Challenge the CPSIA Act: it likely affects *you*!

If you think you're not affected, guess again. Odds are, you are.

Recent Forbes article: Scrap the CPSIA

I see this as another form of big business using our fears to wipe out the competition. Odds are you don't remember the Consumer Product Safety Commission's warning against co-sleeping. At a basic level, they are responsible for products, not the use of products. Add to that, they skewed the statistics (like so many to when they have an agenda). Oh, and the JPMA co-launched the campaign. Who, you might ask, is the JPMA? Juvenile Products Manufacturing Association. No conflict of interest there. They couldn't possibly have an interest in crib sales, could they?

We're seeing this conflict again with the CPSIA: Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act. It is intended to assure that all items meant for children under 12 years of age is tested for lead and other safety issues. Toys, books, clothes, even my small corner of the world, one of a kind baby carriers. Oh yes, they want to keep our children safe. Unfortunately, they are applying a blanket law when a targeted act would do better. Most of the items that caused concern were manufactured in China. Most of the products being affected will be small companies, including crafters and thrift stores. Eventually, you won't even be able to give something away that hasn't undergone hundreds to thousands of dollars worth of testing. Be careful handing down that Christening gown or old rattle- it could open you up to a world of trouble.

The big manufacturers are on board. This is a blip in their manufacturing process. With the high volumes they manufacture, it will not break the bank to get the tests done for every batch. Every component of every batch. For a hobbyist (like myself) or a small business? Some are closing up shop now rather than to be left with stock they can't even give away. Personally, I have a stock of carriers in various stage of decoration being held back, praying common sense will prevail.

Not only are the large manufacturers not financially burdened by this act, it actually benefits them. Wiping out the cheaper competition from China? Check. Bringing mom and pop competitors to their knees? Double check! Bonus- if even used items must be tested, more people will have to buy new!

This reminds me of a lesson my father tried to teach me about writing laws.
"Think of a law you think everyone should follow," he told me.
"Everyone should wear their seatbelts."
"Ok, what about motorcycles?"
"Everyone in an enclosed vehicle should wear their seatbelts."
"Ok, what about cars that were made before seatbelts existed? Do we install seatbelts for the law? What if it devalues the antiques?"

And so on. Laws should be well thought out. They should benefit the maximum number of people while impeding the least amount of people possible. To me, the CPSIA is just another of those acts that might as well be called what it is- a gift to big business. Just like the CPSC campaign against co-sleeping and the Ad Council being forced to water down the National Breastfeeding Campaign. Where was our concern for childrens' health then? Seems to me offending the parents was more important than informing them of the risks...yes risks associated with formula feeding. It's not that breast is best, it's that formula is inferior. Those with the interest, power and money wanted to keep that from the public. Just like they want to keep the option of local or handmade goods off the shelves. After all, ethics and ideal rarely ever make enough money to reach the bottom line.

I share with you with a series of items that, if I held strict adherence to the act, I would not be able to make as gifts for my children or any others again.





What can you do to fight the death of creativity? Check out the Handmade Toy Alliance. Take action. It may seem a small thing, but it affects you too.

Thank You

I don't think people know how much they mean to me. I should tell them, but just thinking about it my nose is tingling and my eyes are welling up. Any little thing is likely to bring me up short.

Why?

Because I have a hard time believing I am worthy of thought, consideration, affection. The significant people in my life have gone to great pains to teach me that. My kids though...they are everything a wounded heart needs. But I still tell myself, children love their most awful parents. I loved my mom. She was not good for any of us kids.

So, I am trying to get through this feeling of being undeserving. I look at the words and actions of my kind friends and know, if I could just bypass myself, reaching out to them means they reach back.

Every little thing is so significant I feel as though I owe my life for the kindness shared with me. It is really, truly and deeply felt by me. Appreciated even if I don't have the words or ability to express it to you.

Parenting Choices...so hard to make...

Teen parents disagree on child-rearing

I know that P. doesn't always jump right into my zany ideas. We're going on a year of deciding to homeschool. He thought extended breastfeeding was odd, but understood the benefits. When it came to co-sleeping, P. was actually the one to suggest it and I had to research the safety of it before I agreed.

I know Christian parents married to their Jewish partners have a struggle...Chanukah? Christmas? Even within the Christian community, there can be fundamental differences that led to parenting strife.

But...
Crips vs. Ballers?

It's like a whole other world to me. I wonder at anyone that has this as the primary concern for the well-being of their toddler.

I'm just thunderstruck. Even providing for myself at age 18yo, I had at least had enough of a headstart to have a high school diploma, to be attending college. Yes, I feel like my college loans will stay with me just as long as any initiation scar or gang tat...but damn I was lucky. And here's a second generation...maybe third...beginning all over again.

I wonder if the two parents felt like some sort of Romeo and Juliet. Now reality has set in and they have to decide, "Yo- what colors do we decorate the nursery? Her gangs or mines?"

It jsut kind of makes me step back. I know I have problems but at least...I know I have problems. As as such, I can take the steps to keep moving forward. I can get help, education, loving community support.

Where people in these situations likely join a gang because they feel even less like they belong than I do. They need the protection for self preservation, for the lower levels of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. I can see how fortunate I am to be in the upper half of that particular pyramid. If I don't keep my struggle to keep climbing up, that slope is steep, footing can be lost and the slide down can begin.


Quoting the article in case it goes into the net netherworlds:

Should Our 4-Year-Old Child Be a Crip or a Baller?


A 19-year-old father was arrested for disorderly conduct, harassment, and domestic violence after an altercation with his girlfriend over which gang their four-year-old toddler should join.

Joseph Manzanares, a member of the Westside Ballers, walked into the Hollywood Video store where his Crip girlfriend worked, threatening to kill her and vandalizing the store. The police were called and the father was later arrested at his home.

"They have different ideas on how the baby should be raised. Basically, she said they cannot agree on which gang the baby would 'claim,'" Commerce City Police Sgt Joe Sandoval said. Manzanares pleaded guilty and was sentenced to a year of probation.

Didja?

Didja get the IRS mailing about the "Economic Stimulus Payment"?

If you did, you know what I'm talking about. It probably cost a few hundred thou to print and mail all of these letters.

What was their purpose? Oh, just the IRS equivalent of Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes.

You may have already won.

Yeah. You may have qualified for the check. Or not. We're just telling you- nothing. If you've been under a rock, IRS wants you to know...you may or may not get some amount that may or may not be less than the amount they mentioned.

Glad to see our tax dollars at work in such a helpful way.

Stay tuned for the next update from the IRS later in the summer. Letters to confirm you may or may not have already received the check. That if your mailbox is empty, it's because you didn't qualify but the IRS wanted you to know that you didn't get the check you had been warned you might not get. And if you did get the check, the letter will confirm you got the check you might have missed out on.

For more helpful IRS info: Economic Stimulus Payment Calculator

PS- The intent of this check is to spend and stimulate the economy. Sad to say, we spend enough. This payment (which we may or may not get but according to the calculator we will) will be going into my savings account. Yay me.

For those with Mothers We Don't Celebrate

Nobody knows what a hard job it is to be a mom, until they are a mom. This is for those of us who have a hard time with celebrating the mother in our life.

I can't remember the last time I celebrated Mother's Day for my mother. Sadly, some women really shouldn't have kids. My mom had five, and at one point or another we all agreed she shouldn't have had any- or at least stopped at the first when she realized she was shit at playing mom.

So I celebrate my aunt, who made it possible for my to visit my beloved Gram more often before she died. I celebrate my sis and sister-in-law, sis is a step-mom and puts more effort into her step-son than his mom does, sister-in-law has the same parenting philosophy I do. I celebrate my good friend who was a sister figure, mother figure and friend all rolled into one. I celebrate my former boss, whose kindness and compassion led me to my faith that has enabled me to survive the aftermath of two crippling betrayals.

There are many women in your world who make you who you are, celebrate them. Sometimes the role of 'mother' is untraditional. One of my favorite 'traditions' started w/ the pregnancy of my daughter was the moms in my playgroup throwing a Blessingway instead of a baby shower. We celebrate the bond of women, who have walked the path before us, beside us and behind us. Recently, I changed the format a bit to create a "Healingway" for a good friend. We got together as women and celebrated her and poured our strength and love into her. There is something awesome (in a powerful way- not like totally rad ) about the power of women who hold each other up.

Celebrate that. Celebrate what is IN your life. Understand that some traditions go back further than Mother's Day. When you look around at the women in your life you can celebrate, know that while it's not what the card companies sell- it is what matters.

So Happy Mother's day, because I am sure that in some way, at some time- you have filled that role for someone in your life.

Changes are Coming

I've gone 'round and 'round on doing this since the changes at Blogger. I have finally decided to set this blog to private. So, if you want to continue reading it, please email me at ecu9697@gmail.com

Why this choice? I know I post many personal things here, but I actually don't mind that. I have had people contact me, thanking me for my honesty about my struggle with depression. Hoping that I am helping people is what has prevented me from making this blog private. I know that now there will be fewer people reading here, but it's something I have to do.

I had to make this choice because Blogger does not allow for blocking just one IP address. I have to block them all and allow select ones or block none. Right now, I feel censored when writing my blogs as there is someone who can't seem to let go of her connection with my family. I had hoped she would stop reading here, but I can see by my IP tracker she hasn't. Her 'interest' is stalling my healing.

In order to feel free with how I post, I have to make this blog private until such time as Blogger allows me to block one IP address or I can get my own little domain and have control over that myself.

My Wounded Child was Validated

I forgot to post about something that happened while my sister was here. Maybe I did but didn't give it its due attention. Given everything that went on at the time, I'm sure those of you in the know will understand.

My sister has been trying to find some people from her past. She found our uncle, he tends to just 'take off' and we go decades without knowing where he is. She also found a neighbor friend of ours from when we lived in Alaska. They had a long talk and this person told her she always felt badly for us. She was a teenager then and we were around 8-10 yrs old. When she found out that sis was visiting me, she told my sister (basically):

You tell Bree I remember how your mom treated her. How she took things out on Bree worse than the other kids. Just let her know that if she ever has doubts about how it felt being treated like that, that I validate her and her pain.

When me sis came downstairs to tell me this, we just hugged and cried. I am not trying to take away from the pain of my siblings, we all had a shitty mother and a dad what made many mistakes. But in the 'original three' I was often the scapegoat for mom until I moved in with dad. Even dad admitted to letting mom's venom against me affect how severely he punished me.

But even now, remembering what someone on the outside saw and felt and cared for me, I cry. It is not all in my head. It isn't here in my life just because I am screwed up intrinsically, it was brought to my life by parents who should have treasured me.

So I just wanted to share. If you're like me and you think even the emotional problems you have are your fault. That being a better kid would have meant a better life, I encourage you to seek validation from someone who knew you then. Neighbors, friends, teachers...whoever. Odds are, you will find you were just a child, trying to learn and grow. It was that adult in your life that wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough to stand up to the task at hand and be your nurturer. It's a hard truth to accept if you tend to take blame on yourself, but this helps, just one step, but it helps.

Relapse

I'm writing this because the purpose of the blog is to share the truth of struggling with depression. It's hard for me to deal with this still.

I had a relapse early in the week. I suppose there's irony there because I had just been to a therapy session and we decided that it was ok we couldn't find a two week appointment to fit into both schedules, this time a month would be fine. I could call if there was some emergency. Mr. C. told me I was dealing very well and the only unhealthy thing he saw was the usual- beating myself up over every mistake. Then towards the end of the session, P. called me.

I called him back as I was walking out, he totally floored me by being angry over something I had told him about months ago. Given our current situation, I understand, but the strength of the anger floored me. First, I felt crushed because I had talked to him about it months ago. Then I was angry, then I started to feel guilty. I must have really screwed up for this anger and yelling, right?

I was home before the situation was settled.

My initial reaction was actually the new me- calm and trying to deal with the crisis. No change. Then I got angry, again no change. Then that guilt started in and I accepted all the words he was saying about me. Here's where my relapse came in. Instead of my new attitude of dealing with pain through my 'moment by moment' attitude, through prayer and breathing, I started the old tapes again. This will always be like this, I will always be in pain. My body went into flight mode, but P. insisted I stay. I just sat on the floor and cried, ready to accept anything he said. Around this time he began to soften. His normal behaviors changed. He told me he had intended to handle this calmly, but for some reason just didn't. P. said he over reacted and I really hadn't done anything wrong. He apologized and said everything right.

The problem is, by that time the old tapes were already re-playing: Bree, you are such a fuck-up, you never do anything right, you bring this pain on yourself and you will always feel this pain.

How did I handle it different? This time, I told P. what I was feeling instead of drawing into myself. I told him my body wanted me to run and because of the pain, I was believing all these bad things about myself and I might as well commit suicide. I did not do this as a guilt trip. I did it because for so long I have held my inner self, feeling it was too intense. P. held me and comforted me. He apologized for being the one to bring me to this relapse. He told me how proud he has been of me, how well I am doing. How I am changed. Well, not really changed, but back to the sassy woman I used to be.

I asked him if he thought I should make an appointment with a provider I recently found who might be able to put me on anti-depressants. P. said to hold off, I had been doing so well and been so strong, let's see how I deal with this first.

And I am dealing. Those self-hating thoughts are coming back now and then, but their power isn't so intense. It helps to have someone to reach out to...and have him reach back and gather me in his arms.

...by example...

I read recently that if you want to help the environment, you don't have to become uber-granola and try to save the world one tree-hugging moment at a time. Just pick one thing to do and go from there, being an example and doing more when you can.

I suppose my first earth-friendly deed that I am an example of is breastfeeding. Oh, all the resources saved just by no formula cans to be recycled, no bottles to be created...even just the process of making formula takes it's toll on the environment.

Months ago, one of the mom's groups I'm in did a co-op for Earthwise bags. They came out to just over $1 a bag. I have been forgetting to use them, but do my best to keep them in the passenger seat of my car so I remember. I used them when my sister was here, and when she got home, she ordered enough for herself and her best friend. Bam. The environment helped just a little more. Friday when I went to the grocery store the clerk and the lady behind me took down the website from the bags. Bam. More help for the earth.

It's not just the reduce and reuse part of 'reduce, reuse and recycle.' These bags are slowly paying for themselves. My grocery store gives me .03 off for every bag I use. Not much, but at $1 a bag purchase price, these bags will not only pay for themselves, they will eventually earn me money. My sister's grocery store gives .05! So be sure to check into it. You can feel good and not be put out too much financially!

letting go

we've walked this stretch of beach before
the waves fall into the shore
the sand shifts under our feet
what should be the same is ever changing

in the past we have entwined our arms
fingers laced together
heads tilted towards each other

we've also just walked side by side
fingertips touching
the words on our lips barely said

each time we walk this strand
we walk a different way
near far
but together

now I find myself turning away
facing into the wind
the horizon in the other direction
a new place to walk

I hear you call my name and I turn back
to see you reaching towards me, hand palm up
warm brown eyes filled with love
fear
longing

the wind holds me up, pushing me towards you
but I worry that it will fail
I will fall
I have nobody but myself to do the catching

still your hand reaches out
your voice hopeful
the wind gusts around me
confusion swirls in eddies

I reach out to you, touching your fingertips lightly
this is a chance I'm taking
one I am not sure I want to take
if I finally walk alone
at least I know I tried.

Dose of Reality

Recently, someone left me a message that read: face reality.

Reality is that P. and I dated young. Have had marital problems based on the youth and issues from our past. We never dealt with each problem fully in our marriage, everything just built up. Now we find ourselves at the point of no return.

We push and pull. Sometimes he's fully committed, sometimes I am. There are so many factors to consider. First is whether our marriage can become healthy enough to be a good environment for the kids. Secondly, can we give each other what we need?

So here's where my dose of reality is.

1- I have tried to leave, told him he was free, consulted a lawyer.

2- Currently, he is the one wanting to try and work it out, and I can't help but want to try based on his words of love and assurance. I am still scared though. Sometimes leaving seems easier than all the work we will have to do.

3- I am not 'using' our kids. I have told him he could have open access to them. Indeed, he would likely see them more in that case then he has in the past 9mos.

4- I am not 'staying for the kids' and neither is P. We have made that clear to each other. It is not 'for the kids' to see a broken marriage hobble along. It will be the blueprint of what they expect for their marriage and we don't want that for them.

5- For the kids means both parents being the best role models for their kids, whether that is together or apart we have yet to see.

6- Even with the positive progress that P. and I have made, there is a chance that this marriage will end. However, we have the right to not only try, but to hold off on a choice either way in the immediate future. The choice doesn't have to be made this day or even this month. We are seeking help, we have goals and if things don't seem to be progressing, then we will re-evaluate.

7- The only people that fully know the picture of our marriage are the two people who have been there the entire 15 yrs. Not people (even my close friends and sis) that have heard things second-hand. Not people that were there during a down time and a 're-write of the relationship history'. The reason my closest friend and my sister are my confidants is because they can understand that. They have their opinions that might be counter to my own, but they keep them in check because they know they are not IN our marriage. They support me either way.

8- Working through our issues is the best chance for everyone to have happiness. I am happy on my own, indeed have been at the most peace when I have imagined living on my own. But the statistics are that future relationships are more likely to fail. If we can work through this and our other marital issues, then it is best for us and our family.


So there's my dose of reality. Yes, I helped get my marriage in its fucked up state. Yes, I have wallowed in my depression- never made any bones about that. This blog is a fairly complete record of my struggle. I have been this honest in the hopes of helping others who might feel depressed. Now you know one more issue in my life.

Because of that, I hope you understand when I say that I am all the more amazed at my healing. Yes, MINE, not P.'s. He's responsible for his own. I can't force him. Over the years I have talked to him about the childhood issues I see popping up in his adult interactions. Up until know he has refused to acknowledge that anything is an issue. We may or may not succeed, depending on what path we each take. We can only do so much together, the rest is up to individual things. I feel really good about my path. It's promising that P. has agreed to continue his own therapy.

Rest assured that whatever happens, it will be on OUR terms. Not someone's mistaken impression of what our marriage is, should be or will be. To my friends, thank you for your support- even when you don't believe in my actions, you believe in me.

Overheard in the Shower this Morning

Sometimes, after I get out of the shower in the morning, the kids get in. It's cool, because I have some peace while I am getting ready and putting their stuff together.

This morning while they were in the shower, J. begins saying, "Mimi! Mimi!" which she tends to do when she sees nipples (or anything else breast related really). C. replied, "Yes, but when I grow up, I won't make milk." J. queried, "Milk?"

C.'s reply was, "You have the power of milk!"

Another related incident happened yesterday when J. brought me a little toy pig and told me it was her. "Really? That's J.?" I asked. "Uh-huh!" she said. Then grabbed the toy chimp she had been carrying around (it had 'mimis') and proceeded to have the pig nurse from the chimp.

I love that I enjoy my kids so much more now.

Letting go of the Shoulds

Part of not huddling inside myself and holding onto the pain means that I am becoming not just a 'there' mom, not just a 'come cuddle a bit' mom, but a 'more fun' mom. We're establishing little routines to build fun into our days. We joke, we tickle, we laugh.

The kids love when I try to sleep in and they gang up on me giving me tummy gummies. They love to dance around the room and have me film them. They love a breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes.

But in addition to these little rituals that remind me to not just be loving, but fun also, I have started to recognize that letting go of the shoulds is a big step towards fun. For instance, extra chocolate chip pancakes cooked and saved for another time are extra special and silly when they become dinner. Breakfast for dinner? You're crazy mom! So simple and yet such smiles and giggles.

This morning, one of my favorite 'letting go of the should' event occurred. Everyone was ready to head out the door. We had close to fifteen whole free minutes, because we had been free from dawdling that morning. No stress, no worries. Wow, a morning where we should sit and savor, or maybe leave early to take C. to school and really enjoy the walk.

Instead, C. asked me to teach him to cartwheel. It was a crazy idea, but I showed him the steps. He managed a couple assisted and I was amazed at myself for still being able to do one. J. tried her hardest, but when I took her waist to help her flip, she just melted into a puddle. We all collapsed into giggles. Soon, we got up and tried again, this time somersaults. J. actually tried and did pretty well at that, C. was an expert and it's been so long since I turned a somersault, I forgot the head rush you could get from one. Dizzy and looking at my laughing kids, I resolved to remember that the shoulds don't always take priority. Sometimes the alternatives are better for the spirit.

Seasonal Life

I know, how can you not compare life to seasons? The summer of youth, the winter of old age. It's been done so many times and here comes another comparison.

I always enjoy walking C. to school. Ok, the day it was 6 degrees out, not so much. But we get to watch the world around us gradually change. When school started, we watched the blooms gradually turn to apples and pears. Then the fruit dropped off and disintegrated into the ground. During winter of course, there was nothing happening except the cold nipping at our noses and ears.

Always though, there's the prattle of the kids. J. mainly shouts out things like "Moon!" "Burr!" (bird) and so on. On the way back, she'll have me go over the numbers on the mailboxes over and over. It's like she's trying to solve the mystery her big brother has the key to. C. will talk about whatever comes to his mind. Today it was life cycles. He mainly concentrated on what ate what. So I talked to him about how we're omnivores, look at us with our plant crushing teeth in the back and our scissor-like meat cutting teeth in the front. C. gasped at the pure simplicity of that, as though it was amazing that our bodies are built specific ways to do specific things, even our teeth. Well, it is, but as we get older we tend to forget. We talked about cows being herbivores and all of their teeth are flat crushers. The carnivore shark has only sharp teeth for ripping. I just loved seeing his wonder as we talked over these concepts and a little more of the world made sense. Right now, he knows only joy really. According to his teachers maybe too much, he's so happy he has a hard time reigning it in; his Sunday school teacher loves it. His regular teacher enjoys it too, but I can tell it's more wearing.

So while I see the 'seasons of life' aren't affecting him yet, something he said got me to thinking about how we see life in seasons. Right now I will stick with winter and spring.

Walking along this winter, there were only the crows really. Their ca-caws weren't frequent, but when they did sound out, it can be jarring and unpleasant. Even their glossy black feathers look foreboding in the spare landscape of winter. Now that spring is blooming into the world around us, the songs of birds fill the air. I don't know about you, but I forget those sounds are missing until they come back. There's still the occasional bossy crow, but also so many joyful birds to balance it out.

Life is like that. When you are feeling bare and empty, the only thing you remember is the grating sound of the crows. Suddenly, your entire life seems bad. It's all you can remember. At least, that's the way it is for me. I know it is for other people. It can happen personally (it's all about me, I am awful), or with a relationship (it's all about us, we are awful together). I suppose even projected on a particular person. Of course, the truth is, nothing is ever all bad. Just when you are feeling winter, it sure feels like it. One book that is often recommended for those of us living in a winter state of mind is Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy. The author helps you recognize your thinking habits and attitudes and how to gradually change them.

When you get to that point, with or without the book, you suddenly hear what we heard this morning on the walk to school. The singing of many different songs. Sometimes it all blends into the background, sometimes one twitter stands out more than the other. When you hear the annoying ca-caw, it is just part of the entire picture, instead of taking it over. And maybe, if you're lucky like me, you can also listen to the prattle of a little voice talking about birds eating worms and some animals eat leaves and fruit and vegetables and...

And you hold that small hand tighter, smile to yourself and tune out all songs but that one.

The Final Days

As a military brat, we celebrated the two-digit midget days when we got to go home after an overseas PCS. No matter how you adapted to the country you were sent to, there's nothing like 'home' even if home ends up being an assignment in a new state. The point is, being stateside. So, to celebrate P.'s recent step into the digit midget realm, I bring you a walk through memory lane. Feel free to stop reading here ;)

Again, the bookends of memory. P. leaving for three months 15 years ago, off to the never-ending stress of Parris Island. And then this year, three months overseas in a high conflict area. With both, he had long hours, but we have done our best to be in daily contact. In '92, I wrote to him daily and cherished every letter I got back. This time, thanks to the internet, we haven't just had phone calls when he can fit them in and care packages winging their way to him from us, but email and IMs. Even better, the pictures we've been able to send back and forth. How wonderful it's been for him to be able to go to YouTube and see our kids, hear them talking to him and feel more of a part of their daily lives.

Just like I was reminded of the goodbye 15 years ago, so I am thinking of the hello. As the summer waned in '92, I was in contact with his mom, making plans to drive to SC. One of his uncles would drive his van. We'd all ride together and stay in a hotel. I remember his mom giving me a Mary Kay makeover- so NOT me. Showing me the clothes she bought him for his second year in college (even then, I knew the white jeans were SO not him).

The first glimpse of him, right up in front of his platoon, just behind the guidon bearer (is that what USMC calls it? I dunno, it's what my title was when I did the same thing in AF JROTC).


I held back and let his mom be the first to greet him. But when I hugged him, I never wanted to let go. I worried about that darn Mary Kay makeup rubbing off on his uniform. I felt like I was wearing a mask.


I remember watching his confirmation into the Catholic faith. The actual graduation ceremony, I can't remember much. I do remember thinking this is what the ceremonies we 'played' at with JROTC looked like when they were real. I remember sitting in the heat, being impatient with every moment of military pomp and ceremony that kept us apart. His gifts of a necklace and a pin with the stoic USMC boot camp official picture on them.

I remember the ride home, running my hand over his thigh, leaning against him, just soaking him in.

Going out to a date at the local Pizza Hut that night, his ex-girlfriend was our waitress. I couldn't believe the gall of her afterwards, calling him over and trying to rub up on him, purring who knows what. Funny if you think about it, since his most burning memory of her was finding her in the closet in flagrante delicto with one of his closest friends at the time. He all but laughed in her face this time and walked away.

He shared with me the picture he carried in his hat the entire 13 weeks. It should have been confiscated, but when his DI found it, the DI pretended he didn't see it. It's in our scrapbook now, but you can see the remnants of its time at Parris Island:


Now, not knowing the exact time yet, and knowing he has to take care of the business of coming back after a extended assignment, such as getting his car out of 'storage', I don't know what to expect- even less so than in '92. Will he be home in time before the kids go to sleep and we can celebrate as a family? Or will he be home after they are in bed and we can have a few precious hours of just us? The dog is the only one not expecting him back. She stopped looking up at the sound of cars after a few weeks. Such an unexpected surprise will send her into new heights of spastic running in circles, I am sure.

But what of me? What will I be feeling after all we have been through in these months? The ups and downs and tears and promises? Will I feel like I am wearing a mask yet again? Or will I let myself feel the joy and relief that is sure to flow through the door in his wake?

Dear Readers, I need your opinions!

Today my therapist called to tell me about a yearly magazine that comes out in the mental health community in my state. The deadline is in April and he thinks I am a good writer and wants me to submit something. I think the Wounded Child essay is one, but I can submit three more. Anything you remember reading of mine that would have widespread appeal? Anything that struck a chord?

Just let me know, thanks :)

Straddling Seasons

I like this new place I am. Obviously, I am not totally thrilled with the situation, but who I am and where I am inside me makes me feel pretty darn good. I have been fighting my way up for so long it's been hard to look around. But after the precipice, I have slowly been awakening to my surroundings.

This morning while walking C. to school, I noticed they are awakening too. Frost on the windows, nipping cold on my nose and ears, yes. But there was also a new flowing of noises. The squirrels are always out, but they seem to scamper more merrily. As if they know their winter diet is nearing an end.

And of course, there's the birds. The sounds of chirping birds filled the air. J. was delighted to point out the plump robin hopping along under the bush next to us.

Yes, spring is coming. A time of hope and rebirth and renewal. That feeling spans time, cultures and religions. It's a feeling that's so primal we all feel it. When I was young, fall was my favorite season. It meant school and less hours at home. I find that the beginning of fall and the beginning of spring have much the same feel. But as I get older, I find I much prefer spring. Although fall still has its attractions, the hope is spring is wonderful to behold.

Happy Birthday P.!

Another year older. We have both changed so much since we were 18. It would be a shame if we didn't.

Chatting with P. last night, he had a bad headache. A Bree migraine he called it. But still, he chatted with me about family stuff until the wee hours because he said it made him feel better and forget the pain. He was also sweet enough to comfort me with all my roadblock issues mentioned in the previous posting. Suddenly, as we were saying goodnight I realized it was his birthday where he is.

How things have changed.

Here's a pic of me giving him a gift the first birthday we spent together, the big one-nine. Sorry for the quality, it's a pic of the one in our scrapbook, it's also 15yrs old.

I bought him a Victorinox Swiss Army knife. He had bought a $10 imitation that of course tarnished before he had it a month and, going by my Boompa's belief that buying the good stuff once is better than buying the cheap stuff multiple times, I saved up and bought him a real Swiss Army knife.


Know your family is thinking of you, loving you and praying for your safety P. We're eagerly awaiting your homecoming (more 'vintage' P. and Bree pics when that draws nearer).

We'll have a cake and celebration when you get home.

road blocks, bumps and dips

Here we are, in the last weeks of P. being gone and I find them harder than even the first weeks. The kids are great, it's just me. I know what it's going to be like to be together again after three months and then I don't know.

There's a roadblock I can't really put a name to. It's a pitiful roadblock really. If I was at another place in my life I would look at it more as a speed bump. Or rather more like what they had when I was growing up in California, dips. I remember the big yellow signs, cautioning: DIP. Yeah, I can see that in conjunction with this road block. Too bad it's still a roadblock because of how I am feeling right now.

It's leading to my feeling of unrest and uncompleted business. I want to laugh at it, snarl at it, release my bile at it. Anything to get past it. But my hands are tied because I don't exactly know what to do, what I should do even.

I'm tired of crying. I wish I could see the strength in myself that other people say they see in me.

When we were talking about being back together yesterday, P. told me he was looking forward to seeing his best friend again. The smart, funny (if sarcastic), sexy woman he married but sometimes forgot to appreciate for who she is. Only, I didn't recognize that person. A few months ago, I felt so strong. Then how come now, when the waiting is almost over, the answers are in front of me- how come now I am feeling so weak?

Maybe just because I can.

Just a Ring

Those little circles hold so much symbolism. Round and round to eternity for one. What type you pick tells something about who you are. How important they are, when you wear them, when you take them off.

The story of my wedding ring. We shopped around for one we could afford in college. I wanted a plain gold band. P. wanted a heart shaped diamond. He got his way. We found a nice little .25 carat heart that P. kept talking about upgrading eventually but I wanted to keep. After all, it was 'the ring' we got married with, anything else was just show. So he began talking showy anniversary bands.

At one point, while playing soccer at a local park with some friends, the diamond fell out. It was replaced since it was still under warranty, but still, it changed the feel of 'my ring'. Sometime in '98 I became aware of conflict diamonds and nixed Pete's window shopping for a new band. No new diamonds, make them some other stone or antiques.

Early in June '06, the diamond fell out again. I was informed this happens frequently in heart shaped diamonds. So we began shopping again, sending links back and forth trying to find a balance between P.'s desire to show how much he loved me by the size of the ring and my desire to be socially conscious (oh and it didn't help I learned there were issues with gold mining too- why did that surprise me?)

Given our problems in the fall that we are trying to work through now, I feel that maybe the diamond falling out and the subsequent inability to agree on a ring was a sign. P. assured me it wasn't.

But in the meantime, after reaching my personal precipice and jumping over it (as read in my St. George entry), I had purchased a posey ring with money I earned sewing. It was custom made with the words: Moment by Moment. I wanted a reminder that I could survive anything moment by moment. The sentiment has been a blessing to me given all that has happened. Even more so when a talk with my pastor revealed that there is a scripture that basically says you let Jesus in moment by moment. It's not a once and forever thing, you have to keep open to Him. The same with forgiveness. You don't forgive once, you forgive every moment you make the choice to do so.

I wore that ring on my right, my left hand feeling empty. Eventually, Pete asked me to wear something on my left hand and I picked a tiny anniversary band I hadn't worn in years. On our anniversary, he sent me a temporary replacement ring he ordered online.

Today, he sent a link to a new diamond band. Ready to renew our relationship, he actually picked something conflict free. It's a blend of the two of us and the sentiment is very much appreciated. So that's what's got me thinking about the symbolism of rings. How in the beginning, my preferences weren't listened to, and now, they are. It also is making me think of a phrase I have been seeing a lot lately. You can't unring a bell. There are things you have done that can't be undone. The reverberations stay with you for years, sometimes for always. While marriages can be broken, they can't be unrung. They follow you in some form always. I suppose that's why we are trying to get it right even now, even after all that has happened. The bell ringing the sound of our marriage? Maybe we can make it into music rather than a jarring reminder of flaws.