Ambergontrail – Trying to get through life without dying of dysentery

It’s no surprise that I come from a “broken” home. I grew up amongst fighting, drinking and overall unease. I spent most of my time during high school fighting the urge to be gone as much as possible, while also managing to feel the need that I HAD to be home all the time so any fighting could be intercepted by me, the family scapegoat.

It took a long time to realize that wasn’t how marriage was supposed to be, and it’s also taken me a long time to figure out how to fight the “right” way. For so long I thought fighting was a sign of the end, and I often started them for a lack of a better way to communicate. I had few examples of what love was, and when I encountered them I would study them like an item in a museum- like they were behind glass and if I REALLY wanted to know what made it tick I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

Even with these examples in front of me, there was always one persisting question in my mind: “Where does it go wrong?”. I’m sure most people don’t have two children with people they despise, you know? So I knew at one point my parents had to have been happy, even if there was never a marriage anniversary to celebrate, there was a time when they loved each other. It made me question everything about marriage.

I knew being married wouldn’t make a difficult relationship easier, but I knew it would make it harder to leave. Instead of one person just moving out and bam, relationship over, there would be legal fees, dissolution of a partnership. In my mind, I thought that would make someone work harder- even for fear of losing a crapload of money. Growing up with my parents the way they were, I lived in constant fear. Fear that someday one of them just wouldn’t come home. In addition I lived in fear that they would sit us down and say, “It’s not working, it is over.” I didn’t know what I wanted from them, other than happy parents. When a question of “Happy parents alone or miserable parents together?” was posed to me by a friend, I honestly had no idea what to say. No one wants their parents to be miserable, but no one wants to split their lives between two families. No one wants to be torn between parents, forced to choose going with the parent you’re closer to (who will not take good care of you) or the one who you resent for various reasons who will make sure you have everything you need- even if it means sacrificing for themselves. I constantly battled with this, and it stayed with me until the time I got engaged.

Since I had so little to base a happy marriage on, I was afraid for our future. Paul was the best man, and had always been. Even through those five years between our previous relationship’s demise and our renewed relationship, I held other men up to him. I knew he’d take care of me, and he’d love me in the way I had always imagined “True Love” encompassed. Of course, I always worried that there would be a time when I’d stop loving him the same way. Or he’d realize I’m not really all that loveable, and not all that tidy, and he’d find someone who deserved him.

During our time trying to conceive, I was convinced I was being punished for not appreciating him before. That perhaps someone didn’t think I was worthy of creating a child with Paul, because I had my chance and lost it all those years before. For some reason, I always think that there is some lingering THING just around the corner waiting to take everything away from me. When Paul is around, I feel complete. I feel warmed and it’s like slipping a flannel nightgown over your head when it’s freezing cold.

Even though I know marriage takes work, and we work hard at ours, I wonder if something is missing here. It’s not because I’m unhappy, or because we’re unfulfilled. No, it’s because we’re TOO happy. So many people talk about how hard marriage is, how hard the first year is, how hard the first year after having a baby is, and I’m kind of afraid because we just don’t… have that difficulty. There are times when he frustrates me and I frustrate him, and there are times when we might argue a little more, but as we crawl into bed, I curl into him and he wraps his arms around me and I know it’s okay.

I’m not trying to boast here, “My marriage is kickass and awesome”. I just honestly don’t know if something is wrong. Should we be fighting more? Am I just SO paranoid of fighting that I let things go too easily, to avoid any strife in the house? I don’t think I am, to be frank. I recognize our faults, and I try to avoid repeating mistakes I had seen as a child, but with every year that passes I wonder, “Is this when my parents’ relationship started to fray?”

The thing is, I don’t KNOW when their relationship got ugly. I remember some good times as a family, when there was laughing and silliness. But mostly, I remember the bad. I remember them being separate, and not that united front parents are supposed to present to their children. And even more, I remember the overwhelming sadness and misery that surrounded us. So as I look at our marriage, at how Paul and I are every day, I think, maybe… just maybe… we are getting it right. Of course, I’m hesitant to even think that, because I’m all about the jinx.

All I know is that when Piper gets unhappy because we’re kissing each other too much and not kissing on her (again) instead, that we are at least doing something for our marriage and family. Piper will not be witness to parents who give each other the cold shoulder, that don’t love each other. I know that as a wife and mother, that’s the best I can do.

I have had my final driving lesson. I have driven into a gas station on my first lesson, not less than ten minutes after getting in the car for the first time. I have driven on the Pacific Coast Highway not once, but twice. TWICE! Over the six hours behind the wheel I drove down to El Segundo and back through the LAX tunnel – which was insane. I drove through Beverly Hills at rush hour, and through the Palisades at 9am. I even drove the windy Topanga Canyon road, and my instructor didn’t have to take the wheel once. I was taught how to pull up to a curb and back up. I only hit the curb once. Well, it may have been driving up on the curb. I need to work on that.

Especially since I have scheduled my behind the wheel test. Tuesday the 21st of February, I will be taking the test to see whether or not I have practiced enough, and am comfortable enough to pass.

Honestly, I feel like I’m definitely proficient enough to drive on a basic city tour. I think I can do that. I can turn well enough (I do  have some problems turning directly into the lane and knowing how far into the lane I am so I don’t drift into the cars parked on the right of me), and I’m confident in my ability to change lanes and stop at a stop sign/intersection at a timely manner. I am also confident that I do really well when encountering bumps/humps (is CA the only state that has “humps”? It kills me when I see those letters) and dips.

Yet I am scared of failing. I’m scared that if I don’t pass the first time, that while I know it’s not the end of the world, that I w0n’t pass it ever. Which I know is stupid, but when I’m around tests I just… panic. It’s “testophobia”- fear of taking tests. Seriously, even when I was pregnant and I’d pee in that cup I’d freak out that I was going to fail (I never did). When I took the permit test I was terrified. And I failed. Then I took it again immediately and passed. I know I need to work on my parking and my turning in order to stay in my lane, and I definitely need to work on backing up straight.

What doesn’t help is Piper’s contribution to Mommy getting behind the wheel. Oh yeah, did I mention that? I drove twice with her in the car. And each time, when I got behind that wheel, my little girl cried. Sobbed. Let us know how  unhappy she was with this situation: “I’m crying, Momom”. “I’m SAD.” As if it wasn’t stressful enough to be driving with my little girl in there with me! No, now it was with a little girl who was just crying the WHOLE TIME. Seriously, the whole time!!

While we’re going to take the car out some more since I have time before the test, Paul said he thinks I’m ready. I wonder if he thinks I’m ready compared to the already licensed drivers out here who have already forgotten the rules, forgotten what an actual stop is. Then I look around and think, “Some of these drivers have likely gotten BETTER as they’ve been driving, what must they have been like when they were just starting out?” I get confident, but then my confidence comes crashing down around me because I just can’t be confident about it. I’m so NERVOUS. My stomach is anxious, constantly queasy about this big new step before me. I need to relax, and coffee isn’t helping.

Driving is the hugest hurdle between Paul and I having a second child. There will be no pregnancy until I can get my license and drive us back and forth from appointments and stuff. And despite how badly I want a second child, I’m ten thousand percent behind him because it’s a reasonable request. Not even reasonable, it’s something that should have been done a LONG, LONG time ago.  I want to be able to drive SO much. I want to be able to pick up friends from the airport, and to quickly drive to the mall if Piper and I are bored (unlike the trip we took on Sunday which was a walk to the mall because all of a sudden Piper’s bff Muno the stuffed doll was missing and needed a new one), meet up with friends for playdates, and visit my in-laws and family without needing to count on Paul. Poor Paul. Throughout the past 8 years of our relationship he has been the sole driver. Responsible for giving me rides everywhere, then it became Piper and I. So much stress for a man who has enough stress in his life.

I’m afraid that I’ll let him down if I fail, and I told him that. He said he’s just so happy I’m finally taking that step towards independence, that even if I fail, what then? Who cares! Take it again! Unburdening Paul of the load he has carried alone is reason enough for me to get my butt in gear and to focus. I can do this. I HAVE to do this, for my family. For freedom. For the plain fact that I did something that terrified me. Over time I hope to become someone Piper can learn from, and I hope this step takes me on my way to bigger and better steps. Finally I can surprise Paul for his birthday and take him somewhere. When I finally get my license, I will be free to do as I choose! I can run to the store! Run to get cupcakes! (Paul promised I could drive to Sprinkles to celebrate getting my license when it happens)

I’m torn between posting the morning of my appointment (or the day before) asking for everyone’s good luck test-passing dust, their good wishes and crossed fingers or not saying anything so I don’t need to tell people if I fail. I honestly don’t know. I am SURE the power of “dust” and wishes for a successful test can help, even if it’s to boost me  up, but I’m scared of disappointing everyone if I fail.

I can do this.

So Cal has been hit by a Winter heatwave (which means it’s about mid to high 70s during the day here), which is awesome for getting out and doing stuff, but sucks when you’re having to work. To keep Piper entertained over the weekend I decided to let her get some vitamin D, so we headed out to the local park. Which is up a tall ass hill. So, like an idiot, I took our crappy-on-rocky-terrain Maclaren Quest instead of our Baby Jogger Performance with the sweet ass rubber tires up that hill. In flip flops. In 78 degrees. I know, it’s not really warm, right? But it’s in the blazing sun, my skin is allergic to it! I tossed on my Mickey baseball hat from Disneyland, put Piper in a pair of shorts and slathered both of us in sunblock and headed up that tall ass hill.

It took about ten minutes to get up the hill, then I had to walk us over the freeway overpass with incredibly shaky legs (Seriously, pushing an umbrella stroller up a hill with sidewalks that have been torn asunder by insane tree roots is like some whacked out obstacle course) and across to the park.

It was totally worth it, though. Piper was going up and down the slides by herself, (including the loopty loop ones!!), swinging, playing with chalk, running wild like a little girl should.

Excuse the horrible hat, it was a spur of the moment purchase in Santa Barbara a few months earlier (peanut head), and it was the only one we had that still fit. Later that day we bought a new one, which you’ll see later in this post!

She loves this play structure. It has steering wheels, a huge abacus, some musical things and a lot of little seats for tiny tushes to sit on.

She even started to climb up the weird ladder type thing they have down by the big kid slides (the ones that curl and are longer)! How did this happen??

I was really happy we had bought a few pairs of shorts in 2T during the sales before winter hit, because we would have been so unprepared for these hot days that have been hitting us!  And seriously, how cute are those shorts??

Piper sat in the baby swing for awhile going, “Wheeeeee! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” while her swing neighbors were like, “Hey, me, too! WHEEEEEEEEEEE!” It was so cute, just a pair of toddlers (strangers and one toddler whose mother I had met in Whole Foods sans baby) yelling, “WHEEEEEEEE!” People around us were chuckling at these kids, and a few parents came up to me to tell me that her mannerisms and joyful smile was quite uplifting to them, and that you can’t NOT smile and laugh when you’re around her. Since I feel that way pretty much all the time with her, I kind of assumed that was the Mom in me, completely enamored with my daughter, so it was good to know I’m not alone in those thoughts. It was also good to know I’m not some psycho crazy obsessed with how awesome my kid is- and WHY DON’T YOU SEE IT TOO, STRANGERS??

Sorry for the blurriness, it’s almost literally impossible to get a clear photo of a swinging child.

After squatting down to chalk up the sidewalk, we put the hat away and went for one last slide ride.

Paul then came to pick us up for lunch between games. After lunch we headed out with him to watch him coach (one of the upsides to him working on weekends is that we can kind of see him do it, and cheer him on), with Piper and I going through her vintage Sesame Street flashcards (numbers, letters, colors, they are AWESOME!) as she cheered him on. So cute to see her yell “Go Daddy!’ and clap every time a basket was made. Even for the other team.

After that we headed to the mall to get her a new hat from Gymboree, and sat down for some dinner there. Kid will eat anything on a stick.

The next day was another one without Paul. He left at about 9am, and returned home at 7:30p, just in time to put Piper to bed. It wasn’t until about 1pm, and Piper had finished her nap when I looked at the weather and saw it was 80 degrees outside! Our place is tile floored, so it stays cool/cold in there ALL THE TIME and I had no idea. Since I wanted her and Woofie to get some fresh air, we walked outside and took a stroll in the sun, wearing her new hat. It’s the cutest thing, when we tell Woofie we’re going outside, Piper grabs his leash and pats her leg saying, “Oh Woo-Man! C’Mon, Wooh!”

After that we brought Woofie back and Piper and I sat down for some chalk coloring outside in the shade.

The new hat, and shorts!

Covered in white chalk dust, Piper kept shouting, “BOO! BOOO!” so I would scream in fright. This kid is hilarious.

Piper got tired of this and requested we go inside and get in bed. Being willing to snuggle with my girl anytime she asks because I know it will only last a little bit longer, I said, “Of course, let’s go.”

Man, this kid is boss.

If you’re a mother- a working mother, stay at home mother, mother to be, mother to dream… you’ve seen the post (article? Hm) about not having to  “Carpe Diem” being a mother.  I’d link to it here, but to be honest, I am SO tired of hearing about it.

I don’t know what it is exactly that ruffles my feathers about it. Perhaps it’s because it makes me feel like some kind of oddball freak for not griping and bitching more about how hard it all is. I mean, while on one hand, I’m glad there was this post for the mothers who have a hard time with their kids so they can feel like they’re NORMAL. Like it’s OKAY to kind of count the minutes until bedtime. Having a child is tiring, having a baby is exhausting. Being the one your child is solely reliant on is stressful to the nth degree. We all know this, right?

But then… that post makes me feel ashamed for saying the things the woman hears “Enjoy EVERY minute, it goes by so fast.” or the “This is the best time of your life, isn’t it?”. I get angry as well, though. Why the hell should I censor myself because of how I choose to view parenthood? There are so many posts by parents saying, “No one ever says it’ll be this hard, I’m here to tell you how hard it is”, “This is the REAL truth about parenting”. There are the posts saying all Mommy bloggers put forth this facade of utter happiness and bliss when it comes to child-rearing. The part that digs into my brain is “facade”. It’s true, there are these bloggers where you KNOW there are deeper issues going on in their lives, and they are trying to show that everything is hunky-dory, “no problems here!!”,  however, there are also bloggers like Me, like Kimberly Michelle and Ms. Zhukeeper who acknowledge that parenthood can be rough, but with a little support, a positive outlook and well, the tendency to kind of LIKE your life, you can enjoy everything about it- the good with the bad (holy run on sentence!).

What bothers me the most is that I feel guilty for not complaining about my life as a parent! What the hell! It seems there are SO many posts telling parents it’s okay to be miserable, it’s okay to hate this part of your life (at that moment), which is great, it’s nice for the parents who are hating every aspect of baby raising to  feel not alone. With that in mind, where are the posts telling parents like me that it’s OKAY to be happy? That it’s perfectly normal to want your mornings of snuggles and laughter to last forever, that it’s just fine to be sad when it’s bedtime for your child because time just goes by SO fast? When older women tell me to enjoy it, because it speeds by, I put my hand to my heart, nod my head quickly, and say, “OH, I know. I know so well.” Because you know what? It DOES. While each day with an active toddler can seem to take 50% longer than it does without children, by the end of the day you look back, and think, “Wow, how is she two already?”

The other day I had a load of Piper’s laundry on the bed getting ready to fold it all. As I was folding one of the Carter’s plain white onesies (to go under her clothes), I reached into the pile and grabbed what I thought was the same thing- another white onesie. Well, it was. Only instead of being 24 months, it was 6-9 month. Piper wore this thing TWO YEARS AGO! I held it up, tears welling, and said aloud, “This wasn’t even the smallest she wore!” I laid it atop the 24 month onesie and was in shock. At some point, Piper was small.

So when people tell me, “Enjoy this time!” I say, “I do. Every single minute of every single day.” I know the time will come where Piper won’t willingly give kisses, and won’t come running yelling, “MAMA!!!” when I come home. Just like Piper no longer snuggles into the crook of my arm, smelling softly of milk, of lavender, with her knees curled to her tummy, with her bottom sticking out in the air.

Don’t think Piper doesn’t pitch fits (because she can drop to the floor squalling like nothing you’ve ever seen), don’t think Pipes doesn’t smack or try to bite, because she does. She frequently says, “I’m MAD”, with her little hands bunched into fists. Piper is a mellow kid most of the time, you know? But when she’s riled up, man, she’ll kick your ass. Instead of being angry that I have to deal with it (sometimes with my work piled up waiting for me to get to it, too, which is like stress x10), I just look into her little face, see that sweet girl who I know so well, and know that it’s going to pass.

Kind of like babyhood, toddlerhood, childhood, parenthood. It will all pass. With every horrible stage that goes, a wonderful one goes as well. The sleepless nights are gone, but so are the cozy and warm snuggles we’d share early in the morning, just some Mama and Baby bonding over a little bit of nursing. I know that the fussy/slappy/bitey twos will pass, and along with it the wonder of experiencing everything brand new (like rain, Disneyland, petting a pig). With everything bad comes new wonderful things. And when those bad things go to make room for new miseries, those wonderful things make way for new wonders like riding a bicycle and potty training.

For me, I choose to Carpe Diem. I choose to “Seize the Day”, I choose to see everything in my life with rosy colored glasses. For me, I choose to let Piper know that everything she has brought to my life (including our poor scrawled on LCD tv)- to OUR life, rather- is a blessing. It’s magic.

Moms like me: It’s okay to Carpe Diem. It’s okay to not feel ashamed for reveling in everything your life brings to you. It’s okay for your marriage to be even better than it was when you had no children- don’t feel ashamed for being proud of your life, of your family. For those moms who want to know it’s okay to hate your life now and then, it’s okay, too. Just know that EVEN THOUGH PEOPLE SAY IT ALL THE TIME: there will be a time when you look back at these miserable days of not sleeping, of children who don’t eat or listen and choose to act out instead, and you WILL miss it. Sure you might not miss it all, but you will miss a large part of it. And this is coming from a mom who had daily sobbing breakdowns at 6 months (Which I DID blog about back then, I hide nothing) thinking she wouldn’t be able to do it. Well, I made it. I’m here. And you know what? I still love my life. I still love my kid. I will still Carpe Diem. Because nothing can be so bad that I can’t get a hug and a kiss from my girl that will make it all better.

Last Monday was a rainy day. Like, super rainy. Piper was in the office with me, and boy did we have a case of the cabin fever! So, I decided to put her rain coat on (Thanks, Mom!) and let her stand outside in the rain (I was in the doorway under the awning so I didn’t get soaked because I had no raincoat!).

Instead of hopping in the puddles and splashing around, Piper instead stood with her arms out yelling, “IT RAIN! IT RAIN! IT… RAAAAAAAAIN!!!” It was so cute, and man, she repeated that steadily for literally five minutes. I felt bad for annoying our neighbors (and I really wished we could have been home so I could have let her just hang out in the rain for as long as she wanted, but that is a downside to being a working mom, and at least I was able to watch her do it for five minutes!), so I forced her inside and promised we’d do it again later (and we did).

It was cute because she kept putting her arms out and looking up into the falling rain. Just repeating “IT RAIN!” with this inflection of absolute wonder. While I normally hate being out in the rain (because I don’t have some awesome rain coat or boots!), seeing this wonder through Piper’s eyes is magic.

Piper held my umbrella (new word- Uh-bella) as the rain pattered down on us, and just squealed with joy. And you know, that makes me really enjoy the rain, too. It’s the little things, right?

Oh, and because she’s a genius, here’s a pic.

Over the holidays, Piper’s God mother (and our great friend) Tina dela Rosa came by to visit and take some pictures of our little monkey. Well, not so little. Here is one with Piper passed out on me on Christmas eve. We’re lucky she slept so well while we were there, but DANG, I was pinned!

Yay for Christmas footies, right?

Why yes, that IS the funniest movie ever.

We also got a “family” picture done while Piper was still wearing one of her Christmas outfits.

Then she came over on the Monday after Christmas while I was still off work. Paul was helping his aunt plan the funeral services.

Piper and I reading (she's looking at the TV before it was turned off), she destroyed the living room with toys!

A healthy (ha) lunch of dino nuggets, slices of strawberries and bananas, and her obsession- shredded cheese.

Piper is number one.

I love this one. SO glad I put her in a green shirt.

I love love love this picture.

She's reading the Christmas Story book, the one with Ralphie.

Three more, then you have to head over to her site to see more pictures!

This face KILLS ME.

This one is just the best. I love how Muno (from Yo Gabba Gabba) appears to be holding her hand!

And finally… this one here which makes me want to cry just looking at it. I can’t believe how big she is. I love her so much my heart wants to break in half to make more room for all my love.

Ignore the cut on my hand it was a cheese grater accident.

Ah, once again Tina hits it out of the park. Please head over to her site to see more pictures of Piper, as well as some of her other awesome works!!

Well, other than a snip of her little newborn ducktail she rocked for awhile, that is.

On Saturday, Piper had her first salon visit. It was to The Yellow Balloon kid’s cut place, and it was super cute. We came through the back entrance, where there were video game machines, toys, little desks and all that kind of stuff. It also had this sweet motorcycle that was coin operated that was like, a tandem bicycle (meaning it had two seats). It was awesome.

Anyway, Piper’s hair was getting long. Long enough for braids and things like that, which is every mother’s dream, right? Well, since her hair never fell out post-birth, the ends of her hair was the fine hair she was born with. It was sad for me to cut it, because it was a lighter color from the rest of her hair, a shimmery golden brown, like a gorgeous fairy’s dust.  Of course, we asked for just a trim because her hair wasn’t even, it was all kind of scraggled, dry and fluffy.

Piper sat at one of the little tables to color, but since she had just woken up she wasn’t too excited by the idea.

Still slightly groggy~ just watching her surroundings.

Piper kind of hung around being clingy for awhile until her name was called. With butterflies in my stomach (WHY? It’s not like she’s going off to college or anything), I picked her up and placed her on the little booster seat as the stylist, Susan, attached the cape (BOY, you could see Piper’s glee at that thing) and asked what we were looking for. I said we just wanted a trim, NO bangs (we don’t have foreheads for bangs), but trim off whatever she could to get those dead ends off.

Then the cut began.

We had her hair all fluffed out, ready to get snipped.

Piper was pretty good, never cried! No tears from Piper OR Mama! How’s that for awesome?

I had my phone showing "Pocoyo" one of her favorite cartoons.

When the stylist needed to trim her ends, we used the phone/video to keep her attention and eyes downward. I’m hoping Paul got more pictures because I was holding the phone for her and attempting to get some Flip video of her, too. I haven’t even checked that yet.

This is the most unhappy she got. Not too bad!

I apologize for the blurry crapness that shows you what Piper’s hair cut looked like, it was impossible getting pictures taken because Paul and I both had to hold her head still!

Here is the after shot, Piper’s hair cleanly clipped back with its natural flip. The hair that never fell out post birth (aka her “baby hair”) was so dry that when the stylist trimmed it, instead of falling to the floor (we’d already gotten a hefty handful of chunks of the newly trimmed hair in an envelope provided by the store) like hair usually does, it just puffed out into the air. It was NUTS. It just PUFFED. Where did it go? Who knows. I probably inhaled it.

Here she is, our little love and her Daddy (who had the day off and was able to be there for this!!).

This girl radiates glee.

Since she saw a little boy riding that sweet, sweet motorcycle, she had to do it, too. Here she is, seconds before the novelty wore off and her unbridled fear erupted.

How old does she look? SUPER. SUPER OLD.

And the last one, before the fear came.

VROOM!

Her hair is still long enough for my mom’s masterful hands to braid (while I can barely get her to hold still so I can put a barrette in!), and it feels so fresh. The ends don’t tangle like they used to, which is a blessing.

Piper is now a big girl who has her own stylist and gets hair cuts. What happened to my little baby?!

It is time. Nearly eight months ago I took the learner’s permit test at the DMV. After one failed attempt (NERVES and that damn trick question!), I passed. I refuse to take that test again until I need to re-do my license, far far in the future. I hated that test. I hate ALL tests. Even if I know the material, something about being tested just HITS me and my brain wipes clear of all the material I’d just memorized.

Anyway. Since I have a year until it expires (meaning I have until this May to get my license), I’d been putting it off. Well, no longer. My annoyance at my lack of freedom and my anxiousness at being a burden to family has made me decide to take the next logical step.

This weekend, I am signing up for driving lessons! I’m going to drop 300 bucks and take the 6 hours/ 3 lesson class- the minimum a minor has to take before getting their license. I figure, if it’s good enough for the kids, why not for my old ass?

On top of that, I have been watching YouTube videos of driving tests (and trying to desensitize myself to the cold burst of fear that hits me when I see a test beginning, hoping I’ll get used to it), asking all my friends and family what THEY did in their driving tests, I’m polling the best place to TAKE the driving test (and I’ll need to scout out that location, too), and the best time (Early morning? What about morning traffic? Late afternoon? No, people coming home from work. Hm).

Anyway, this is all to say: Next week- driving lessons. Next month, new license? MAYBE!

First of all, if you’re weak willed, scare easily and tend to believe in superstitions (like me) then it’s a bad idea watching a show about the world ending in 2012 during History Channel’s “Armageddon Week”.

Second of all, this was a tough way to end the year- with a funeral. I haven’t ended a year like this since 1996, let’s hope the next time is a lot farther away.

This year has been good to us. We didn’t have much to complain about, we had few sicknesses and spent so much time with family and friends. Speaking of friends, this year I met my first mom friend who wasn’t a friend first. I’ve never really had a relationship like that, where the first thing we had in common was children- something that forever changes. So it’ll be interesting to see where this one goes, since it’s unlikely they’ll end up in the same preschool (but we hope the friendship continues!).

This year we got to really know Piper, to recognize the little girl she is growing to be. Just ten minutes ago my Dad was asking if we wake her up to wish her happy new year (which I was totally like, “WHAT? YOU CRAZY, NO.”, and he realized this isn’t just her second year passing by. Nope, she spent New Years in 2009 wide awake with no idea what was going on. Last year she had just gotten sleep trained and there was no way in her she was going to be awake, this year it was routine as usual, and bedtime a little later. Just today she counted to ten (minus four and seven, many many times), and it’s like, whoa, our baby isn’t just saying words, she’s COUNTING. She was counting her blueberries at dinnertime, after stacking them. Yesterday, no joke, we were getting her out of the car at the memorial and she counted to five (WITH the four included). Then, today, we get to ten (almost)? What??

This year we’ve said goodbye to family members we cherished, grew closer as a family, and got to know ourselves a little better, too. I got my learner’s permit, and went driving, and I hope to be a fully licensed citizen by next May (hopefully before that). This year things changed a bit, Piper stopped coming to work with me as much, and as much as it hurt me I saw it for the great thing it was for all involved. I am so thankful we cruised through 2011 without many tears and pain, and I am hopeful 2012 brings the same.

I hope 2012 has a baby in the works for us, I hope it’s more prosperous, and I hope our love is multiplied. I wish for peace and health for all our loved ones, and I hope their dreams are fulfilled and/or realized.

I can’t wait to see what 2012 has in store for us!

My Family

This year Santa must not have received my wish list, for Paul’s uncle passed away Saturday morning, Christmas Eve.

While it’s always heartwrenching and painful to lose a loved one, it’s ten times worse when it’s during the season of joy and good cheer. Especially when you think about how that death will reflect on the holiday seasons to follow.

We lost my grandma a few days before Christmas in 1996. Yeah, we knew her time was limited, but as with every death, it came as a shock to us. That Christmas we gathered together as per usual, only this time in the house of my Aunt rather than my Grandma’s house. While we tried to be jolly (see how here), things were changed.

And that’s kind of what this year’s Christmas brought. After having stayed up until 2am on Friday (gift slackers that we are) to finish the gifts, we were rudely awakened by our daughter who thinks 6:30 is a good time to start cheering and yelling for Mama. So Paul let me sleep in until 7:30 (good man, he is), as he made the coffee and fed Piper her breakfast (still in that night’s diaper and jammies, but whatever). When I finally dragged myself out of bed, too (upon the insistence of my daughter who came yelling into the bedroom while hitting me with her Yo Gabba Gabba Vans shoe), our day began.

The day went on as any other, a yelling, squealing Piper refusing to nap until the Food Channel was turned on (seriously, it puts her out like a light), us silently showering and preparing for the day ahead. When she woke we finished wrapping the gifts and addressing the labels, and then the phone rang. There was nothing on the line, I assumed it was a butt dial. After saying, “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.” and replacing the phone in the charger it rang again. “Hello?”, I said cheerily into the phone. “Amber, can I talk to Paul, please.” was his cousin’s response, sounding shaky and tear-filled. Immediately my body went icy, and with wide eyes I handed the phone to Paul (who had Christmas music playing on the computer, I hissed, “TURN THE MUSIC OFF”), Paul said, “I’m so sorry”, and I knew.

I know the pain of losing your loved ones during Christmas, but I didn’t know the pain of losing your husband, your father during Christmas. I couldn’t imagine the devastation they would feel. Paul promised he’d come, and Piper and I were left to get ready for a party alone on Christmas Eve, Paul was hoping he would meet us there before dinner was served. Luckily my in-laws had also invited my Dad to the party, so our ride was already set.

Christmas Eve passed in a whirl of emotions, joy and sadness, loss and love. Piper had no idea what was going on, and I’m SO thankful that she won’t have memories of a sad day like that. I’m also incredibly sad that she likely won’t remember her Uncle Frank (and as I write that I wonder if we had ever taken any pictures of her with him, and kicking myself madly for not doing it before), a wonderful man- Piper and I are so lucky that we are surrounded by great men.

On Christmas day, we had our small family gift exchange, with each gift being Piper’s favorite- until the next gift came along. It was wonderful. We went to the valley to see my aunt/cousins and to eat tamales (second tamale meal of the weekend), and then we went to see Paul’s aunt.

Oh my, the sadness was palpable. She’d keep a brave face, but then leave every now and then to cry. Piper was the lone child, and when the guests who were there before us left, it was just us- Paul, Piper and I, Paul’s grandma, his cousin and his aunt. We all sat in the living room, all sad but still kind of numb. It felt like something, someone was missing. Even though I wouldn’t have done anything differently, knowing this is how Piper’s Christmas was spent saddened me. Again, I’m just thankful she probably won’t remember this. I’d have to think that any older and she would probably not have been a pleasant child.

The home was (understandably) unprepared for a child. Since they usually had a ton of things for Piper to eat, we didn’t pre-pack her dinner, or toys to bring. She sat in her booster seat on the floor, repeatedly pushing away the items I had on hand to give her for dinner. She refused the cold Shakey’s Hawaiian style pizza, the cold mojo potatoes, the fried chicken. The cheese piece Paul cut off the block of colby was refused as well, and all the wanted to eat was a sugar cookie. Because I wasn’t quite up to deal with an angry child who didn’t want to be there, I relented and let her have more. As she wandered the house aimlessly trying to find something she could play with, a VHS of one of Frank’s favorite movies played on repeat in the background. Finding nothing to do, Piper came and sat in our laps on the loveseat, fingers in her mouth and blanket in hand.

For a regular day, it was boring. Colorless and sad. For Christmas day, it was heartbreaking. It was tinged with an almost infinite sadness, a piece of the puzzle permanently missing from now on. While having a child in a home usually brings life to a place, in this instance it just brought a morose air. Every little laugh that escaped made me feel guilty. Like she should be sad like the rest of us, she should be quiet and observe. Then I felt badly for her, because she didn’t know. She had no idea someone very special was missing, and that someday she’ll know about him, but not really remember him.

The rest of the week has been just as bad. Since we’re all Paul’s aunt has (other than her son), Paul has been tasked with helping her plan every aspect of the funeral, from the readings at the Rosary to the suit he is buried in. While Paul has taken on this job like a champ, it’s been a little harder for me. I’m just angry at the whole situation. There shouldn’t be a funeral, and my husband shouldn’t have to plan it. Aren’t there more “Adult” adults that can do this? This can’t be easy on Paul, you know? I regretfully let him know that I was upset that he had to take this burden on himself, and because I tend to be an emotional speaker, it did not come out how it had sounded in my head. Instead of it being me saying, “I can’t believe this is happening to her, to us” it came out as a “Why is she making you do this? This isn’t your job!” which isn’t what I intended. I just hate the unfairness of this all. Having to spend Christmas hurting, having to plan a funeral for someone because you’re all they have left, having to lose someone so wonderful.

My husband is an amazing man, and he has stepped above and beyond. Tonight is the Rosary, and Paul will be there early to represent the family. Tomorrow is the funeral services, and we’ll all be there as a family. I just hope Piper can manage to tamp down her usual glee, but also be calm and good, because if there’s anything I have learned from being beside my OWN uncle during his passing last year, there is nothing more grotesque at a death/funeral than the joyful cheer of a toddler. However, we must go, we must support (Piper has been requested), and we must heal.

And this year must hurry up and pass already, I can’t take anymore of this pain.