write it?? Not so much.  So while at the beach this morning,  I thought what better way than to write our letters in the sand… and remember repetition is key!

HEADS UP TO ANY PARENTS TEACHING THE LETTER “K”:  Repetition is actually not key… it’s mistakenly racist.

There I am writing the letter “K” in the sand, 3 times, and gleefully repeating to Kennedy “KKK KKK KKK” while a nice black family literally sits feet from me, playing in the sand.  Thankfully, I quickly realized my mistake, laughed out loud at the innocent error… let’s be real, I’m clearly not racist: insert half black child… and erased the letters with my foot (but not before taking a quick pic for evidence.)

OH MAN… what a parenting fail. Oops.

It’s OK everyone, you can laugh… it doesn’t make you a racist.  Lesson for the day… aside from not repeating the KKK in public… it’s ok to laugh at yourself and your royal screw ups.  Just fix your mistakes… or erase the harmless evidence.  Have a great weekend everyone- smile, laugh, be kind and enjoy : )

ps: I KNOW Nancy would have gotten a kick out of this… enjoy the laugh up there girlfran.

A Question I Can’t Answer: Who Tells The Little Ones?

For those who know me personally, to say I am outspoken is sometimes an understatement.  Never at a loss for words, I tend to speak without thinking, blurting my opinions for anyone who cares to listen.  Today however, I am without words.  I sit here, for the 4th day in a row trying to figure out answers to mine and probably so many other’s questions.  For the 4th day in a row, I sit here, dazed, wondering how exactly you explain to two little girls that their mother is not coming back.

I am not foreign to death.  Though I have been blessed enough to still have my parents and my brother, I have experienced loss.  I have seen how death can rip lives apart, while simaltenously uniting others.  My own personal experiences of death stem from losing grandparents as a young child and a friend as a teen.

Though I barely grasped the concept of death at 7 years old, I have a very distinct memory of walking downstairs to see my mom crying one morning.  As I climbed into her lap, questioning her tears, she didn’t try to hide it, but simply said “I miss my mom,” “I just want my mom back.”  For me, that was a pivotal point in understanding the “forever gone” reality.  And so, I just sat with my mom, while she cried for her own mom.  It was the first real time I saw an adult grieve for their parent.

Later, in highschool, my close knit circle of friends experienced a loss that literally changed the dynamic of our high school experience.  Losing Bridget, was and is to date one of the hardest things I, and many others, have ever dealt with.  One Wednesday night she was making silly faces at me across the booth at Friendly’s and the next day she was gone forever.  By this point, I wasn’t a child, I understood what it meant to die, but I still didn’t understand why.  Why would God take someone so young?  What reason was there?  I watched her family mourn the loss of their youngest daughter, knowing nothing I or any of us did, could ever soothe their pain.  It was the first real time I saw parents grieve for their child.

I have had friends my age that have lost their parents… most younger than my own parents.  While mourning their loss and really not being able to understand their pain, I selfishly feared losing my own parents.  When that day comes, I don’t even know how I will pull myself out of bed.  Watching the growth, pain and evolution of my friends, I have now seen young adults grieve for their parents.

But all of this is to say, that today, I am without words.  Today I don’t get it.  My well worn mantra of “everything happens for a reason” makes no sense to me today.  Today, as I did yesterday, and the day before that and on Friday when I found out about Nancy in the middle of decorating our Christmas tree, I can’t understand what it is like for 2 little girls to grieve, let alone understand that their mom is gone forever.  For all of my other experiences with loss, the answers here elude me.  Maybe it’s because now I am a mother.  Perhaps, it is me being selfish again- thinking about myself and my daughter.  Who would tell Kennedy?  How would they tell Kennedy?  Would she ask about me every day until one day she just… didn’t?  I pray for Nancy’s whole family…she was a daughter, a sister and a friend.  But I ache for her daughters.  2 small, unknowing, innocent, little girls who will never see their mom again, or her amazing cakes she made them or the costumes she put together.  The mom, who without missing a step allowed her daughters to be fiercely independent and choose their own way even at such a young age.  Be who you want to be seemed to be Nancy’s mantra and she walked the talk every day.

And so again, here I am, wondering… how do you do it?  I’m sure there are books to help explain. But does a child really want to read a damn book when they have just lost their mother?  I DON’T KNOW!  I, at 27 years old, can’t seem to grasp any of these concepts, so how can a child?  It makes me feel like a teen again, angry, for what the reasoning could be.  WHAT COULD BE THE POINT OF TAKING A LOVING MOTHER FROM 2 LITTLE GIRLS!?  And then someone else is left to clean up the mess of explaining things out of their control or comprehension.  It just doesn’t make sense.

None of these things, I have an answer for.  What I do know is that it takes a village to raise a child.  On your very best day of parenting you still need “your people” to help make sense of this world.  And if anyone ever needed their village people, Nancy was the first in line, cake in hand (to either pie you in the face or dazzle you with her creativity), ready to help lead the good fight.  If Nancy can no longer be here, then we, her village, must step up and wrap those girls in love, support, memories and laughter.  No, it’s not our job to be the one to tell them, forever means forever, and God Bless the person who actually has to do that.  But we can be there to lend a softer landing.  We can be there to make sure Nancy’s laughter and smile never dim.

For anyone reading this that has lost a loved one, I pray for and with you.  We all know you never get over it.  Though you never move on, you learn to move forward.  I still to this day say “Goodnight Bridget” every night before I go to sleep.  Maybe it’s a habit at this point, but I’ll take any daily connection, habit or not, and it brings me comfort.  For anyone reading this that knows Nancy personally, I grieve with you.  Abasi and I are very saddened and shocked.  We are sad because we cannot be there with everyone to mourn her passing and celebrate her life that she lived so well.  We hope you feel our prayers and love wrapping around you today as you say goodbye and every day after, as we build a strong community around Audrey and Charlotte in any way we can.  For some of us, where distance mocks us, the positive thoughts and prayers must suffice for now.  For anyone that can donate monetarily, you can go to this site <3Nancy and help the family with costs.

Thank you for the memories you gave us Nancy.  The laughter, the friendships, the moments we all hold dear will not soon fade.  A life gone way to soon, but lived fully nonetheless.  I hope you rest peacefully, though watch out Heaven, because she is Hell on Wheels.  Finally, I know how fiercely you loved your girls.  The only positive out of this is that Audrey and Charlotte will have the biggest angel of all guiding and protecting them through every day life.  We will be your foot soldiers.  Though we probably cannot match your shine… we will carry on your smile, stories and shenanigans.  Rest peacefully Nancy, it is goodbye for now, but not forever.

Mornings I Want to SCREEAMM!!!

Oh hello 6:30am… is it time to wake up, because I could’ve sworn I just closed my eyes barely before my head hitting the pillow.

But no, it has to be time to get up, because I hear Kennedy pounding on her door, yelling “MAAAMMMAA!!”  Opening the door, I am greeted by the newest fashion trend Kennedy is flaunting… full on nudity, convinced she must take off her own diaper behind the door every morning.  And it is definitely morning, because the sun is up from its sleep as well and the monkeys, yes monkeys, are howling and grunting high above our heads.  Yes… it is definitely morning in Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica for this Jungle Princess and her mama.

But unlike normal mornings, coffee in hand and cartoons on the TV, we don’t have time today to adjust to the new day before heading to school.  No, today we must finish the cake for Kennedy’s class party, which means running out to town before 8am.  Hurry, hurry, hurry, we have to get out the door my little love.

Hardly.  My beautiful child, who can rock an easy disposition like no ones business is having none of it today.  Incessant whining every time I put her down, needing to be held, then yelling NO! as if to say “HOW DARE YOU PICK ME UP!”  This tiny little maniac is sending signals all over the place and all the whining is already fine tuning my must-get-coffee-now-headache.  God bless my soul, even her rare moments of happiness induced singing are driving me crazy this morning. Pushing through the fits and  trying my damnedest to keep calm, I turn her attention to getting dressed because today, I remind her, is a party at school!  My efforts seem not to be in vain but she quickly remembers she has recently mastered her colors- thank God because I swear I thought she was color blind. However, Hell hath no fury like a toddler that knows her colors.  “GGGWWEEEENNNN PANNNTSSSS!!!”  Dear God, please Krysta… find the green pants, I beg of myself.  And as if taunting me, I peer through her bedroom window to see her green pants hanging on the line, dripping wet from last night’s (and the night before that and the night before that and, well you get it…) rain.  Well that sucks.

I try to steer her attention to a “yellow-green” shirt, to no avail.  Thankfully, after another bout of fits and crying, she decides red is ok to wear and like a gift given from God himself, there are a pair of red pants sitting as a sacrifice atop the pile.  Remember to say an extra thank you later, I remind myself.

Fast forwarding through more huffs and puffs, the wanting the banana then not wanting the banana, NEEDING to wear her blue shoes (what do I care if it doesn’t match and we can get it done without tears), and again with the needing to be held… carried actually to the car.  It feels like I’m rounding third, on my way to home plate, just a quick stop at the store and we are at school… I can practically smell the coffee percolating in my kitchen.

BUT NO, duh.  The mental prepping I had done last night is all awash.  The candy I had envisioned on the cake is out of stock and the other candies aren’t going to cut it.  Think fast, move on Krysta.  At this point, Kennedy has already stared wide eyed at the candy display, holding onto the promise she could have “only one.”  With the time restraint and lack of suitable candy, I make what I know to be an unwise move and leave the store, sans candy.  Insert waterworks —->> here.  More like fireworks with tears, as she screams and thrashes all the way to the car.  A local surfer I pass says “you look nervous,” and though I think the term got lost in a language translation, I know what he means and blurt out “I JUST NEED TO FINISH A CAKE!!!”

I run to the only other store open at this hour and settle on rainbow sprinkles… no not Jimmies to all my South Jersey friends… these are the tiny little ball sprinkles.  It is lack luster but it will have to suffice.  Kennedy at this point has refocused her energies and compromises on a juice.  Easy.  Buy it and run to the car, open the sprinkles and again my Murphy’s Law of a morning continues.  SPRINKLES EVERYWHERE.  EVERYWHERE.  Clean up all the sprinkles and I drop the freaking cap on the ground almost under the car.  I seriously don’t have time for this and I can feel my blood rising into my face.  WOOOSSAAHHH, Krysta, you’re so close to home, the ball’s in mid field, you will DEFINITELY make it to home plate.

Throw the kid back in the car, head to school, hand over the cake… I am relinquished of that responsibility now… and give kisses goodbye.  Halleujah, I slide around the plate, barely sweeping my fingers on the base, close but enough for the home run… I am free.  Free for the next 4 hours.  Well actually 2.5 because I have work meetings, but still free to go get some coffee, decompress and renew my patience.

Not every single morning is rainbows and sunshine people.  Most days are great.  But some days I want to rip my hair out.  Today was one of them.  This too shall pass. And at noon, I will gladly go to the school, scoop my big/ little girl into my arms, ask her how her day was and kiss her until I turn blue in the face.  It’s about breathing, accepting the bad moments, embracing the good and pushing forward to the new.

And it helps to remember that children are really just tiny, little, crazy midgets whose sole purpose is to make you go bat s*%t crazy… but they do it with love.  : )  True story.

At least the cake looks cool… pre frosting and sprinkles.

All Dogs Go to Heaven: Facing the Elephant in the Room

39 days it took to face the elephant in the room.

39 days ago (which was 2 days ago when I initially started writing this post, umm HELLO LIFE!)  we had to let our 12 year old German Shepherd go to her final rest.  And with only her son Bentley left behind the big bag of dog food began to stare at me from all angles of the room… every time I walked by.

I guess everyone has their way of dealing with losing their beloved pets.  Everyone deals differently.  For me, the entire week of letting Gemini go was devastating.  The 2 days prior, while she was at the vet and having tests done, knowing we were leading to an unfortunate decision were just as hard as making the decision to let her go.  Being there in Gemini’s final moments, her head resting in my hands, choking on tears… there are just some things you won’t ever forget.  The next morning, Abasi and I quietly looked for a place to bury her along the coast, high enough from any water and along the path we use for our runs.  Together and without speaking, we dug a hole, placed her in gently and gave her a toy of Kennedy’s and 2 coconuts to hopefully grow a tree from.  We filled in the sand, placed flowers on her grave and said a prayer.  And really, that was that.  We cried and we hugged.  And that pretty much happened the rest of the week… crying and hugging, crying and hugging.

She always loved the beach… rest easy girl ❤

 

Honestly, the memories we have with her, the pictures, the now empty dog collar hanging from our rearview mirror, and the other Shepherds running around town were nothing compared to seeing this seemingly bottomless bag of food.  I was praying to buy another bag.  For years, we bitched and moaned about how much food the dogs ate and joked that they better find jobs to help pitch in.  It felt like every single week I was running last minute to the store to grab the huge bag of food to feed our horse sized (slight exaggeration) dogs that would be gone in the blink of an eye.  But now, the hardest part of dealing with letting Gemini go was having to walk past a bag of food every day that seemed to have no where to go.

Of course Bentley was eating…  Bentley eats everything.  But still for 39 days I felt like I was holding my breath until I had to buy more.  The first bag since Gemini.  The first bag without Gemini.

And as simple as that, I feel like a weight has been lifted from me.  It may seem small and insignificant but it’s as if a page has turned and now we can continue writing the rest of our story… always with Gemini in our prelude.  I don’t have any other beautiful or transcendent words to say about this.  It was just a bag of smelly dog food… but I feel better.

And so, I just want to end by reiterating something I wrote the day we buried her, which I feel she deserves to have re-said:

“Yesterday we had to say goodbye to a huge part of our hearts and our family. Gemini was a beautiful dog and from day one of bringing Kennedy home, she hovered near her, watching her. When Kennedy got older she would nudge Kennedy away from places or areas she shouldn’t be crawling or walking to. We know she isn’t in pain anymore, and I suppose love is enduring a pain yourself so that she can be free of it. Thank you Gemini for being an amazing little puppy that allowed Abasi to understand the first true feelings of tenderness for caring for another life. Thank you for so effortlessly loving me when I came into the picture. Thank you for giving us Bentley who is the silliest dog in the world and looks like a horse. I promise to take extra good care of him now when he will need you most. Thank you for taking this adventure with us to Costa Rica, you walked the lands of many countries, more than a lot of other dogs. And thank you for always seeming to have a protective spirit around Kennedy. I know you will still “shepherd” her and all of us in the right direction. Dogs aren’t just dogs, they are family, and we will love and miss you for the rest of our time. Sleep easy. RIP Gemini.”

 

I Forgot I Wanted Christmas…

I think I forgot how much I actually wanted Christmas.  No, not the gifts or the Christmas carols.  And definitely not the snow… just Christmas.  I know what the holiday is about.  I was raised in a church and I get the religious reasons for Christmas, but we would be fooling ourselves if we said that was all Christmas is about anymore.  Maybe it shouldn’t be this way… but it is.

What I’m realizing I want is the big Christmas tree, with the pretty and special ornaments.  The sparkling lights, the candles, the wreaths.  I want the stockings all lined up across my parent’s mantle.  The houses lit up throughout the neighborhoods. Time with all of my crazy, ridiculous, obnoxiously loud but beautiful family members I rarely see.  Keep the presents, I just want these things.

To understand you kinda gotta know my mom is a wonder woman.  Seriously.  As a child, we always went to my Grandma Jo’s house for Christmas.  EVERYONE.  All 5 of her kids, whatever kids they had at the moment.  Whatever girlfriends, boyfriends, neighbors, friends, co-workers you name it that wanted to join… could and did.  My Grandma passed away when I was 7 years old and without missing a step, my mom (& dad) inherited 2 dogs and Christmas.  If you ask me, my mom was born to host Christmas.  Yes, I’m sure she stresses herself out beyond belief, but if you could see the house after she decorates, or taste her cooking, or see the mantle with EVERY SINGLE PERSON’S stocking lined up across, then you would get it.  She makes it so special.  And so now, 20 years after taking over Christmas, the “Prizzi Christmas” is a full on circus of family, babies, friends, cursing, laughing, drinking, eating and an abundance of sassy love.

Love this picture of us for Kennedy’s 1st Christmas, but the real point for this picture is LOOK AT THE MANTLE BEHIND US! All of those stockings!! No one is ever left out!

Why am I so bothered about it this year?  Because this year, we are not going “home” for the holidays.  Instead we’re staying in our home of Costa Rica, basking in the sun, drinking margaritas and enjoying Christmas with fellow traveling friends, family and Lazy Mon staff.  And please, don’t pity me… it will be amazing.  I know this because I’ve done it one other time.  The year Abasi and I trekked to Costa Rica, we stayed for Christmas instead of going back to the States.  But we were high on the excitement of a new adventure then… and childless.  Now that we have a family, it hurts not to spend the holidays with our EXTENDED FAMILY.  And I know it hurts them too, which always deepens the pain.

I don’t know if it’s more of a subconscious desire to have the Christmas I’ve known for 27 years or if it’s a “you want what you can’t have” type of thing.  All I know is I’ve found myself in a manic-esque craze the past week, pulling every DIY Christmas project from my arsenal.  My top Google searches are “DIY Christmas Wreaths”, “Salt Dough Ornaments”, “Homemade Christmas Decorations.”  I am craving to create Christmas in the Caribbean.  I want to see it. I want Kennedy to see it.  I feel like I need it to breathe right now.

Trial run for salt dough ornaments. Niki, Kai, Kennedy and I will make more later this week… new tradition for the cousins??

And so, here I am, spray painting pickle jars to turn into snowmen candle holders, buying cheap plastic garland to spruce things up, pulling every Santa hat I own out of hiding and making Salt Dough ornaments for a tree I have yet to find.  In the end it will look “nice”, yet I still find myself yearning for the traditional Christmas I’ve known for 27 years but never knew I NEEDED.

This will be hard.  Not just for me, but for my parents and I hate that.  Aside from not having me, Kennedy or Abasi home for the holidays, they also won’t have my brother for the first time, who is here in Costa Rica with us right now.  But that is a silver lining… we do have some family here.  Like I’ve said before, Abasi’s brother Khalil with his wife (and my sister I never had) Niki live here in Puerto Viejo too.  And they have their son Kai, so for the first time Kennedy and Kai will actually spend Christmas together.  And my brother will be here, celebrating with us too.  It’s our little satellite family, and I thank God for it.

So I guess that’s the way life works right?  Circumstances force you to make decisions that you can either feel sorry about or make something of.  While I am sad, I choose to make something of it.  I will DIY the hell outta this house.  I WILL find a freaking tree.  I WILL put some Christmas magic into my tiny little Caribbean house.  And I’ll do it because my Mom did it for us and because I clearly loved it more than I ever acknowledged.  I have attachments to Christmas, that once deprived of, I never knew existed.  And do you want to know something pathetic?  I don’t think I have ever once thanked my Mom for putting together the amazing Christmas she does year after year.

So to you Mom, who I know is reading because you always do:  THANK YOU!  Thank you for running around, stressing yourself out, cooking for more than 30 people every year, decorating the house, lining up our stockings and making everyone feel so welcomed.  But more than anything, thank you for creating a tradition in a loving home.  Time after time, you knock it outta the park!

Happiest Gramz in the world. The tree doesn’t hold a candle to either of their shining smiles!

To all of you, Happy December 1st!  24 days to go, enjoy your holidays with your family and friends no matter where you are and cherish the traditions you have with your loved ones.  Does anyone out there have a crazy, fun or sentimental tradition you want to share?  I would love to hear it!

Innocence at it’s best… Kennedy’s 1st Christmas ❤

I think the little Jungle Princess is a bit overwhelmed with all of the “stuff” during her 2nd Christmas. No sticks and seashells here Kennedy.

It’s ok… she got use to the material life pretty quick…. she was on the phone all day with her stockbroker : )