Isaac's Egg-cellant Easter

Isaac really got into Easter this year! We started celebrating by coloring eggs, which he totally rocked. I put a smock on him, but that was soon abandoned. He thought the best way to create colorfullness was to keep dipping the eggs in multiple colors. Every egg was dyed after about 5 minutes. I cut him off after they turned brown. And his hands were sufficiently dyed green. A few eggs cracked because he thought it best to drop the egg into the dye cup from a considerable distance. Thankfully, the garbage took most of the splatter and only a bit got onto the carpet and onto Isaac's clothes.

On Easter, we did 4, count em 4, egg hunts, 2 inside and 2 out. Ben and I hid all the eggs. He loved it. So much in fact, that he had to hold all the eggs he found at once. Baskets are for Pansies!

Once he figured that I would follow him with the basket, he liked it more. We hid the same 14 eggs over and over. The next morning, and the next...and next...the first thing he said when he woke up was "Find eggs?!" Sigh.

We haven't decided if we are going with the whole Easter Bunny idea yet. Right now, he is too little to understand anything more than finding eggs.

We had a great day. The days when the my husband's stores are closed are a blessing in themselves. It means for those 3 days every year, his phone stays silent, and his blood pressure stays low. For the most part anyway...Isaac creates his own blood pressure spikes in us. :) We get to spend the day just as a family. And we get to enjoy it. :)

Wordless Wednesday

My Son

My son says "Kitty! Be-HAVE" to our cats when they are wrestling or annoying me. He tells them to "Get Down!" when they jump up on the counter or on the couch in his spot.

My son tells me that the bath water BE hot when I put him in the tub. "Mama, it be hot!" "No, honey. It IS hot. And it's not hot. It's fine." "No, Mama! It BEEEEEE hot!"

My son is obsessed with the movie "Cars" so much so that it plays about 4 times a day in our house. He quotes it. And when we are driving he asks me if that truck is "Mack" and where the "Ghostlight" is.

My son loves semi trucks and buses. One of his favorite things to do is to drive around and look for them. He exclaims "OOOHHHH BIG TRUCK! Another big truck! Where's another big truck! Here it comes!" Driving on 101 is like a dream come true for him.

My son loves to swing and yells "WEEEEEEEEE!!!!" the entire time. He loves to do underdogs and laughs hysterically. He loves to feed the ducks and when we run out of bread or crackers, he throws them flowers or grass.

My son has a flower in our yard. It's a Calla Lily that is as big as his head. He takes everyone to see it and tells them how it is his flower.

My son likes to search for pinecones. He collects them and we have a whole pile in our yard...and in our house.

My son likes to ask for things and then make you think it was your idea to give it to him in the first place. He's like a conversational WIZARD.

My son runs like Phoebe does on "Friends." It's so funny to watch.

My son likes to feed the cats every night. He knows the routine and starts it on his own. Sometimes it isn't even at night, but random times during the day when he decides it's time for them to eat.

My son makes up jokes. His famous one is "bye! A-B-C ya!" We have absolutely no idea where they come from, but he totally made that one up on his own.

My son likes to make make funny faces. He rolls his eyes to one side sticks out his tongue. He squishes his cheeks together. He will do anything to get a laugh.

My son loves to make animal noises. He loves animals. His favorite is the cow right now. He loves looking for cows when we drive to the store. He even mimics an elephant trunk when he makes the elephant noise.

My son loves to brush his teeth. He asks to do it about 4 times a day.

My son is fiercely independent. He likes to do things for himself, like pour his own milk or put toothpaste on his toothbrush, even if he just "thinks" he's doing it for himself, meaning I am actually doing it and tricking him. Some things he does on his own, like put on his shoes or wipe his hands.

My son apologizes every time he spills something or drops something. He also apologizes when his shoe falls off. "I sowwy, Mama." He even apologizes for things he didn't do.

My son looks behind the computer screen and under the table when we are Skyping to see if he can find the person.

My son loves to jump on the bed. He asks to do it all the time. And he likes us to push him down into all the pillows.

My son has the best belly laugh EVER. It never fails to make me laugh too. He does it when you blow raspberries on his tummy, or when Guiliani plays on the bed with him.

My son gives the warmest hugs. He always asks why you are sad or what's wrong. And then asks if you need a kiss. Mommy always needs a kiss.

My son looks so much like his Daddy some days. He will jut his chin out when he is concentrating and it's like looking at a mini-Ben. And others he makes a face that is a mirror image of one I make (see below...that's a Mommy face).

My son is my world. He lights up evey single day and I wonder how I ever got through life without him. I love my little Boo.

Wordless Wednesday

30 Days of Truth: Day 8 - Someone Who Has Made Your Life Hell

Dear Patrick,

It's been over ten years since I have heard your voice, your laugh. It's been over ten years since I have seen your face or hugged you. It's been over ten years since you decided to take your own life. It's been over ten years since you broke me.

I can't imagine the pain you must have been in when you made your decision. I know that a great deal, if not all of that pain was caused by decisions that I made. I can't imagine being in so much pain that I feel the only way to heal myself is to pass the pain on to everyone that I love. I have been sorry every single day since then that I had any part at all in that pain that you felt, especially if it was a fraction of the pain that I have felt since then.

You broke me, and you broke me into about a million pieces. I became a different person and I lost who I was. I gave up. I lost focus. I lost my drive. I lost ME. I gave up what I was working toward, because I was broken. I gave up because I just wanted to feel better. I didn't want to feel broken anymore. You broke me and I ran away. I ran as far as I could get from the pain, from all the reminders.

You made me hurt other people. Your pain was like a ripple effect. I hurt and I didn't want to. The things I did to make myself heal, to make myself feel better hurt other people. It's very hard to get over something, feelings...when you don't even know what was there in the first place. How do you move past an unknown? You picked me up and threw me into this strange place and I had no idea how to even start finding my way out. I was hollow. I didn't feel anything. I didn't want anything. I didn't need anything.

You tore my life apart. I have spent the past 10  years trying to put it back together. And I have. I have done it well. I have gotten back to a place where I am happy. I like who I am. I like who I can be. I have a beautiful life and amazing opportunities ahead of me. People remember who I was, who I can be. They know who I am now. They don't see the broken person anymore.

There are things I can't get back. I can't get back who I was before you. I can't say that I would want to. You had a part in shaping my life into what it is now. A big part. Was that what you wanted? Because you know, either way you would have accomplished that. You should have known me well enough to know that you were in my life one way or another, for good.

I'm going back. I'm going back to where I was when you broke me. And I am scared as all hell. I have anxiety over it. My pulse races and I feel light headed. I feel alone again. I feel lost again. I feel like I am certifiably insane for this. But I want this. I WANT THIS SO MUCH. I won't let you have control over my life anymore. I won't let you take it from me again. I don't know what will happen when I walk those halls again, when I see all the memories right in front of me. But I am prepared for the emotion . I am prepared to feel the hurt and sadness. I am ready to face it head on, because this is who I am. It's who I have always been. It's who I am meant to be. You can't have that anymore. Maybe I feel like I have something to prove. And I do. I have something to prove to myself. I can do. I will do this. And I will rock it.

You know, I wrote you one other letter. I wrote about how much I would miss you. I wrote about how much you meant to me, whether it was what you wanted or not. You still meant something. You still mean something. I wrote about how sorry I felt for hurting you and prayed that you had the peace you were searching for. I folded the tear stained paper and put it in your pocket, where it still sits, folded and unread.

I wish every single day that I could somehow change what happened with you. I wish I could understand and I know that I never will. I wish that you can see me, can hear me, and still know me. I wish that you can see that I am happy and I am living my life the way it was meant to be lived. I am living. I wish that you can see that I am not hollow; I am full.

I wish that you can see that I am not broken; I am whole. And although a little piece of me is held by you, it is still my piece. I live with it.

I am not broken anymore, Patrick. But I still miss you.

Love,
Me

I tried...But I'm Not...I'm Angry.

Today I am angry. I am angry at quite a few things.

I am angry at my daycare. Last thursday I got a call to pick up Isaac because he had thrown up. I kept him home until yesterday. I babied him. He was scheduled to go to daycare on Tuesday. On Monday, Ben and I had a long conversation about whether or not to send him, and ultimately decided to keep him home one more day to ensure his health. He had a great day on Tuesday, and hardly had a runny nose at all. I dropped him off yesterday and got a message a little after lunch that Isaac was sick and had a bad runny green nose. FANTASTIC. I called the doctor and made him an appointment for later that day. I picked him up.

The main daycare lady told me she had pneumonia since last week. And didn't tell me. She didn't tell me that she had this sickness after she sent my child home TWICE. She didn't tell me so maybe I would have thought his symptoms might have been a little more severe. She didn't tell me the entire time I was communicating with her about whether or not Isaac was attending on Tuesday. So I am angry about that.

Isaac has an ear infection. A pretty bad one that is causing the green runny nose. His lungs were clear and he didn't have a fever. The Dr. said he wasn't contagious. I planned to keep him home, he'd been through alot. I was told to watch for pneumonia, and he got a prescription for antibiotics. I let the daycare know, so they coudl let other parents know Isaac wasn't contagious. I received a message back that said many things that stung about how Isaac had a horrible day, woke kids up from nap, couldn't play, and had received comments about his nose from other parents. I am not sure what the intention of this message was, whether it was frantically trying to convince me that Isaac couldnt' come to daycare today or what. It rubbed me the wrong way. I was angry about that.

Most of all, I am angry at myself. Isaac has been saying "owie" for days. I assumed it was his molars. He has been putting his hands in his mouth and biting on things. He has been putting fruit snacks in the back of his mouth and chomping. He hasn't been sleeping well. He hasn't been eating a whole lot. He wasn't pulling on his ears or telling me that they hurt him. But still, I am mad at myself for dismissing his pain as teething pain, allergies, and a cold. I am angry at myself for not realizing the source of my child's pain. I am angry for being so frustrated with his fussiness the past week, when it could have been an ear infection the whole time causing it. I am angry at myself for yelling at him.

I am angry for many reasons. The anger is festering and spreading throughout other aspects of my life. I'm lashing out at people. I'm highly irritable. I'm trying to curb it, but I'm exhausted...mentally, physically, and emotionally. I'm so so tired that it's just easier to keep being angry. I don't want to be, but I am.

I'm just angry today. :(

Fear

It's April. APRIL. We are moving in July. That's like 3 months. 3 MONTHS.Yeah, I am kinda freaking out. But...not really about the moving. I know it will get done. It has to get done, and I flourish under pressure. Oddly, I am not worried about money, or moving, or finding a place to live. I'm relatively unconcerned with whether or not my husband is moving with a job. We both agree that if we can survive in San Francisco, we will be ok almost anywhere. I have moved across the country with nothing and we have been fine. This time we are older, wiser, and more prepared. I am not freaking out because of the move.

I am freaking out because I am going back THERE.

Don't get me wrong, I want to go back. I want my PhD. I am in love with science.

BUT...As the months fly by, and time to actually go back to BG draws closer and closer...I'm not going to lie. I am pretty much terrified.

I'm a scientist. And a darn good one at that. I am a great student and I have no doubt in my research and academic abilities. I can handle the pressure and the heat. What I don't know if I can handle is the ghosts. Those hallways, that campus. It's haunted. For me, it's haunted. I was broken on that campus.

I ran. I ran as far away as I could get. Opportunities presented and I took them. I am not ashamed of that. I believe that when decisions are right, they work out all on their own. And they did, for me, for us. Very well, in fact. I did what I needed to do. I got through each day, and here I am. I ran, and I readily admit that.

I have dealt with the ghosts as well as I can. But they still haunt me. I have no idea how I will handle being back there. Sometimes when I think about it, I can feel my hands get all sweaty and clammy. I can feel my pulse pick up. Sometimes, I think it borders on a panic attack. I don't call anyone. I don't talk about it. I don't know what to say. It feels like beating a dead horse. Other people, they don't get it. They can't understand, and I don't expect them to. Seeing that water tower still hits me like a sucker punch to the gut. Maybe that won't change.

I'm scared. I know I can do it. But holy moly, I am really scared.

I can do this. And I can do it well. It's time. It is long overdue and it's time. I want this. I am ready for this. I am not broken. But I am haunted.