bug & bud

Okay. One more time, from the top.

2011-06-04T01:47:00.000-07:00

Okay I was unfair to Dude in that rejected somewhat spiteful post. I don't know that he ever lied to me about anything. I don't know that he is controlling or just a man trying to keep control of his life. As I go skipping all starry-eyed into our future like stalkergrrrrl323 or something. Here's a man, slightly older but we're at an age where it doesn't matter. He has a boy 6 months Brick's senior. I haven't met Rus, but physically he's a cute kid caught up in a messy situation. Sound familiar? Dude is funny, quick-witted and intelligent. An introvert. Friends are always surprised when I mention that I consider myself an introvert. I am an extrovert wannabe. Painfully shy as a child, I studied human behavior. I sat on the outskirts of life, most memorably with my loving Grandpa, (retrospectively a sort of chubby little leprochan of a man and oh! that mischevious twinkle!) who would have an arm around me and hold me close as if to silently say, "oh my little eskaysea, everything is going to be all right. That is just how she is. " She being my Grandma. Okay, back to the matter at hand.
Dude and I tried to be friends, I went into stalker mode catchhimandholdhimtightandneverevereverevereverlethimgobecauseicaughtmea MAN! Sent mixed messages, up to 5 or so a day sometimes. I'm pissed LOVE ME NEED ME NEVER LEAVE ME. I'm sure some can relate. BEGGING him to ask me for space if he needed it. When he finally asked I gave him cyberspace. I 'unfriended' him. And then, in a flash, sent a message, followed by, the next day, a friend request with an additional message. I'm like Monica on "Friends". This is me being breezy, being casual. Oh. Yeah. Howdoya like me now? Some yesterday, I finally got the friend request after I left him a more coherent message and handed over the reins of the friendship for awhile. Let's see if I can try to keep myself sane this time. I want to do some energy work on him. I think it would be a great experience, as long as we can keep our filthyflirty mouths shut during it. We will see in July. That is when I will visit his hometown, my old college town.

I'll call him Schmark

2011-05-29T21:13:00.000-07:00

He was born in Uganda. His parents were missionaries. I met him while I was waiting tables in a Midwestern college town. He wasn't my type. Blond, long-haired big guy--well-built. I preferred dark-haired, light eyed, shorter men. He didn't have a pretty face. Not that I was into pretty boys, but he wasn't, well, what I would consider attractive, physically.
I was short. At 5'3 1/2", I was the shortest in my family. Mom, Dad, 5 siblings and me. Dark-haired, bluish-green eyes, a fit farm-girl physique. We jump started our relationship one cold drunken night. I remember being in the back seat of the head bartender's car. The bartender "Brother Bart" (since he was one waitress's big brother, but he acted like he was all of the staff's big brother) was the owner/designated driver of the car. After offering to drive us home, he learned that I lived not in the actual 'city', but a near-by town, Reefton, from which I biked to work. Neither Schmark nor I owned a car. "Reefton? You want me to drive all the way to Reefton?" Schmark said, "You can crash at my place." "Okay." A bunch of us had been playing a friendly game of poker earlier and I, being a very amorous drunk with a friendly/flirty nature, and Schmark, being a man, well it wasn't difficult to predict what would happen next. "Are you sure?" Brother Bart asked several times. Making sure he asked me directly. With a resigned sigh, and his big old dark brown beater car warmed up, he pulled out of the parking lot and drove us to Schmark's place.
He lived upstairs in a loft/studio apartment of sorts. As I walked up the steps I noticed a big wooden pizza paddle hanging on the wall. I remember asking suggestively, "what will we be using this for?" A big futon on the floor was his bed. He had a sound system next to it. He played Suzanna Vega's album for me. At the time, she had but one album. His foreplay included the best oral sex I've ever received. Gentle, sweet and playful.
That was 23 years ago. Schmark's long gone. He died 16 years ago. But I remember him fondly on this Memorial Day weekend, because his memorial (he was cremated) was on Memorial Day weekend.

End of the transition...

2011-02-26T02:01:00.000-08:00

Yeah, so it is over. He declared by e-mail that I had too many issues for him to 'rescue' me. His evidence? My messy house. I informed Dude that my house is messy because I give my kids priority in my life. And that not only do I not need rescuing, I am stronger than he is, and also I would not accept his 'rescuing' of me. How very white of him. How very male of him. So now I realize that just like my ex, Dude is controlling. I just failed to pick up on it through e-mail, facebook messaging and over the phone. Hiding such a thing in person, however, is a bit more challenging.
The way he almost instantly bonded with my kids, and there I am feeling like Muriel Prichett in the Accidental Tourist where she is telling William Hurt's character not to get too close to her son, not to make him promises he can't keep. I feel the same way about Dude. Don't get close to my darling children. Leave them alone. Don't give them hope, don't strive to be a 'good role model', as you said you could be for them if you lived closer. This is another thing that I DID NOT ask you for. Yet another thing that you offer up to me on a silver platter as if it were a gift. Your free advice (controlling) your instant bonding with my boys (controlling), your judgment of me and my life due to my disorderly house (controlling). I am beginning to sincerely believe that men are nothing but controlling. I am done with my transition guy. What comes next? I take a couple of years off because by GOD if I wasn't gun-shy before. Crap. And he has this 'dirty little secret' that an ex of his blabbed. Of course I could VERY easily find out what it is, but do you know what? I don't care. Just as I no longer care for him. I feel nothing but relief that he is out of my life. i feel good that I can now concentrate on my life, my kids, without the distraction of making time to interact with this loser. It is so funny how easily he was able to pull the wool over my eyes. Me, the survivor, me, who believes that in love there is a learning curve and that I am on top of that learning curve. Apparently not. He put up a good front, telling me everything I wanted to hear. He was good. He was practiced, but then again, most of them are. Most of them have that 'charm' survival mechanism. They will say anything to relate to you, to worm their ways into your life, your heart. Then, and only then will they show their true colors. Then you are fucked. Pardon my language, but I think that is the only effective way of saying it. So yes, I dodged a bullet, and yes, I am grateful, but there is the little part inside me that glommed onto that hope. That little part is greatly disappointed. I will survive, I always do. And even though he lied to me and my perception of men is as bad if not worse than it was when I got to know him, I still hold on to one small glimmer of hope. I am not sure why.

Upping the Ante

2011-02-24T08:55:00.000-08:00

So, my head is in a fog today. It has been too long since I have written. I need to write and exercise in order to keep myself sane. I am exercising pretty regularly, this is good. Okay. Where to start? Today, my focus will be a 'relationship' of sorts that has been on-going for a few months. Until yesterday I had not met the person, our dealings with each other were purely by phone, social networking, & Scrabble-playing. I don't even have a good pseudonym, so he will be Dude. We have been messaging extensively in the last 4 months or so, getting to know each other through telephone and written word. I was planning on meeting him in his town the day before my birthday. This is about a month away. I was getting cold feet. I pushed back the visit by one day. Almost as soon as I did that I get a call from Dude saying that he and his friend are planning on road tripping to my town for the day to attend the political rally that is on-going to fight the Governor's proposed budget cut which includes depriving some state workers from collective bargaining. He calls stating that he wants to come and asks, "Is that okay?" (NO! NO!NONONONONONONO!) "Sure." I resently had my water heater replaced, my kitchen is the filthiest it has ever been. Then I had the flu. It lasted 2 days, I just recovered. With the kitchen being a mess, I haven't had time to clean the rest of the house. My WHOLE house is a disaster area, and he gives me 24 hour notice. Damn!
Also, after Puddles was born, I was in physical therapy and being treated by a chiropractor for 18 months. I still haven't lost my baby weight, and I really want to. I just started working out on a full time basis. And, lastly, I don't like when my plans get trumped. I was just getting used to the idea that I had only a month to prepare. A month shrinks to less than 24 hours. Crap.
I like that we've resolved at least 3 disagreements, we've learned a lot about each other's upbringing and past. We had a period where he rejected me because his therapist said that he wasn't ready. We've exchanged more info in a few short months than I have with others during an entire relationship. And yet, I don't know. He has a lot of issues and something that he is not yet ready to share with me. I have a lot of issues. We ARE both working on our issues, so that says something. He is more like me than anyone I've ever dated. And yet, today, I am left wondering if we will get to the stage where we ARE dating.
He is great with kids. He was great with my kids, holding the younger, hugging the older and I am thinking, "Dude, don't write checks with your actions that your heart can't cash. Don't give my babies hope." They so crave adult male attention. And before you know it, Brick is saying, "Mom, I like spending time with him". And Puddles is stating, "I like Dude, he is very nice to me." Puddles is 3 now, when he says 'very nice' it sounds like 'fairy nice' which is super cute.
We go to the rally and after that to a busy, child-oriented restaurant. I can't get a read on my own feelings toward him, let alone his feeling toward me. I was so sure about 'us' before I met him. He kept warning me about making him the perfect person. So now I am hesitant. The kids are involved. I am still a bit shell-shocked from my relationship with Jaybe. I thought he would make a good dad. I had the wool pulled over my eyes. Is Dude indeed like me? Is he a good guy? I think so, I hope so. Is he even interested after seeing my messy house, my chubby body? How do I feel about him? The commitment-phobe in me is scared. I truly believe that Clem had a hand in bringing Dude into my life due to the fact that it was my Catholicism that opened the door of communication between us. Dude was intrigued that I was raised Irish Catholic. After Clem's funeral, his widow told all Clem's siblings how much he wanted us to go back to the church. Was this lapsed Catholic boy going to lead me back to the church of my youth? I don't know.
There were moments, for me, at least, where I felt some attraction, some level of comfortableness. But my lack of sleep and complete nervousness clouded my mind, leaving me in a fog of panic for most of the encounter. I think the upshot of the premature (in my mind) meeting is that I am more certain now more than ever, that if we do become anything more than friends, we have to take it slow, not only for our kids' sakes (He has a boy that is slightly older than Brick) but also for our own sakes. A part of me is very invested in our friendship, and wants to stay there. But there is another part of me that asks myself questions from a Fleetwood Mac song, "Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?"
I don't know...I really, really don't know. I hope to find out, though. Damn.

Custody II, the sequel

2011-01-22T02:13:00.000-08:00

The main reason that I postponed asking for child support was that I wanted to take the kids on one last long train ride for the last time before I would have to deal with his controlling b.s. We first traveled by car in early July to my parents' house in order to celebrate my dad's birthday. But we actually boarded a train the third of July and traveled by train to Washington, D.C. and were then picked up by my friend Mimi in Baltimore. We had a roomette on the train and a great trip. Sleeping on the train was fun. We stayed with her and her two boys, Atticus and Danny. They are 13 and 7, respectively. They live in a lovely neighborhood in a nice older house. Mimi had gone through much the same as I, except that her ex was adulterous, not abusive. She was welcoming. We were staying for 2 weeks at their house.
We arrived on the 4th of July, the boys were at their father's. The day was laid back and relaxing. The boys were able to watch fireworks from their upstairs window. It was one of the most wonderful, laid-back time with my dear, sweet, generous friend from college. Her 2 boys, my two boys and a lovely time in Baltimore.

Healing the Wounds...

2010-06-24T04:12:00.000-07:00

Thinking over the last 10 plus years that I had been emotionally abused by Jaybe brings to mind the two methods of cooking a lobster. Bear with me. The two schools of thought differ in which is the more humane way. The first is that you bring a big pot of water to a rolling boil and drop the lobster into it. Some say that you can hear the lobster 'scream', but others insist this is just the sound of the body expanding inside the shell in the heat of the water. The other method is the one with which I identify after enduring the journey of a now defunct dysfunctional partnership. It goes as follows: one places the lobster in a big pot of tepid water and slowly turns up the heat until the lobster is dead and cooked. 'They' say that the lobster never even notices. How do 'they' know? Certainly, somewhere in their little crustacean brains they have to notice that they are dying, don't they? And if they have a little lobster friend in the pot with them, don't you think they would be turning to their buddy and saying, "Is it hot in here or is it just me?" and the pal would reply, "Now that you mention it, it DOES seem like was a lot cooler when we first got in."
I cannot pinpoint when the abuse started. I think that things changed once we moved in together and then again, shortly thereafter, when we had our wedding. The property damage didn't start until Brick was 6-8 months old, and it seemed, at the time, to be a one time incident related to his frustration of trying to help Brick go to sleep for the first time without me in the house. Reflecting back on that instance, I distinctly remember telling him to wait until I returned, and I would nurse Brick to sleep. I also remember his anger and competitiveness with Brick for my attention, and his
insane jealousy of my ability to calm Brick by simply putting him to my breast. He admitted that he wished that he, too, could lactate. At the time I thought it a sign of his wanting to be nurturing. Now I realize it was more of a sign of wanting to be the one in control, the one with the power.
I will write Custody !! (the sequel) sooner or later, but for now, I am tired.

Custody...

2010-06-12T05:21:00.000-07:00

Since Jaybe and I were never legally married, it would be necessary for us to go before a judge and declare paternity in order for him to have ANY custodial rights. I know this. He does not. This would have to be done in order for me to receive child support, as well. Since he cut me off financially when he left the house (he stopped putting money into the joint account in order that I could pay the bills, buy necessities like cat food as well as food for the kids (we are now on food stamps), etc) my thinking WAS that I would have to file for child support. I dreaded this b/c Jaybe is EXTREMELY irresponsible when it comes to finances. So much so, that my credit rating was over 780 when we entered into our union, therefore the house, for which his mom gave us a generous (two-thirds the cost of the house) down payment. Then, for two or three years, Jaybe had his heart set on being a licensed massage therapist. So instead of taking small steps (going into a partnership, working at a small, established office) he, with the encouragement of his mother, started renting his own office, which at one-half the cost of our monthly mortgage.
I was working full-time at a job with benefits. When I finally became pregnant, after five years of failed attempts, I also lost my job. At this point, I received unemployment during the first 2 trimesters of the pregnancy and worked part-time during the third. Jaybe continued to follow his dream of using his LMT license by being in business for himself. Sure, he worked for a caterer part-time, and taught part-time at a massage school (which he hated due to the "down time" --i.e. answering phones while his students worked on clients). He seems to have some ADHD symptoms. I find things to do with my "down time", as I am a very internal person. I used to write my college papers in my head before I committed them to page. All I needed was a detailed written outline (think lower case letters), and about 5 days of procrastination. I typed each and every one of them the day before they were due. Never a late paper, never a grade below 'B'. That is just how my brain works. He also spent time volunteering at a local radio station, and little time at home. He rarely had enough massage clients to pay for renting his office. After two years, and much pleading and negotiating from my end, he sublet the office. I offered to act as receptionist (since he was CONSTANTLY double-booking himself or running late to an appointment or forgetting an appointment. I realized then that he was using the office to avoid being home.
(to be continued...)

Growth and Change

2010-01-01T12:07:00.000-08:00

When Brick was born, I kept a handwritten journal, and wrote often during his infancy. In his baby book, I recorded the date each new tooth broke through the gum. I photographed our new little family and faithfully posted them to share with family and friends. I still use the camera and I still write, but gone are the days when I actually posted pictures in a timely manner, or was able to find a pen and the baby book to record the appearance of a new tooth.
Brick now reads. He turns five later this month. He has been reading random words for a few months now. He does pretty well sounding out words as well. He is still very compassionate, smart, and talkative. But, he also has grown picky about some foods and his attention-seeking behaviors have turned negative on occasion. Some might say his 'boy' energy is showing. For the most part, he is a really wonderful older brother to Puddles.
Puddles could not be cuter. I am surprised just how much he picks up by imitation of his brother and myself (and others, too, I'm sure). Around 16-18 months, he added phrases to his single words (one of the first discernible word was my given name), "I will" "I do" "there you go", for example. He also sings songs that one can figure out by melody; songs like "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", "Trot, Old Joe", and "Old MacDonald". He walks around and randomly sings "EIEIO...quack quack quack". After visiting my sister in Texas, now he also says, "hot cocoa" in a very charming manner. He likes to help with everything--getting dressed, cooking, cleaning, carrying items, et cetera. He wants to do all things himself. He will turn two next month. He's very social and loves to be outside. He also likes scribbling.
I am trying to bring about changes in our lives. My partner and I attending counseling separately and together. This has been on-going for the last couple of months. We have witnessed some positive changes in how we relate to each other and plan on continuing with therapy until we feel secure that we can do this family thing well on our own. Personally, I feel more secure than I have in quite awhile. So, life is looking a little bit brighter, as we all keep learning and growing together.

Transition...

2009-09-24T20:34:00.000-07:00

Things finally came to a head with the boys' dad. I called the police and he was arrested. He smashed in the windshield of our car, while Brick was strapped in his car seat and Puddles was walking around the car. I am now in the process of deciding what to do. On one hand, I want to salvage the relationship's status-quo. The boys and I have developed an emotional attachment to their father and his family. On the other hand, I wonder if I am a fool to let him stay in the house right now. Before this incident, he was on a waiting list for a group called the ATA group, Alternatives to Aggression. He was wait listed because he wasn't court ordered.

The police have a pretty proactive Domestic Violence program in our city. I have been in touch with them and now have a support group to attend and legal advocacy as well. This whole journey has been rough. I was in my mid-30's when Jaybe and I met. Our wedding was held one year after our first date. I had wanted a longer engagement, but due to Jaybe's mom's schedule as a teacher, we ended up having a Winter wedding instead of the Spring wedding that I desired. So we married out West, half-way up a mountain. It snowed in the early hours of our wedding, so we had the beautiful back drop of the fresh blanket of snow on the ground mixed with the yellowing leaves of the trees--I believe Ash trees.

Looking back, I am not sure when the power and control issues started. He has always described himself as 'stubborn'. But it is more than that...rigid in his views of how and when things should be done and temperamental in a very immature way when they aren't done---pouting, stomping through the house, etc. Jaybe thinks that things started when we had our first baby, about 4 years after our wedding. But he was controlling before that. I first noticed the inappropriate violence when, one night, upon returning home from piano lessons, I was surprised to see a hole in our front window. Jaybe had been watching Brick, who was about 6 months old at the time. He became frustrated because Brick wouldn't settle down and stop crying. So he left the bedroom and threw a hard plastic teething ring through the front window. Then he went outside for a cooling off period.

At first I was ashamed to tell anyone. At that point I thought maybe it was a one time thing, and I didn't want people to be judgmental of him or me. Him for doing it, me for not leaving. Eventually, I did open up and tell it to some of the people whom with I am closest. Thus begun the cycle....
The book I read that Churlita (shout out, girlfriend) recommended "Why Does He DO That" by Lundy Bancroft, should be required reading for all adolescent girls. Amazing book...so helpful. One of the things I am seeking at the hearing is court-ordered counseling. So he may be on the fast track to the ATA or some other similar group. That is my last and only hope for us to stay together.

Today, I attended a scheduled Parent / teacher conference. The director and I both hoped that Jaybe would show up. Of course, he found a way out of it. I told her that I would tell him that she wants to have a conference with him and she said, "Good." She is planning on telling him to "Man up and fill his shoes as a part of the family". She, too, thinks that postponing a restraining order at this point is prudent. She has seen abusive men belligerent and violent about trying to pick up their kids. Most homicide victims of abusive men happen AFTER the woman has left the abuser. I learned that when I did a college internship at a Domestic Violence Intervention Program i.e. a women's shelter. The other night he asked me what I wanted him to do to help me. I looked at him and said, "Leave". That was not the response he sought. At that point I mentioned a restraining order, and he said that to him, that felt like sliding a knife in his gut and saying, "I could kill you," and twisting it a little bit.

I believe that he loves us, in what is his perception of love. And he tries to be a good dad to the boys, but he loses his temper and scares the boys. This is way too reminiscent of my childhood. I had a controlling mother that frightened me and an alcoholic father, who could be loving OR extremely violent. Our closeness as a couple has suffered greatly. I can't be sexual with someone who scares me.

Soon the boys and I are going out of town to visit family. I need some perspective, I need some solace. I need some sleep.

Troubles with Jaybe...

2009-04-06T00:35:00.000-07:00

The other day my idiot partner, frightened Brick so much that he now is puking from stress when he has to be around his dad. The 2nd ultimatum was given from me. The first one given about 2 months ago. He followed it half-assedly. Now I have issued the second ultimatum. He said that the drugs made him feel like a "compliant member of society". I told him that he can either be a compliant member of society and a Dad or he can be a loose cannon (and not a dad). Tomorrow I am going to call the local domestic abuse prevention program--Canopy. I don't know what to do. He loves his boys--especially Puddles. He has always felt like Brick is his competition. Okay, I partnered with a man who is 5 years younger than I am, but he is over 35. Honestly, do they never grow up. I have a book on hold at the library that is called "The self-esteem trap" It is about the parents who try to be their kid's friends instead of parents. It came highly recommended.
I will protect my children at any cost...any cost. I am about to burst. I just see black when I close my eyes. I dropped off the car at 8:45 tonight, because he can pay $500 for a fucking 3rd--yes THIRD bicycle, but he can't pay a cent or put any effort into making sure that me & the boys are safe in the car. The car has needed the rear brakes replaced for probably a year now. In all that time, he bought the brakes and had them in the basement of our house for about 9 months now. Really? Do I have to protect my family in every way, shape and form. I am just frickin' disgusted. the world revolves around Jaybe. You would think the sun rose and set on his ass. WTF. Seriously...
I am trying to deal with the fact that 3 1/2 months ago, my older brother, my first best friend was mysteriously killed in a plane crash after a depositon and before testifying. I recently discovered that the prosecuting atty had tried to issue an order of protection. I wish to GOD he had succeeded. I miss Clem so damned much. Not having him call on my birthday just cut me to the bone. I want to scream and thrash and cry and rage...I MISS HIM SO FUCKING MUCH. It's not fair and I hate the politicians more and more.
And all Jaybe can see is that I am having trouble getting out of bed and I am letting the kids watch too much tv. Okay, I live with PTSD from childhood abuse triggered by a PC experience, Post partum depression after both my kids; I was hospitalized after the second one, when I couldn't sleep for an indeterminant amount of time. Thank goodness that I was, because I was finally able to get back on the anti-anxieties, that I was practically pleading for--but since I don't experience anxiety every day--it cycles--some doctors think I am med-seeking, which is a joke b/c I am sensitive to chemicals and drugs and rarely even take a tylenol.
Anyway...that's whats going on with me. If anyone reads this and has constructive advice, or words of strength, please let me know. I just want to be a good mom to my kids.

Deceptive dreams...

2009-04-03T08:43:00.000-07:00

From the blog "I had a dream" about Clem speaking an African tonal language without using tones, as if he were speaking English, and he said that the people did understand him, when I knew darn well that they didn't; while he was alive, i thought I was projecting, but as I understand the situation now, he chose to share with me only the things that directly affected our relationship. He never even really talked about his kids. But one child, the one with whom I have the most strained relationship was in the dream. I think that for me what this means is that through his death, maybe I can become closer to his widow and children. Also, I felt guilty about something that I told him I would do that I still haven't done. Now I realize that he was the one deceiving me. This is the best I can do for now. I am also planning on splitting my blogs to separate the dream journal from the kids journal.

Advice from Clem...

2009-03-30T22:42:00.000-07:00

There aren't many people who know the extent of my insomnia. When I mentioned it to Clem, he asked, "What do you do?" In the 17 years that I have lived with it, I have done many things. He suggested writing. So I am. I have journaled since I was in high school and extensively journaled during my years as a PCV. But right now, what I would like to concentrate on is the here and now.
Since last blogging, Puddles had his birthday and I had mine. Puddles took his first step the week after he turned one. Then he got pneumonia shortly after that. That will be a whole other blog. My birthday has always been a sore spot--I was born the day after my abusive Grandmother and my oblivious Mom always had us celebrate them together. Had these birthdays been video recorded, you could have made a whole montage of me, as various ages, at different parts of the parties, running to my bedroom crying.
Flash forward to this birthday. Clem was always good about calling on birthdays. Except my birthdays abroad, he always called. My other 5 siblings did, indeed call. This helped. Jaybe and my Mom, however both forgot my birthday. That night he brought me home a piece of luggage as a present. Also...2 weeks ago, he bought a bike from a co-worker that cost just $75 less than our mortgage payment. Granted, our mortgage payments are not huge, but we are not rich and he did not discuss this with me and I ended up bouncing 2 payments, making it, pretty much our mortgage payment. I know that he has issues with being the bread winner and 'man of the house' as I raise our little ones--and I am looking for outside work sources. The anxiety that causes my insomnia makes my prospects somewhat limited. But he is the one who, when we first started having children, wanted me to raise the kids and not work. Many of his issues revolve around the fact that I become somewhat overwhelmed with sorting house and making house, etc. that our house gets cluttered with hand-me down toys and clothes from relatives and I have trouble sorting through them.
When I told Clem that Jaybe had anger issues, he said, "i am so sorry, honey." Since Jaybe never apologizes, that was really reassuring. The other night, that was my last thought before I went to bed and I didn't have to take anything to help me sleep.
I didn't mean to get off on that tangent, but I miss Clem. His role in my life, I have come to realize lately one of protector on Earth. I always felt safe that if I got into a real jam, he could help me out. God, I miss him. I also have trouble remembering if he ever held my one-year-old. My older boy will always remember him because he took him up in a plane. Now he wants to be a pilot or an astronaut.

Playing Tarot Card Poker with Smoking Clem

2009-01-26T10:06:00.000-08:00

A dream about my now dead brother, Clem.
This dream took place in a BIG hotel, that I have dreamt of before. We were on the top floor. Not there as guests, we were playing a sort of poker. But the cards were more like Tarot cards, or more appropriately, fairy tale cards. I remember, at one point having the "Twelve Dancing Princesses" card. Clem played the first game with us. He was smoking a cigarette. He didn't smoke, except during college when he drank (i picked up this habit as well). Or when on a road trip trying to stay awake. There were quite a few tables playing similar games. Clem got up to do something. He left me in charge of his hand. Each hand consisted of 10 or 12 cards. And this was a wild deck. I was trying to figure out if 12's were the same or higher than Queens, and how exactly to match up cards. In the meantime I lost track of Clem's hand. Then I lost track of my hand. The dealer tried to fix it, but gave me the wrong hand. She tried again, and still I had the wrong hand, but decided to play it anyway. At some point I went looking for my brother. I went through one room and then into another and fell into a pool without realizing that it was there. I replay this scene in my head over and over. This is how I felt when my younger brother gave me the news. Submerged, disoriented, fully clothed in a pool, out of context. I would like to say that in the past 2 months since his death, it has gotten better. It hasn't.
The other things that really astounded me about the whole dream was how disorienting the hotel was, and how big. This hotel has appeared in dreams with me before. At one point i wanted to go downstairs to get a soda, which were free to guests, so there was some deception in that. The journey to find the soda was confusing and I don't think I ever found it. Lots of rooms, dark wood, and funky stair cases. My best friend from high school was there as well.
I wonder about his last moments. How quickly his soul was split from his body. A second of recognition that he was in trouble. An emergency call, his final words, which indicated he knew something was horribly wrong, and then a very forceful crash, his body identified through finger prints; by his wife through a picture of his thumbs, after their final task of gripping the controls. How he once asked me, "Why drive in, when you can fly in?" How he loved flying. One of my first memories is sitting on the floor of an airplane my Dad was flying. He was almost 28 months older than me. He must have shared some of those memories.
He died young, looking years younger than his age of 45. He left 4 wonderful children, who I hope will cherish his memory and remember what he taught them. He left his wife a widow, and me feeling a depth of loss that i never thought I would feel this early. He did not leave a pretty corpse. This would have upset him, but not as much as being torn from a family that he truly saw as the most important part of his life. How at peace he was the last time I saw him alive. How he had seemed to gel as a father and as a man.
They say he is with God now. I wish God had given me more time with Clem.

I had a dream

2009-01-16T21:43:00.000-08:00

A couple of months before my older brother was killed in a plane crash, I had a strange dream about him. In the dream, he had recently returned from the African country where I was stationed during my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer. He was speaking in the national language. The funny thing was, though, that he was speaking this African language with the inflection that one would use when speaking English. I confronted him, asking, "Did the Africans understand you?" and he was defensive saying, "Yes, of course they did." The language he was speaking is a tonal language that is only understood if you use the right cadence. Therefore, if one speaks the language using the inflections and intonations that one uses to speak English, none of the people in the country would understand a word.

Impressed as I was at his vocabulary in this language, I asked his oldest daughter, "How long was he there?" She replied, "One week." This further impressed me, but I was still confused about how anyone there understood him when his delivery of the language was so off. So there I was, knowing full well that he was being dishonest because there was no way that anyone understood him when he spoke without using the right tones to convey the meaning of what he was saying. But I couldn't disprove him because we were in the US and there were no native speakers of the language around to help me prove my point. We were at an impasse, and, in the dream, I decided that this was okay and congratulated him on his travels and his quick mastery of language.

I told him about this dream, but never really decided what it meant. Initially, I thought that I was feeling guilty because I had promised him that I would do something, and I hadn't gotten around to doing it yet. Looking back on it now that he is dead, I wonder if it was just that I wanted to make some kind of connection with him because I had told him a few months before this dream that I wanted to start talking about my Peace Corps experience more. He responded very positively, encouraging me to tell my stories and saying that he was always proud that I had this experience. I sort of envisioned that he would help me somehow with translating my experience into something that I could understand better and that I could share with others. He died less than a month ago. Since then I dream about him almost every night, but none of those dreams stand out in my memory like this one does. I can't describe the pain I feel due to his absence.

Happy Birthday, Brick!

2009-01-16T12:29:00.000-08:00

Brick,

I just wanted to let you know how much I love you, now that you are my big 4-year-old. My life changed substantially when you were born, and I would never go back to the way it was before you came into it. You are a joy everyday, and I have learned so much from you. I want you to know that I love you unconditionally and more than I ever thought I could love.

Big hugs and moochas smoochas,
Mama

Letter to Puddles

2009-01-16T12:20:00.000-08:00

My sweetest Puddles,

I haven't written as much to you as I have to my first born, but I wanted you to know what a joy you bring to my life. At almost 11 months, you have hit every milestone on time, some a little early. You love all kinds of food and skipped eating baby food because you wanted to eat what we were eating. Even as a tiny baby, you would wail whenever you smelled food and were not nursing. You got your first tooth on August 9th of this year, just short of 6 months old. You now have 8 teeth. I hope this isn't boring for you, I just want you to know some of the things that have happened up to this point. You smile all the time and strangers often comment on how cute you are and what pretty eyes you have. You are a flirt and a delight, and your mama loves you so much!! You love all animals, and make a 't' sound when you see the cats. You enjoy a good game of Picasso face, and taught yourself how to clap and to blow raspberries on mama's face, so you could do that back to her. You are such a sweetie. You love to cuddle and nurse, and play pass the baby. You go to your daddy and then go back to your mama. I can't imagine life without you and am thankful everyday that you have come to be with us.

Your ever-loving mama