Tuesday, December 21, 2010

An evening to myself.

Confession.

As much as I love my husband, and my son. There are times when I miss me time. Not in the sort of way that I would trade in my son for it. But in the way that when I get that time I cherish it.

And I realize how much I miss it.

Before my son, I had plenty of me time. Mainly in part to Andy's schedule. He works long hours, and even during the semester I would often find myself alone at night. I spent it in baths, my nose in a book or glued to a television set watching whatever I wanted to. Usually it was something Andy would have no interest in what so ever. I danced around the living room, blared the music and had a pretty amazing clean apartment. But as we all know life changes.

We had a son.

And while Andy still works for the Caps, I have found myself juggling between between being a student a full time employee, and playing both mom and dad often. And that free time I enjoyed so much?

Has taken a back burner to things. On the rare occasion that I do have time by myself it is crammed in studying, writing papers and heading off to class. I look back at those care free childless days and think man what I wouldn't give for a bubble bath without having to worry I am going to wake Logan.

But tonight, its me time again. My husband is off at a game, my son off with my mom for a prearranged agreement we have had. And I have the entire house to myself for several hours.

So what am I going to do with that time?

Clean, wrap and dance, and then after draw myself a nice hot bath and enjoy the silence while it lasts.

Because who knows when the next time I will get a chance to do so.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Glee


Dear Caps-

After so many letters, which have yet to be answered. I figured why not give it one more attempt. I mean who knows right?

Well well well. This weekend was, interesting.

You had me scared there for a minute after Saturdays game. It wasn't pretty. In fact you can ask my husband. Yes we had a major blowout thanks to you. Apparently, I am all passion for the game, I care way to much about the score on the board, while he watches the game for what it is, and does not think the score is reflective on how well you actually played. And while this may be true. When it comes to the final flick of that clock, the score board is exactly what matters. But lets not get into this. One major blowout of the weekend is enough.

So yes I was scared. I went through Saturday, and most of Sunday having my husband hate me, my mother hate me and both of them telling me I should turn in my fan card right away. Because apparently the way I was reacting was not, in what so ever way healthy, normal or showing that I was/am a fan. I ignored them as they talked about Bruce, the possibilities that weren't looking good. Especially if we were going to lose again that night, which would bring the total of losses to 9. Instead I did what my mother suggested, and walked away from it all. I didn't listen to the reports about the Saturday nights game. Didn't listen to the preshow events. And by the time the game started last night. I hadn't so much thought about anything.

And when we found ourselves down by 2 last night. I simply walked away. Muted the station and turned the channel to football. Yes you heard me, football. You made me turn it on. I didn't want to see you guys lose again. And from the looks of it, you guys were heading there.

Once again.

Yet somehow, I came back to it. Just in time to see the first goal. And then the second. And before I knew it the game was tied, and you brought hope and life and everything the holiday season is about back to me. And I once again believed in you guys.

Thankfully, you gave me reason to. Once again I was jumping out of the seat cheering and all the good stuff. And as the final ticks clicked down, I sat there, a bundle of nerves rocking back and forth..not wanting to see as we held on to the one goal lead. If we could just win this game. I sat there praying for it. Like I hadn't prayed in a long time.

And I cried when I realized we had actually won.

And the amazing thing? Not one of my coworkers has come up to talk about the win.
Because apparently, only when you guys are losing do they feel the need to ask me what is up with you guys and sit for hours discussing the game.

And I have gone back to the quiet girl, with the decked out Caps cube once more.

So thank you.
Lets hope this is the last of the frustration letters from me in the near future.
But maybe I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.
Just yet.

Yours-
A little bit more happy fan.

Friday, December 17, 2010

When the going gets tough.


Dear Caps-

Yes its me.

Again.

I know, I know. I have been rather harsh on you as of late. In fact perhaps harsh is a little underrated. Because lets face it, I have been rather vocal with my unhappiness in the past handful of games. And right now I am pretty sure you have no desire to even read anything that comes from me. Which means you probably won't even read this. Go ahead and discard.

I will wait.

Alright, now that, that is out of the way lets get back to the reason I emailed you. You aren't the only ones that are disgusted with my frustrations. My mom had the tickets the other night, and we sat up there, in section 424 watching it. And even though I missed the one and only goal that was scored-thanks to a smart ass comment from me to my mother resulting in her pulling down my hat at the precise moment Laich scored-I thought we were in the game. No I didn't get my hopes up but it seemed that we were at least in the game. Which is a good thing. Believe me.

That is up until overtime.
Have I mentioned how much I hate overtime.

When the Ducks scored in overtime. I cursed. I said I gave up on you. I cried. I sat there in the stands looking down at the ice wondering if it was even worth caring this much anymore. I started dropping the F-bomb like it was nothing. And I am not one to sit there and use it very often.

My mom got so pissed off at me that she went off on me. Seriously in the middle of the arena like I was ten years old. She didn't know where the whole dirty mouth came from-clears throat, umm hockey?-she informed me how ashamed she was of me, and how she has never ever seen me like this. I was becoming my father who she in recent years has banned from even being in the same room during a game.

On and on she went.
Somewhere I am sure I even heard how I am not a true fan.

I tried to save myself, telling her I was allowed five minutes of pure frustration. And that to her this is just a game but this is my life. My husband's job. I live hockey twenty/four seven. And if we weren't doing well it affects everything in my daily life.

She wasn't really having any of it.

We argued pretty much the entire way home about our situation.
And as she drove away it occurred to me, that she is right. In some ways. Because if I am a fan like I say I am, then I need to stand behind you, through the good times and the bad. Its like a marriage in that sense. And just because we hit a bumpy spot in the road for a bit doesn't mean you just walk away from it.

Sure the bad times have hit hard. But one must remember that last year you went 14 straight without a loss. This is nothing. This to shall pass.

Which is why, I will once again sit in my home tomorrow night, the holiday lights in the background and cheer you on. Because I am a fan.

No matter how much you suck at any given time.

Yours,
A frustrated fan.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Winter Break.

So my final exam was turned in this afternoon. Thats right, turned in meaning it was a take home. Yes they actually have those. It was more of a paper than an exam but whatever. Its done its over with and I am officially on Winter Break until the end of January.

And how am I feeling right now?



Noe if it was only warm enough to wear jeans and a t-shirt.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

the most wonderful time of the year


That's right my friends. Not only does December bring about the much anticipated holidays but it also brings the end of another semester.

I would like to think one of these days I will be sitting here telling you that its my last final ever. Sadly its not today and not this year. Though if you want some good news, and who doesn't, well come the end of next semester I will be a Senior. So that's at least something to look forward to. But until then I sit here attempting to study.

But heres the thing, finals week in December have never been easy. After all in sitting here thinking about gifts, if there is anyone else I need to get. Have I gotten everything for Andy and Logan. I'm thinking about holiday parties and pumpkin pie. Considering I haven't had dinner pumpkin pie sounds fabulous.

Another words I'm thinking about anything but my final in just over an hour. Still with a little luck, and the knowledge that I only need ten points to get a C, maybe I just may pass the damn thing.

Maybe.

Which means I should get off here.
Back to studying I go.
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Monday, December 13, 2010

Round 2...


Dear Caps.

Here we go again.

Yes its me.
Again.

I am assuming my first letter did not get to you in time for this weekends games. I should talk to the mailman, or the squirrel that I am pretty sure runs my computer about this.

Listen...this is getting old. Do you think I enjoy coming into work every day after a lose feeling as though I have justify why you guys are playing the way you are? Justify the reasons I think, Bruce should and will stick around? Explain why Ovi isn't the same man he was last year. Yes we know he isn't the scoring machine he was, but hello he has been incredible with the assist. Yet, apparently it isn't exactly what these guys want to hear. Which is pretty amazing for last year they were complaining he was to strong, to aggressive and now these same men are telling me they need the old Ovi back. You know, come to think of it what should I expect? They are men, aggressive is right up their ally.

OK yep, I am getting off base here. Forgive.
Lets get back on track.

I realize you all have the flu. Its being passed around like those stink bugs this past summer. Its horrible. Really it is. I wish I could have magical remedy to clear it up. But I don't so you just get stuck with a letter instead. I know you are just so thrilled. I can read it across your face as I type this out.

And because I am sure this will make know no difference in the long run, I would allow me some time just to bitch. Because I need it. And even if it does nothing to change the outcome, it will make me feel at least a hell of a lot better.

I am really at loss of words lately when it comes to my favorite team. I mean for years we-as in the Washington DC-area have been in a rut for a great sports team. But it seemed that you guys had changed that. You were the bright spot in this area. Now I am not saying I wasn't a fan before you guys rose to your stardom. As we established in my first letter I have been a fan for a long time now, back before the rock the red, seats filled completely days. But when you guys became the team that you are supposedly now, well.. You promised not just myself, but the town a chance.

And we believe(d) in you. I believe in you.

And yet I am finding it harder and harder to defend you. I dread coming to work the day after a game when you lose. Especially to a 7-0 loss. That one hurts like hell. I sit in my cube and hide from all the nay sayers looking for any information that they can get from me.-Confession here, my husband works for the team-and while I don't give them any we spend hours discussing it. The reasons, the questions. And I try, oh do I try to encourage them to continue to follow you guys.

But I am losing my battle.
And I need some help.

Maybe its the flu that is going around, or the cameras for this HBO special. Or maybe its the Redskins, after all they have been in a slump for what...years? But whatever it is, it needs to get fixed. The sooner the better.

Again, as I have said, I can't do this alone.

So we need to figure out what is going on here. We need to get back to the team I know and love. No, I don't expect you to win every game. But I really don't want you to lose every game either.
So if we could maybe figure out a compromise.

Well I would be eternally grateful.

Yours-
A frustrated fan.

Friday, December 10, 2010

A heartfelt letter.

Dear Caps-

I think its time we talk.

You are breaking my heart.

What are you trying to accomplish here? Trying to kill me? Trying to force me into not believing you are the team that is supposedly Cup worthy this year? Because if you are, then your doing a wonderful job. Seriously if this is the case then so be it. Go ahead and play like shit, give up, pack it in and call it a season right now.

I will see you next October.

But I thought we were stronger than this, I thought we were the team to beat, not the team to beaten, broken down and thrown out like yesterdays garbage. What happened to the team that in the beginning of the season promised me they would make it farther than the first round this year? Have you lost it so much that you can't gain any ground? Have your young guns already peaked? Please tell me this is not so.

I get it, I know that the sport is hard, the season long. And by no means are we anywhere near being out of it. This I know. Just as much as I know everyone is after us. But seriously, some of these teams were easily beaten...hello Panthers? Its been what how many seasons since they beat us on our home turf?

Well up until last night that was.

You can't tell me you only want to pay attention to the 'big' games. If you are then you are in for a surprise, because yeah the other teams, that ones that you thought were so easy you could win without trying, well they turn into actual teams that are willing to challenge, and apparently beat us.

I also understand that every team has their shitty moments. I am assuming this is what we are going through. But do you think you can maybe stop this? Four games is by far enough for me. Somehow I don't think I am the only one that would agree on this either. I am also trying not to listen to the nay sayers that are telling me the coach should be fired, Ovi should be demoted and that everyone on the team needs to be traded. Because while they may think so, I doubt this would be the answer.

Which leads me, and anyone reading this asking, what the hell is going on and how do we fix it? I will not pretend to have all the answers. I am no coach or even analysis after all. But what I do see is a lack of confidence, a lack of leadership. Maybe Ovi isn't the captain we thought he would be? Maybe we need a veteran in there. Someone who will get mad with everyone and isn't afraid to say anything. That sort of guy. I mean Ovi is wonderful, but does he do any of this? We need this sort of leader.To bad the only one I can think of the moment worthy of the position has his mouth wired shut.

And while I know its a lot easier said than done, we need to win. Stop blaming things such as the flu on your losing ways. Look deeper. You have to want it, to win it. I know you guys are playing for the Cup, but you are also playing for the fans. And without us, you guys wouldn't be the team you are today. Believe me I know I sat through plenty of empty seat games to know how we have changed you, and how you have changed us. But please dig somewhere deeper til you find out what has been missing. Until you find out what playing is worth, until you find out what is missing..I am afraid this is going to go nowhere.

Yes its a game. But it is also your life. Your profession.
You guys are better than this.

I still stand behind you. I still can't wait for the day that you raise the cup at the Verizon Center and blow the rest of the hockey world out of the water. But I can't do this alone.

Don't make me.

Yours Sincerely.
One frustrated fan.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Baby Its cold outside.

If this past week is any indication of just how this winter is going to be. I am...

Screwed.

I don't remember when I started to hate the cold. I mean as a kid, I was never ever this bone chilled cold. I could stand it. I welcomed it. I couldn't wait to get this first snow of the season, even more when there was an actual snow day due to it.

But now, since I have shedded the thirty pounds of baby fat I had-mind you its been ten years since I lost it all.-I just can't stand it. I hate standing there waiting for the van to bring me to work. I hate going out in it period.

I know what your thinking, just wrap up. Wear layers. Which is great. But what if that doesn't work? Because I will tell you right now, it doesn't. For the most part I wear a winter coat around the office for the better part of the day and sit there in my cube miserable. Just wanting something, anything that will warm me up.

Which leads me to my next thought, I have also been dog tired, worn out weak. Its been going on for awhile. And while I used to think it was all just pure coincident, I am beginning to think or wonder if my tiredness and my coldness has something to do with one another. So I decided to finally call the doctors to see. I am no worried, just nervous and figured its worth getting looked at.

Even if my husband thinks I am absolutely nuts to think this. The other night I was discussing this very matter with him and he kept telling me to wait, that a few days wouldn't really make a difference in the long wrong. And yet as I was describing what I felt like, he was informing me that I was assuming I had something-I mentioned the possible thyroid problem-without even thinking anything through. And how I shouldn't assume, or think I have anything wrong because yeah he is pretty sure nothing is wrong. This is all in my head.

Which is why I have not mentioned the fact I emailed the doctors and will see them if need be.

Why?

I want my mind at ease. Isn't it always better to do so then worry? Or find out to late. Maybe I just need to get new vitamins, maybe I just need to workout a little more, or maybe there is generally something wrong that I may need to get further medication for. I just don't know.

And no this is not what I am thinking.

Besides. This being cold all the time, gets rather old.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Christmas photos. 2010


And so let our holiday picture tradition start. I have never been one to do this before but figured with a little one, I may as well get on the bandwagon and begin taking an annual Holiday picture at the end of the year. And so we made an appointment with Portrait Innovations-which amazingly could fit us in-and were looking forward to it. Of course what we didn't plan on was Logan getting sick, though looking back at things it seems whenever we attempt to do a photo session he somehow gets sick. We had thought about cancelling or rescheduling. But have you seen our schedules lately?

Yea to say that we are a bit busy is an understatement. So we figured we would just make due with it. I mean after all, we only really wanted a nice photo for Christmas cards and nothing more. So if they weren't the worlds best, then oh well. I gathered up some goodies for him, along with some toys and coloring activities and said we would just have to make due with what we had.


When we got there, they informed us they were running an hour behind schedule. They gave us the option of returning later that day-they would call- or for us to wait it out. Seeing that lil man had already spotted the Lego's and was entertained we figured why not. After all getting him back in the car seat was going to be hell. So we would wait. I wasn't sure how he was going to do, an hour wait? On top of the photosession and then the selection process? This may not be good at all. Still I was determined to wait it out and see, after all I could always come back sometime and get them retaken. But I really didn't want to. And he was good thus far.
Of course seeing the others arounds me reaction didn't help. If the kids who were feeling well couldn't handle it how was he actually going to? Was I kidding myself? He was however a good trooper. And thanks to my Ipod and the activities, was a pretty happy toddler who was taking the wait better than most. In fact I felt bad for the parents whose children where having a hard time....


And while it was a long wait, we finally managed to make it back there with a still smiling little boy who you would never know was sick at all. Well except for the occassional sniff and cough.
And we were quite impressed with the photos as well. We had never used them as a photo place before, and didn't know what to expct but the quality and the price really wasn't as bad. I will say they could have been a lot worse.
We left with our wallets feeling a lot emptier than when we arrived. We had not expected to buy anything other than Christmas cards but left with a whole lot more.





Of course how could you resist such an adorable face?
Yeah there was no way we were only going to be able to pick just one.
Believe me on this one.

Friday, December 3, 2010

100 days.


Hard to believe we are once again counting down the days til our spring get away to one of our favorite places around.

That's right. We are going back to Disney in 100 days.

I was looking at photo's of this past trip back in July and it seems like it was just yesterday that we were there and here we are getting ready to get in our final months before we take off once again.

But unlike the last trip, this one is sort of special. Because it is a mom and dad trip only. I am so fortunate to have parents who actually offered to take Logan while Andy and I get some much needed time away together for a bit.

This isn't the first time that we have been able to do this, my mom in fact gave us the same offer when Logan was just six months. Looking back it was one of the hardest things to do, leaving him behind. And yet now I fear it will be ten times worse because unlike when he was six months, he will actually semi know whats going on. He will call for us, cry for us and maybe throw a tantrum or two. Everything I expect.

And yet, I can't tell you how much I look forward to some time as just Andy and Aleisha again-am I horrible to even admit this?-the hockey season has Andy tied up for the better part of the year, and we don't see each other anymore so getting some alone time is sort of a great feeling. Or thought.

So heres to the next 99 days. May it fly right on by with the rest of the year.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Its not the big things that take us by surprise.

When I had my son in the winter of 09' I knew a lot of things were bound to change. I would be a mom from now on. No longer would I be just Aleisha for example. I knew my evenings would be filled with sport practices and homework. And gone were the quiet relaxing lazy weekends were my husband and I would stay in bed for hours.

All things I took in to consideration and even looked forward to in a lot of ways.

But sometimes its the small things, the things we don't think about that catch us of guard. Like sick leave.

Before my son, I didn't care much about sick leave and for the most part I didn't even really touch it. A thing I was thankful for when I was expecting. That's right. I could go for months without so much of a day off. And it wasn't unusual for me to have an excess of over 80 hours laying around. I won't lie, I would take a day or two off when I needed a mental health day not even thinking about it. Because I had plenty and surely I would never really need all that much of it anyway.

But now that I have my son I can't seem to keep it. I am barely lucky to have stored 40 hours before either my son-which in turns gets brought to me-or myself get sick. I look back at those days not long ago when having days built up was so easy and think, man....

Perhaps I bring this up, because I have spent the past two days in bed, with the cruds and while I sit here typing this I still feel like crap but know I need to go into work if I want to have any sick leave still available.

Just in case.

Or maybe its because recently my friend had suggested we take a mental health day sometime in the near future, to do a girls day. And while I thought how lovely that would be, at the same very moment I was calculating just how many hours I would need and how many hours I need to save up, once again in the likelihood that something would come up.

I am in no means complaining about my son, or having to deal with sick kids and leave. But sometimes it just amazing how much life has changed. How much in the span of two years I have gone from careless twenty something who lived for the days of being carefree and spontaneous to a thirty year old mother of one, who seems to have to plan and prepare.

Including her sick leave.

Just in case.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Black Friday

I am not the kind of person who gets excited over black Friday. I don't get up at the crack of dawn just to save a couple of dollars. I would much rather spend those hours in bed. The stores will be there tomorrow and the deals aren't all that cracked up. And surely not worth me losing sleep over.

Of course now that I have a kid that seems to have changed. Maybe. We spent Thanksgiving with my family this year. The last before my aunt sells here house, in the spring. The plan was for my sister to watch Logan, my nearly two year old son on black Friday so that my best friend and I could go to our annual Thanksgiving hockey game. A tradition we started nearly six years ago. Since my sister actually was planning on doing black Friday, she volunteered to watch lil man over night so to avoid the predawn wakeup call.

Now I don't know about ant other couples with kids but true alone time, without the kid(s) doesn't happen to often. And when it does I like to enjoy the adult time. You know like seeing a movie-which hasn't happened in a good while- but it being 9:30 pm on Thanksgiving night the theatres would be packed. I should I know I worked them many ions ago and promised myself never again.

So what are two adults to do? Open a bottle of wine and enjoy the evening? Nope. We decide to head to ToysRUs which opened at 10 with all the other nutty shoppers.

I don't know what my husband expected but I'm pretty sure it wasn't the half mile line just to get into the store. And yet like two fools we joined them and waited talking with fellow shoppers to pass the time. Nor did we expect for it yo take a half hour just to get in the store.

Thankfully when it was our turn there was no pushing, trampeling or any other barbaric acts one sees on the TV,in fact I was pleasantly surprised at just how calm and organized it all was.

Until we got in that was. The shelves which had been stocked well before now stood bare and empty, and the store had only been opened for a half hour. I thanked the lord Logan is only two and didn't want that Mega Buzz everyone was grabbing up. Instead we headed for the trains and preschool/toddler toys which remained on the shelves a lot longer than the Buzz. We flew through the store grabbing what we could before realizing that our bag was full, plenty for lil man this year.

But if we were shocked by the half hour wait, we had a bigger surprise coming in the two hour wait to checkout. Yes that's right two hours. I think we fit to know the people around us rather well in those two hours.

When we finally checked out somewhere around one We realized two things. One being we had a tuqlly finished our son in the span of one shopping trip. The other?

That this was quite possibly the stupidest thing we had ever done.
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Wednesday, November 24, 2010


With tomorrow being Thanksgiving and the holidays right around the corner, I think many of us forget the real reason for the holiday. That being said, I figured I would go ahead and list just a few things I am thankful for. So without further ado.

I am thankful for:

-Logan for without him I am lost. He will never know how happy he has made his mommy.
-My husband, for being there no matter what.
-My job which isn't the greatest and sure I may bitch about it but I know how lucky I am to still have a job.
-My supportive and loving family-inlaws included.
-Being alive-after the massive car accident this past summer I realize how precious life really is.
-My drive-the strength to continue to pressure my education.
-Friends-who allow me time to be myself, yet are their when I need a hand, an ear and two arms.
-Music, silly but without it I am lost.
-Shelter, my house may not be the newest, or the most organized but its a home and its filled with love.
-A nice long hot bath for allowing me some time to be on my own.
-My education, because without a book in my hand, I am at a total lose of anything.
-My money sense and the ability to save. Its come in handy from time to time.
-Summer just because its my favorite season.

There a thousand more things I can think of and the list could always grow but these are just a few of the small things that make me grateful.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Taylor Time.

Dear Taylor Swift-

This past weekend while my husband was at work I sat in the midst of the living room engaged in a heated game of hockey with my almost two year old son Logan. I say heated because despite the fact that he is nearly half my size and quite the number of years younger, he has quite the slap-shot developing.

Lucky me.

So there I was getting the crap beaten out of me by a happy go lucky toddler who could care less about anything other than the sport when halfway through his 'gooooaallll' he stops mid sentence and freezes in place. He begins to babble something that I am sure makes perfect sense in his precious mind but takes anyone over the age of two a little longer to figure out.

'Pretty. Pretty Pretty.'

I begin to blush, I mean who wouldn't fall for this line? Especially with those blue/green eyes of his? I began thanking my son when he shook his head and continued to mumble. And then thats when I saw it. A commercial on the screen and it was, you. Promoting your Speak Now album. And suddenly I knew it wasn't me that he was so in love with. But a gorgeous blonde who had somehow captured his attention.

He quickly abandons the hockey game, and I assume he is satisfied that he has won as he quickly finds the remote-which is sort of scary to even know that he knows exactly what this is-and turned to me.

'Pretty watch pretty.' He then tapped the television, to make his point clear.

I do what any mom would do and begin searching through VH1, MTV and CMT hoping that I would get lucky enough that one of them may be playing something of yours.

They weren't.

But lucky for me, our local cable network offers a thousand of your videos on demand for free and I spent the next hour watching 'Love Story.' And 'You Belong with me.' Though his personal favorite seems to be 'Mine.'

Now while watching your videos with my son I discovered a few things about him. First my boy likes blondes, second he can dance. And third, he has already come to terms that he is going to marry you.

Seriously.

During the video for 'Love Story.' we watched and my little Logan got this huge beam across his face. He seemed to be enjoying it very much. That is until the Prince came across. And then he turned to me and clinched his teeth to say... 'GRRR..GRRR GRR.' He looked confused and began to mumble and babble again, happy to see you solo once more. This seemed to be a common them throughout all of your videos and your love interests.

It was his first experience with jealousy. I am afraid it won't be his last.

Still I figured I would ask, and so with my own heart breaking, after all I am no longer number one in his eyes-I asked if he loved you. He smiled and shook his head. Yes. I then decided to ask if he was going to marry you. Again he smiled and shook his head. He then pointed to the blonde haired boy in the 'You belong with me.' And said...'No...Pretty, Mine....Pretty mine.'

So dearest Taylor, you see my son has every hopes of marrying you. Please don't break his heart.

Love-
Me.

PS. I look forward to welcoming you into our family.

Friday, November 19, 2010

I've got the music in me.


See the image to your right over there.

Yea, I will confess I can not live without it. Literally I am one of those people you see on the subway, the kind that sleeps on the way home, their earbuds plugged in. I am the kind that listens to it at the mall while walking it. The kind that is constantly having to get a new one-like every two years-because I abuse the shit out of it.

Yes I listen to it that much.

In fact I view my Ipod like my husband views his phone. He is never without it, and gets quite lost without it. So this morning when I got in the car only to realize my Ipod wasn't with me. I sort of freaked out. Sort of. But I figured it was somewhere, it had to be. I checked my coat, my bag and even my car, nothing. My husband ran back into the house to do a quick search, he came back empty handed. Which at the point I began to freak a little more. Or ok a lot more. I mean really where could it be? It hadn't gone to far. It couldn't have. I ran my agenda from the night before in my head. Suddenly I think I remember never even bringing my Ipod into the house. Did I? No I am pretty sure I didn't. I had my hand full. Even with the handless device that my keys offer, it is still hard to do. So then I tried to recall if I locked my car and couldn't. A fact that got me even more irate than anything.

We ended up driving off, without my Ipod, which I have convinced myself is stolen at this point. Chalking it up to being pissed off at myself since if my car was unlocked then it was an open invite to anyone to take it really.

My Friday was ruined.

My husband, who always tends to look at things as a half full view went on about how its at home he just overlooked him. And I sat there trying to tell him that he is wrong. That I knew it was gone. We sat there as the lights flew by us, screaming at the top of our lungs trying to prove that we were the ones in the right.

He was mad because I was dramatically overreacting to the simple thought that my Ipod was stolen, without proof that it actually was stolen. And I was pissed because he just wanted me a happy little smily person and didn't want me to be at all upset what so ever.

All over a freaking Ipod.

We rode all the way to my parents house in silence still fuming over everything.
As we departed, him to his office, me to the metro I was still fuming, though maybe not so much, and as my van picked us up and brought me to the office I was at least calm when I heard about a woman who watched as a guy in a wheelchair was hit by a car in the morning, she watched the entire thing go down.

And it hit me then, just how stupid being so concerned with the possibility of an Ipod theft really was. We still had our health, my marriage and my son would still be singing to T.O Cruz's Dynamite on our way home. But to say that my Friday was ruined because of a missing Ipod? I'm pretty sure that one shouldn't be classified at an end all to be all, and I am prety sure if you were to ask the dude that got hit, the one in a wheelchair.

Well I am sure he would be willing to trade a missing Ipod, with me any day.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Kiwibox. My old friend.

Maybe you are just discovering my blog, or maybe you have followed me on her for awhile. But what most don't know is this. While I have only recently picked up blogging on blogger, I have been blogging for well over a decade now.

Back in 2000 I came across this site that was created for the main attraction of teenagers. And I, entering the last few months of teen decided to go ahead and give it a shot. I signed up and began journaling. Looking back on most of my entries, they seem childish and all together rather silly. Most consisted of boys I liked, the occasional piece of poetry and bitching about my family. Yes there was plenty of that. But then again I was a nineteen year old kid, living under my parents roof and while she may not admit it or not, my sister was in the midst of her teenage angst as well.

I didn't really set out to make it to any milestone, or to be there for years. And yet, that is exactly what happened. It turned out to be the one thing I looked forward to on a daily basis. And yes, I said daily. The years grew, as did I. I fell in love on that journal, got engaged on that journal. Got married and had a baby. All while 'blogging' about day to day life. There was no formal structure nor was there any really topics. More or less just a bunch of Hodge Podge that became my life.

I made friends on that site, I read others insightful-and sometimes not so-and felt like I knew them. Several people came and went on the site, due in part because lets not forget, the site was after all for teenagers. But that was not the reason I had remained. I didn't care about the articles, the advice columns or anything else the site supposedly had to offer, I was there for the blog. And the blog alone.

I realize now, that this was the beginning of the blogging sensation. While everyone is claiming they had just discovered it I sat back and smiled for I had known it all alone, it was a well treasured event, a part of my life as much as my job was.

But as all good things often do, Kiwibox decided to change a year ago. A major overhaul and everything about the site would change with it. And after ten years of keeping up with the site, with the journal and with several others. I decided to leave my beloved journal.

And move on to if not bigger-cus I know the audience really isn't-at least newer greener pastures. It was time to grow up, and join the site where more adults blogged and what not.

Hence the reason I know blog on this current site.

Still, I decided to hit up my old stopping ground yesterday. And for reasons that I can't explain I began to miss it.

Whether it was the actual site or the time is still up in the air.
But for whatever reason I missed it.

And for a moment, I wanted it all back.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

A future hockey mom.

I admit in a million years I never thought I would even consider that someday I would be a hockey mom. And yet, I am pretty sure that is where I am heading. Even if my son is not even two years.

This of course I assume is to be expected. Given the fact that daddy has so much influence in the sport. I mean after all, its a pretty much sleep, eat and breath event around the house. So what else would expect? Really? However what I didn't expect was that my not even two year old son would pick up a hockey stick, no matter where we are at and continuously say 'hockey. goal, hit, drop.' until everyone around him knows where he stands. He plays the sport around the house and even if I am not the most expert person when it comes to what classifies someone as a good player or bad I will not be blind to recognize that at the age my son is, he does hold the stick rather well and has an amazing shot. Keep in mind, he is only 21 months. Even the kids coordination is quite impressive.

I always thought that my kid(s) would be involved in something. Even in my head dreamt of a little ballerina girl since I love dancing so much. Or maybe soccer sure. What little kid doesn't start their sports day with this? Or maybe football. Yes for sure football. But hockey? Never. Then again, before I met my husband I watched the sport but knew nothing much of it, didn't understand the rules or what was really going on. So why should I expect or even consider to be the next hockey mom?

Soccer mom yes. But not a hockey mom.

And yet, it looks like I could very well be heading down that path. My mornings will be filled sitting on a cold hard benches clutching my morning caffeine in my hands. The smell of that musty old hockey equipment forever burned in my car..If you ask my husband there could be worse things to be and I suppose he is right there. Because you can bet, even if I hate the cold, if I can't stand it what so ever. You better bet, I will be there screaming my head off, cheering on my son at every practice, every game. And at every goal he scores.

I just need to invest in some really great gloves in the meantime.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Death of my Teen Idol

I have a confession, yes another one. They seem to come frequent these days. But here it is.

Nick Carter was not my first love.

That title belongs to the man on the right. Johnathan Brandis. I would not consider this my first crush-that goes to a boy named Josh, he lived two blocks away from me. At ten I thought he was super cute. But once I got my first sights on Johnathan, it was all over. I am also pretty certain this was the beginning of my fascination and love with the blonde haired blue eyed pretty boys. But that's for another blog entry.

So yes Johnathan Brandis was my first love.

It started back in 1992. I was a twelve year old nerdy girl with freezy hair and an expander in my mouth. He a young actor getting his BIG break in the movie Ladybugs. He spoke, I think I cried. He laughed I sighed. It was your typical pre-teen fascination that soon turned into buying every magazine he was plastered on, spending hours rereading articles he was in until I had memorized every little detail, from his birthday to his favorite drink. I doodled his name surrounded by hearts and swore that someday, I was destined to meet him, and marry him. The room I shared with my sister turned into a JB shrine...

I was in love, ok maybe even a little of the obsessed kind but I was now thirteen, and so I think its only fitting that every female go through this with at least one celebrity.

By the time I was in high school Brandis was a known name. He had already done several movies, and was now on a TV show called SEAQUEST DSV. I'm probably not the only one to admit their main reason for being into the show was him. In fact I think the creators knew exactly what they were doing.And just as I had with the movies, I watched every Sunday night just so I could get a glimpse of the young actor...back then there was no DVR or TIVO and so I scheduled my activities around it, which wasn't all that hard to do since I didn't have that much of a social life. I would tape the show, and re-watched it over and over until the tapes were worn out. I bought the t-shirts, the character figurines. Anything I could get my hands on. Once again, can we say obsessed. Umm yeah.

The show lasted three years breaking my heart along with it.

After, he seemed to fade into the woodwork. Showing up here and there, but nothing major came out of it. He seemed to be just another one of those child actors that you hear about. You know the kind that make it big as a kid and then you never hear or see them again. That kind. Which was a shame, because back then I didn't think he was all that bad of an actor.I always hoped for a comeback of some sort. Who doesn't.

And I never stopped wondering when he would.

But seven years ago. On this very day. My questions were answered. I logged on to the internet to find that my teen idol, the very first guy I ever loved. Had killed himself. Hung himself more like it. Feeling the pressure of a failing career and never really making it to the kind of success that he wanted.

He was 27.

Once again my heart broke. No one wants to think that any one they loved, even if it was a never going to happen sort of thing would be that desperate enough that they felt they had no other way out. But most of time no one thinks that the famous are among the several who fight with the feelings of loneliness, of failure of being so down and out that they would even dream or imagine such an act. And yet it seems that behind the scenes of the rich and the famous, lies the underground secret. Life isn't easy. For anyone. Even to this day, I read about another young Hollywood star being admitted into another rehab center, or that their attempt in suicide had failed and think that nothing has changed much since that November day seven years ago. Even with all the attempts at making it more known, and more publicized it seems it has done little to address the issue of it.

And it makes me question everything about Hollywood. About the pressures that we as a society puts on these kids, and what really is considered a failure. Because I am pretty sure a successful stint on a popular TV show, and a couple of big movies does not mean you failed. Especially not at such a young age. Not when you have your whole life ahead of you.

But how do we get that out to them before its to late?

Before they become another falling star who left us far to soon.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

When??

When I first announced I was expecting back in the summer of 08' everyone was ecstatic, I mean who wouldn't be? Not only that but it finally solved and answered the great question-when are you going to have children-and for nine long glorious months no one asked about it. Instead they focused on questions like names, and colors and if it was a boy or a girl.

And then we had him. And the moment I got out of the hospital, the question about a second child came into play. Being a new exhausted mom, I didn't care for the questions because hello, we were bringing home our son for the first time, shouldn't you give us at least a week to enjoy it before the questions arise again? One would think anyway.

My husband and I had talked extensively about kids before we even had our first. We had a plan probably even before we got married. And while it may not be to what every one else is doing, the plan seemed to fit us just fine. Unlike most, we want a little bit of an age gap between the kids. And for the most part, people at least in the family are well aware of our situation, my disability, his job. And they know what we are thinking, and agree with us. For the most part they have actually been relatively good in asking about the 'When' question.

Until this week, when I happen to mention something about another one in the future-meaning at least another year and a half more like two-little did I know this little statement would cause such a big controversy. When someone decided to inform me that it would be extremely hard with two kids and that my husband would have to quit his job of course. They didn't know what or how I would do it with two kids. Or how we could afford it. They then informed me maybe I should just have one kid, and that would be ok as well. In fact that may be the better option. They continues, adding up the math of my age and all.

I nodded my head because I didn't know what else to say, or think really. Because when it comes to matters of another child, it should not be up to anyone else but the couple. My husband and myself. And no one else. If we decide that our son is to be an only child than so be it, as of right now we would like another in a couple of years. But I fully understand things change, circumstances change and should we decide this, then so be it. But I will not, and do not enjoy being told that we should only have one because it is the better option.

And the determination that anyone over the age of thirty is to old to have a child is beyond annoying. With technology and woman living longer, it is not beyond anyone to see a woman pregnant in her thirties. And again, this too should be something that I should decide for myself. Not someone else. Father in law, friend or a stranger.

So next time you decide to ask someone when they are going to have another child, I strongly suggest you think before you say anything.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Number 21



Meet Brooks Laich. He is a 27 year old center for the Washington Capitals. He also happens to be my favorite player. And yes I will admit, not only do I happen to think he is an incredible hockey player. I also happen to have a bit of a crush on him. Meaning, yes I think he is quite fine looking. Admittedly I am not the only female in the DC area that thinks so. But for purpose of this blog, lets just pretend shall we?

So this past weekend, my husband, my son and myself made our way out to a local mall. For no reason what so ever than the fact we just needed to get out for a bit. Dressed in my Boston Red Sox hoodie and a pair of jeans and my husband in his usual Cap attire we made our way through the stores. And like usual, we had to walk past the memorabilia store just to take a peak. Though this time, it would not be my husband that would go in there drooling but rather myself.

For right there, to the side, doing a meet and greet was none other than Brooks Laich.

I stood there looking until the lady informed us that we were crowding the front of the store, which apparently is not allowed. And unless we were going to look, buy or get an autograph-at the tune of $40, we needed to move on. Needless to say, my husband couldn't get in the line fast enough.

You may be thinking, wait a minute doesn't your husband work for the team? Shouldn't that mean you have connections? Well your right Andy does work for them. However because he does, we aren't allowed to go up to the rink and meet them like everyone else does. I mean I am pretty sure if it was just myself and my son. But Andy isn't really supposed to. So we grabbed a Brooks Laich shirt, quickly paid and stood in line. I wondered if he would even recognize Andy, since he has been helping him on a couple of projects, the logo for his brand for one thing-note he didn't do the design just merely advised him on things-When it was our time, Brooks looked up and immediately gave me shit for my hoodie, all in good fun. As soon as Andy said hello they two quickly began chatting about logos and what not, and my hoodie quickly forgotten.

And while they stood talking about logos, and my son, I stood like a fifteen year old high schooler barely able to get my words out of my mouth. I had asked Andy to make sure I got a pic with him. But as he said goodbye and we walked out of the store I really wasn't thinking of that picture.

That is until halfway down the mall....
Still I had his autograph and his t-shirt.

And for some reason that was good enough for me.

Friday, November 5, 2010

The Dream Team



Who is ready to throw all their savings for a pair of concert tickets to watch a blast from the past? (Raises her hands and looks around). That's right. The announcement many of us females who were teenagers in the 90's had been waiting for came out yesterday. New Kids on the Block, and the Backstreet Boys, on one stage together, coming to a city near you in the summer of 2011.

I can already hear my bank account saying Cha-ching.

You may be thinking, ok this woman here is 30, isn't she well past the stage of girly crushes and drooling over men who are now into their forties-well some of them anyway. Well hear me out.

I was raised in a house with three girls. I am the middle of us. My older sister is just about six years older than I. While I won't disclose her age, I will just say that she was a teen during the reign of NKOTB. I being the kid sister that I was followed her every move. Including dancing along to the same tunes she loved. And the band of her choice was, you guessed it NKOTB. I can't tell you how many times I sat there learning the dances, which I will not be ashamed to admit I still remember to this day. She lived for those boys right up til their demise-thanks to the grunge era-which ironically happened right about the time she went to college, and liking boy bands was not about to win you any friends.

Five years later, I found myself heading into the last years of my own teenage years when five boys from Florida would become my 'world' And if anyone thought that my sister was bad, I could pretty much say, I topped her when it came to devotion and love of the boys. My walls were lined, my locker was filled with images of BSB, Nick Carter more specifically. I was in love with him. To this day, I would probably say there is a part of me that misses those days. I learned the dances, I went to their concerts. Spent endlesss amount of time and money on anything that revolved around them. From lunchboxes to albums to magazines. Most of which I still have to this day hidden in a box somewhere where my husband may or may not know about.

But unlike my sister, who stopped following her boys. I to this day continue to follow, buying up albums they still put out. Attending concerts they put on. While I would love to say I go there simply to remember my past, part of it is also because I still love them. I still pull out their records thinking they are amazing. Maybe a part of me will never quite grow up. Even my own mother, will contribute to my 'love' Just yesterday she taped Oprah for me since they happened to be on. I wanted to hug her that much more.

This all being said, you can imagine my excitement when they announced that both bands will be coming together to tour next summer. Could this be? Yes....and while the 30 year old in me tried to hide the excitement of seeing both bands-I have never seen NKOTB. The sixteen year old teen girl in me jumped up and down already staking out her spot in line....

and exclaiming that she is sooo there!!! Backstreets Back alright!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

When you try your best, but you get nowhere.

I have a confession. I am a horrible test taker. I have been for years now. I would like to blame it on that famous teacher I had back in high school, but feel the roots stem probably deeper than that. So I will just simply say it again.

I am a horrible test taker.

I am also one of those kind of test takers you see from time to time and laugh at. Like a junkie needing a hit, my palms begin to sweat even at the mere mention of a test. I sit there for hours reading, and going over my notes, to the point of obsession. Knowing that no matter what, or how much I study, the results will more in likely never equal the amount of effort I put into it. In fact often, I wonder why I bother studying at all.

So last night was another wonderful mid-term. I had been studying for two days straight, so much so I began wondering if I perhaps over-studied-is there even such a thing?-still I felt confident as I entered that classroom. I knew what I was talking about. I was handed my exam and sat there looking it over.

In all honesty it didn't take that much time to do. No, I wasn't the first one done but it didn't take me nearly the three hours that was allotted for it either. I handed it in, thanked the professor and walked out feeling like for once my efforts were going to pay off. I was going to pass the exam there was no doubt about it.

Until this morning, when I checked my school account to find that she had posted the grades. Still feeling confident I hit the see grades button and watched as my scores came up. My results?

Well I didn't pass with flying colors thats for sure. In fact I barely passed it if you want the truth. I sat there staring at the screen in pure disbelief. How in the world could this be? I studied. I reviewed. I took my time....none of which seemed to have mattered in the long run.

Needless to say I was feeling disappointed in my grade, in the class. In knowing that I have a week to sit and dwell on the grade before I see the professor again. In myself for being so damn confident....

and for once again feeling that I was too stupid to do something.
As I closed the browser I tried to remind myself it was just a grade. It is just a midterm and this to shall pass. Still several grades to be handed out before the final grade is posted.

Still all this telling to my sole, didn't make that barely D any better.
And next time, can't get here fast enough.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Welcome November



Now that Halloween has come and gone, lets welcome what probably is one of my favorite times of the year. The leaves have fully changed, my fall semester is halfway over and both Thanksgiving and Christmas are right around the corner. I have always struggled to figure out which exactly I love more and since I have never come to a solid decision lets just make it an equal tie and say, bring on turkey, pumpkin pie and family.

This morning I got up, got in my freezing cold car and found my way to a local radio station that begins playing Christmas music in July-no not really but they may as well-just to see if they had switched over yet to their 24/7 Christmas music up until Christmas night. They haven't yet. I don't know if this bummed me out to much since it still seems a little to early to be singing Jingle Bell rock and Oh Holy Night. And yet, I find the music contagious, and infectious and for the most part it puts me in a good mood. Even the sight of the holiday decorations up at the mall yesterday seemed to put a smile on my face. Even if I thought it was just a wee bit early.

Then there was another thought that flashed through my mind as I was thinking of the holidays. And it is this, maybe its not so early. Maybe its just coming faster and faster than it did as a kid. I know, I was warned of this growing up. But come on, how many of us actually believed that what our parents were saying, would actually end up to be the truth? How many of us sat there thinking the holidays would never get here, never come. We would sit there with our advent calenders just waiting as the days go by slower and slower. We would count the days until winter break with anticipation. All the while our parents would sit there and tell us not to waste our days. Or wish them away because one day we will be adults. And the days will fly by and you wish you would have the days like this back.

I miss those days.

My mom was right. Absolutely without a doubt. A 100% right about the fact that it comes faster and faster each year. I look at my son, who will be two in February finding it hard to believe that he will be in his terrible two's before long. And I wish for him never to grow up, want him to cherish these days as my mom had done so long ago. Knowing there is nothing i can do stop them either.

And since I can't. I will head into this new month just as excited as ever. I will do my shopping, celebrate with the family and be thankful for the moment. Because this year the holidays,just like all the ones in the recent past, will come and go in the blink of an eye all to quickly.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

This is Halloween


Halloween 2010.

I know for a lot of people, especially children Halloween is a pretty big deal. I mean it ranks right up there with Christmas. Who wouldn't enjoy dressing up as someone for an evening, getting way to much candy and then turning around and bargaining with friends and family on the candy that you really want. I on the other hand have never really been that into it. Sure as a kid, going around door to door stuffing my face with endless amounts of candy was pretty sweet. I won't lie. But getting dressed up, getting scared shitless? Yea not so much. And yes its ok, go ahead and call me a whimp. For the most part I probably would agree with you.

But of course now I have a son. Yes we did get all excited. We went and picked out the cutest costume, which was originally going to be Buzz until he got scared of the wings, and then he quickly decided on Nemo...we rushed to the store to stock up on candy, our favorites just in case we had leftovers. And we made sure we were home, our door open ready for little monsters and princesses. So everything would be more involved, and Halloween dif. had to be more special right? I have a kid so it certainly has to be.

Umm nope.

Then again my son hasn't even turned two yet. Still we decided to take him out. If not to the entire neighborhood than to at least the few houses around the area. What we discovered is this, the apple apparently doesn't fall to far from the tree after all. It seems Logan is afraid of just about any costume that does not involve Buzz Lightyear, Mickey or a princess. And you can forget most of the outdoor decorations yea, he wasn't having any of it. We did however manage to dress him up in his Nemo outfit drag him around to the few houses that were handing out candy at 6 pm and get him to at least experience the idea of trick or treating.

But once the older kids started coming in, Logan began howling and screaming, he got himself so worked up he made himself sick. Making me wonder if it was all worth it really in the end. But at least we tried, at least we did it...

Here's to hoping that maybe next year he may be a little more into it.

And maybe with a little luck his mommy will be more into it as the years go on as well.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

That's the Way he likes it.

This is Alexander Ovechkin.

For those of you who may not know him, well let me introduce him.

He is a 25 year old 6'2 left winger for the Washington Capitals. He is 233 Lbs of nothing but pure muscle. And he is arguably one of the best players the NHL has seen in years. During the season he has his eye on one thing, getting the Caps to the Cup. And during the off? He likes to party, drink and the ladies.

More specifically he likes the Russian ladies.

Now, this may not seem to be a big deal to you. Or even myself really. But after an article in GQ was published,apparently it has become a big issue for the female population around the DC area. I don't know about you but I am pretty sure I heard a thousand hearts break all at the same time.

But why? I mean do you blame him? He is 25, he is single, he is young he is at the top of his game right now, and lets not forget that while he is playing right here in the states, on American turf. He is Russian born and raised. I wouldn't expect him to lean any other way really.

After all, we don't expect Prince William to like American girls over English girls do we? Yes, hearts would break but come on think about it a little bit. One always goes back to their roots. And while I may love to have a fling with some hot sexy import-I should apologize to my husband-when truth comes down to it all, I would go back to my good old American boy(s) any day. Because that's what I know, that's what I prefer. And would any one get all pissed off at me for saying this? If they were to publish my comment in a magazine, would the backlash begin, would a thousand men break down and start to whine about this?

Probably not.
Most would simply shrug, flip the page and go on their merry little way.

Because when it comes down to it all, who really cares.

Is meeting his future wife really why he is here? Because I thought it was to play hockey. And while I may think he looks good when he cleans up-I am after all a female and will not deny this-I could care less if he is dating a blonde, a brunette or a redhead. I don't care if she speaks English, French or Russian. Because to me, that's not the point of his being in the states.

What I do care about is him scoring, his getting us to the level of game that we want, and we expect him to be. I care that he is beating the shit out of Crosby and doing it well. I care about whether or not we are going to win the next following games, and the playoffs. And as long as he is scoring, there is a pretty good chance, we will see him around in June.

And by all means if that means he needs three Russian females in order to do so. Well then by all means, give the man three Russian women.

Friday, October 22, 2010

38 years of marriage

My parents celebrated 38 years of marriage yesterday. Not exactly an easy accomplishment, but one they should dif. be proud of. After all, in this day and age any one would be lucky, myself included to see 38 years of marriage.

Sometimes I would like to know their secret. What makes them different from the rest. What makes a marriage last. From talking to her, I know they had their moments, I know they came close to walking away from it all. From time to time they wondered if it would be easier. It may have been. But what made them decide it was worth it?

The fight.
The drive.

What made it all worth while? Because sometimes, as much as I love my husband I have my doubts, my fears that we won't have what it takes in the end of it all to last to see 38 years.

I would like to ask how they keep the passion, the fire the desire for one another alive. I am not talking about just in between the sheets because love, passion and the desire needs to go beyond this. But what makes this all work? What is the secret?


And how does it change, or when it does how do you handle that?

But I want to know simply how to keep the love for one another last.
So mom and dad this one is for you.
Happy Anniversary.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Well it could be worse.


Allow me a moment to bitch.

I am an American with a Disability. Cerebral Palsy to the right side. Thankfully for me, its only a very minor case and the majority of the damage is to my right hand. Every day I wake up to this, every day I get up knowing that somewhere along the day I will have to face a challenge. Whether it be from a stare I receive, or a water fountain only geared to right handed folks.

I do this on a daily basis. Nine times out of ten, I have no issue with my set back, because really I'd like to think I adapt pretty well to anything thrown at me.

Still I can't deny there are days that I wake up and think, this sucks. Just plan out, no words to describe it other than sucks. Really really sucks. Usually it comes when I am struggling to change my son's diaper with one hand. Or when he was younger and still was in the infant car seats and I couldn't work the handle with one hand. So I would be stuck at home until my husband got home. Groceries would wait, the formula would have to wait.

It was when I was in HS and couldn't try out for any sports because they told me I was to much of a liability. So I managed. Or sat on the sidelines and watched as my sister was cheerleader.

It was the dates I never got, the guys that wouldn't except me for being me. It was the teachers that never thought I could do much of anything.

It comes when I am trying to open a bag of something, or a door when my hand is filled and no one seems to offer so I struggle and have to work things under my chin. I really think I could use another hand then. Its standing in the pouring rain trying to work that damn umbrella.Or standing on the metro, with nothing to hold on to and having my hands filled with things and not being tall enough to hold on to the top so I struggle with this to. And those around me, who don't even realize I am disabled don't bother to help .

Or having trouble shaving my underarm because I can't use it so I have to ask for help..yeah that one sort of sucks.

But I will say struggling with my son ranks right up there with all the suckiness. Because I see all the other moms and dads, and think why can't I just do that. Why do I have to struggle with holding him, putting in a key to the door. I can't even open the damn door without a struggle sometimes.

It's moments like these that I admit I sit and wish for just a moment to be different. To know what its like to be able to use that right hand. To not have to worry about things like figuring out how to drive with one hand, or cut my own food. I would be satisfied with 24 hours with the ability to use both hands. 24 hours that's all I ask for.

Unfortunately, that's one wish, no matter how hard I may try, that will never be granted.

You think its easy? I beg to differ with you. And I raise a challenge to go home and try everything with the opposite hand. And only that hand. It doesn't have to be for 24 hours, even just for the night....

Believe me I have several why me moments. Sometimes I feel I am worthy of it. It is not often I get down, or pissed off or anything. But every now and then.

You better believe it.

And then there are moments like today. On metro. When I boarded and the guy beside me sways back and forth. He talks to himself. And all around him people are making fun of him. Even if they don't say it they are laughing. He speaks slowly and asks how many stops are there til Federal Center, its a question he asks out loud on a daily basis. Everyone ignores him like they do most days he rides. There are a few of us that know, that recognize and help, but its not many. He still wears velcro shoes.

No one bothers to give him a seat either.

But this doesn't seem to bother him. He smiles around and laughs. Like its sunny and 80 instead of damp and cool.

Suddenly, my disability, no matter how small seems that much more smaller. And I feel ridiculous for being upset as much as I am because it takes me a few seconds longer to change my sons diaper. Or that I struggle with a key in the door.

When it comes down to it all,
I could be a lot worse off than I am.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

I'm not a Princess, this ain't my fairytale.-The end of my dream 2011

In the past week I have blogged about two things, being bullied and the start of my traditional Friday dance.

What I haven't blogged about, what I have been avoiding for the past several days is. Disney. Specifically regarding the Moms Panel.

If you are anyone who has been following the MP's process, by now you know that notices went out last Tuesday to those that made it through to round 2. And like all that applied and considered themselves hopefuls I held on to my newly bought smart phone, staring at the email alert. Willing it to ring. As if staring at it would make it suddenly do so. I sat there at the dinner table, trying to concentrate on my son, my husband my in-laws. Thinking any minute now it was going to be me that was notified.

No email came.

I hit the refresh button three more times before finally calling it a night. And when I climbed into bed, I sat staring at the ceiling feeling three things. Numb, heartbroken and disappointed. There was no feeling of being angry that I didn't make it. Just a general overwhelming sense of sadness.

Of course I tried to hide this, from my husband, from my mother who called the next day hoping for good news. I said everything was fine, I would be fine and life was great. Next year would be different.

Next year will be my year.

Still that didn't stop me from going back, questioning my answers. Thinking that perhaps they weren't good enough. That I wasn't good enough.

Perhaps this seems a little extreme after all not making it to the Moms Panel isn't the end of the World. Life will go on, my child will still grow and I will still continue to visit my favorite place on Earth.

But to me, making it on the Moms Panel isn't just about a free trip, or even the pay I won't receive-it is after all a non paid position.-but its the chance to help someone find the happiness, the joy in Disney that I myself have found. Its the chance to make someone else's dreams come true for once. Its the thought that maybe, just maybe this is what I was born to do. Help. Plan. Know that I was apart of making those dreams possible.

It has been almost a week since I found out I wasn't one of the chosen ones. I can't say it doesn't hurt any less for I would be lying if I told you this. But I am trying to look on the bright side, because really that is all I can do at this point. The search will be on again in less than a year, September will be here before I know it. I have a gorgeous son, a husband who finally gets my nutty Disney sense and another year to perfect my Disney love, knowledge and passion for Disney.

So watch out Moms Panel search 2012, here I come.

Friday, October 15, 2010

All She Wants to do is Dance

It all began the fall of 1998.

I came back to my dorm at Longwood (then college, now university) to an empty room. All of my roomates and suitemates had class up until after 5:30. Mine were all done by 11:30. Leaving me the entire afternoon to myself. Believe me, they may have laughed that I got up for those extra early classes. After all, we were no longer required to get up at a certain time so why should we? But I had my reasons.. And two weeks into freshman year they weren't laughing anymore.

When it came to Fridays down in Farmville, there wasn't much to do. So for good reason most got the hell out of there as fast as they could Thursday evenings. Those that did stick around partied until they were drunk, or ended up in other peoples rooms. I was neither a hard core party goer-amazing since I am a huge fan of dancing, nor had I made that many friends yet-Leaving me not just an empty dorm room, but empty hallways as well.

I got the idea one Friday afternoon shortly after arriving to school that I would do a Friday celebration. A kick off the weekend, relieve stress, smile and be happy. That sort of thing and since no one was around, I didn't really care that I made a fool of myself. It started in my room, I would crank up a song, half the time it was whatever we had on Napster or in my CD player at the time-yes Itunes, there was life before you. Cranking it up to volumes unimaginable before standing in the middle of my room and just rock it. When I realized that no one was around it gradually grew from my room to the hallway, for five minutes I would grove up and down the halls.

Of course this would not go unnoticed forever, because while I thought the halls were empty, on occasion I would get caught and found out. I did however not let this stop me, and soon it became known that at noon every Friday I would do my Friday dance around the dorm. Several girls would open their own door and dance along with me in their own way.

What started out as something to celebrate and simple, turned into something elaborate and enjoyable. I am sure if you ask the few that I am still friends with, I had a few memorable dances as well. Everclears Santa Baby comes to mind, along with a nice little ballroom cha cha to Gloria Estefan's Conga.


This tradition would carry on when I returned home, and started a full time job. On Fridays, every Friday I would dance down the halls, usually after most everyone, with the exception of one or two-was gone for the week. Sometimes the dances were simple more like cheers other times it was pure out get down and dance my ass off sort of dance.

And it is now a tradition I have in my current cube, I find a jam, throw on my ipod and for five minutes dance. I shake my hips, do the running man, and lip sync at the top of my lungs.I have yet to be caught doing this in my current group. Not that its going to stop me, embarrass me maybe but stop me, nope.

But I imagine its only a matter of time before I turn around and a crowd is gathered at the entrance to my cube.
Until then.
I will continue to dance, every Friday.
At noon.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

A bullied kids life-Part 3


I entered freshman year as most teenagers do.

Moody.

We had just moved to a different school zone, meaning I would not be attending the high school my older sister and all of the few friends I had made would be going to. Believe me at fourteen this was everything. Still I walked into Centreville High School the day after labor day, my combat boots and baby doll dress looking forward to the fresh start. A new school meant, a new opportunity to make friends, to fit in. To not be the girl that got picked on.In order to do so I joined theater, the speech team and because I really wanted a cool jacket, somehow managed to score a spot on the girl's softball team as the manager. And for awhile there I was generally happy with school. Maybe I wasn't popular or that skinny (I was after all a size 12) but at the same time, I had made friends and popularity wasn't all that. And I was known. For whatever you want to label me as I was known.

So one would think, great end of story. A happy one even.
But lets not get carried away. The point of the past few posts have been to bring awareness about bullying. I could sit here and tell you how bullying stopped at the students but I would be lying.

Besides my physical minor disability, I have also been blessed with a learning disability. Mainly in the areas of Math and Science. Therefore as part of the agreement to bring me into mainstream classes, I was to be in self-contained/and mainstreamed classrooms were a LD teacher would be able to assist me. I would also spend a period in resources, where the teacher would be the same as my math teacher. Giving me even more help in the subjects.

Freshman year the school had put me in with a Math teacher/resource teacher named Ms. A.(I will leave her official name out). From the beginning, I didn't mesh well with this woman. I often felt i was being talked down to. And her favorite word was stupid. I can't tell you how many times I sat there trying to figure out a problem, get it wrong as was told how stupid I was.

Yes, you heard. Stupid. It became so frequent that she would ask me, Aleisha do you know what you are?' She would make me say stupid until she was satisfied that she heard correctly. Yes she called me stupid. On a daily basis.

One afternoon as the bell rang, I overheard her and another teacher discuss learning disabled students to one another. It just so happened they were in the ajoining room, and the door was cracked open. I sat in horror as she went on to say

'LD students are dumb and stupid, I don't know why I even bother with them. Someone should just put them in a corner and forget them. They will never amount to anything in the end anyway. Forget about college, most of them won't even finish high school.'


And what I did next, would be the undoing of Aleisha. I decided to confront her. Because no, I was not that stupid, no I was going to amount to something and no she should not be talking about us like that. So I went to her. I should have known it was wrong when she opened the door to the door and in a loud voice verbally bashed me for everything. Telling me how stupid and dumb I was to even think she would care. That I was in the wrong, and that she was right, we weren't. She was yelling so loud that the kids across the way looked at me through their classrooms but like myself, could do nothing but let her give it to me. I left that day thinking I was exactly what she said I was.

Stupid.

After that, and for the next four years she would make my life a living hell. When I was getting a C in math or science she encouraged me to drop out of the after school activities to focus on math and science. She would pull me out of class just to yell at me, and call me stupid and dumb. If I didn't know the answer, she would pull me up in front of the class and announced it to the class that I was. Stupid.

Aleisha you can't do this because you are stupid. You can't do math because you are stupid. And you will amount to nothing in the end. May as well give up now.

When I finally confronted the principal after having enough of it, Ms. A informed the principal that she was only doing this for my well being. And that no harm was coming of this. The principal agreed. She actually freaking agreed!. As soon as the principal was out of ear shot, Ms. A's sent me to dentition after school because I turned her in. And when I went crying off to the theater teachers office-where I spent the rest of the afternoon on his couch in his office-she told me how much of a wimp I was.

Funny, I ended my freshman year with a 3.95 grade average. Apparently not so stupid after all.

My sophomore year was no better, Ms. A had personal made sure I was in her class. And so once again the torment continued. After going to the principal the year before and no results, I couldn't do much except take the abuse Ms. A spat out.

And with each passing day, I felt like crawling more and more to that hole somewhere far away. I must say, if not for softball and speech team. I know I would have turned out a lot differently than I did. And to this day, I credit them in getting me through the Ms. A years.

But when Ms A let the boys get in my face, a staple gun in hand I said no more. I suppose staring at a stapler as the staples shoot out will do that to one. Thankfully I had a different resource teacher and so one afternoon I ended up going to her. Finally someone began to listen. Ms. J began pulling me out of the math classes, testing me. And loo and behold, I actually knew what I was doing. Or with a little help and a different teaching style I did. Of course when Ms. A caught wind of this, it became a war between Ms. J. and Ms. A. Ms. A would pull me out even more of classes, would talk to my other teachers to ensure that she was in control of everything. Often they would send me to her.

But by late spring Ms. J convinced the LD department to remove me from Ms. A's guidance and classes. This of course only after I had complained, and refused to see her anymore. My tears, which I hate to admit I shed on a regular basis when it came to even the mention of Math, and Ms. A seemed to have finally been noticed.

Finally the LD department decided to step in to the matter.

Ms. A, would not get in trouble for her actions because apparently I was the only one who would come forward in the abuse. And while it was recommended that she was to have no contact with me what so ever, truth is, up until the day I graduated she still came to 'see' me.

So bullying, does not just contain students anymore. And its an unfortunate tale to tell, that the very adults who are supposed to be looking out for students, can sometimes be the very ones that encourage and act on it themselves. I am now just over ten years after graduating, but even still Ms. A has had a profound impact in my life. I wish I could say it was for the better but again I would be lying. For her words, continue to plague me to this day.

But I am working on it.

Monday, October 11, 2010

A Bullied Kids life-Part 2


Looking back I don't think I realized I was being bullied, or know when it actually began. Probably because before then, I had never been exposed to such a thing. After all in my previous school/classes I got along with everyone. While they were a lot worse off than I was, when it came down to it all they were all like me. Outcast, misfits and a little slower. But somewhere between the first day of school and Thanksgiving break of my fourth grade I would figure it out. Along with the pain and the inner torture that came with it.

I may not know when it began, but I am pretty sure I know the name of the main contributor. His name was 'Doug'. Doug was your typical elementary kid. He was well liked by most everyone, the teachers included. Boys wanted to be friends with him and girls even in the fourth grade had crushes on him. He was smart enough to get by but athletic enough to know in the long run, his grades wouldn't matter.

He was also the school's counselors son. A fact I soon would not be able to forget.

It started out innocent enough, on the playground. During dodge-ball, when I was always picked last. Then as the game began, I became the target of his aggression. And that red rubber ball the reason for many of my bruises. While it may have been Doug who originally started it all, it soon would catch on and before I knew it half of the class was making fun of me. If it wasn't the name calling it was knocking my clothes, making inappropriate hand signals. It was making fun of my speech, my slight limp. It was picking my last, or first just to make sure I was the joke of the game.

Making friends in elementary school is tough, making friends when they think your name is retard, crippled, dumb girl, ugly, MMR girl damn near impossible. And the few friends I did make, seemed to disappear shortly after they realized being friends with someone who didn't fit the mold everyone else did wasn't exactly popular.

And in elementary school, being popular was everything.

I would like to think I took it all well. For the most part I did what my mom, my therapist suggested and smiled through the pain. Because if you smile, they don't know how much they hurt you. And one should never let them see how they got to you. Which is a lot easier said than actually done. I was thankful for the friends that I did make, no matter how long they decided to stick around.

I also managed to deal with the pain. The names continued, the attacks on the playground during dodge-ball so apparent and so hard that I ended up sitting by myself in the corner in hiding making friendship bracelets until they called us back in.It was better than a thousand bruises anyway.

And in those precious years when everything is key, when making friends is important and feeling wanted is something the only thing I felt was isolated. Small, not worth while to anyone. Its a hard lesson in life, that feeling of not being good enough for anyone. How often did I come home and cry because I just wanted someone, anyone to like me? How often did I just wish for this stupid disability to go away. Even for a day. If I didn't have the disability, then maybe people would like me, kids would stop making fun of me and maybe I would have friends.

I can't remember telling anyone just how lonely I felt during those years. Bringing it to my parents who had two other perfect and normal daughters was hard, I being the middle child didn't want the attention that it was bringing. And yet at the same time in my family I found the only normalcy I would probably ever know.They couldn't offer much, besides love and hope that someday things would get better.

But sometimes that's enough.

I sat there and put up with the name calling and the teasing for the two years of elementary. Admittedly there were some days that were better than others. But isn't that always the way. These days helped me get through the bad. For awhile anyway.

And then came the sixth grade. When I was put back in the same class as 'Doug'. Which wouldn't have been so bad because lets face it, not everyone in the same class your going to like. But did I really have to be seated next to him? Shortly after a school break, we were back in the desks preparing for our lunch, when our teacher announced that we would be leaving we all packed our stuff, and me and all my clumsiness dropped my stuff on the ground. As quickly as I could, I got down and started picking it up, delaying us from our lunch. I suppose every minute we were late meant another minute away from dodge-ball. But I wasn't moving fast enough for Doug who shoved everything in my desk and then exclaimed the words that still to this day haunt me.

'Your such fucking asshole. Could you move any slower retard'

That was all it took, I could no longer hold the tears I had been fighting back for the past three years in. My teacher oblivious to what had transpired asked the group that was seated in my seating group what was going on, and not one of them said a thing. And when I was sent down to the counselors office, I knew that there was no way 'Doug' would be in trouble. Still I sat there explaining my side, they called in the classmates, all of whom denied he said anything and sided with Doug that it was all my imagination taking over again. When I insisted that it wasn't, they called my parents who sat there in the office as Doug's father explained the 'misunderstanding.' and informed them if I was prettier, if I didn't wear braces on my teeth and if my parents could afford name brand clothes, and if I didn't have the disability-as if I chose to have this- none of this would happen.'

Doug never got in trouble and I for the rest of the year continued to get tortured by him...including getting pushed down three flights of stairs at the end of the school day.

Again no one saw, heard or did anything. Including the teachers.

I will admit I was not sad to these years gone...
My teenage years could only get better.
Or would they?

Sociable