What is this day?

I just said that to myself as I felt a cool breeze blast me on my way to the couch, on its way in through my screen door.

It's cold. Yes - a cold day in July! Well, it's about 65 degrees, but that's freezing in the south/midwest (sometimes we suffer from an identity crisis) state of Kentucky in the middle of July in the middle of the afternoon.

My day didn't quite turn out as planned. I was supposed to go "home", about an hour & a half south of where I live, and where I spend alot of time on the weekends. Various things were happening, and then canceled, and then rearranged. I had a somewhat stressful conversation with my mother and by the time it was done, and the clock had struck noon, I decided a day at my own home was in order.

I walked for three miles in the cool air and it was so fresh and clean in the sky that the blue almost looked like a bright blue swimming pool. I don't think I've seen colors that vivid since the fall and the clouds were luscious and huge and I couldnt think of a better day to be outside. When I walk, I usually listen to podcasts on my ipod and today I listened to a couple of my favorites, Bob & Sheri. They make me laugh almost the entire time so I usually walk along the path of the aboretum, grinning like an idiot and I'm sure the other people think I'm laughing at the voices in my head.

On this particular show, they had a caller with a giant pet pig that sleeps on a couch in their house and "talks" on the phone. The caller was letting the pig "talk" aka grunt/snort and moan into the phone and everyone on both ends was rolling with laughter. The pig belonged to a family with alot of kids, and the mother explained that she had adopted some, had a few of her own, and they were living a chaotic busy life and loving every minute of it.

That is SO what I want. A crazy, beautiful life with lots of people running in and out of my house and hell - maybe even a giant pig to sleep on the couch. Well, maybe not. But either way, I'm sure it might be somewhat surprising to those around me now that I would want that - I'm leading a kind of quiet life living alone but I'm used to chaos and I'm used to big families and I do want one of my own someday. Something that is MINE and not something that's handed to me.

I got home and laid down on my bed, and for whatever reason (I NEVER do this) I fell fast asleep right in the middle of the day. And I dreamed of my future family. This has never happened to me before, and it was the first dream I've had in an oh-so-long time that didn't involve something born of fear or stress (read: Dreaming in Downward Spirals below).

It was the saddest, but sweetest dream I think I've ever had. Sweet because it was so vivid, and sad because I woke up alone. I am VERY rarely sad to wake up alone, so this was striking too. I wandered around in a fog for awhile, and made myself go to Target to get out of the house and refresh a little. I got some highlight stuff and lightened up my blond a little bit, and I think it worked out pretty good!

I'm sitting here with teeth-whitening stuff on right now, and I have no idea what sparked this beauty regimen, but it's kind of nice to have a night here to just do some girly things like that and not have anywhere I have to be. I had houseguests a couple of nights this week, including a toddler, and I had dinner/drink plans almost every night and of course I had to see Harry Potter with friends too.

So tonight, I'll kick back. I'll sit on my porch with a drink and maybe I'll think about my dreams. My biggest dream that sometimes feels impossible.

But then I'll pull my jacket tighter around me, and know that sometimes, there does come a cold day in July.

The meaning of mean

"Here you are," he said, putting one finger down on my desk. "And here is your life," as he carefully drew a line passing by the stationary finger.

This was told to me today, by one of my wonderful co-workers. Who has, just today, decided to take a keen interest in my life (or lack thereof, according to him) in order for me to come out with him tonight. We've worked together now for a couple of years, and I guess he thinks he knows me pretty well. We have an odd relationship that I can't quite define - flirty, old-married-couple, brother-and-sister type, friend - I honestly don't know. It's all hard to read and confusing. But it's gone on for so long, and I know him well enough to know that I wouldn't be interested in him for anything more than just a co-worker/friend. There's too much of a catty streak (not exactly sexy for a man to have), too much of a bitterness, lifestyle differences, and oh yes - this need of his to somehow push all my buttons.

He likes to convince me of how "mean" I am and I guess, to him, I am. I don't cater to him and his (or anyone else in that office) crazy paranoid theories (our office ceilings are bugged, anyone?) and I certainly don't pat him on the back when he does yet another bitchy thing to someone else and comes to brag about it.

All of my co-workers (there are 8 of them, but 4 most predominantly) treat me as a combination of mother and counselor. I can't tell you how many phone calls I get per day (and no, I'm not their boss). These questions, in the past week have ranged from work-related to "Will you look at this rash on my side and see if it's serious or not?" "Do you have migraine medicine?" and "Will you feel my forehead and see if I have a fever?"

No, blog-friends, I am neither a medical professional nor the secretary. I am the writer, using my words as our message - and my meal ticket. I am also the mother hen (even though I'm the youngest of the crew, I might add) and they all crowd around me chirping, scratching dirt and demanding that I find them something to eat (or a band-aid).

So yes, I get frustrated. I give them tough love and I am constantly running interference between their fights and their tears and trying to remain the calm, steady voice in the storm. The one that tells them all to chill the f*** out because I'm trying to do...my job.

I say all this to go back to today, and the comment above. Because I'm so "mean," he tries to be mean back to me. Or, at least, turn my 'honesty' card against me and be honest back. He and another co-worker of mine are going downtown tonight to this outdoor food/drink/music thing that our city does every Thursday night. Which would be just fine, but I'm stuck at home working since I have to work on a presentation to give tomorrow to about 150 people via conference call.

When I said I wasn't going, he decided to flip his shit. He went off about how I never get out and do anything (keeping in mind this is the very FIRST time my co-workers have ever collectively decided to go anywhere together) and that's when he gave me his helpful visual aid of my life passing me by.

Normally - this guy doesn't phase me in the least. Today? If I had balls, he would have kicked me in them.

As if I don't have enough issues. As if I don't worry privately and fret on this blog and to close friends that I feel a little bit like a failure. Or, at the very least, like someone who is sitting on the bench for whatever reason. Not only do I feel like I'm sitting on the bench, I feel like I'm tied to it. I am leading a bit of a quiet life lately, in terms of where I'm living. I feel like every weekend I skip town, going west or south, to see friends in another town or see family in another. Do I miss having friends around - at least a group of them? Hell yes.

But, I feel such a sense of disconnect to where I'm living now. Since I'm actively trying to leave, I don't want to pick right now to get plugged into this community. I don't want to start dating someone, only to have to wrestle with either heartache (additional heartache to what I'm suffering from now) or have a reason to stay.

I don't want to pick now to get involved, only to bind myself to this place for more years of my life. This place where I am clearly not happy. Rocket scientists and preschoolers alike could tell you I'm not happy here. Happy with some things, yes. But feeling like my life is going in a positive direction - no.

And I'm trying. I'm actively trying to change my situation so that I can force a change in environment, no matter what. Even if that means staying here, and feeling freer to invest my time and energy into this community.

I suppose that for now I really am a finger stationary on a desk. With a swipe of a finger-life passing me by.

But it still hurts.

Dreaming in Downward Spirals

My best friend likes to interpret my dreams. Well - I use the word "likes" loosely, mostly, I like for her to do it, and I think she humors me =)

There is a common theme that disturbs me that runs through my dreams, and that is plane crashes. I know that sounds wickedly morbid, but it's not like I choose to do it...and the funny thing is, I have absolutely no fear of flying. What's that? You'd like me to get into a flying tube of metal that goes approximately one jillion miles per hour? Sure thing!

I'm never (except once) actually ON the plane, but rather I watch these crashes happen...oh, the symbolism I could find in that. Yes.

Anyway, these planes typically will spiral in some fashion before hitting the ground and that's usually it - I don't dream the aftermath, none of my loving relatives is on the plane, none of that. I think it's just a typical anxiety dream that I have every now and then in stressful times.

A few months ago, I had a dream where I was riding with a co-worker in a white Hummer (of all things) and we were going in - you guessed it - downward spirals. We had a fight and then he disappeared and I was driving this Hummer alone. When it finally stopped, I was looking at three paths with white carts that preceded them all. I chose the middle path (again...oh, the symbolism) and began pushing my cart in....downward spirals. There were vibrant colors throughout this dream, mostly red and oranges and both the Hummer and the cart were white. So, there was that.

And then last night, I dreamed I had gotten in a different elevator at work than I usually take, and it turned into a strange kind of roller coaster (just like my day usually is!) and we went up, up, up.....and then down. In...say with it with me...downward freakin' spirals.

WTF? Googling does not help me in this matter, since it says such dreams are indicative of failure and despair. To which I say, duh. Would anybody think that it means that something happy is right around the corner?

I think it just means I'm uncertain about alot of things right now, which is true, and enough to make anyone feel like they're on a roller coaster - but it won't be that way forever. This, I know.

At least I know it today. :)

I'll leave you with this fine looking crew on the 4th of July. Cute? Oh hell yes.

To Beg, Steal and Borrow

I know I frequently mention my little nieces and nephews. They are a big part of my life, and part of the glue that helps solidify our family unit. They have served to bring us together in a way we never could bring ourselves together before.

See, I grew up in two step-families. Every week at one house, every other week at the other. Two ‘siblings’ lived at each house, so I grew up with 4 other children but not simultaneously. These families have obviously grown and evolved into many forms through the years and our family dynamics are always changing because I guess all the players in the game are humans who change and evolve themselves.

In a way, I am experiencing with one family the same thing I experienced many years ago with the other. Fourteen years ago, when I was fourteen, my oldest niece S was born. She was a surprise, to put it mildly. My stepsister (the oldest one of the bunch and someone I looked up to a lot at the time) had her when she was 18, she married S’s father soon after the pregnancy and the whole crew moved in with us. For reasons I still don’t understand, the crib was put in my room after about 6 months. She used to wake up at night and I would rock her back to sleep singing bouncy country songs. We had little dances and routines and those midnight hours spent with her as a teenager are some I’ll never forget.

I would stand over her crib and watch her breathe. I wasn’t a teenage parent…but sometimes, it sure felt like it.

S’s little sister and little brother were born in quick succession and while none of us were overly thrilled that these children were introduced into life so early into their parents’ tumultuous lives; we loved and adored them. We still do – that much is definitely true – but when children become teenagers, things change and they’re no longer walking around thinking I’m hot stuff anymore. I joked when S turned 13 that I should give her a card saying “Happy Birthday! I won’t like you again til you’re 20.” =)

Obviously, I love the heck out of that smart little girl. But, for now, and for many various reasons, none of them are anywhere near as prevalent in my life as they once were. I miss them all the time. Each one of them brought me to a new level of adoration with their births and I feel like I grew up along with them…I took my first steps toward adulthood as they took their first steps toward the coffee table and we all fell down and scraped our knees together.

My mother and stepfather had only been married about 9 months when S was born. I had grown up with him, and his children, but I was a teenager by the time they officially married and when S was born, she became like a child to all of us. We nurtured her and C and L, the next little ones to come, the way we were nurturing a young family and I felt like a vital cog in the wheel. Now, things are different. This can be a topic of a whole other post.

When I moved back to KY almost four years ago, I moved back far closer (emotionally) to my mother’s family than my dad’s. I loved my step-sisters, but my relationship with my stepmother has always been tenuous to say the least (another topic of another post.) Then, 3 years ago, my sister L had her first baby. Then my sister B had her baby. Then L had another baby.

And so, once again, I have three little objects of my affection, blonde-headed and adorable, just as I did all those years ago. And my dad’s family has never been the same…we are closer, we are more involved in each others lives, and we have a common objective – to love these 3 little people.

With each of the births of the first grandchild on either side of my family, I have seen a cohesive result - all of a sudden, there is this baby. This cute little person that’s neither “mine” nor “yours” and we all feel free to love this kid as much as we want. My dad and stepmother constantly compared us girls to one another growing up, and we felt like it was very clear that our own parent preferred us …which yes, is a little obvious and just a given, but it was divisive among us as little children, and served to breed resentment, etc…all those wonderful feelings that go along with it.

Instead, these babies belong to no one and they belong to everyone and we are all allowed to snatch them up and love them to pieces.

Around Christmas this year, my family was running around in chaos after the presents were opened and we were all our way to the cabin in the woods where my stepmothers family gathers every Christmas eve and we were in a rush trying to get food cooked, naps out, etc. My nephew was melting down and everyone was busy, so I grabbed him up, stuck Baby Einstein in the DVD player, a bottle of milk and laid down with him on the couch for some chill-out time.

It was very soothing and soon we were both almost asleep. As I was just about to drift off, he reached out and took my hand. At that moment, I had one of those feelings of overwhelming love for this little bitty person sprawled out on me, and it stunned me. As much as I love each child, I had never felt like that before. It is the way I imagine I will feel about my own child all the time. It was that moment the phrase "To beg, to steal and to borrow" popped into my mind.

And it is so true. I am borrowing this sweet boy and he is serving a stand-in for my own child—-just as I am borrowing those sweet moments of all of the little ones, just as I borrowed them from the older ones (and still do). In a way, I guess we all borrow sweet moments from children, no matter whose they are, as that sweet innocence is all too fleeting.

I feel like my whole life is in beg, steal and borrow mode right now. I am begging for answers, stealing every day as I pass through it with seemingly no real purpose and borrowing other people’s children and families as stand-ins and substitutes for my own.

I stand on the fringe of my friends ‘real’ lives and serve as that voice on the phone or the person they have drinks with sometimes, but I’m not in hardly anyone’s day-to-day life. They have their babies, they have their relationships – I have none of these things.

This is a hard thing for me to deal with, and its been bothering me for the last year or so. I never really cared before, but as I get older, I want more and more to be settled. To be needed, to be loved better than anyone else. I know its an only human thing to want and need, but it almost makes me feel weak. Like I really should be happy with what I have and stop whining or worrying about what I don’t.

I should be grateful for those who allow me to be a part of their lives, no matter to what degree. My friends are fantastic and I have so many of them scattered all across the country. I have been sooo very blessed with so many people who have come and stayed in my life. And I am grateful for my family, as they grow and form their own little family trees, that they still have room for me in their lives. That their children know and love me and wear ‘I Love My Aunt’ t-shirts. It will have to do for now.

It will have to do.

Cold

It's freezing outside.

Well, ok, it's 58 degrees...but in June, that's a cold, cold evening. My favorite kind of weather is 68 and sunny though, so I'm really not complaining. It's been 90 here all week and the cold is like a visitor, checking in to say hello before he leaves again til September. Just passing through, he says.

The wind is rustling the leaves and blowing inside my patio doors and my cat is pressed against the screen door, looking outside like he can't get enough of it. I can't either.

It is June 4 and I've already had enough of this month. We have had one hell of a week at work, with today supposedly being the culmination to finding out who/how many layoffs were to be anticipated. Our answer? We don't know yet. So there you have that. More waiting game, while my co-workers continue to be heavily involved players in a game I like to call "Vote Your Colleague Off the Island." Tense? You bet.

So I watch the clock until 4:30 and then run out the door to go run. Literally. I have been running and I am finding it extremely cathartic. If that's even the right word.

I never thought I could run, and believe you me, I will not be entering into any marathons anytime soon. But I am running with my walking and I am happy because I think it means I am getting strength and endurance. Strength that has been missing from my body for oh-so-long.

I guess there's not much point to this entry, other than to say I am ok. I am content, and I am restless, and tonight those things don't feel contradictory. So much I am working through and running towards...and I am so grateful for the love that surrounds me, even when I very least expect it.

What's that you say? You'd like a cute kitten picture of Charlie? Oh, ok. Here. See that middle couch cushion facing the laptop? That's where I am at this very moment =)

The good stuff

Somebody is two.



So, he's not my own. But as his aunt, who sees him almost daily, it sometimes feels like it - and no one would have it any other way. His home life is good, but sometimes chaotic, and when things get too noisy or there are too many people in a crowd, I love that he will come over to me and hold my hand. He will lay against me and hold my hand, and we can (and have) sat like this for a very long time just being still. For any of the little ones in my life (not to mention, the big ones too) I want to be a refuge to them - a stable force in sometimes an un-stable life. It's all we can hope for.

So today, the day before his birthday, I pay tribute to him. To this vibrant, active boy who has light in his eyes and life in his laugh. He is voraciously loved and has a community of people ready to catch him if he ever falls. But I hope he won't. No, I hope he finds smooth paths under his feet and hands to hold along the way. Mine will always be one of them.



And...the blog post below? Two days after everything went down...she found out she's pregnant.

My cup runneth over.

And it all just hits the fan....

My best friend from college, my roommate for two years and friend for many years after, got some of the worst news that can be gotten today. After having two months to come to terms that she would be receiving a new adopted son, she had met the birth mother, had chosen out the furniture. Had begun the process of emotionally recognizing herself as a mother, after years of infertility.

The baby was born premature on Saturday morning. I had a call, in a daze, the next day and I spent the day at Babies r' Us, finding some preemie stuff and loading it up to get to her today. But today, the baby is back with his birth mother...the mother had changed her mind. If I know my friend, and I feel sure I do, she's on the bathroom floor right now, unable to move.

It's breaking my heart to know she's going through this. Breaking my heart, and makes me worried for her. How do you come back from something like this? How do you keep on looking for the silver lining, always trusting that things will "work out" when life keeps handing you hard times after bad luck on a rusted silver platter?

He's a preacher. She runs an after-school program for needy kids. They've been dating since they were 14, married since 21, and they are the exception to my every rule on the whole...find yourself stuff that "must" occur beofre marriage. If they fall apart, I will fall apart and convince myself that nothing can ever stand a chance if those two don't make it.

I'm angry. And confused, and I just dont understand how....well, how bad things happen to good people. Isn't that a book title?

It's the eternal struggle, I know. They're not the first or the last to experience heartache, but I want to protect them from it. I want to have them have the good things, and I can take the bad things, because they deserve it.

They're such religious people, that I wonder how all this is affecting them. Is it making their faith stronger or weaker, is it bringing them comfort or anger? I don't know. Not yet. I'm giving her lots of space at this point, knowing that people need that time on the bathroom floor sometimes and knowing also that I have no words that will bring any resemblance of comfort.

Maybe I'll have something more coherent in the morning - tonight I'll sleep. And wonder what on earth to pray for.