Lifeclass

I caught up on a bunch of Oprah's LifeClass episodes I had saved on the DVR.

This quote from Iyanla Vanzant was definitely worth pausing to write it down.

You can accept or reject the way you are treated by other people.  But until you heal the wounds of your past, you will continue to bleed.  You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex, but eventually, it will all ooze through and stain your life.  You must find the strength to open the wounds, stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past, the memories, and make peace with them.

Wow, powerful.

All I can do

I guess this is one of those posts I just want to write down so I don't forget.  A stream of consciousness post because that's all I can muster right now.

Never mind my insane head cold.  I stopped taking the pseudo-fed 3 days ago because I seriously couldn't function while on it.

When my friend, J's husband passed away suddenly, at 40, I knew that her world, hell, all of our worlds were going to be completely different afterward.  I knew that she would be lonely, that she would be angry, that she would get depressed, that grieving would come at her in crazy and unexpected ways.

I expected that she would be pissed off at me at various times, because she was grieving, because I was not, because my husband was still alive.  Despite the ups and downs that every marriage goes through, I knew full well she'd give anything to continue those ups and downs for another minute, instead of just reminiscing.  I really expected all of it.

But it's still hard.  It's hard to know that the hurt she feels is something I can't take from her.  It's something that wallops her and nobody can shield her from those waves.

So I know that when I've hurt her feelings, or when she thinks I have hurt her feelings, it's not really about me, and it's not really that I've done anything wrong, it's just that she's raw and grieving and it's painful.  The only way to not expose her to any perceived hurt from me is to distance myself from her life.  I love her too much to do that.

But it totally sucks in the meantime.  To know that she's pissed, at me, for no reason, and that any other person can look at the situation and know that she's drowning but can't accept any help, that is painful for us all.  Because we all love her.  And we all want to help her.  But if she closes herself off, and can't let herself be fallible or vulnerable, or open to the love and support that we all wish to share with her, then we have to let her be for now.

I wish it were different.  For J.  For me.  For the rest of us who can only stand by and wish we could do something MORE for her, for us.  I wish it weren't so painful for all of us to bear the brunt of this grief. 

I am glad that we, as her group of friends, can recognize that it isn't a fault of our own.  For most of my life, I am willing to bet that I would've seen this as something I was responsible for, something that I would have to fix.

I only wish that I could.  For now, I can continually offer my vibes from afar.  Until that forgiveness is given, that's the best I can do.

It's Not Easy

Let's be honest. Ethics is not for wimps.


It's not easy being a good person.

It's not easy to be honest when it might be costly, to play fair when others cheat, or to keep inconvenient promises.

It's not easy to stand up for our beliefs and still respect differing viewpoints.

It's not easy to control powerful impulses, to be accountable for our attitudes and actions, to tackle unpleasant tasks, or to sacrifice the now for later.

It's not easy to bear criticism and learn from it without getting angry, to take advice, or to admit error.

It's not easy to feel genuine remorse and apologize sincerely, or to accept apologies graciously and truly forgive.

It's not easy to stop feeling like a victim, to resist cynicism, or to make the best of every situation.

It's not easy to be consistently kind, to think of others first, to judge generously, or to give the benefit of the doubt.

It's not easy to be grateful or to give without concern for reward or gratitude.

It's not easy to fail and still keep trying, to learn from failure, to risk failing again, to start over, to lose with grace, or to be glad of another's success.

It's not easy to look at ourselves honestly and be accountable, to avoid excuses and rationalizations, or to resist temptations.

No, being a person of character isn't easy. That's why it's such a lofty goal and an admirable achievement.

 - Michael Josephson

Happiness is . . .

The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World by Eric Weiner


My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Probably one of the least happiest books about happiness I've read. The descriptions of the places the author visits are terrific. However, the author is a self-described grump, and it shows. There is a layer of film over even the most happy places the author visits, even the most delighted people. I found the entire book to be a little depressing, as though the motive for writing wasn't really achieved. There is happiness to be found everywhere, and sure, it can be measured, but why? Basically I was confounded with the entire premise, that certain places would be happier than others. I mean, there are homeless people in Hawaii who are probably just as pissed off as some of the people in Qatar or Bhutan (whichever was "happy" in the book). Just not a terrific read, frankly.




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Loss of love and sight

The Blind Contessa's New Machine by Carey Wallace


My rating: 3 of 5 stars


A beautifully descriptive first novel from a young author. A love story about the loss of sight and how to make up for that in imagination. This book is elegant and lovely, although the ending broke my heart in its abrupt apathy. The "machine" doesn't make its appearance until three-quarters through the book, and really, doesn't have much to do with the story. The love between Carolina and her scientist is what draws the reader gently through the Italian countryside in this story. Great read, disappointing ending.




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Immortality

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot


My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Very interesting book about a black woman who, in 1951, unknowingly donated some of her cancer cell tissue which provided limitless groundbreaking for science and technology ever since. Henrietta Lacks was a poor woman from slavery ancestry who provided for her husband and children as best she could until she got sick and went to Johns Hopkins for treatment. While there, she received radiation therapy to cure the cancer which eventually took her life. Her cells were taken for research and found to multiply unlike any cells ever seen to that point in history. Her cells do not die. To date, there are enough cells from Henrietta to circle the Earth three times. This fascinating story tells about the ethics concerning tissue donation when the donor is not aware of the donation nor of the ramifications of donating, as well as the multi-billion dollar industry surrounding the use of donated tissue. It is a sad tale because the Lacks family was cheated out of their share of the profits made from the use of Henrietta's cells, in fact they can't even afford health insurance for their family. The argument for and against informed consent is dissected, does consent help or hinder scientific research? Really great read and lots of questions to answer about tissue research.




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Smashed

Smashed: Story of a Drunken Girlhood by Koren Zailckas


My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Both shockingly honest and also too familiar. The difference I could tell between the author and me is I couldn't feel her overwhelming shame or guilt or remorse in these pages. I have lived through many of the same alcohol induced experiences and, in fact quite a few more since she was in her twenties before she had sex and apparently was never caught drinking and driving. She also quit drinking by 23, whereas I have over 10 years on her by now. Even in my most innocent alcoholic encounters, I felt guilty. She talks about her stomach being pumped and who knows possibly being raped and waking up in strager's houses with the air of a documentary, but never seems afraid of her choices or worried about what other people thought of her. She's much more of a puker than I ever was but, again, she didn't seem embarrassed by it, just saw it as part of being young and drunk. I am impressed with her candor and writing, even if it felt like she was a little removed from it all.

She ends her book with a passionate rage against the alcohol industry in the media.  Most eye catching to me was this:

"Drinking, like all forms of self-destruction, isn't a valid art form - because it allows the world to rejoice in our weakness..."

She also says:  "I've had it with a world that has created a generation of women who are emotionally dependent on alcohol, and then demonized us for our lack of feminine control."

And finally:  "I see alcohol like a man who courted us all.  Alcohol has been the first love of so many of us; it had us believing we were desirable and challenging in its presence alone.  It let us think it would take us away from small towns, stressful studies, tedious jobs, or unproductive relationships.  We have been terrifyingly devoted to it, and it's left too many of us heart sore."

Amen.




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31 hours

My dad came to visit after spending a week golfing in the heat of the valley of the sun.  It's a straight shot from his home in western Montana down the highway to the desert where, in 115 degree heat, you can golf for a steal in the middle of summer.  Five days of 18-36 holes a day, grubbing on Phoenician delectables and improving his game little by little. 

His friend, Betty, accompanied him on the trip south.  Handsome and I met Betty and her then husband, Bob, when we traveled to MT to introduce my future husband to his future in-laws.  I liked Betty a lot.  Apparently she is a great road warrior and obviously decent golfer.

They rolled in, road weary, about 9:00 on Saturday night.  Showers for them both, blowing up the aero-bed, hugs all around and a 10:00 bed time cut the night short.  Sunday morning was coffee and breakfast on the deck in the shade of the monster umbrella.  A scorcher was on the way.  Packed up everyone and their hats and sunscreen and off to pick up the youngest of our family line for a day watching America's favorite pasttime.

What a warm one it was!  The 4th inning brought a cloud that seemed a worthy size and as it passed over the stadium, various sections cheered its arrival.  We chugged gatorades and ate dippin dots and barely survived the loss to the opposing team.  We moseyed over to our adoptive family's house for a pick-me-up dinner of bbq beef sammies and corn on the cob with a tossed salad.  It was delicious and the company was delightful.

Exhaustion set in after a day in the sun and with company so after we got home, showers all around, last minute alarm clock checks and hugs all around with promises to say goodbye in the wee hours of the morning.  4:05 came after a night of tossing and turning but that coffee maker was ready for action.  Hugs all around, tamales packed in the cooler, promises to visit again soon, for longer, and the van pulled away for a long drive back to the Bitterroots.

I glanced around thinking, "I mopped for that?"

Happy anniversary baby, now where's my wood?

Heh, heh, the double entendre doesn't escape me.

Happy fifth anniversary to my wonderful husband.  You give me so much to be thankful for, and making me laugh is at the top of your best trait list.

Thank you for making me a better person for the last five years.  I love ya!

Tonight we will celebrate with my mom and her husband and our long-time good friends from California.  Dinner on the deck is in the works, if Mother Nature agrees.  It poured and lightning'ed like mad last night.  Crossing my fingers!

Sometimes we make mistakes

I am getting my tattoo removed.

A laser is zapping the ink out of my skin because, after 17 years, I decided I'm ready to wear sleeveless tops to the office.

It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would.  I'm such a baby, psyching myself out about things like that.

I got off the bus a stop early and walked over to the B-cycle bikes at the library.  Hopped on a bike and rode it to the station closest to the tattoo removal place (called What Were You Inking?  Cute, huh?).  Found a delish little breakfast place and got a bite to eat before my 9:00 appointment.

The folks at the Ink place were super faboo and the process did not hurt a bit.  It looked kind of gross while the blisters were healing but after one session, I can see a huge difference.

Exciting!

Habitat

Volunteered for Habitat for Humanity yesterday with a bunch of people from work.  It was HOT but fun, as always.

I love to hang out with work people outside of work, because we get to know different things about people, other than they're lawyers.

Here are my friends Brandon and Dean.

They're good people.

Here is proof I actually worked that day.

 I am nailing floorboards to the joists.  Basically, all I did that day was correct the mistakes made by the people the day before.  Seriously!  They made their joists too long, so Hubert and I had to sit on the joists and cut them shorter, and then the house would stand forever tall and all would be well.

The house made of love, and volunteers.

Greek fest and remembering

Went to the Greek fest with Judy and co. yesterday.  Her oldest son, Anthony, was home on leave from the military for a week.  It was the one year anniversary of the loss of David.

It's hard to believe it's been a year since David passed away.  Sometimes I'll think about something the four of us should do and I'll go to email Judy and then suddenly stop because I remember.

Sometimes it seems like this has been the longest year too, and I've spent many nights bawling my eyes out with Judy about how much we miss him.

I'm glad she made it through this year, even though it's the hardest thing she's ever done. 

Colorado Children's Chorale at Vail

What do you say about the amazing kids who perform beautifully against the most gorgeous mountainous backdrop in the middle of summer?

Wow.

There was a performance in Vail Village before noon.  

We got to eat lunch in a serene setting with the birds chirping and the breeze keeping us cool.

Then it was off to the Amphitheater to watch the real performance, complete with additional singers and alums who came back for one last song.

I don't think there was a dry eye in the house.  It was beautiful.



Georgetown Loop

We went to Georgetown to ride the train with the Myers today.  That was fun, even if you're not a kid!

The 3 foot narrow gauge railroad is nestled in Clear Creek canyon where you can check out all the mining that took place in Georgetown and Silver Plume.  The train goes in a corkscrew fashion and climbs 600 feet in one direction. 

First we rode the steam engine.  We stopped along the route at the Lebanon Silver Mine where Paul was a volunteer miner with our guide, Faith.  She was fantastic, but Paulie didn't come home with silver in his pockets.  We got to go 500 feet into the mine where we saw all the offshoots to the different parts of the mine.  Much of the lower sections were filled in with water (cold water, the mine stays at a constant 44 degrees so the water was chilly!).

The ride to complete the loop from the mine was on a diesel engine, which blew out lots of debris.  It was icky, and I picked that crap out of my hair for a week afterward.  The history and gorgeous views of this place make it worthwhile to visit.

Afterward, we stopped at Tommyknockers Brewery and had lunch and sampled their beers.  It was delicious and a great way to spend the day!

Tough

We visited with Brett and the kids yesterday.  They are so sweet, and thankfully still in shock.

Paul got his ass kicked by Austin, the 3 year old, on the video game - Black Ops.  It was humbling, I'm sure.

Brett's pissed off, and I can't blame him a bit.  It's hard to see the hurt in that family right now.

We polished off a bottle of Jack and Paul drove home as I burst into tears.  Sucks.

In Memory of...

The world lost an amazing person today.  Kris had worked at the adoption agency I used for 19 years before passing away suddenly from a stroke.  She was 40 years old.

When I called the agency in 1998, it was Kris I spoke with.  She made an appointment to come see me and talk through all my questions about open adoption, including that which I didn't know I didn't know!  She was always smiling and laughing, and she had a touch of cynicism and sarcasm so I knew I could always be myself around her.

She was a birthmom too, her son was 7, I think, when my son was born.  Kris had since married Brett, a police officer, and became pregnant about 3 months after I did.

We spent time together during birthparent group, which was our quasi-therapy sessions to which all birthparents were invited.  We also talked a lot during the preparations for our annual adoption picnics.

We lost touch for a bit until we ran into each other at the liquor store one day.  I noticed that the man in front of us had an enormous bottle of Jack Daniels, and I looked at the man himself and realized I KNEW HIM!  And of course, it was Brett, and Kris was with him.  The four of us stood there and talked a bit, realizing that we lived just down the road from each other's house.  We made plans to get together for dinner.

We spent a bit of time together, never realizing the camping trips that we spoke about, unfortunately.  The pain of losing Kris is tremendous to me, but that's nothing compared to the void left in the lives of her husband and two children (ages 12 and 3). 

Sometimes you really have to question why God makes these types of decisions.  I can't possibly understand how the world is better off without Kris, or why these kids needed to grow up without the love of their mom.  We will miss her laugh, her smile and her warmth every day.

Happy Mother's Day!

To my mother, who raised a strong-willed, open-minded fireball who loves you anyway.

To my son's mother, who is raising a strong-willed, open-minded loving boy and giving him so much more than I ever could.

To my grandmother, who raised two girls through hard times and taught me the strength of family.

To my aunt, who wished, and experienced, and lost her chance at permanent motherhood.

To my cousin, who is a new pro at motherhood with a beautiful daughter afflicted by cystic fibrosis.

To my cousins-in-law, who all allow me to reflect on their perspectives of motherhood, young and experienced.

I love you all.

Happy birthmother's day!

The day before Mother's Day is traditionally celebrated as Birthmother's Day, to thank all of the women who have selflessly made the choice to place their children in a loving home other than their own. 

Some birthmoms hate this day, and Mother's Day, because it is painful and reminds them of the absence in their lives.  Others celebrate, because we are cherished for providing a child to a family who desperately wanted one.

While adoptive families struggle with their own emotions during Mother's Day weekend, please don't forget the woman who gave life to that child you love so much.

I tip my hat to all my fellow birthmoms out there and wish you a lotta love on this day. 

Openness

The one thing that really kept me grounded through this whole adoption process was that this is an open adoption. While relatively new, I think open adoption is gaining huge strides in being a preferred method of raising adopted children.

I know more about Caden's mom and dad than I would have 20 years ago. We see each other often, many times including my own family (mother, grandmother, aunt, cousins, etc.) so Caden has this enormous extended family.

People ask questions about confusing the child by having so many people who love him. (Huh? Really?) My dad, for instance, did not want to be an active part of my son's life because he thought "he'll have enough grandparents".  Oh well, I think that's my dad's loss, not Caden's.

Or am I co-parenting Caden? Definitely NOT, I allow Sally and Dan all the joys of parenting! I just get to hang out and be the cool birthmom!  It is not my job to parent, those were rights I gave up in court.  It is my job to let this little boy know how much I love him, and how I am forever grateful that I can still be a part of his life.

Semantics cause issues sometimes.  I've fielded questions and comments from people that blow my mind.  One lady, super nice but obviously ignorant, was asking about Caden when I referred to him as "my son."  (I get this a lot.)   She said "Oh, you gave him up for adoption?  Then he isn't really your son."  I calmly explained that until the day I die, he will always be my son.  I may not be his "mom", but I will always be his "birthmom". 

A particularly nasty lady I used to work with, who, coincidentally, was going through the process of adopting a child, would say the most hurtful things to me about being a birthmom.  Surprisingly, my mind must have cleansed itself between then and now because I can't recall any specific thing she said, just that she was hateful.  So, you'll just have to trust me on that one.

I wrote my master's thesis about openness in adoption.  Language that we use is a huge issue in adoption.  Examples are saying "Placed for adoption" instead of saying "Gave up for adoption."  This is because I didn't "give up" anything but my right to be Caden's parent.  I "placed" him in a loving home with wonderful parents who would give him the life I know I could not. 

Or "birthparent" instead of "biological" or worse, "real".  Yes, biology plays an

I encourage you to email me if you have any questions about my experience with open adoption. I think we are a success story. I've been on a lot of message boards and in a lot of online communities where people haven't had such warm, wonderful experiences. Talk about it! We can all learn from each other!

Details

I named him Dominic James at birth. He got his little footprints printed and a birth certificate with that name (and my last name) on it. Sally and Dan renamed him Caden James. They also got his footprints and birth certificate with that name (and their last name) on it. He was a hefty little guy, probably because he ate too much turkey!

Caden and I spent two days together at the hospital. We were both fine, and the nurses were so supportive of me and the decision I was making for that little boy. That was so important to me, being treated with respect. You hear horror stories of nurses who berate and belittle birthmoms because they're placing their children for adoption. I will be forever grateful to the nurses at the hospital where Caden was born!


Adoption is a decision I do not regret. I am so blessed by being an active person in Caden's life. I'm not saying that there weren't bad days. Of course there were. Leaving the hospital empty-handed was absolutely the hardest step I've ever had to take. Some days I would get so angry that they were getting to raise my boy and I was not. But every day things got a little bit better.

I think the sleep that I was able to get immediately post-hospital was a huge life saver!  I spent about 4 days recovering from the whole birth experience before I couldn't stand not seeing that baby any longer.  I had been a weepy pained emotional wreck for that first week but I needed to see him and hold him and love on him.

I called Sally and asked if I could come visit.  She agreed and I drove to their house and spent, oh, the next seven hours just hanging out with all of them.  I fed Caden, changed his diaper, hung out in the nursery, read him stories, and he just ate, slept, and pooped like a champ!

As I was driving home that night, my eyes were dry.  My heart was full.  I knew, without a doubt, I made the correct decision.  Also, I got to look forward to the next time I could see them!

Creating a family

After it was judged that I was firm in my decision to do an open adoption, I started looking through books that these prospective adoptive families had prepared, portfolios of their lives. It was very touching, how these people just opened themselves up, wrote letters and shared pictures of themselves, their lives, their past and their dreams. I tried to picture myself having a relationship with each of these families, so if that was okay, I knew this baby would be okay in their home. I chose Sally and Dan.

I met them in September, while I was seven months pregnant. I felt I had totally prepared myself for this first meeting. Then, when I was driving down to the restaurant, I was talking to the baby, and I said, "We're going to go meet your mom and dad now." And it hit me like a fist. It was real, I was changing lives, life was changing me. I was going down a path that I'd never dreamed of taking, but there I was, foraging my way.

I loved them! They were not perfect, but they were nice and they liked me. They seemed like good people, and my first impression was very favorable. I decided that Sally and Dan would be my baby's parents.

We spent a lot of time together after that first meeting. I got to know them better, they got to know me better, and I felt so good. They treated me like a queen, asked my opinion on important issues like what to name him, and I even brought Sally with me to a doctor's appointment so she could hear her son's heartbeat. They were like a second family to me, which was important to me, because I needed to feel like I could be open and honest with them.

My son was due to be born on Nov. 17, 1998, but he wasn't ready until December 2. I think everyone was frustrated. Sally's parents came across the country for Thanksgiving, expecting to see their new grandson. I felt I had disappointed everyone. Finally, it was time to go to the hospital. I called Sally and Dan and told them what was happening and to come the next day, when hopefully, we would be celebrating a birth! Everybody was in the hospital room with me when it came down to the wire. And I mean everyone! It was pretty crowded in there, and there was soon to be one more!


I will never forget the look on my mother's face when she caught the first sight of my son's head. That look will live forever in my heart. I'm so glad that Dan and Sally were present to watch their son being born. I think that was very important to them, too. Sally cut the cord, and our little boy was finally in the world.

The beginning of the rest of my life

I knew before I ever took the test that it would come back positive. If truth be told, I knew "the morning after" that something was definitely different. I knew that I was pregnant. After the second blue line appeared, I looked at the world through a different perspective. For about a nanosecond, I thought, "Wow, I'm going to have a baby. I'm going to be a mother." Then reality kicked in and I thought "No way can I raise a baby now. I don't have the best job, I don't have my own place, what kind of environment will I provide?"

I was raised by a single mom.  I know it's tough work.  I was 21 years old, barely legal, and really wanted to enjoy being young and free of responsibility.  I was living with my grandma!  My totally ultra-religious, oh man am I ever gonna be judged, grandma! 

So I decided on adoption.

I know there's "the other choice." And I considered it. I have been pro-choice my whole life, fighting for women who needed the right to make decisions that are best for them.  It just so happens that at that point in my life, it wasn't the best choice for me.

What made me so sure that adoption was the right choice for me was that I had been so careless for so long, I considered myself so lucky to be in the position I was in, I couldn't terminate that pregnancy. I was out of school, a college graduate, making decent money, not your regular unwed mother statistic. I owed it to God and that baby to give it life.

I soon told my mother, who was very supportive of my decision to carry the baby and find it a good home.  I did have one chilling conversation with her, where she encouraged me to explore all my options.  At that point, there were no other options and it just pissed me off that she was asking me to consider anything other than adoption.  Sure, my body would not be mine for the next several months.  So, what?  Sure, I wouldn't be able to raise that baby as my own.  And?  I had considered all the options, and really, adoption was the best fit for me.

I started looking for agencies shortly thereafter. The first agency I called was a well-known national adoption agency, who asked me some simple questions. How old was I? I had just turned 21. Was I married? Well, no, and I didn't think many women in my situation were married. She said that she would send some information to me in the mail. I waited anxiously. When I got the package, it contained information about single people wanting to adopt children. Was I not clear that I WAS PREGNANT? Talk about asking the wrong questions!  My search continued.

In this high tech day and age, I found Creative Adoptions on the internet. I called and was given an appointment within the week, in person, at my house! I was not very familiar with the concept of "open adoption." It turned out to fit my needs like a glove.

I wanted more than pictures and letters. I wanted to be an active participant in my child's life. I wanted him to be able to know me, to ask me questions about where he came from, why I decided to place him for adoption. I didn't want his parents to speak for me, when I can speak for myself!

I didn't want to look into every stroller that passed by, into the face of every baby, asking myself "Is that my baby? Does my baby look like that now?" I didn't like the ambiguity that closed adoption presents. I needed to know my son, and needed him to know me.

Open adoption has been around for over 30 years.  There are several "degrees" of openness in an open adoption.  I wanted an adoption where I was able to see this beautiful child I helped create, and to make sure that he knew how very much I loved him.

I became a part of the family at Creative and settled in to a routine of talking with other birthmoms about our decisions and the paths that led us to them.  It was wonderful.

Looking for blogs in all the wrong places

Have you ever noticed that little button at the top of some Blogger users' toolbar "Next Blog"? I click on it occasionally and find that Blogger will knowingly guide me to other blogs who have something in common with the blog I just previously visited.



I click the link after visiting my own blog and get the same 7-10 yoga based blogs that Blogger has in its queue ad nauseum. On a slow day, I may venture clicking some 75-100 different times just to see if I get anything new.


Sometimes, though, the link disappoints. I've been thinking about blogging about my role as a birthmom, and my adoption experience, and how it feels to know that my husband and I are probably not going to have kids. I was over at BlogHer perusing (so many of my mentors blog over there) and found a whole section about being child-free. Exciting and new!


I was reading a blog called No Kidding in NZ and when I clicked on the "Next Blog" link, I actually expected Blogger to show me a blog that had something to do with other people who struggle with infertility or are otherwise child-free.


Not what happened.


I got a link to a happy looking family, husband wife and three kids. At Disneyland.


I clicked again. Got another blog about the ramblings of a family written by the mom about her husband and their five children.


After reading so much about needing and wanting validation regarding child-free-ness, Bloggers blatant display of child-full-ness was almost like a slap in the face.


So, I guess I should write. If I needed any more push in that direction, it's the absence of people like me. There are others like me, aren't there?

George + Reba = Awesomeness

Last night Handsome and I had a terrific date night.  We got to the Pepsi Center around 6:00 and found our seats and the nearest concession stand.  We ordered juicy burgers, fries and Blue Moons.

After mowing our dinner, sipping our brewskis, the arena went dark at exactly 7:00.

Enter the opening act:  Lee Ann Womack

She's totally adorable and super high energy.  I don't know every song she sang, but I do know a couple.

Of course, "I Hope You Dance" which is such a terrific song with a great message:  Don't be a wallflower in life, get out there, dance!

But more recent is the song "Last Call" which I LOVE.  It's so sad, though, thinking about how some guys always call some girls when they're at the bar, and how they think that's okay.

Anyway.  She rocked.  Sang for 30-45 minutes.  Then she was done.  Bathroom time.  (Nightmare)

Then, the second act came on.  Who?  Ah, yes, the one and only:  REBA.

Reba is absolutely unbelievable.  She's smokin hot, has a voice that goes on and on and on, and she's been doin her thing for decades!  Singer, actress, author...  She is amazing.  Almost 2 million people "Like" Reba on Facebook!

She sang new songs, old songs, and a duet with Lee Ann Womack (Does He Love You? of course)

My favorites:  If I was a Boy, Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia, Strange, Turn on the Radio, I'm a Survivor, Because of You and of course, the encore - Fancy.

She comes out in this awesome old time taxicab with this amazing red dress.  Wow.  I told Handsome that if the concert ended right then, I would've felt like I got my money's worth!  That lady is A-MAZ-ING!

And then?

Well.

You know.  There was a man by the name of King George.

I have seen George once before.  Handsome and I saw him right there in that Pepsi Center, before we got married.  A little fella by the name of Dierks Bentley opened for him that night.  Hubba.

On this Friday night, George sang all these songs that I knew.  It was so cool.  I heard All My Ex's live in Texas, Amarillo by Morning (one of my FAVORITES), Blue Clear Sky, Check Yes or No, Give it Away (Handsome LOVES this one), Honk if you honky tonk, How 'Bout Them Cowgirls, I Can Still Make Cheyenne (Another FAVORITE), Ocean Front Property, The Breath You Take, Fireman, Troubadour, Wrapped, and about a dozen more! 

He still looks and sounds as good as ever.  Mmmm mmmm.  Thanks y'all, you made my entire spring in one night.  Mwah!

Choosing to be happy

Sometimes it's just easier to be grumpy. It takes no effort to NOT smile. If you don't feel like talking to anyone, you just don't.

Sometimes it's just hard to pull myself out of a funk. But it gets old for me.

And I get "funky" for no reasons I can really tell.

Around the new year, I started an exercise program which Handsome bought me for Christmas. It is the EA Active Sports 2 for the Wii. There are 2 programs, a 9 week program and a 3 week program. I jumped right in and chose the 9 week workout plan.

Each workout seemed to get progressively more difficult and longer in time. But I was feeling awesome. Finally, the end of the 9 weeks was here and I was working out for an hour before work 3 times per week and another hour on the weekends.

After the program, I decided to continue but try the 3 week program to assuage any commitment issues. The workouts are much easier, much shorter (20 minutes) and I don't feel like I'm attaining anything.

In other words, I feel like I'm letting myself down.

So, I've decided that after the 3 week program ends, it's another 9 week program for me. It just makes me feel better about the effort I'm making and I feel like I can see results.

Getting out of bed at 5:00 a.m. is the hardest part. But if it makes me happy, why wouldn't I?