Bastard

Are there words that impact you, that you love, that you hate? Mine is "bastard". In eight grade, I can remember my teacher in US History talking about some long ago forgotten politician who had risen from extreme poverty and the label of "bastard"...and the lecture stopped there for me. I swear to you that the whole world stopped for a millisecond and I could see all the other kids taking notes or whispering to each other but all I could hear was that word resounding in my ears at a piercing level. That word was "me". I was the "bastard" in the room.


My whole life I have known that I had a mother and a birthfather. I have lived with my mother and the consequences of her relationships. I have an adopted father who married my mother when I was in third grade and for all intent and purpose and according to a court issued document, he has fulfilled the role of "father" in my life. But, I have never met my birth father. He lives in the very city in which I was conceived, the very city in which I spent the first 10 or so years of my life and in the very city in which I have visited almost yearly since moving to the east coast in fifth grade. He worked, up until this summer, at a sporting goods center owned by an important man of Grand Junction, Colorado and a man whom my grandfather knows well. He is active in the local Lion's Club and JUCO events (a Junior College Baseball World Series held every year in the very town I was born in). He is an accountant of decent means as far as I know. He is married and has at least one child (my grandmother sent me this boy's wedding announcement when it was in the local paper). He is a father, a husband, an apparently upstanding individual, so tell me this? How could he walk away from my life without turning to look back? How could he go about his daily life and function normally?

I have these periods in my life where I question my worth, when I wonder why I wasn't good enough to be acknowledged? I hear stories. My mother claims he was already engaged when she got pregnant and he didn't want to handle the consequences so he bolted. My grandmother claims he was always a nice and respectful man, just not someone my mom was serious about. When I was born, (at 27 1/2 weeks in 1974 by the way) my medical bills were so exuberant that he and my mother agreed to not list him as my father on my birth certificate. I became, essentially, a welfare case and the state and the Marchs of Dimes funded my hospital and medical needs. Either way, I don't get it. I don't understand how you walk away. There is a part of me that hopes he thinks about me, that hopes that the day his son was born that part of him thought about my birth and what he potentially lost. There is a lot of me that is angry and bitter and immensely sad. There is a part o me that hopes one day he will reconsider...I think it unlikely.

Because I had what we feared were some serious health issues last fall, I decided to take it upon myself to contact him for his health history. I had lived for almost 36 years never knowing what half of me was made up of. That is weird. I'd sit at the doctor's office and fill out forms and when they'd ask about paternal history, I'd grin an awkward grin and shrug in embarassment. It was what it was. But, having 3 young kids and thinking that I might die, I needed to know so that pieces could be filled into the puzzle in case I did have cancer or a rare genetic disorder (turns out it was a very severe and long-lasting voral infection of my right lung). My best friend used to work in adoption and she was able to obtain a health history form used for birth parents. She was going to act as my liason and call him to determine of he would fill out the forms for me. My grandmother called his employer only to find out that after 20 years or so he had recently quit. But, they did provide her with his home number. My best friend called and reached, we assume, his wife. She did not want to leave a message. We opted to, instead, send a restricted certified letter to his home. I attached a letter explaining who I was and why I found it necessary to contact him. I indicated that any further contact would be left up to him (more courtesy than reality b/c a little part of me was hoping he'd acknowledge it and follow through.). This was actually the second time he was made aware of my existence as my grandmother had entered his office shortly after my marriage to show him my wedding picture and let him know I had turned out pretty well. She said he was polite and kind, but, again, how do you detach like that? I give the man credit, he filled out my form to the best of his ability. Apparently his mother had passed from complications related to Alzheimers so that is really important for me know. He is left handed, which is funny since my third child is. He included a brief note acknolwedging that it was uncomfortable for him but he understood why I needed what I was asking for. Did I mention that he could not provide a health history for his father's side because his father was killed when he was a young child? He grew up without a father...can he not feel what I have felt my whole life?

Part of me is so grateful that he filled the form out quickly and returned it without anger. But there is the other part of me that is so let down and so hurt. I am that child again, who is the "bastard", the only girl who has the same last name as her mother and not her Daddy like everyone else.

All I have of my birth father is the discoloration in my teeth, the red highlights in my hair and a signature on a piece of paper.

Failure.,,,

I am an f-ing failure as a parent to a 6 1/2 year old boy apparently. He has made me cry each day for the past 3. He has no idea how much he relies on me. He has embarassed me, been rude, lashed out, and talked back in ways he has never before. He is pushing all the buttons I have and right now I greatly dislike my child. I know that seems harsh, but I will never not love him. I just don't like him right now. Of course, I blame myself...

I simply asked for 1/2 an hour of quiet playing his video game while I attended the PTA meeting. I am tryung to form relationships in this town as I plan on being here a looooooonnnnnnggggg time. Now, I look like the crappiest parent whose kid back talks and whines and, to top it off, the Principal is sitting across the table from him. He was student of the week in December. What the hell happened? The teacher in me is cringing b/c I am intimidated by my son's 60 year old principal. I could take her. Not really, she is a strong woman and I actually respect and like her very much. She is the kind of no nonsense Principal I liked working for. Anyhoo, I look like a f-up and my son looks like a brat.

Failure accomplished.

How'd That Happen?

178.5...
Between snow and sick days with my kids, I counted no points. Stress equals calorie's burned I guess!

Up...

Okay, so I can't cheat like I used too. Too much wine and beer and tortilla chips and frosted animal crackers last week. Too much snow and not enough gym, I started my period for the second time this month (I suppose I should call my gyn about that?), and now a puker in  the house. I am destined to be fat forever...

181.5

The end of an era (okay 6 1/2 years, but who is counting)...

Today, my third and final child turns two. Now, I know that he will always be my baby and all that jazz, but at two a child is less baby and more child. He talks fairly clearly, even asking questions. He follows directions, walks up and down stairs unassisted, chews gum (yes, I know someone will call DYCS about this, but the older two do it so he has too), feeds himself, and even acknowledges when he has pooped in his diaper ("I tinky"). The days of him cuddling for hours or cooing at the mobile (actually as #3 it never made it over his crib but I can imagine it) are done. He is his own little man with his own likes and dislikes and opinions. He is a pure joy to watch and play with everyday. He is the light that greets me each morning and the star that puts me to sleep each night. He is, from the minute he was born and plaed in my arms, a true "Mommy's Boy". I would have it no other way and am eager to see where the world takes him....but, alas, I am sad to know I will never have it again.

"The Joker" No More

So, my oldest has taken up wrestling this year. Now, where I grew up, this was not a sport (unless you were referring to Hulk Hogan and drove a monster truck and chewed and spat into a used soda bottle). The hard part for me is that I don't know if he gets the sport at all. This is his first foray into actual competitive sports. He has done sports camps and "in-house" soccer programs, but never been on display in the public forum before. Wrestling is such an individual sport too. You and the other guy on the mat, 3, 1 minute periods, and it's on. The first match I expected tears. None, despite him being pinned repeatedly and not moving. The second, he did okay. The third, a little better. But this weekend (he had two matches) was brutal to watch.


Saturday, he had an 8 am match Daddy was to take him too. Of course, I get a call 10 minutes after 8 that Daddy didn't bring the bag with his water and snack. So, I packed up the other two and went over. This match was last minute and, therefore, half the team didn't come. He was wrestling kids easily 10-15 pounds heavier and with at least 1 or more years experience. The buzzer would sound and he'd be pinned flat to the floor in under 10 seconds. Typically, we call him "The Joker" b/c he grins all the time despite his inability on the floor. Even the coach comments on how "joyous" he seems out there. By the end, though, he wasn't smiling.

I know it's part of the game and I want my kids to know that "you win some, and lose some", but a win now and then could help. I have a really hard time detaching myself from the emotions of being the crappy athlete as a child, the last one picked, the one who cried and gave up often b/c I didn't know how to handle failure. I give my son huge props b/c he has never refused to go out on that mat and has never shed a tear. But, I almost wish he would. The coach commented that one day his aggression will come out and he'll get the knack for it. He claims his own son was the same way for the first two years he wrestled as well. I just wish it wasn't my kid.

Sunday, he had another match and this time it was just me with him. He admitted in the car on the way to church that he felt like every other kids was better, even the other first years. How do you prove to him otherwise? I could tell at the match that his heart wasn't in it. He basically was getting pinned and staying down. He knows how to bridge and roll and try to escape for the msot part, but he wasn't doing it. He wasn't smiling either. During his last matach I could see him doing the small little breaths we all take when we don't want to cry and are fighting back those tears. It is really hard to watch. I don't know how to help him.

I know he is listening to the the coaches and learning the moves b/c he comes home after practice and walks us through them. He just doesn't know how to apply it under pressure. How do you teach a kid that? We have one more match this weekend at home. Then, an actual tournament where the kids can win medals and trophies. The coach says the kids will actually be ranked and matched according to size, skill and experience. I hope so.

I can't watch my kids heart break anymore.

It's a Start...

180.3
4 workouts
I gotta start somewhere right?

Things are hectic and busy. Hopefully, Ic an settle in and actually write about what I really need to write about soon. This is about sould searchin' after all!

Fruit, fruit...

Okay, so I have eten more fruit in the past two days than in six months (unless it was in a pie...). I am not typically a fruit eater, but ont he new WW Points Plus system it is all free so I am trying to embrace it. I've added frozen mixed stuff to greek yogurt, grabbed a banana and an apple as between-meal-snack and can honestly say that I already feel better. yes, folks, it is true that the healthier you eat the better you feel. I have cut down on my coffee consumption considerably over the past couple of weeks often opting for a cup of herbal tea in place of the 3rd or 4th cup. We'll see if it continues! Today, I am making a completely WW friendly meal for my father-in-law's birthday! Let's hope it is good!

Day 1 of the Biggest Loser

I tried to write this earlier but, alas, my network is being annoying...

Today is the second day of snow and it is surprisingly calm in my house. My kids are being pleasant (for the moment), my husband is folding his laundry after 3 hours of Guitar Hero. I made what look like super yummy and healthy banana muffins for dessert tonight and I started the Biggest Loser competition today since I weigh more now than I did when I joined Weight Watchers after having my second child. Pretty sad, but, it has been a really rough 6 months (I'll post about it one day when I have the emotional stability to do so).

I am going to do what I said I would do and post my weight for all of theinternet to see should they like to seek it out: 183.6 and hold myself accountable for getting back to feeling good and pretty and, yes folks, even sexy! Did I mention my husband bought me lingerie for my b-day...egads given my current size, but loveable that he thinks I would look good in it. It's a testiment to 10 1/2 years I suppose! Anyhoo, I'm pushing the post button now to further embarass myself! Have a great day! (I'm blushing as I push...)

Snow Day

I know people who love snow days...an extra day with their kids, blah, blah, blah. Sometimes I like them. Today, not so much. I had stuff to do that I can't now. It's not convenient to wait until Monday, but I have too. I'm unshowered, cold and want to crawl back to bed. Alas, with 3 kids that ain't happenin'! I will attempt Christmas thank you cards after the kids are done watching Peter Pan. Please don't let it go badly!

I Wonder...

Sometimes I wonder how much of myself is genetically passed to my children. My oldest has a tendency to exhibit behaviors that I did (still do) as a child and it makes me angry. He acts all whacked out and scared at the bus stop all of a sudden and I stand there looking like/feeling like an idiot. What I'm wondering is if he actually is having an issue on the bus or is being teased and doesn't know how to express it. He can often take "kind" teasing to another level and get fearful. I saw it happen at 4 when his soccer coach would insist that he was going to steal his light up sneakers. The coach was trying to engage hima dn make him laugh, but my son took it seriously and got fearful. He's not the kind of kid to tell me much either (again, much like me) and that stresses me out b/c then my mind wanders and I think the worst and fear the worst and epculate, etc. I don't want him to be the loner child, but he may be like me and keep a few friends close and everyone else out. I don't know if that is good or bad...

OMG

Okay, so I ask you, how many times can your child scare the bejeezus out of you? How many times can you tell her to stop doing something only to have her continue to do it to the point that you want to strap her down so she cannot move? I'm finally at the point where I am getting to know a few of the women in my neighborhood (we moved last year and my oldest is now in kindergarten so I'm getting to know them at the bust stop). Unfortunately, my youngest two consistently cause me grief when we are waiting at the bus stop. My daughter in particular, pays no attention to the fact that she is on the corner of two roads (granted, these are not busy roads, but cars do drive through in the morning). On multiple occasions I have had to lock her in the car or strap her in her car seat (and folks, she is 4 1/2 and old enough to know better). Today, I literally screamed at the top of my weak lungs and grabbed her hood b/c her entire life flashed in front of my eyes. Luckily, the minivan was a bust stop waiter and not turning into our road, but I didn't realize it at the time. I hate the feeling of having no control. I hate that I appear to suck as a parent every damn morning b/c my kids cannot wait for 5 minutes at the bus stop like normal children. Do I really suck this badly?

I want a cheesebuger...

Psych....

Okay, so I'm gearing up for this "Biggest Loser" competition with some of my fellow moms. It starts on Saturday. I plan to follow Weight Watchers on my own (I've paid in the past) and think I have enough will power to do it on my own right now. Afterall, I'm blogging about it and joined a group on my facebook page about it. Now to get my head in the game. Right now I really want a cheeseburger and the pear sitting in my fruit bowl is not looking appealing...I need to set foot in my gym again (I've been out since August b/c I had some crazy pneumonia or virus ir soemthing that was never figured out but caused me much pain and suffering...hence part of my craziness and dulldroms...I've had more CT Scans, x-rays and even a PET Scan than a normal person and am anticipating a tumor from all the radiation...yes, folks, I'm a terrible pessimist).. Anyhoo, this week I'm vowing to try to psych myself up, get in the game, jump on the bandwagon, move forward..."Today is the first day of the rest of my life" as the Automotive shop's placard claims (don't even ask about this place...great work, but crazy placards every week). Anymore cliches anyone can throw my way?

Go get 'em me!

January 1, 2011

I've always been a private person...that is until I'm comfortable with you and then I will pretty much tell you anything about my life. But, at the end of the day, there is a lot I don't tell. Fears, great sadness, great joy. I'm not able to speak it often. I struggle daily with my weight, my looks, my ability to parent my 3 beautiful kids, my ability to be a good wife. I need to start holding myself accountable for things that I say I am going to do. Actions speak louder than words. Writing will be my voice and my outlet and my accountability to myself.

Here's to an interesting 2011!