Pregnant Without My Mom

During week 9's update on Baby A, I mentioned missing my mom. And, I left it at that. But, 21 weeks later, I'm ready to pick up that topic again.

As I've progressed through this pregnancy, I've surprised myself with how much I remember my Mom's pregnancies. And yet, at the same token, how much I don't remember. My memory has served me well - helping me remember how she responded to different things...but my lack of memory has also caused much frustration. I remember her cravings (Cherry-limeades from Sonic, for instance), but I can't remember if she just didn't feel well (which makes her seem like superwoman). Thankfully, my Dad has a great memory! He said it best when he said, "I was with her for the 6 years she was pregnant." (8 kids x 9 months = 6 years). So, I've asked him a lot and learned from his memory.

I think about things that she would have made a priority. Like the baby shower hosted for me several weeks ago. She would have definitely been there. Or the fact that all the bedding for Madden's room would have been made by her. Which is probably why I decided to make Madden's blanket. A connection I didn't even make back to her, until a friend of mine asked if that intention was linked to her. After thinking about it, I realized my friend was right - it was definitely linked back to my Mom.

Interestingly enough, I have learned a lot about my unborn child by talking to Cindy, Ben's mom. Listening to her talk about her pregnancy with Ben, I have been able to compare notes to Ben and Madden. The comparisons make me smile because Madden is already like his Dad (but let's hope that he DOES NOT show up 3 weeks late like Ben).

Overall, I have realized how much healing the past 5 years has brought. Sure, I miss my mom. But, I don't feel disabled because she isn't here -I have learned the importance of enjoying life to the fullest...without Mom. I know that seems weird and harsh to say, but it is true. If I remain stuck in the "What if" scenario with my Mom, I will never live life. And, in that, I will truly become crippled by her memory, instead of appreciating my time with her. 

The Beginning: Making Dreams Come Alive

As the oldest sibling, I am not accustom to be confronted by my younger siblings. But, last weekend, that is exactly what occurred.

My brother, JohnMark, is almost 16 years old. He is funny, but also very philosophical. So, when he popped up on facebook chat and said he had a question for me....I honestly thought it would be about something silly (like girls) or something deep (like politics).

Turns out, it was neither. It had to do with me.

He said: "Now that Ben is pursuing his dreams [Ben is in school, but also running his own business], when are you going to start pursuing yours?"
I'll admit. I was very confused by this. "What do you mean?"
"You love to write." He replied. "But you don't do anything with that love."
He paused for a moment before continuing. "Some of my best childhood memories were listening to the stories you use to tell. You've talked about writing them down, and making them into something. But you haven't. And, now Baby A is on the way. More than that, I want my kids to know about Mongo."
I was stunned by his statement.
Mongo is this character I created in which I crafted multiple stories surround the adventures with Mongo and told the stories to my siblings. Always a new story, a new adventure, and unbeknown to me, I was crafting memories that would play vital part of my siblings' lives. Who knew?

I love writing. I really do. It challenges me, it relaxes me, and honestly, I love having an audience to share with too. This is why I love my blog so much. I have so much fun doing something I love. Truly, truly love. Yet, JohnMark sparked an old flame in my writing soul. He reminded me of my dreams, my fears, my hopes. More than that, he made me realize what an opportunity I have to craft my passion into art to be enjoyed by others.

With that in mind, I plan to do something I've never had the courage to do: put Mongo on paper. Recount the stories, and begin to pursue this dream.

Mother's Day 2011

Duchess. 

That's what she wanted to be called. In my 16 year old mind, I thought it was so weird to listen to my Mom discuss what she wanted her grandkids to call her. But I also knew it was so like my Mom as well.

10 years later, 5 years since she has been gone and 6 months away from her first grandchild making his/her entrance in the world, that name seems so real to the woman I'm remembering. It seems strange for me to realize that my child will never know their grandmother - the personality that would have brought the name Duchess to life with all the elegance, fun and more. Try as I might, Duchess will be a foreign name to Baby A.

I was discussing this with a friend of mine recently and she reminded me that Baby A will see my Mom's influence through the way I raise him/her. Isn't that both fascinating and startling? That all though Baby A will never know my Mom or even recognize her thumbprints in my life, the influence will be there.

To all the Moms out there - Happy Mother's Day. You are loved. Greatly.

Part 2: Answering your questions.

(continuing the follow up from when I said you could ask me..ANYTHING!)

Heather asked about my MOST embarrassing moment.

Is it lame to say I don't have just one? That's because I get embarrassed ALL THE TIME! Ugh. It is horrible. So, lately, I've been wallowing in the embarrassment of:
1. Answering the phone at work...IN A WHISPER. Who does that?
2. Saying the wrong thing. Pronouncing the wrong word. Oh.My.Word. It happens more than I'd like to admit.

Heather also asked: "What would be your favorite vacation spot?

I love vacations. Really, I do. So, hands down, I adore any moment I can be in Washington D.C. There is no spot that melts my heart like that beautiful place. I L-O-V-E it. Really, I do.
My dream vacation spots include:
Europe (Especially, Italy, Greece, England, France and Spain, but not intentionally leaving any place out, either)
California (Um...it screams beauty. And, I want to be there. Plus, it will help their economy, too, right?)
Prince Edward Island, Canada (gimme some of that Anne of Green Gables heritage, PLEASE and THANK YOU)
A beach.  (Any where. Leave off the oil, please.)
India. (It won my heart a long time ago)

I'm saving Lydia's mentionables for last. Which means, I'll get to that tomorrow!

But I do want to discuss, Mario's comment. (aka, Dad!) My previous marriages.

Let me preface this by saying, I never realized how my past would catch up with me until I married Ben. All before the age of 13, I was a very busy woman. I ran through these marriages so quickly, there have been a lot of jokes made regarding Ben. So, let me introduce you to the "men" (cough, cough) who won my heart.

At age 6, it was a tall, thin, and bent man. He loomed over me. I had to help him stand. He didn't do much for me. He was a stick. A mere limb from a tree. And, I thought I loved him. But, we didn't last long. He broke it off. Really, he did.
From the age 6 through 8, I was devoted to a burly-beast of a man. Who only wore the same purple shirt. All.THE.Time. But, I didn't mind. Purple was my favorite color. He had a huge kiss mark on his face. I always pretended it was from me. And, his name was Joe. Joe the Monkey. He was an oversized stuffed animal that I could barely tote around, but adored. Our break up was traumatic. It was classic Romeo and Juliet. Torn apart by our parents, he left silently. That was the only time I remember my mother lying to me. The day she told me the movers - who I thought were my FRIENDS - took Joe away. I've been suspicious of moving companies ever since.
At age 12, it was a final attempt for a secure marriage. I married Red. He had a long-golden mane of hair. He was older, wiser and very kind. He liked to hunt. But, had this thing for crawling around on all fours. They say, "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." I'm here to say, that I left him to stay in Tennessee. He promised that if I went away, he'd never breathe a word of our rushed marriage. He kept his word. But I kept going back - he lived at my friend's house. Mostly, because it was her family's golden retriever dog. I married a dog and I've never been allowed to forget it.
Age 25 - I wised up. I married a human. He is great. Far better than my "Ex's", that is for sure. Our marriage hold far more potential, far more foundation to last. ;)

Part 1: Answering your questions.

(In kicking off my birthday week (my birthday is in 3 days!), I thought it would be fun to find out...what you what to know about me. Ask me anything, and I will answer. This is the beginning of me answering those questions.)

Heather asked:

I think you should post your most embarrassing moment as well as a few favorite memories from childhood that shaped who you are today! :)

Today, I will skip the most embarrassing moment, but I will be back to that. Today, I want to talk about memories from my childhood that helped shape me into who I am today. 

He doesn't even remember saying it. But, I was 15 years old, and I definitely remember hearing it. It was my 15th birthday, and my dad said: "Well, congratulations. You are 15. You now have the next 10 years to figure out who you will be, what you will become. Good luck."
Dad had no idea how that singular comment would send me into a spiral of frenzy. WHAT?!?! Only 10 years? I calculated the milestone events in my life - high school graduation, college, graduate from college, start my career. DEFINITELY NOT a lot of time. 
He had no idea how that one comment would be instrumental in shaping my life. How I would repeat that one statement over and over again as I counted down the years (only 9 years left, only 5 years left, only 6 months left)...But, my sister and best friend, Lydia remembers. She remembers how I spent a lot of time agonizing over that deadline. How when she turned 15, Dad said nothing. And then, for the 6 more kids following her, He didn't say a word. Only to me. And, he didn't even remember saying it to me. 
Last year, I turned 25. The milestone year. The year I had been planning towards for 10 years. And, I was satisfied. Sure, I'm still becoming who I am, but the core essence of my being is established. All thanks to a dad who made a random comment that changed my life.

Kick Off to My Birthday Week....

Its my birthday week. Yes, I'm one of THOSE annoying people who count down to their birthday.

(If you must know, my birthday is 4 days away!!!)

So, let's start off by talking about...me. Here are a couple of things you may or may not know about me.

1. I love L-O-V-E.
Not just because I'm married to an incredible man, but because I love hearing others' stories of how they found love. Is there any better story to be told? It is really incredible to me that the Creator of Love would put a longing, a hole, a desire, in our hearts to be loved. And, I'm thankful to be surrounded by many people who love me.

2. I have a growing and increasingly strong attachment to - fashion.
I cannot help that I catch my breath when I see a picture of the latest style coming down the run way.  BE.STILL.MY.HEART.

3. I am paranoid.
Which is why I get up an hour and 15 minutes before work to make sure I'm NOT late.

4. I care deeply.
Ben's step-mom has GOT to stop posting pictures of abandoned animals on Facebook. It is absolute torture. Um, HELLO, we have a $500 pet deposit which is a great hindrance to my rescue cause.

5. I talk in storybook form.
Believe me, the way I talk on the blog - like we are two friends yapping away at a coffee shop - is EXACTLY how I talk in person.

6. I NEVER exaggerate.
ME? NEVER.

7. My name.
I love my name. A lot. I think this comes mostly because my parents did NOT name me until THREE DAYS after my birth.

In honor of my birthday celebration, what else do you want to know about me? Leave a question(s) in the comments, and I will answer them.

The Jam and Jelly Aisle

Several days ago, Ben and I went grocery shopping. I l-o-v-e grocery shopping with Ben. We have a system. We contemplate the same things: What cereal should we buy? Which coffee flavor? I teach Ben how pick out the best watermelon. And, he teaches me how to buy the most meat for the best price. We hold each other accountable - "Noooooo, we do NOT need ice cream. Even if it IS buy one get one free."

But the other day, Ben went to get butter. When he came back he found me standing in front of the jam and jelly aisle. He said nothing. I guess he could see this was a serious moment in my life.

source

 

I take finding the perfect jam very seriously. It goes back to my childhood. My mom would only EVER buy grape jam. No matter how I presented an impressive presentation of WHY raspberry, blackberry, APRICOT was better than grape, we STILL left the grocery store with grape.
I know, I know, I lived QUITE the troubled childhood.
So, NOW. NOW that I'm grown. I take my time in the jam and jelly aisle. I contemplate all the flavors. I consider what would taste the best on toast, in a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich (my favorite!). Then, I slowly make my choice.
My most recent choice - Blueberry. Wow. Its awesome.

My Brother [hearts] Chocolate Milk

I was about six years old and I thought I was the world's greatest chef.

Playing behind my playhouse, I concocted all sorts of amazing dishes using only the finest ingredients of mud, grass and rocks. When you are six years old, you make do with what you have.

No one would try my dishes. Except my brother. He was two years old, innocent, completely trusting and the perfect victim taste-tester of my menu.

"Hey Caleb," I said. "Wanna try my chocolate milk?"

He didn't even hesitate. He gulped that entire cup of chocolatey mud-mixture down so fast, he left only the rocks at the bottom of the cup.

I remember staring in disbelief. Not only did he NOT NOTICE IT WAS MUD, he really thought it was chocolate milk. I may have been six, but I understood the value of a secret. I never told him...until later.

Well, that mud-drinkin' brother of mine has all grown up. Its incredible. And, today, he is getting married. I can't believe it. Thankfully, I don't think he will be serving any chocolate-on-the-rocks.

Congratulations, Caleb and Hannah!

This Mother's Day, I'm celebrating by watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Which, aside for the greek-emphasis, you have a great introduction to my own family.

(source)

Growing up, you didn't come to my house after you had JUST eaten....because my Mom was going to feed you. Like it or not. Full or not. You were going to eat if you were at my house. It was embarrassing, but now...I'm the SAME WAY. Somethings don't change. Ever.

Happy Mother's Day.

My sister

Polar opposites. That is what we were. What we are. Joined by the soul-mark of being born into the same family so close in age.

I'm dark-skinned, brown eyes, brown hair.

She's freckled-sprinkled, blue eyes, blondish-brown hair.

As a kid, I was content with my books and my dolls.

As a kid, she wanted to build bridges. She wanted to an artichect.
She only played with dolls, because I did.

I named my dolls, Bradley, Patty, Benjamin, Brianna, Watermelon.

She named hers Sarajane. All of them. Every single doll.

I liked vanilla. She liked chocolate. I was a vegan. She spent her days feasting on Cheese-puffs and chocolate.

We spent our high school years as a tagged-team. I spent my afternoons in the kitchen watching her bake...We spent our afternoons in the library. She'd look at my Better Homes & Gardens, I'd look at her Architectural Digest.

She is the ultimate Kindred Spirit of my soul. When I brought Ben home, I told him, "If SHE doesn't like you, that's it."Thankfully, she did.

Biggest cheerleaders. Biggest accountability. Strongest supportors. Our passion-infused souls have conflicted with each other on numerous occasions. But even with those conflicts, love flowed like a steady stream.

She is my sister. And, I love her.

Books: My Past and Present

When I was a kid. I loved books. Okay, I still do, but that is besides the point. I eagerly awaited for the next Mandie Book to come out. I felt just like a jungle explorer when I found book 14 in the Trixie Belden series buried between Box Car Children and Hardy Boys at the library.

I was quite the adventurous kid, I tell ya.

I would try to copy my speech and writing to mimic Jo from Louisa May Alcott's Little Women. And, don't even get my started on Martha Finley's Elsie Dinsmore books. It was a lot of work, trying to be like authors from another time.

I was so adventurous - I spent time in musty bookstores and antique stores looking for my next great read. All before I was 14 years old.

Then, there was Anne. Anne of Green Gables. The girl of my dreams. My heart. The character who just got me. The character who understood that the world really may end without a kindred spirit and that that would directly plunge me into the depths of despair. The girl who took note of names of homes...much like how my address must have that certain ring to it, or I'm not settled. I wanted red hair. Because of Anne. L.M. Montgomery, you ruined me.

I was livin' the life. And, I still prefer a book to a TV...(except Tuesday's Biggest Loser...and other shows I will never confess to watching)

In all the books, Jo found her Professor - this hairy, burly man who was such a nerd, Jo's heart was lost. Mandie falls for someone (I can't remember his name!!) and Trixie for that tanned, logically-minded boy named Jim. Elsie falls for her father's best friend. (Gimme a break - the book was written during the 1800s, when that was SOOO not creepy. But it is. Creepy.)

And, Anne? Gilbert chased her. Through it all. Every single thing. College. Teacher. Author. There was Gilbert. He loved her, that Anne-girl. And, Anne? She was too stubborn to realize she loved him, that Gilbert Blythe boy, until he almost died. Tragic, I know, right?

That said...I need a next good read. I've moved on in the world. I now frequent Barnes and Nobles. (Where, I'm convinced music announces my arrival.) And, lately, I'm reading books writtten within the last 5 years. I've been mesmerized lately by:
The Glass Castle
Sarah's Key
The Five People You Meet in Heaven

They've been great books; ones I've enjoyed a lot. But, I want to know: what books do you recommend?

The Day of the Telescope

I never thought I would be that person. You know, the person who snoops and peers out the window at her neighbors. Or, the person who drives by all the other apartment buildings within our complex, trying to look in the windows to see other's decor.

Yes, I'm that person. I'm a snoop. Borderline stalker, maybe. Borderline.

For a while, I was trying to figure out when it all began. Like, did it begin when I became obsessed with Domino Magazine (may it rest in peace), or with Ikea? I realized it went much further back than that.

My first snooping memory was when I was between the ages of 8-12. Large age group, I know, but I can't remember my exact age. My mom was a big fan of educational games and toys and anything else that might stimulate our minds. Mom had no idea.

So, in light of our mother's preference, my uncle bought my siblings and I a telescope. To look at the stars, of course.

One night, we convinced our parents to let us go outside, after dark, to look at the stars. My parents agreed. I'm sure they thought we had become intrigued by the Milky Way and how the stars were aligned in the sky and whatnot. We weren't. Instead, we steadied our telescope eye to the homes of our many neighbors who had ALL their blinds and curtains wide open. It was paradise. We peered into livings rooms and dining rooms watching our neighbors who had no idea they were under intense multi-sibling-surveillance.

After a while, we tripped back inside. Mom had no idea. Dad had no idea. And, I don't remember using that telescope ever again. It had been put to much use already, no reason to over-extend it, right?

(Disclaimer: I'm not a stalker. This is all drive-by...And, my sincere apologies to any of our past neighbors)