A Christmas Song

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,
Jack Frost nipping at your nose,
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,
Folks dressed up like Eskimos...

The version of "A Christmas Song" sung by Nat King Cole is my favorite Christmas song -- ever. When my father died last year a week before Christmas, it was the song I had heard continously throughout the day. My father knew it was my favorite song. I do believe he had a bit of "influence" in sending it to me that day. It did make a difference.

This year when I heard the song for the first time, it made me cry. It brought back all of the details of the day. I can still feel how my breath escaped my chest as I heard he had died. The crushing blow almost made me fall to the carpet of the "grief room" of St. John's Hospital in Maplewood. I was devastated. No words can describe how I felt.

The month following his death was filled with anger, sadness and hopelessness. I kept thinking that I could have done something to prevent it, but that wasn't true. I spent many months going through counseling in order to feel a sense of normalcy. Although I feel better now than I did then, I still have scars.

This year is different. I no longer feel the sadness that hung on me for the first half of the year. I am hopeful for what is in store for 2011.

Although it's been said, many times, many ways,
Merry Christmas, to you.

The "W" Word

I told myself that I wouldn't talk about work in my blog posts anymore, but I guess I was lying to myself. Last month I had a review on my job performance that I would like to call "Assumption and Hearsay". Let's just say that there are some people who would prefer that I stay in the current position I have as I cover a lot of the work that they are supposed to do on a daily basis. When I have voiced concern over the fact that I have not been promoted since I have taken my position (three years ago), I was told that I was "difficult" and "not professional enough" to be considered for a promotion. Whatever. After I was part of that lovely conversation, I decided that I was done; no more worrying about things that take place in my life from 8:30 a.m. until 5:30 p.m. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.



I have applied for enumerated job positions since one of my co-workers threw me under the bus a year ago. It was someone who I thought was a friend, but that was a mistake in itself. People who work with you are very rarely your true friends. They want to know about your personal business so that they can use it to their advantage by having "information" on you. A real friend would not throw a person to the wolves in order to save themselves from any issues they might be having with their own inability to work hard and complete pressing tasks. Needless to say, the phone and emails are not coming in to welcome me to a new job opportunity.

I know it will happen someday...it is just the waiting that is the hardest part.

I'm Back!

Due to the ban placed on my activites pertaining to Blogger at work, I have been very bad at keeping up with my blog. I know it is a pathetic excuse, but it is what it is. :) I can update everyone on what has been happening in my life over the last six months (for those who care):

1) I *heart* the gym.
Yes. I never thought I would say that, but it is true. Since the end of August I have dilligently been working out and have lost 37 lbs. It has been difficult, but I have been able to do it consistently and feel wonderful as a result.

2) My boys!
I have found that motherhood has been the best job I have ever had. I look at my older posts and smile at the time that has passed since I first starting writing about my children. My oldest, Brody, is now five and will be starting kindergarten next fall and my youngest, Byron, will be four in January. I am truly blessed and very fortunate.

3) My husband is my best friend.
Next month it will be five years and six months since I married my husband, who I consider to by my best friend. The road has been rocky at times, but I am very glad to have him as a partner in life. It is hard for me to recall what my life was like before we met -- which I never thought I would be able to say! :)

4) Other things...
I feel as if 2010 has been a year of discovery for me. I have learned a lot about myself as a person and I am starting to truly love who I am. Since my father's death almost a year ago, I have been able to mend my relationship with my mother and understand the true importance of family in my life. It has taken me a long time to get to this place and I love the comfort of it. I owe huge kudos to my life coach, Angie, who has been a wonderful listener and a tremendous asset to me.

I hope I will be able to create more posts in the future as I am able. Blessings! :)

Banned in Minnesota

Well, it finally happened. Blogger has been banned with Facebook at my place of employment. Since normally the last thing I want to look at is a computer after work, my posts will be limited for now on my blog. I'll try to post things from time to time, but for now, it will be rather limited.

Meet Virginia

Earlier this week I saw a job posting for a marketing and communications professional within the state government system. Although the position was within the same salary range I currently make, the description included details of promise that it would lead to something more extraordinary in the future. This was as appealing to me as a juicy peach in the middle of August, but there was one problem; the job would be in Virginia, Minnesota.

Virginia. When I was in my late teens I took my first trip to Virginia and I was less than impressed. The teal-colored water that pooled around the vast, sienna iron ore mines was not esthetically pleasing to me. The town reeked of “smallness”, which was something during that point in my life I couldn’t stand.

I had been a city girl for most of my life. Riding my bike around Lake Phalen and taking walks down Johnson Parkway was a way of life for me when I was younger. I went through a huge culture-shock when my mother and stepfather moved from the east side of St. Paul in 1987 to Wyoming, Minnesota. At the time, it seemed as if they had used a time machine and sent us back to the days of Laura Ingalls Wilder. Like I said, those were my thoughts…at the time.

The most recent time I had a real appreciation for life outside of the cities was last summer when my husband and I took our boys to his parents’ cabins which lie on the lakeshore of Echo Lake. I had never felt so relaxed and peaceful. I didn’t miss the fast-paced, get-it-done-yesterday type of mentality that I was so familiar with. I listened to the pine trees’ needles being kissed by the wind. I dipped my hands into the coolness of the lake. I was mesmerized.

Virginia is only an hour from the cabins. There are many similarities between the two locations. I appreciate the beauty that lies far north of where I live now. I did apply for the job after I told my husband my thoughts. Who knows? We might meet Virginia and acquire a new friend for a very long time.

Good Friday

Every year around this time I become a bit unearthed. I usually don’t let things bother me and I can pretty much get over bad incidents that have occurred to me; except for one.

In 1984 my mother and I lived with her “man” his two children; a “son” and a “daughter”. Both of her man’s children were older than me; the daughter by a year and the son by two years. We moved in and February and moved out in April. The reason being was that I was beaten and sexually molested by the “son” when I was 10 years old.

At first I didn’t want to tell anyone. When a child is threatened in the middle of the night, and during bus rides home from school with violence, it has a tendency to keep any promise for being “saved” from happening. The “son” told me that if I said anything he would kill me. I believed him. It was a month before I said anything. It was the longest month of my life.

During the time in which my mother and I lived at her man’s house, I didn’t get to see my father very often. When I did, I would cry when I left his house because the thought of having to go back with my mother made my stomach churn to the point in which I would vomit. No one knew I had vomited. I kept that to myself.

Over the course of the month, I thought of ways to tell my mother what was happening to me while she was out with her “man” drinking whiskey and smoking endless packs of cigarettes. The “son” said if I told her that she wouldn’t believe me anyway if I did tell and that it wouldn’t matter because I would be dead. I believed him.

On Good Friday in 1984 my mother planned to drop me off at my father’s house for the weekend. I was very much looking forward to spending the weekend with him, not only because it had been such a long time since I had saw him last, but because I knew it was time to tell someone. I knew my father would believe me and he would trust me.

When I arrived at his house, I immediately went downstairs to where he was working on a project. I had begun to cry and shake violently. When my father asked me what was wrong I told him…everything. He immediately called my mother and berated her for what I had to endure. My mother only had one thing to say to my father, “I think she is lying.”

The next few hours were a blur. I went to the hospital to have a cervical exam completed, which showed that I had bruising and there was no way I was lying about what happened to me. I had to go to the local police department and write, in detail, about everything I had to endure over that month. My mother had shown up, drunk, wanting to console me. I decided to hold my father’s hand instead.

After that Good Friday in 1984, my relationship with my mother never recovered. My relationship with my father, however, continued to endure with each year that passed. He would call me each year on Good Friday, just to make sure I was okay. That is definitely one call I would like more than anything tomorrow, but I know the telephone will never ring again.

Being unearthed is a good way to describe how I feel. Although I will not receive my telephone call, I know my father’s presence is still here. It might not be a “good” Friday tomorrow, but the day after will be even better.

James Cameron's Wife

This is the problem I have with the Oscars; women who are in dire need of a meal and look as if they have starved themselves into preconceived notions of false beauty. Could someone please give Suzy Amis a meal please? WOW! :(

What's Going On?

It has been a while since I last wrote on my blog. My grief counseling sessions are now over and I feel as if there has been a tremendous burden lifted off from my soul. It is amazing what therapy can do for someone. I’ve had a few other issues going on and believe I might go and see this person on a regular basis…we will see how things pan out in the next two months. :)

Aside from this, I can say that I am overall well. Work is going well; busy but well and home life is also good. It is a huge relief to feel as if things are finally coming together and I don’t feel as crushed with grief as I have over the past few months. My prayer for strength has paid off as well as the sessions.

Spring is definitely a time of renewal, and I cannot wait for it to arrive! :)

Asking For Help

I have not really been one to ask other people for assistance. I have always felt that my problems are my own and that seeking help from others would only be viewed as being a weakness. I despise having to ask others for assistance when I would rather complete a difficult task on my own. For me, part of the resolution comes in being able to solve something on my own. This time, however, is different.

Since my father died last month, I have been at a complete and total loss. Really. No words can express how much he meant to me. His death isn’t something that I can fix. He is gone. There is no resolution to be had.

I won’t get into the awful incidents I have had to endure the past month with my stepmother. It has been very hard for me to deal with…especially knowing that my sons will never know who my father was or have memories of them to keep throughout their lives. Her behaviors have dictated that everything that was ever owned by my father has a price tag attached to it. Enough said.

Next week I will be doing something that I have not done in quite some time; I will be seeing a counselor. My grief over his death has been debilitating. I keep praying for strength to get through this…but it isn’t enough and I have finally realized it. At first I didn’t want to keep the appointment because it was out a month from the time I initially called to schedule it. Now that the time is here, I realize that the wounds are still deep and time is not healing me as fast as I would like it to.

Below is one of my favorite photos of my father and I. A copy of it currently resides on my desk at work.

At A Loss

Have you ever lost someone who was of utmost importance to you? Someone you considered to be your confidant, friend and delegate of absolute trust? I lost my father on Friday, December 18, 2009. Even though it has been three weeks since he died, the wounds I have are as fresh as if it were yesterday.

My father died without anyone close to him there to witness it. He died on an ambulance gurney outside his home after having a massive heart-attack. It was his second massive heart-attack in two years. I cannot even begin to say how many times I would talk to him about changing his “bad” habits; how I would tell him he needed to be there so that his grandchildren would know who he was. Like all things, motivation to change needs to come from within…but he never found it.

I was my father’s only child. My parents divorced when I was three-years old. Even though this occurred, I never knew what it was like to not have a father. My father was more involved in my life than I could have ever hoped him to be. He was always there for me…always.

I think back to this past summer when I was alone for a week in my house for the first time since having my children and being married to my husband. My father knew how bad I was hurting and it made him upset to see me ache for the family I was missing. I am missing him now.

No words will ever be able to explain the wonderful person my father was. Although I am biased, he truly was a remarkable man. At his celebration of life, there were over 150 people in attendance. Many of those people in attendance were life-long friends, students who rode the school bus he drove, and relatives. Can you believe my first-fiancé and his parents attended his service? They did!

I know my father is in a better place; where he can build as many model tanks as he’d like, watch as many episodes of “Hill Street Blues” as he’d like, chat with my grandparents, and play ball with his dogs. He always said that when he died, those were the things he imagined he would be able to do once he got to Heaven. I hope he is able to do all of that, and anything else his heart desires. I miss him…and I always will.

Thanksgiving

This is what I am thankful for...my loving family. :)

My Brother Did It

While I was at work yesterday, one of my children decided to take a black Sharpie marker to our couch. According to my husband, this is what took place:

Brody: Daddy, something happened.

Mike: What happened, Brody?

Brody: I will show you. (Brody then lead Mike into the living room)

Mike: (Looking around the living room, sees black streaks of a marker on our couch) Who did this, Brody?

Brody: Byron did it.

Mike: Where is the marker?

Brody: Up here. (Pointing to the top of our entertainment center, obviously out of Byron’s reach)

Mike: Let me see your hands.

Brody: (Shows Mike his hands which are streaked with black Sharpie marker) I told you Byron did it.

Mike: I am sorry Brody, but I find that hard to believe. Are you telling me the truth?

Brody: My brother did it.

Playing Cars

Brody is currently attending community preschool and special education preschool. The reason behind his attendance at special education is due to his delayed speech development. Brody has made excellent progress the past year and only continues to amaze us. I remember at this time last year, Brody didn't say more than three words. Now...I cannot even begin to estimate the amount of words in his vocabulary. His grammar still needs work, but we are getting there. It has been a journey.

One of the blessings to the special education preschool sessions is Brody's informational notebook. This notebook contains all updates on his progress...strictly for his special education sessions, which are Tuesdays and Thursdays. I write notes to his "team" about what we work on during the week, and I also convey my concerns about his progress and learning opportunities.

Recently, when I asked Brody what he did on his community preschool day, which was Monday, he told me that he "played cars." When I asked him if that was all he did, he said, yes. I was dumbfounded. Why would I have him go if all he is doing is playing cars? I already had misgivings about the structure and teachers of the community preschool classes, but this only exemplified it further.

I have sent a note to the special education "team" about my fears concerning the community preschool. If Brody is just "playing cars" at school on those days, he would be better off being at home and having Mike work with him on his shapes, grammar, letters and colors. I already feel enough angst as it is and I don't want to have to worry about these issues even further. I really hope it isn't just "playing cars." I really do.

The Worst That Could Happen

My two sons have had H1N1 for two weeks. It is almost over, but the road has been very long in dealing with their illnesses. My husband and I have been unscathed by the virus. I was told by my sons’ pediatrician that the likelihood of anyone born before 1976 contracting the virus is slim. This is due to the fact that there was a strain of the H1N1 virus in the 70s, which most people born before that year were exposed to. They cannot publish this information in any medical reports or convey it to the public due to the lack of conclusive studies. I mean, who would want to be subjected to the virus just for the sake of completing an experiment to verify the existence of truth? Not me; been there and have done that.

Mike is still angst-ridden over his lack of employment. He had a job for three days, but then when they checked his background…they realized that his records had a mark from 1993 and there was no way he could keep working. Really? 1993? Okay…that means that anything I did when I was 20 should follow me for the rest of my life. Interesting. I don’t even want to think of the person I was when I was on the cusp of 21; drinking illegally in bars, carousing… Let’s not talk about that.

Although all of these things bother me, I am fortunate that I have a wonderful husband who still thinks I am the sexiest woman in the world and loves me more than the first day we met, which was five years ago last weekend. I am loved by two adorable “little men” who call me to tell me about their day, or dial the phone just to hear my voice. The completion of my day comes when I am able to hold their tow-headed and auburn heads close to mine and listen to their fluttering breath as I read them a story. If everything else equates to being the worst that can be then I have nothing to complain about.

Where Does The Time Go?

A few nights ago I was channel surfing with my husband and he came across a movie on HBO called “Loser”. I really don’t remember who was in it, but I think both of the main actors in it were from “American Pie”. It was at the end of the movie and a song came on that I immediately remembered from college. It was called “Someone to Dance With”. I am not sure why I remembered it, but for some reason I was able to sing along with the lyrics. I made Mike use the “Info” button on our remote and saw that it was made in the year 2000. 2000! This meant that the film was made in 1999. 10 years ago! What?! I had no idea where the time had went since I had probably last heard the song.

On Tuesday evening, Mike and I went to a preschool meeting for our oldest son, Brody. When we entered the room, I immediately felt a pang of anxiety. All of the parents who were in the room looked substantially younger than Mike and I. This really bothered me. Am I really an old parent? Mike is 36 and I will be in December. I swear, none of the parents in the room were older than 30 (aside from Mike and I). It was the oddest feeling I had had in quite some time. I never thought that I would be a person who would let my age affect me in such a way, but it did.
Age…is it truly just a number? I have friends who have children in high school. I also have friends who are just becoming parents for the first time on the cusp of 40. My uncle just adopted an infant child (his second) at the age of 43. I used to think that being 30 was old when I was 16. Now that I am 35, am I ancient? I truly wonder; where does all the time go? It definitely stands still for no one.

Better with Time

I have been so incredibly busy these past weeks. I have found that I have had little or no time for myself. Work has been crazy, but it appears I might be finally getting myself out of the weeds.

My husband found out at the end of last month that his reconsideration for his unemployment was denied---again. This was the last opportunity he had to win his case, aside from us potentially hiring a lawyer for $2,500 (yeah, right) to TRY to win it without a guarantee of doing so. This was a blow to us considering I am now responsible for providing for four people on my pittance of a salary, which won’t increase for three years thanks to our disgrace of a governor. I digress.

Mike is really bummed about not being able to find a job. I am sure it is affecting him more than he is leading me to believe, and I do not blame him. I tell him that this is the way of the world right now and we are in the midst of the worst economy we have had in decades. He smiles and tells me that he knows, but I can see in his eyes that it is bothering him that he is not contributing to our household income. I also know he is upset that he cannot work on his hobby of restoring his 1988 Lincoln Towncar either, because of the money situation. It crushes me that I cannot allow him to do something that he likes to do because we simply cannot afford it.

My children have thoroughly enjoyed having my husband at home with them. My oldest, Brody, often asks why he no longer goes to “Lisa’s house” (our previous childcare provider) and I tell him that it is because Daddy is now staying home with him. Brody smiles at this. My youngest, Byron, follows my husband everywhere. He is a doppelganger for my husband at his age. The fact that my children dote on my husband makes me feel more at ease.

At times I admit that I am a bit jealous over the amount of time my husband had to spend with our children. I see my children three hours a day during the week. I am not exaggerating, although I wish I was. They have grown so much over the last few months that it makes my heart hurt. Next week we are going on vacation for almost a week and I hope that by spending that amount of time with him that I will feel less pained. This is how it needs to be right now and I can only hope that it will become easier to deal with over time.

Three of the Many Things I Have Learned Since Becoming A Mother

1) Coupons are the best.
I learned this right away after I gave birth to my son, Brody. I immediately signed up on-line for every possible baby orientated website I could find. The coupons were amazing; for everything from diapers to formula to toys.

I love coupons to the point in which I will go to three or four different stores if an item is on sale at that store and I can use a coupon. I get a huge rush from it as if it were a drug. What makes it even better is that Cub, Rainbow and Target list the percentage of total savings at the end of their store receipts. When I see, “Today your total savings was 33%”, I flip!

2) You are not just a mother to your child; you are a mother to all children.
On Saturday, my stepsister Laurel and I were at the corner of Robert St., and Thompson Ave. in West St. Paul. I saw a woman, who I thought was the mother of two children seated beside her on the bus stop bench, repeatedly hit one of the children in the arm with her fist. I was totally flabbergasted. I rolled-down my window and told her that her behavior was totally inappropriate. I screamed, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!” To which she replied, “Mind your own business you beeotch.” I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t about to let this woman continue to abuse these poor, innocent children in front of me. I immediately called 911 and told them what was happening. I drove up to Butler Ave., and turned around back down Robert St., to make sure I could see what she was still doing to the children. I felt much more at ease when I saw the West St. Paul police car speed down Robert and pull into a parking lot right next to the sidewalk in which she was walking with the children. The police officer called me shortly thereafter and told me the woman was their grandmother and that he was talking to the kids about what had happened. I gave him my contact information for the report. I truly hope it worked out in the children’s favor.

3) Make time for your husband or significant other.
I have found that I treasure the alone time that I have with my husband more now that I ever did before. Even though we spend more of our alone time talking about both of our boys, it is fun to spend the quiet time together. I have found that I love my husband more with each day that passes. I have much more respect for him as a man and father to my 2.5 and 3.5 year old boys than ever. I was truly impressed with Mike’s ability to take care of the boys for 9 days on his own. I am not quite sure I could have done it…but he did. I know it was trying for him as I have noted before in my previous post, but he did it, and that was what was most important. He deserves my time, just as much as my younger boys do. :)

Coming Home

Last night my husband and babies came home. Yes, I realize that Brody and Byron are far from being in the infant stage, but to me they will always be my babies. I cannot tell you how elated I was when they walked into the door. Brody was more nonchalant than Byron. Brody said hi to me and then proceeded to start playing with his toys. Byron, on the other hand, screamed and ran to me with open arms. He didn't want me to put him down. When Brody saw Byron's reaction to me, he then ran at me with full-force; almost knocking me over. I then saw Mike come in the door, and I lost it. I starting crying...worse than when I had first come home last Monday to an empty house. I had my family again and I felt complete.

The whole experience of being by myself for a week was really surreal. I realized how much I have changed as a person since marrying Mike, and having Brody and Byron. When I was married to my first husband, I was alone...constantly. I think that one of the main reasons behind the failure of my first marriage was that I was alone too much. I tried to find solace in places and things that were not good for my overall well-being. I know that I am truly blessed now, and that is all that matters. My family is home.

The Power of Prayer

When I was growing up, I spent a lot of time at my Grandma and Grandpa H's house. It was great during the summer time, especially towards the end of August because they lived right across the street from the Minnesota State Fair grounds. I cannot tell you how many times throughout the years my cousins and I would make the cross over Como to the grounds. We had many, many fun times and I cherish the memories I have from those days.

I spent many nights at my grandparents' house and one of the things that my Grandma taught us over those summer nights was prayer. She taught my cousins and I "The Lord's Prayer" and the "23rd Psalm". By the time I was six, I could recite each from memory. On Saturday nights my cousin Judy and I would have our baths, watch "The Love Boat" and "Fantasy Island", and then recite our prayers. When we would say "Now I Lay Me", at the end we would be sure to include every one of our family members, teachers, friends and anyone else we could think of--even our pets! :)

About three weeks ago, Mike, Brody, Byron and I stopped by the cemetery where both of my grandparents are buried. It was the first time I had been there since having both of my children. Mike and the boys stayed in the car as I made the walk across the grass to where both of their headstones were. I kneeled down and recited both prayers. Before I knew it, I felt my cheeks damp with tears. In looking back at the car I realized that goodness and mercy were going to be following me throughout the days of my life.

The power of prayer had a different meaning than when I was younger; it was more powerful than I ever thought it would be.

This and That

I took the photo that is now under "Rx for My Soul". I think it is beautiful.


I talked to Mike yesterday afternoon and it was bitersweet for me. I was so happy to talk to him, and he deflated my sails. He immediately started in about how overwhelmed he was with having to take care of our children non-stop while being up there and how he just couldn't handle it. I told him that if I could have had the shoe on the other foot that I would have loved to have been up there and have him at home. The whole conversation was very negative. I couldn't understand why he was taking this one opportunity to talk to me and use it to go off on how awful everything was. At the end of our conversation he told me he was sorry that he made it sound worse than what it was...he was just overwhelmed on how much work it took to raise our children. I smiled at that, but it still made me upset.

Yesterday I decided that I needed to put together some things for Mike's brother and sister to bring with them to the cabins for the kids. Since my family will not be home until next Wednesday, I thought it would be a good thing. I took a photo of myself making a "kissing" face with our digital camera and placed a note inside the case of the camera. In the note I said that I thought the way he addressed what was going on up at the cabins during our phone call was wrong. I also told him that if I could be at the cabins with him I would be. I am sure it is not as bad as he is making it sound. Actually, I am positive.