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…

Embracing the Evolution of (Our) True Love

I’ll admit it, I’m a sappy, firework wanting, romantic at heart.  I use to think there would actually be days when I would find my Prince Charming and birds would sing, people would dance and we might actually float off the ground.  Cute, right?

Well, thankfully, I DID find my Prince Charming when I fell in love with my best friend 8+ years ago.  No, no one sang and danced… well he did, he was in a band after all… but there were sparks.  BIG TIME! We were THE COUPLE that everyone wanted to be; We were best friends that fell in love.

Fast forward through 8 years of traveling, laughing, great friendships, tough decisions, international moving, big fights, stupid fights, owning a business, a baby and more and the spark that once dazzled has mellowed out, leaving us a bit… well, flat at times.

Truth be told, I even freaked out a bit.  I thought we were losing it… losing us.  I thought that without the spark, the romance and the constant love-proving moments that we were heading towards an inevitable demise.

And then I realized the truth.

I realized that true love evolves from butterflies, “the brand new” feeling and that spark into comfort, longevity and trust.  I realized that…

True love is him always leaving me the end of his coffee because I like it.
True love is overcoming the fear and surprise of a perfectly, unplanned pregnancy.
True love is him holding me without words when we found out my mom was in the hospital.
True love is holding him through a cancer diagnosis for his mom.
True love is crawling into bed with our daughter after a night at work and feeling the braid her Daddy put in her hair after her shower.
True love is crying together as we dig a hole to bury our dog that just passed.
True love is binge watching TV shows late into the night.
True love is sitting together, hand feeding our other sick dog.
True love is laughing… a lot.
True love is holding hands in bed after a tough fight.
True love is that different spark we get when we’re having a “perfect family moment.”
True love is tickle fights in bed with our daughter.
True love is looking one another in the eye and fighting to make it work.
True love is hard, it is work and it is not for everyone.
True love… for us… is knowing that through it ALL we will have each other’s backs.

True love, at the end of the day, is different for everyone.  True love for us, means getting through the hard parts together.  No, it will not always be sunshine and smiles, flowers and fun, but I am honored to have found someone that I feel it is worth fighting for and with.  I am finally starting to realize that the  fireworks are always special to watch, but it’s who you watch them with that makes them magical.

To my best friend, father of my daughter, future husband and partner through it all, I celebrate us… and our evolution of true love. ❤

 

Getting Through to the Big Waves and Clear Waters

In recent days, I have been sick, I have been stressed and I have been hand feeding a very ill dog.  My energy is zapped, my body craves relief and most of all my heart is breaking at the thought that we might lose our 2nd and final dog in a 3 month span of losing Gemini.

Upon walking out of the vet’s office, leaving my dog behind for more tests, I was overcome with emotion.  I got in my car and cried.  I drove and I cried.  I just cried.  I can’t lose Bentley too, not so soon after his mom and not at 7 years old when a dog is supposed to still be healthy.  Ironically, he probably has more attention and care taking then ever before because it’s just him now… yet he is sick, skinny and we can’t figure out why.  Maybe his heart is breaking too.

I drove to the beach because I didn’t know where else to go.  I felt drawn to the waves, into the ocean for relief.  Like a robot I stripped to my bathing suit, tossed my clothes aside and walked into the water.  I stood for a moment just looking out, taking in the beauty and majesty of the coast.

For anyone who knows me well, I have a sexy game of love/ hate with the water.  I both fear it’s vastness and beg to be in it.  But going out too far, by myself, has always been a fear, yet today I was compelled.  I walked farther and farther until I surrendered, crashing down under the water, taking in all of the cold and exhilarating feelings that come with the first dip.

Bursting back through the water and into the warm, sun-filled air, I continued swimming further out.  Ironically the deeper I went into the water, the higher I got, now standing on a sand bar quite far from main land.  I stood up on it, looked around and felt the opposite of what I had expected.  I thought that standing so far out and away would make me feel alone, but instead I felt surrounded.  I felt surrounded with beauty and awe and love.  In front of me was a vast ocean, to my left high mountains, to the right my town I have come to know and love, behind me, my refuge, the land, below me clear waters and above me the heavens.  I felt safe.  I kept going.

I walked past the sand bar, into deeper water and began swimming through all of the crashing white water produced from the waves.  I dove through every one, allowing them to crash angrily over top of me and kept going.  When I got through the sets, now deeper than normally comfortable, I was in calm waters.  The ocean was flat, save for the occasional, yet large wave, but with the new perspective I was able to simply swim under the waves before they crashed, coming back up again to calm seas.

I don’t know what pulled me into the water this morning.  Quite honestly, I almost decided not to go because I didn’t want to wash my hair later, if you can believe it.  But I was summoned.  I was told to go.  To go deep into the water, feel surrounded by the universe and to be renewed.  I NEEDED TO GO.

I started to have all of these crazy thoughts rushing into my head, little whispers of strength and acceptance.  Something was telling me that life was just like this experience.  I had to go farther than I was comfortable to be literally lifted up and surrounded in clear waters.  I had to crash through the rough waves to get to a point where I could maneuver with ease around the big waves or life’s obstacles to calmer times.  I felt saved in that very moment, bobbing with the water, soaking in everything around me and everything so far from me.

Walking out of the water doesn’t mean that my stresses go away or that magically my dog isn’t sick anymore.  But walking out of that water I felt renewed, refreshed, strengthened and ready to take on another day.  Another day of whatever comes crashing towards me.  I am putting myself out there to trust the universe and God and whatever else I have watching over me, that if I swim far enough, I will be able to handle the big waves with ease, stand in clearer waters and never feel alone even when I’m standing so far out.

 

 

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.

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… ❤

Stop Drinking the Hate Juice: Learning to Celebrate Another Mother’s Efforts

WOW, can you hear that? No, you can’t because it’s called silence. The pounding and jackhammering in my head has finally subsided. And now that the mini construction demons are done sandblasting their way through my skull and my nose has returned to actually smelling things, I am happy to say I’m BACCKK!! But with me come my thoughts and opinions from the last couple of fog-brained and drugged days of consciousness. And like my main man Abasi loves to say, “opinions are like a&#holes… everyone’s got ‘em and they all stink!”

And trust me, my following thoughts might cause a stink…

2 days ago I read an article in the NY Post, by Karol Markowicz, that had been going around a few of my friends’ newsfeeds. It was titled “Modern Moms Looking for Perfection in All the Wrong Places” and even before I read it, I felt my cheeks beginning to tingle. Upon reading it, my initial response was indeed… DAMN! That stings!

I felt like I had been personally slapped in the face by the author. Why was I so directly offended by a person I didn’t even know? For starters, it could have been because as I sat there feeling snubbed and sorry for myself, I could literally see from the corner of my eye, the finger painted t-shirt Kennedy had just finished drying on the table. Gut punch delivered.

And then, clearly I had sat there frozen with frustration for too long, because as if to finish me off, my screen saver mockingly cascaded pictures of Kennedy’s 2^nd birthday party, Minnie Mouse themed all over my laptop… do-it-yourself Minnie ears and all. Upper cut… call the match.

At first I was annoyed because it felt like I was personally being told… “You try to hard.” “Stop faking perfection!” Trust me, ain’t no one faking perfection over here. Like you might have read in my first blog post, “The Perfect Moment to Share,” I believe everyone is entitled to beautiful moments and should show them off. They are your perfect moments, be proud of them. But I’ll be damned if I act like I have it all together.

I will be the first one to admit that Kennedy initially started going to “school” (daycare) at a year and half, BECAUSE I NEEDED TIME to get back to being me. To have time to work out or do yoga or go to the freaking beach without chasing a toddler. Or watch NCIS: Los Angeles uninterrupted. OR JUST TO BREATHE. I needed those 4 hours a day, 5 days a week to remember I was a human being. Doesn’t sound so perfect, does it? I could care less, I feel great, she has friends, learns things daily and we’re all better for it.

And that homemade t-shirt, finger painted to perfection… you bet your ass that’s going on Instgram, but wanna know the real reason behind it? You think I just want to expose my daughter to “the arts?”   Yea sure, that too. But what it really does is gives us something to do for 20 minutes a day in one spot. When we’re done, I can figure out what to do for the next 13 hours and 40 minutes of “awake time.” Cut me some slack if I’m proud enough of the finished product that came from my “toddler control/ mama sanity methods.” Ps: We painted a mug the next day, and I love that too…

And what the hell is this about the “old days?” Do we really want to go back to a time when we would just throw our kids in front of a TV dinner and walk away to shake up some martinis? Believe you me, I’m 27 years old and my mother had a home cooked meal on the table for us EVERY NIGHT of the week… and still had time for a cocktail. Because she’s awesome. And so awesome in fact, that this trend of “newly themed birthdays” must really be holding on something fierce because I had themed birthdays and homemade carousel birthday cakes in the 80’s and 90’s. That’s a hell of a “fad” if you ask me.

You know what we, as a society, did do 30 or more years ago? Smoke during pregnancies, drive without seat belts and use minimal to no sunscreen. If you ask me, thank God we’ve made some discoveries and adaptations to our parenting abilities.

But then I woke up, after 2 days of bed-ridden contemplation and as the last cloud drifted from my refreshed brain, I realized why I was truly pissed off at this article.  BECAUSE THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT!

In a world where war, poverty, starving children and rapists run rampant, why in the world are we accusing from one mother to another of trying too hard or trying to live up to something we’re not. Is the fact that I made a Minnie Mouse shaped cake to match the plates and the balloons and the invitations really that big of a deal? Is the fact that I prefer home cooked meals IF possible over take out or processed, something that really just means I’m “over thinking parenting?” HELL NO!  It’s simply my choice.

There are women who beat their children, drop their children off in dumpsters and do things to them that as a woman and a mother, I am unprepared to type. You know these monsters. We all read about them in our every day news. Yet, instead of congratulating another mother on her job well done we simply scoff and assume she’s fakin’ it till she makes it.

Shame on us.

Shame on us for not lifting one another up. For not recognizing that every parent and specifically mother is on her own journey and experience and only doing AS GOOD AS SHE KNOWS HOW. Shame on us for not supporting and celebrating the accomplishments and victories other mothers have, as much as we punish and chastise the mothers that do evil. Shame on us for shaming other mothers.

To be fair, I do agree with Mrs. Markowicz when she says, “Make sure your child’s life is fun and meaningful, instead of pretty and picturesque.” Truer words have never been spoken.  I want nothing more in this entire world than for my daughter to be healthy, happy and full of love.  But instead of holding anything at all in contempt of another person, just celebrate what they do well and move on. And maybe at some point you remember that your friend Susie Homemaker is fantastic at making centerpieces, call on her for help and guidance. In return and gratitude, offer your services at something you excel at, whatever it may be. If we were a society more interested in supporting not ONLY the children of our future, but the people raising our futures, we may be pleasantly surprised at the examples we demonstrate and the outcomes from it.

Personally, I enjoy making Halloween costumes, painting and cooking. They are some of my super mama strengths. I lack in patience and the ability to listen to the same God-awful cartoons day in and day out. I don’t believe in giving my toddler a bath every single day. I am a vegetarian, but I let her eat meat if it means she will eat SOMETHING! I am not perfect, but I am trying. I am doing the very best that I can in the journey that I am on, with the tools that I have available to me. And the one universal tool happens to be love. We all have it, we all use it, some to open different doors than others, but we all have it. Recognize your path, respect that someone else’s journey is different and at all cost, just lift one another up towards the common goal of loving and protecting our children and you have succeeded.

Rant over.