It's Time

It's time for me to recognize that writing this blog has not been, for me, all it's cracked up to be.

I can't seem to be as honest as I once was, or even wanted to be. And that's not fair to anyone.

I haven't intended to take a hiatus for the last month....and then disappoint you (or myself) like this. But I can't, in this space, say what I want and need to say.

So until I can do that again, so long...

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Full Speed Ahead!

Malia's second birthday was a whirlwind of activity. With dozens of errands to pull it all together, a few playdates in between, some Mama/Malia time thrown in the mix, free Elmo LIVE tickets, and lots of rain, it feels as if we haven't stopped for over a week.

Despite over half our guest list canceling, perhaps because of it -- we had a wonderful time. It was a small crowd and the focus was where it should have been (at least, most of the time): the kids.

Malia was super tired during her party, as well as super excited to see her Dad, so she clung to him most of the time. It was hard for me to watch her being carried around her 2nd birthday party, but I was too busy preparing food and keeping things moving to make time to object.

The rain held off just long enough for the kids to play with the bubbles, and the wind blew the bubbles from our machine across the yard -- so even as the kids were playing on the swingset, they were surrounded by bubbles!

Our cakes, specially designed by a cake-decorating genius I know, were a hit -- not only delicious, but right in line with our bubble-themed celebration. (And who cares if candles freak Malia out? You can sing 'Happy Birthday' without them -- it's just not quite as memorable when the song ends.)

The bubble pinata was a hit (no pun intended, Addy) with kids of all ages, and Malia and I had just as much fun making it. She helped me, night after night, for at least a week -- putting layers of paper mache on the balloon, painting it, topping it off with glitter, and stuffing it full of candy and toys. She was pretty proud of herself (as was her mama). Her mama was also pretty proud of the ingenuity behind her takeaway gifts -- bubble ornaments filled with goodies.

Someone made special birthday t-shirts for Malia and her daddy, and she wouldn't take hers off for at least 24 hours after we got home. She kept rubbing the shirt, saying "Thank Daddy for birthday shirt!" and insisting on calling him to do so -- repeatedly.

She's still walking around, listing everyone in attendance at her party; she identifies gifts by who gave them to her; and she had a glorious sugar high that seemed to last for days. (No, SERIOUSLY.) She's been chattering nonstop, singing 'Happy Birthday' to herself, talking about the balloons, the 'delicious cake that Dana made', 'my friends and family - everyone' and 'swinging in the bubbles'.

That afternoon, on the drive home from our party, she looked at me through sleepy, hazy eyes, and said, "Mommy, thank you for birthday. Soooo much fun. So excited." And that, my friends, made it all worthwhile.

So, despite the massive flooding in our area for the last few weeks - and the fact that I am unemployed and dead broke - we had a wonderful celebration.

I must give credit where credit is due: I couldn't have done it without everyone pitching in. From opening their homes to bringing food, folks were good to us, and we're appreciative. We're appreciative that our little girl's second birthday was so memorable for her.

I can only imagine what this year has in store for us. I hope that this crazy thing called life will allow me to continue sharing this journey with you.

PS: Picture(s) to come when I can locate the charger for my camera.

Long Time, No See

Sorry about that.

I'm sure most of you understand that updating my personal, non-income-generating blog isn't at the top of our (my) priority list right now.

But to give you the short version - as my FB friends know -we were down with the flu and an ear infection (well, only Malia had that), requiring an ER visit and the obligatory follow-up visits. And the ER visit? Well, let's see: should a child under 2 presenting with a 103.3 fever have to wait three hours to have their temp checked? Ummmmmmm..........NO.

We returned to the allergist for follow-up as well, only to be told to 'try soy and see what happens.' I'll get to that in another blog.

My dad has been relatively tolerant, since we were so sick and for so long...and since he had some sort of conversation with Malia's dad. I'm not sure what really was or was not said -- as is typical within my family. I got a different story from my dad and Kenneth. He's also been much more involved and loving towards Malia, and for that I am grateful. Now, without her father's daily presence, I have a renewed committment to ensure that Malia experiences good, respectful, kind men.

Let's see....two successful phone interviews and an in-person interview last week (whoo-hoo!) -- with a non-profit that pays 100% of my health care benefits. But I don't know for certain if they have their heads screwed on straight, and I didn't hear back by the end of the week. I felt certain that I would, so....we'll see what tomorrow holds.

This week is a big one for us. Malia will turn two, and I am scrambling to put together a birthday party (which is graciously being hosted at a friend's house). Malia understands the whole birthday concept, and has been singing 'Happy Birthday to You' for a month. She can't wait to 'hit the nata wit a stick and candy fall out' (uh, yeah, we're making a pinata) and have 'many balloons, cake and friends'.

Her two newest, most common phrases:

I WANT THAT.

WHAT'S THIS/THAT?

So much changes in a year.

On another note, she's been the most loving child a mother could ask for as she approaches what is known as the 'Terrible Two's'. She has a tantrum every now and then, yes. She doesn't want to always cooperate, sure. But overall, the kid is a gem. With TONS of please's, thank you's, 'me-scuse' (that's 'excuse me') and 'Yes, Mommy's', I couldn't be happier. Random love showers of hugs, kisses and tickles come raining down on me, no matter what I am doing. That, too, is another blog altogether.

Thank you for all the inquiries as to how we are doing. And I promise, it won't be so long next time.

P.S.: Please pray/hope/whatever you do that the rain will hold off for us on Saturday for Malia's party. A bubbles party can't be had outside in the rain, you know.

Where to go from here?

Well, loyal readers, I've received quite a few emails asking where - and how - I've been. For that, I thank you.

I wish I had better news...that I'd been MIA because I was busy hurdling through a hiring process with someone (anyone), or that we'd won the lottery and are in Mexico.

Alas, that is not the case.

We've been here at my father's for six months now, and we've all reached our breaking points. My dad has made it clear that Malia and I are no longer welcome to stay here, and I am on a desperate search for ANY kind of work, as well as another place to live. Obviously, our solution must be non-traditional....a basement or garage apartment, etc. I'm hoping that in this economy we might find a solution like this - but I'm not so sure. I've got feelers out there everywhere, and have put all pride aside. I'm in a panicky state of mind, with anxiety coursing through my veins, squinting to see the light at the end of this tunnel.

My father doesn't think I am doing enough to get out of our situation, for one. Secondly, you know how one event or argument can open up a much larger can of worms? Yeah, you could say that is what has happened. Unresolved issues from years, or even decades, ago have risen to the surface with gnashing teeth.

My definition of family, or what family should be, has always been somewhat different than the way my family seems to define it. I guess I've known this for a long time, but am finally coming to terms with it.

I guess I don't have much of a choice.

I hope I'll be back in this space soon, with some positive news or a life-changing update of some kind. Until then, I'm just trying to keep going.

"You're soooooo FAT!"

This is exactly what I feel like saying sometimes. (Well...often, if I'm honest.)

I've got to work on it, I know.

But how do you explain to people that it's just as inappropriate to say to someone, "You are SO skinny!" as it is to say, "You are SO fat!"?

It happens to me all the time: in the grocery store, at the pool (God forbid you see me in a bathing suit) with my daughter, in the mall, at birthday parties and even family events.

The first two things that people now say to me, upon introduction, are: "Oh my gosh, she [Malia] must look just like her dad!"and "You are sooooooo skinny."

Close friends and family are just as guilty as some of the strangers I meet; those instances are just even more painful.

So, if I already know you, your comments are more likely to go something like this: "Oh my gosh, I still don't see any of you in Malia!" or "Gosh, Malia looks NOTHING like you!" and "Have you lost even more weight? You're starting to look like a skeleton."

REALLY?!?!

There's not much I can do about the Malia comments, and I'm cool with Kenn taking all the credit....but how would you like for me to exclaim, "Oh my gosh, Jane Doe, you have doubled in size since I saw you last! From the back, I thought you were a double-wide!"

For a long time, I deflected 'skinny' comments well. I tried to be nice about it - I'd smile, nod, and look the other direction. I'd hoped, of course, that I would find a resolution to my weight issues through my endometriosis treatment, and that it was only a temporary thing. As time goes on, however, I'm not sure that is the case. And as time goes on, these comments are getting to me more and more.

I recently became aware that I was always explaining myself -- even to audacious strangers. As soon as someone uttered the word SKINNY or THIN, I launched into an explanation...."Yeah, well, I'm not this thin by choice. I've got some ongoing health issues...I'd love to be thirty pounds heavier...I used to be much bigger than this..." I've since stopped that and just let folks make their own assumptions (though, I admit, the crackhead jokes aren't something I really want Malia to grow up hearing).

I might be the only woman who has ever hoped to keep at least half her pregnancy weight (I know, I know). But that shouldn't mean that I get less respect than a woman who wants to lose it all, does it?

Edited to add: Don't get me wrong -- I'm not saying that anyone or everyone who has made a 'skinny' comment to me has done so with the intent to harm or be disrespectful. I realize that obesity is a widely recognized health concern (and of considerable public interest, at that); I understand that for too long, our society has placed too much significance on size (well, appearances in general, let's get real). I can understand that it wouldn't occur to most folks to be 'politically correct' about being underweight. Really. But being underweight has its own health risks, just as being overweight does....sheesh. I could go on and on, but I think you get my point.

Jessica's Pride

I'm a total dork, I know. But I had to have Kenneth snap a picture of us with this sign.

Her newest obsession

And I don't even like the stuff!

I don't know when it happened

I guess that doesn't surprise me - or any of you, really, if you've taken the time to read the (extraordinarily long) title of my blog.

But I realized, recently, that somewhere I just gave up on the idea of getting married. But I really don't recall when it happened.

It might have been when I chose to date outside my race.

I might have realized it far sooner, knowing my father's approach to parenting (life, really).

It might have been when my mother died, when I first understood the concept and significance of of being independent from your family, financially and otherwise; or when, as a high-school student, I had to work part-time in order to pay for books and clothing.

But I always knew my father would never contribute to a wedding for me, even as his firstborn and only biological daughter. It was up to me to fulfill that fantasy.

When or if I did think about, or was asked about, a wedding -- I imagined a high-paying career of my own, and that my husband-to-be was as successful as myself. And the idea of providing that for myself was satisfactory, at least for a while. The idea of being able to do exactly what my husband-to-be and I wanted, because WE were in control, freed me. (You could say I am a BIT of a control freak.)

Over time, my not wanting to get married had to be justified to everyone who knew me. I tried to keep it simple -- 'we' (then or in the future) didn't need either of two things: 1) to begin our lives with a massive debt that later prevented me from traveling the world as I wished, and/or 2) the big elaborate ceremony in order to demonstrate love and lifelong committment.

I like the idea of friends and family celebrating with us, sure, and demonstrating their support. I like the idea of a big party with good music, food and drink and lots of kids running around far better -- but isn't the real demonstration of support and celebration being there in the day-to-day grind that is our lives?

Maybe I gave up simply because things haven't gone as I'd planned, or hoped. Maybe it's just not for me; maybe I'd feel the same no matter who or what kind of love it is. I just don't know.

But I am trying to figure it out.

I won't miss a little spit

For obvious reasons, I'm an advocate of research. You can blame it on my question-everything-and-anything philosophy, which demonstrated itself in my initial career choice (and, you could probably claim that this is my still my biggest problem today).

Then, of course, we all know someone - a family member, a friend, a co-worker, maybe even a child - who has been diagnosed with a debilitating disease: Alzheimer's, brain tumors, lymphatic cancer...the list goes on.

Those kinds of things aside, the biggest reason that I am an advocate for medical research is because I am a parent. If I can help prevent my daughter (or her daughter, or even your own daughter) from the pain and suffering that I have endured, I'm more glad to do my part. I feel OBLIGATED.

So when I read a Facebook update from the Endometriosis Research Center about an upcoming research study, I instantly clicked on to read more.

The current study (by Juneau Bioscience - just click on my blog title up top) can only accept participants who have had an endometriosis diagnosis, but it's as simple as it gets: answer a few medical history and family tree questions (if you can), spit in a vial and mail it back in the postage-paid envelope that they provide for you. If you do have questions (of any kind, as you know I did), the folks over at Juneau are super nice (as well as super patient).

If you are reading this and have been diagnosed with endo, you should participate, too. (Come on - you won't really miss the spit, will you?) If you haven't been diagnosed with endo, that's okay - I simply ask that you forward a link to this blog, or to the study, to all of the women you know.

Sure, there's a chance that your personal information (or DNA, for that matter) could erroneously get into the wrong hands....I get it. But the chances of that happening are slim to none, and the chances of endo affecting someone you know are far greater*.

I'm not in cahoots with the research company, nor will this research directly impact me or my medical treatment -- but it could impact our daughters'. Please, take a moment to pass this on.

*Approximately 10-15% of women are affected by this disease