If Only Dogs Could Read…

My dear, sweet boy, whoever said ‘a girl’s best friend were diamonds’ clearly never had a friend like you.  My companion and champion, my caretaker and confidant.

Your time is near now and I know it’s not fair.  Not to you, not to me, not to our family, but nevertheless it is out of our control.  I feel we are all being cheated.  There are so many things I wish I knew you understood, so many “human” emotions I wish I knew you could feel from me.  Conversations that are one sided, save for your wagging tail and slobbery kisses.

I am writing to you now, because if you could read, which I know you cannot, there are things I want you to hear.  My feelings, clouded by pain, would be lost after you are gone and there are things I need to say.

You were always the one.  I have known you from the second you entered this world.  Born with a hernia, later to be called your “Bentley Bump” I knew you were the one for me… I loved you because of your imperfections, which to me made you perfect.

In your short 7 years with us, you have cared for me as much as I have cared for you.  You stayed by my bedside when I was sick, you would lay your head in my lap when I cried.  You felt all of my emotions and even if you didn’t understand them, you reacted as if you did.  When I was happy you would try to climb and lie on me.  I don’t think you even realize how big you are my friend, but as the years passed, I could barely breathe under the weight of you… but I never moved.  I would never move from you because you never moved from me.

Together, as the original family of 4, you and Gemini, traversed the Americas with us to our new home.  You walked the steep roads in Mexico and the lands of Guatemala.  You sat, happily tied to a pole, while Abasi and I sang “God Bless America” while being harassed by the Nicaraguan police.  You, my sweet, horse sized friend, are awesome.

I need you to know that I am so sorry for your loss of your mama.  She was older and had a good life, and I guess just like it is yours now, it was her time then as well.  I know it was confusing for you to have her one day and gone the next.  You waited at the gate for her for weeks, expecting for her to come back.  She’s waiting for you now and when you are ready, we will leave you with her.

I feel like now, in the final days or weeks that we have left, like I have failed you in some way.  Maybe I should have walked you more, or told you I loved you more.  Thrown the ball a couple more times or taken you to the beach more often.  Despite my shortcomings you have always greeted me with excitement and love.  Your endless friendship and constant love is evident.  I feel stuck trying to prove my own love for you… I pray you feel it.

If you wanted to keep fighting, I would hand feed you every day for the rest of my life if I had too, but I know that is not in your cards.  Though your personality still shines through, your frail body is preparing.  I can tell by the way you walk beside me and not in front of me anymore, that you are slowing down.  Don’t worry my friend, I will walk beside you until the very last moment.  I will silently cry into your fur and hold you so that you feel surrounded when you go.  I will love you way past your exit from this world.

I love you Bentley, my BoBo.  I love you more than I expected to be able to love an animal if I’m being honest.  I know it is your time and though I wish I could be selfish, I want you to go when you are ready.  Until then, I will hold you, love you and walk with you everyday.  I will stay with you until Gemini greets you on the other side.  You are my companion and my champion, my caretaker and my confidant until the very end my friend.

If only you could read…

To The Friends Who Want Me to Stay Still…

Since leaving for college it seems I have been prisoner to explaining my need to go.  17 years old and leaving to another town, another state, hours away had never felt so right.  I wasn’t leaving them I would explain over and over, but simply leaving.  Moving on to a new place, new faces… not a new me, but a different me.

Over the last 10 years I have moved from my small home town to another state and eventually another country, always farther from “home” but closer to finding me.  It has never been about running or hiding or leaving a bad thing.  I am a traveler at heart, a shaker in my soul.  I need to move, I need to feel the change of a new pathway under my feet and the smell the scent of a new garden in the air.  I need to hear the sounds of a new town waking up in the morning and see the lights of a new city finally dim at night.  The adrenaline of feeling outside of my comfort zone is euphoric.  I need to keep going.

Mountain Views in Guatemala.

 

Anyone who travels know this.  Gets this.  Feels this.  Needs this.

Yet every time, without fail, I am accused of abandoning someone.  Questioned, yelled at, cried to, asked to stay.  But I never can.

To my friends that want me to stay still, I simply say… move.  Get in your car first and drive somewhere, anywhere, different.  Feel the wind on your face and the sun on your arm hanging out the window on your drive to no man’s land.  Jump on a plane or a train or a bus, who cares… just let it take you somewhere different.  Unknown.  Unfamiliar.  Possibly unplanned.

The moments I have impulsively buckled in for a road trip or jumped on a bus to a random town in Spain have been the most freeing moments of my life.  Navigating through Central America with only a paper map, Abasi and a bottle of tequila for courage has been one of my most rewarding experiences.

Navigating… and lost… in Mexico.

 

In every new body of water I stand reflected in, every new language I immerse myself in or every unknown alley I take, I turn towards a better understanding of myself.  A intimacy hard to explain unless you have stood at a literal crossroads and simply pointed in the direction you wanted to go, unaware of the outcome.

Tarifa, Spain

 

Even now… in paradise… I feel myself itching anxiously to move.  To see, to experience, to feel vulnerable again.

To my friends that want me to stay still, know this: I carry our stories on my journeys and weave your spirits into my experiences.  I do not leave you behind, but carry you beside me into every new cafe or bookstore I venture.  I roam because you have strengthened me enough to feel as if I can venture out and always have a home to return to.

And once you go, explore and return, overflowing with new ideas and tales of adventures you will get it.  Feel it.  You will come back with friends’ names you can barely pronounce whom with you’ve had conversations barely understandable between the barriers of language, yet you will feel FULL.  Alive.  You will feel humbled.  Rich.  But most of all you will finally get that every movement I ever took didn’t take me away from you, simply closer to you in another direction.

Just go.  And then you won’t have to ask me why I can’t stay.

Tarifa, Spain.

Skype Call to Poison Control

The other day I laughed at how crazy life is.  Here I am in one stage of parenting, while my other friends were at various stages of theirs- from first steps to actually giving birth at that very moment.  Life is indeed crazy.

What I didn’t know was that just 2 days later, life would show just HOW crazy it can be.  How incredibly fast life can change.  How I could go from having Kennedy dancing on my feet to “Unchained Melody” in one moment and a mere few hours later, Abasi and I would be Skyping the Poison Control Center in the US about a possible toxic overdose for our daughter.  Life is CRAZY.

Kennedy in bed and Abasi and I settling down to eat our dinner, we thought we had won a  free pass to sleep town.  She hadn’t napped during the day, she was easy to put into bed and now she was quiet. Obviously, too quiet.  We heard a bump, looked into the room and saw Kennedy playing in her room, tube of previously almost full Salicylic Acid nearly empty in her hand. Looking around, we quickly saw it rubbed onto the floor, on some toys and in her hair, but with the tube being so empty… twisted as if to get that very last bit of cream out… we were clearly concerned with ingestion.

So we asked, “Kennedy, did you put this in your mouth?”

“Yes, I tasted it.”

“You put it in your mouth?”

“No, I tasted it.”

Well, that did nothing to ease our concern.  Discussing with a two year old the difference between tasting and swallowing, especially when they can tell they MIGHT have done something wrong, gets you absolutely no where.

Fast forward through a blur of googling, Skyping the Poison Control (who were AMAZING), coming to the conclusion that though Salicylic Acid is essentially aspirin (which is why it’s dangerous for children), the amount she could have possibly ingested was PROBABLY not enough to be toxic, washing her and brushing her teeth, I found myself lying in bed with her, waiting for any kind of reaction.  Never before has living so far from a hospital (an hour and change from a not-so-great-one and 4 HOURS from a great one) seemed so scary and suffocating.  She did have 2 slight “symptoms” according to the various sights we read, but all in all seemed energetic and fine.

As she fell asleep, I put her face close to mine and said “I need you forever Kennedy.  You can’t go anywhere.”

Her response?  She put her tiny little hands on either side of my face and said “You’re beautiful Mommy.”

I pretty much just collapsed my face onto hers, needing to be close to her, hating myself for leaving that tube in reach and thanking God for allowing this to not have been as serious as it could have been.

Clearly, I slept with her that night.  Well, more like I laid next to her as she slept, every twitch or cough she had I inspected until I felt sure she was ok.  I woke/ got up at 6am when the sun was coming through the windows, checked her again, kissed her on her forehead and walked to the door to watch her still for another minute or two.

I checked on her another 2 times after that.  Any sound I heard, I jumped out of bed.  The next time I went into see her, she was laying in bed awake and laughing.  Again, I fell into her bed and kissed her.

So many things can and DO happen in the blink of an eye, and this time we got away with it.  I left something in reach and it could have been a lot worse.  I could have made a mistake that I would never forgive myself for.  As I’ve said before, I’m not perfect, but I’ll be damned if I don’t learn from my mistakes and appreciate the things that do go our way.

Clearly, alls well that ends well.  We are back to the normal morning routine of coffee, juice, cartoons and her newest obsession of begging for chocolate. It was a wake up call, but in the end not serious. We were lucky.  We ARE lucky.

Life is crazy.

 

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… ❤

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.

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 : )

Dear Kennedy, I Promise…

Dear Kennedy:

If on some days I seem impatient, I apologize for not taking the time to relax with you,
I probably spent the night up worrying about how to protect you forever.

If on some days I seem distant, I promise I am always by your side.
I have a thousand thoughts a day, but you are the center of them all.

If on some days you have more energy than I can muster, I promise to still get up and dance.
Even if for just a song or two, I will never say no to the chance to spin with you.

If on some days you seem hell-bent on doing something by yourself,
I promise to let you try, but always be within reach to catch you if you fall.

If on some days I seem to need a “time out” for myself, I promise to make it quick.
3 minutes by myself to breathe and refresh to continue trying to being the best mommy I can be.

If someday you fall and hurt yourself,
I promise to kiss your boo-boos and help you heal, even if only through my prayers.

If someday, no matter your age, you are sick,
I promise to give you homemade soup, endless cuddling and cookies of your choice.

If someday in the future, you feel bullied at school and your feelings are hurt,
I promise to hold you, to listen to you and to help you understand what is going on.

If someday in the future, I find out you are doing the bullying,
I promise still to hold you, to listen to you and to help you understand how you are hurting someone else.

If someday in the future you cannot solve a problem,
I promise not to solve it for you, but help you get to an answer.

If someday in the future, you feel like you cannot accomplish something,
I promise to show you your strength and how anything is possible if you work at it.

If someday in the future, I feel you are making poor decisions,
I promise to gently guide you without ever truly changing your direction, for that is for you to do.

If someday in the future you rebel and disobey,
I promise still to love you and trust you learn from your choices.

If someday in the future, you feel I simply don’t understand,
I promise I probably do not, but I will work to listen to the words you say instead of just hearing you.

If someday in the future a boy breaks your heart,
I promise to sit you down, wipe your tears and explain the difference between a boy and a man.

If someday in the future you are betrayed by a friend,
I promise to show you strong examples of friendship that I have created with the people who love you most, as my mother showed me in her bonds with the people that surrounded me.

If someday in the future you question yourself,
I promise to sit you down, as my father did with me, and explain exactly who you are, where you came from and how strong your roots are.

If someday in the future you feel scared,
I promise to protect you.

If someday in the future you feel the need to travel,
I promise to give you a journal and a map and send you on your way.

If someday in the future you feel lost,
I promise to pray for and with you.

If someday in the future you fall in love,
I will trust that this person respects you, makes you laugh, honors you and holds you in the highest regard.

If someday in the future you fall in love,
I will trust that you will return this respect, humor, honor and hold your partner in the highest regard.

If someday in the future you choose to marry the love of your life,
I will trust that you came to this decision together in love and with God for guidance.

If someday in the future you become a mother,
I will weep at the understanding that you will finally know the love I have for you.

If someday in the future I am able to watch you love and learn with your children,
I will listen to your concerns, soothe your fears, and thank God for letting me witness the strength of my daughter as a mother.

If someday in the future I am not around,
I promise you I am, even if not physically.

If someday in the future you find yourself missing me,
I promise you will feel me at your weakest moments and pray you find strength from our memories.

If someday in the future I am gone for good,
Know that it is because of you that I ever was the woman you remember, the woman I became and the woman I worked every day to be. Without you I was nothing, with you I realized I could be anything and because of you I had everything.

Love You to the Moon, Around the Sun, and MORE Than All of the Stars in the Universe,

Mama