Blog Feed – Page 14 – making unbreakable

waffles and waiting.

Depression smells like waffles, because that’s what Cody makes for everyone when I’m too sad to function.

Tonight was supposed to smell like barbeque, fresh peas and watermelon.

But sad won.

I haven’t lost it completely, I haven’t broken down into that terrible ugly cry that requires a dozen tissues and causes your eyes to hurt for the next 24 hours. But I did just catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and it doesn’t look good.

This hurts really bad, and when I’m out of it I can appreciate that this is my trial. That I am strong enough to make it through each episode in one piece and use my experiences to help others.

When I’m out of it for a long time I can always brush it off as “not that bad.”

“It could always be worse.”

But shit, when I’m in it.

I forgot how bad this hurts.

Words can still make it out of my fingers, but when they try to come out of my mouth they get trapped, confusing and tear stained.

There’s no easy way out. There’s no pill. There’s no nap long enough. There’s no shot. There’s nothing in the world that can fix this but time.

The thought of being one on one with both little girls all day tomorrow terrifies me. Addie hasn’t really seen me like this since I was pregnant with Vivi.

I talk with her often about my brain, and how hard I work to keep it working well.

Tomorrow I’m going to have to try to explain that my brain won this round.

Or I’m going to have to fake it and lie.

It’s so hard knowing people are going to need me tomorrow when I can barely function myself.

I don’t know how Cody loves this. How he continues to fight so hard for me when I can’t fight for myself.

When I’m like this I see nothing worth fighting for. Who’s to say the real me is coming back?

The biggest difference between me now and me eight years ago is I know there’s something, somewhere inside me worth fighting for.

Even if I can’t see it.

It’s what keeps me floating above self harm. I know it’s down there, but I know it won’t make things better.

So I sit here sad, knowing this isn’t my fault, and working to get better.

(And when I say “working to get better” it means not resorting to drinking heavily and letting my kids wander around the neighborhood alone. Go me.)

I don’t want to be friends with myself right now.

So hopefully you’ll understand why I don’t answer my phone or my door.

I’ll be okay, probably not today. Or tomorrow. But eventually.

There’s something to be learned in all this pain.

And I know it’s worth sticking around long enough to find out what it is.

Totally unrelated:

These thighs.

sisterhood and disney nerdery.

If this looks at all familiar, there’s a very good chance you grew up on Disney movies. Click through for more to test your own childhood.

This one covers Addie and Vivi’s sisterhood from birth to walking. My, how time flies.

This one covers their sisterhood from walking to last week. (It’s probably my favorite.)

what my religion is for me.

Sometimes I think about all the ways life would be easier if I weren’t a Mormon.

Not in a serious way, but in a “Is this really the way I live my life?” kind of way. Which sound serious, but I promise it’s not. (Also easier does not equal better. At all.)

Depending on your experience, being Mormon may look hard. There’s an awful lot of church things I do on a regular basis, there’s about a thousand church related things I *could* be doing, a lot more I probably *should* be doing and a whole lot of stereotypical things you will never find me doing. (I swear it’s not in the handbook that Mormons have to be crafty because hi, me.)

Chances are you fall into one of the following categories:

A) Mormon. If so, hi!

B) Mormons don’t drink coffee or alcohol which NO THANK YOU, LEAVE NOW, AMEN.

C) I’m very happy with my own religion, thank you very much.

D) I’m very happy without any religion, thank you very much.

Mormons are big on missionary work, hence the nicely dressed young men and women that have probably come knocking at your door during naptime (sorry about that.) You see, you never know who’s going to be looking for religion or where they might be, so those missionaries have to knock on a lot of doors to find the people who need or want what they have to offer. They’re always going to be painfully optimistic if you open your door because YOU MAY BE THE ONE (even if you’re not) and since talking about church is basically their job for two years they’re terribly enthusiastic about it.

It’s a very green eggs and ham type situation, but hopefully no Mormons in your life are as pushy as Sam I Am. The missionaries and other Mormons will keep on offering it up, and occasionally someone will give it a try and likes it.

Growing up in Utah, Mormonism was offered to me on an almost weekly basis in various ways. It wasn’t until I met Cody that I decided to give it a try, and what do you know, I liked it.

I also know a lot of people who have tried it, hated it, and have wanted noting to do with it ever again Sam I Am.

Missionary work in the traditional sense makes me terribly uncomfortable. For the longest time I had this idea that missionary work was like saying “I know better than you, I live better than you and I’m going to give you the opportunity to live as well as I do.”

Icky right?

Some people I know are amazing at walking up to someone and starting a conversation about religion, I am not one of them.

On the other hand I am more than happy to sit behind my computer screen and show several thousand strangers what being a Mormon is like for me. It’s sometimes very hard, it’s sometimes very frustrating, it’s usually very rewarding, it’s generally very easy, it’s very rarely crafty and it is so much a part of who I am that I can easily give credit to God for every good thing in my life.

Even my agnostic best friend who claims foreveralone. Yep, God gave you to me. Not sure who gave me to you, but you know my end of the story so go with it.

At times I’ve thought that I should leave church to the people who really know what they’re doing. The people who do everything they’re supposed to be doing and live their lives according to all the handbooks (yes, there are handbooks.)

In my younger years I was a dancer. To this day every part of me wants to dance and even more parts of me miss dancing more than I miss certain parts of my youth.

I was never the right body type for what I really wanted to do, which was classical ballet — but I did it anyway.

I watched as the tall thin girls who were all legs and no boobs went off to college with dance scholarships then on to promising contracts with various ballet companies.

Does the fact that I don’t perform to audiences every night lessen my love of dance? Absolutely not.

I am not on the front lines of Mormonism. I couldn’t throw down in a heated gospel debate nor could I teach you everything there is to know about scriptures, church history or doctrine. There are still parts of it that confuse me, confound me and sometimes make me a little angry.

But I love it. It is very much a part of who I am and I could never just walk away from it, just like I can’t step-ball-change away from my love of dance or walk away from the man who confuses me, confounds me and sometimes makes me a little angry.

From a worldly perspective it would certainly be easier to quit this whole church thing. Sundays free, less guilt, beer with pizza, sundresses, 10% more money each week and fancy coffee drinks.

But I would lose who I am. Because I am so much more than my love of beer and pizza, cute sundresses and sleeping in on Sunday.

Consider my missionary work this: finding so much joy in something you are a part of that it becomes you and you could never walk away from it.

That’s what my religion is for me.

***

Of course, if you want to know more there’s some eager youngn’s that would love to speak with you.)

on learning from others and being family. (sponsored)

Thanks to ABC Family’s new series The Fosters for sponsoring this post. Click here to see more of the discussion. Also, watch the series premiere of The Fosters on Monday, June 3 at 9/8c only on ABC Family.

I wish I could explain to you how wonderful the Internet has been for me. If you’ve lived any part of your own life online I’m sure you’re probably familiar with how many wonderful people are out there, teaching others about acceptance through their own examples of wholehearted living. One of the kindest emails I received after Vivi was born was from Kim in Texas. I had lost touch with her in 2009, the year that seemed to be terrible for everyone. We had somehow found each other on Flickr in late 2008, and have followed each other on and off through little snapshots of our daily lives. She congratulated me and offered me the most simple blessing in regards to raising these two little girls of mine. Kim has three children of her own, the oldest is now 23, and her daughter takes the on the role of big sistering as seriously as Addie does.

Continue reading “on learning from others and being family. (sponsored)”

no bennie, hi summer, b to the abble.

Despite my best efforts, Benicio won’t be coming home with me. Apparently he likes to eat children but nowhere was that noted on his adoption papers.

Sorry dude, I tried.

******

Summer vacation is officially here, which means a constant stream of grass clippings through my front door, wet footprints through my backdoor and a fine layer of sidewalk chalk on everything.

It means we all smell of sunscreen, sometimes like wet dogs, and I will be looking for someone’s other flip flop until September.

It means a a lot of “I’m bored” followed by “GO SCRUB THE BASEBOARDS THEN.”

It means the one eyed cat needs to be shaved, I need to buy Popsicles, and nightly baths resulting in a ring of dirt around the tub.

It means Vivi will never be dressed, I will have to fight with Addie to keep her dressed, all while wishing I didn’t have to wear clothes at all.

It means sunshine every day, fireflies at night and splash parks in the afternoon.

Hi summer, missed you.

*********

Over on B to the Abble:

Vivi had a Star Wars May the Fourth birthday party. And by ‘party’ I mean ‘small gathering involving cupcakes.’

Vivi had a fairly amazing April on Instagram. (May has been equally spectacular, stay tuned.)

Cody said Vivi would only eat cottage cheese with a silver spoon, then I told Vivi she’ll eat her cheese on whatever spoon I give her.

Several of you requested a video of Addie and Vivi reuniting at the bus stop, I did one better and included an interview as well.

I wrote a letter to Candy Crush, it’s not a happy letter. The good news? I’ll be speaking with one of the creators of Candy Crush soon. THERE WILL BE WORDS.

(sponsored) Talking about fostering, adopting and how many different ways there are to care for little kids.

shane garcia can do anything.

If you missed Shane Garcia’s audition for season 10 of SYTYCD please allow the following 6 minutes to change your life:

“Because of this [stutter], I am a master at what I do and I can do anything.”

He made it through choreography to Vegas.

Needless to say, he is my favorite.

three birds, three cats and cody.

Would anyone like to guess how many birds were living in my walls?

Three.

The correct answer is three.

The good news is that I am able to say ‘were living in my walls’ rather than ‘are living in my walls’ or ‘died in my walls.’

The little creeps found their way over to the original vent and after I removed the cover from the outside the birds were able to escape (but not until after they flew at my face.)

Officially NOT a bird person.

********

Cody wrote about 15 things he does to hold onto his youth, yet he failed to mention #16 ‘Say it’s my 27th birthday for the sixth year in a row.’

He talks about the worst advice given to newlyweds (specifically us.) If we ever hand out crap advice like this out to you, smack us.

Cody the all-star football player introvert discusses prom.

I like these ones, the ones where he gets all angry and ranty about sports figures and why they shouldn’t be idolized the way they are.

I wasn’t a very good cook when Cody and I got married. Nay, I was an utterly and completely terrible cook when Cody and I got married (here’s how I turned it around.)

********

This is Tige. Y’all need to convince Cody to let him come live with us. HE NEEDS TO BE MINE.
I would name him Benicio, snuggle his brains out and take lots of pictures of him.
Face it Cody, the Internet NEEDS me to have another cat. IT’S JUST GOOD BUSINESS.

vent birds, door snakes, car rats and a warning

The most unholy stink began permeating our half bath about two weeks ago.

I thought maybe it was garbage gone wrong or worse, a toilet gone wrong.

Cody figured out it was bird nests in the vent which, ew.

It was a sort of rotten farm smell, only today it got worse.

Way worse.

Cody is really good at a lot of things, but getting things done around the house isn’t really one of them. (I’ve always said it’s a good thing he’s an attorney so we can pay someone else to do the things he can’t/won’t. He’ll argue with me on this sometimes, but after today? There will be no arguing.) I climbed a ladder to see if I could get the nest out of the vent myself. When a bird came flying out at my face that plan quickly changed.

I called several local pest control agencies only to be hung up on as soon as I said ‘birds.’ Apparently birds and their diseases are not something any old pest agency will tackle, add in the fact that certain birds (sparrows included, which, what?) are protected by Indiana state law and a pest control agency could lose their license if they kill or injure one.

Two guys came with flashlights and nerves of steel to chase out the birds and get rid of the nests.

Y’all? It was nasty. (And apparently if birds fall under the subcategory of ‘nuisance’ they can be handled in any way deemed necessary. Had you smelled my downstairs you would have been all “Nuisance? Try NASTY.”)

The good news? The nests are gone and my house no longer smells of a rotten barnyard. (There were two dead birds along with three nests in the vent. THERE WERE FLEAS IN THERE TOO.)

Bad news? Apparently there was still one bird alive in the vent and it found some Houdini way of getting out of the vent and INTO MY WALL. Every once in awhile it (they?) will flap and skitter about in the wall causing the cats to lose their minds. Sometimes it (they?) even let out primal bird screams which is terribly disconcerting and the stuff nightmares are made of. No one realized the bird was even in there until the vent was sealed up and everything seemed back to normal.

So now our options are this:

A) Let the bird(s) live out its life in a wall and hope it ends quickly and painlessly. Upside? Free. Downside? Guilt and possible odor.

B) Cut out a section of wall where we *think* the bird is, which means it (they) would fly into our house and 1. Fleas 2. Bird diseases 3. Hole in the wall.

Our attic was full of dead birds when we moved in, I think cleaned out at least eight last winter.

We also had carpenter ants when we moved in.

In the midst of everything today I heard a knock at my back window. A man, totally unrelated to birdpocalypse said, “Ma’am? I’m going to need you to close your screen door and stay inside. This long grass back here is a snake hazard and I’m going to be mowing it down, I’d hate for one of them to get into your home as they escape.”

Which leads me to option C.

C) Cut out a little hole in the wall, release dislocated snakes into the wall and see what happens.

In the words of Mary, “I’ll take hidden joys of home ownership for 400, Alex.” and at least it wasn’t car rats.

Homeowners, heed my advice: BIRD AND RODENT VENT COVERS.

Best money you’ll spend this year.

on favorite flowers, fits and karma.

From the moment I learned what a peony was it became my favorite flower.

I have tried to grow them for four years now, I’ve tried different dirt, different locations and different bulbs.

Nothing.

Driving home today I saw dozens of peony bushes drooping and bending under the weight of their huge showy blooms after the rain.

I’ve decided that peonies aren’t really my favorite flower anymore, they’re difficult and they give up too easily.

Sure they’re pretty, but should looks really outweigh simplicity and ease? I don’t think so.

I’m now considering the petunia as my favorite, they’re the one flower I can keep alive on a consistent basis. Hardy little blooms, petunias are.

****
Vivi lost her damn mind in the produce section today. I was in too deep and too close to being done to abandon everything and walk out.

I think I had high blood pressure for the first time in my life this afternoon.

Vivi insisted on being held as we walked out, but here’s the thing, one cannot hold at sobbing toddler in one arm and navigate a very full shopping cart with the other arm.

I tried, it’s not possible.

Which led me to pushing the cart with both hands while Vivi sobbed in the seat.

I really wish someone would have offered to help, I probably could have asked for it, I probably should have asked for it. But I didn’t.

Remember when baggers used to push your cart out to your car for you? I really could have used that today.

*****

When Addie and I were in New York I was torn on taking her to a show on Broadway. Times Square is so busy and shows are so expensive. It was super rainy on Sunday so I decided a matinee would be an awfully good idea.

Discount tickets to Newsies were available at TKTS, but the line was long and we were already soaked and exhausted from waiting in line for two hours at Carlo’s Bakery.

I decided to try the theater for full price tickets, we had already come so far and Addie had been such a trooper.

Full price tickets were sold out so we waited in line again in hopes of getting some through a cancellation, we were told our chances were slim. The good news was at least this line was indoors and we had lots of pastries from Carlo’s to keep us company.

Just before we were ready to admit defeat, a woman stopped with her daughter and asked if we were buying tickets.

“Well, I hope we can.”

“I have two extras, the people who were coming with us couldn’t make it and I would hate for them to go to waste.”

Just like that she handed over two seventh row center seats to a sold out showing of Newsies on Broadway. She refused to let me pay her and I started to weep.

Her oldest son was just deployed with the Marines a few days earlier. Since he is with intel she won’t hear from him for seven long months.

I thanked her a thousand times for the tickets and a thousand times more for sharing her son with our country.

I dare you to tell me karma isn’t real.

Put good out there, get good back.

I drove past a church sign today that said “If God brought you to it, He will help you through it.”

I sometimes wish my church had a witty sign out front.

and then addie asked for a blog.

It was over cheeseburgers and fries at the Shake Shack in Battery City on Friday night.

“Mom? What is a blog?”

Earlier in the day we visited Babble HQ and it finally clicked that I really do have a job, not just a computer addiction. All the people I talk to and work with each day through my computer were standing in front of her saying hello to her and offering her cookies. I dare say she even though my job is cool.

“It’s like a journal, I talk about what I like, what I don’t like, what I’m scared of and sometimes I post pictures I take. I tell stories about you, Vivi, dad and myself.”

“Can I have a blog?”

“Of course you can have a blog, do you want to share mine?”

“Yes! When can I start? Now?”

On the flight from JFK to IND Addie wrote her first post, she called it a theme. I don’t know how often she’ll want to write, or what she’ll write about — but here’s how it went down. I didn’t tell her what to write, how to write, nor did I help her with spelling or grammar unless she specifically asked for help. How it’s published is how she wrote it. She did ask what she should write about and since I’m selfish I said I would like to read about what goes on in her head when she meets someone new. While Addie has always been brave and bold on her own and with those she is close to, she shuts down fast and hard when it comes to meeting new people.

I will never be able to thank my friend Lindsay for suggesting I read Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. It changed the ENTIRE way I parent Addie. If you see any of Addie in your own kid I cannot stress reading this book enough.

So here it is, history in the making. The next generation of the Internet, Addie’s first blog post:

****

Hi I’m Addie I just started Blogging today. So my things will be on my moms Blog page and I want to know about everything to know about Blogging. So my mom is helping me start because she is a great mom. So this post is about how scared I get when I meet new people and I get really scared because I am a kid and kids do get scared when they are little like me but when I met my moms friend Dara I looked her in the eye and said hi then I got to know her and we became friends and I love her now. And there is someone else who I met her name is Andrea but I like to call her big sissy sometimes and we met on a Disney Cruise and Andrea is my moms boss. How I get comfortable is I stay quiet and listen to them.

****
Oh, this child.

Any suggestions for what Addie could write about next?