Send-A-Pyrate-To-Camp 2012 Fund

SO VERY much going on right now, my friends.... much of which I can't talk about yet because it would spoil the surprise.  But I'm working on a couple of things together with some newly discovered allies and... well, just you wait!!! You will be pleasantly surprised!


In the meantime, that kid of mine, The Pyrate, is doing thangs too!  This semester, which should have been his second semester of 8th grade, has been challenging for him because, he's been advanced to 9th grade after completing 8th grade in ONE SEMESTER!  9th grade has been more demanding of him in terms of organization, and we've had to go through some real exercises in self discipline and independance and learn some lessons in making decisions for the big picture instead of the little one.  He's doing really well.  Grades are great and he's chugging along.  For more on his fantastic school, check out K12 now!
We went to a college fair a month or so back and that alerted me to the fact that since he is accelerating through two years of school in one, I might want to ummmm.... perhaps facilitate the beginning motions of planning for college.  We started researching and have the beginnings of a solid list of schools that have solidly funded marine biology programs.  It's been fun and very exciting to start exploring each school and it's different pros and cons.  On his list are schools of every size and ranking... some state funded and some private, and a couple of the Ivy Leagues even.  He's been really gaining perspective about the big picture since we started that exploration.

During this exploring we looked at requirements and admissions strategies for both the state-run colleges and the Ivy Leagues so that we would be prepared with a well-rounded resume to be not only eligible for admission, but that the next 3 years represent him appropriately as a rockstar and what that means to the admissions officers at the different schools.  You can read about what I'm finding out on my notes tab on facebook.  It's interesting stuff.  Especially when it comes to the Ivies and their admissions process.  These days, you have many options... You can go straight down the middle or shoot for the stars and save the middle for your backup and, armed with the right information set out on a master plan to make your aims pay off.
One of the things the Pyrate is doing is applying to volunteer in his field of interest.  He will hopefully be accepted this summer to work as a volunteer docent at the Cabrillo Marine Aquarium's aquatic nursery and as a youth counselor at the Long Beach Marine Institute's summer camp.  He's also applied to begin the L.A. Zoo's youth docent program in the fall.  All of these are pretty exciting tidbits.
In the fall, he starts 10th grade with honors and ap courses and will take two courses at a local community college as well.  If this sounds like a lot, you don't know the Pyrate.  Today he finished his entire day's worth of school work by 11am.  This kid has the opposite problem from my own... he has TOO many hours in the day.  We are attempting to fill some of them with things he will enjoy, learn from, and build confidence socially.  His summer will be full with these adventures!
Can you believe we are already planning for next summer?  There are two summer programs he wants to apply to.  One is the Summer Institute for Gifted Learners... an academic program that takes place on the campuses of the countries top universities, and the kids stay for three weeks (!!) on campus, and attend academic classes in their subjects of interest and fun supplement classes to help them with different sorts of study and learning practices.  He is aiming to attend the program at UC Berkley next summer.
The second of the two programs is the Brown Environmental Leadership Lab in Rhode Island.  This two week program is right up the Pyrate's alley, as attendees will stay in tents right on the shores of a beautiful bay, and study issues related to the environment, shoreline ecosystems, and more!  It looks like a wonderful program.  We hope to send him to that one too!
These two camps are extremely expensive so we are establishing a fund to raise the tuition  and airfare to send the Pyrate to them.   If we get 50 people to donate $200 each (you could do a lump sum, or that's $20 a month...), we would be able to send him off on this voyage!  We invite you to participate via the link to the right in the column or visit the website we've set up for the purpose of raising funds.  All donors will receive a monthly newsletter directly from the Pyrate with updates on his fundraising progress, school work, summer volunteer adventures, and more.  And the best part is that you'll receive a personal and exclusive invitation to a donor appreciation/bon voyage party in May 2012.    Whatever amount you are able to donate is appreciated!
Well, I've got to get back to this secret stuff I'm cooking up over here.... My news is coming soon!!!!
Til then love and light... xoxoxo

Introducing SALUMAXIMUS: The Great Sea

Nothing makes me prouder than my kid.  He's the one thing I've been responsible for that I KNOW I'm doing the best I can, and that my best is pretty darn impressive!  I allow myself that even in those times when it feels like nothing else I do is right.  Part of raising this beautiful, brilliant child, has included nurturing his passions.  I've been nurturing his passions since he could demonstrate he had them.  Starting at about 3 or 4 years old when he would scream and holler bloody murder because he didn't want to get out of the tub without me reading the Little Fish book to him one. more. time.  "I'm a little fish, I like to get all wet, I have a little octopus, he's my little pet, we swim swim swim, we swim swim swim, we swim swim swim some more,  we swim swim swim, we swim swim swim, until we reach the shore!"  Every bath time he made me read that padded waterproof book at least 20 times.  It will forever be imprinted on my brain... every line, every picture.
He has been in love with water and marine life since at least that far back, and I made it a point to feed that love as often as possible.  It would not be far into his first years of elementary when he told me he wanted to be a marine biologist.  That seems like a million years ago....way back when we were members at the L.A. Zoo and the Long Beach Aquarium, and, yes, platinum card holders at Sea World San Diego and we milked those memberships for all they were worth and then some.  He had ocean themed birthday parties year after year, and as he got older they became Pyrate parties, because how many times can you really have whales and dolphins for a party before it starts to be uncool to your son and his friends?  We took vacations that were always near a body of water where we could snorkel and explore the ocean, including Puerto Vallarta, Florida, and the Bahamas.  We took a spring break road trip up the coast of California and visited every aquarium, marine life rescue center, marine life reserve, and university lab/aquarium we could find between L.A. and San Francisco.  One of the highlights of that trip was a beach near Santa Cruz where we walked 3 miles down a series of bluff and cliff trails to the ocean where and saw hundreds of enormous elephant seals basking on the beach in the sun.  A couple of years ago, for his birthday he requested a high school marine biology text book from a homeschool website, and marine specimens and a dissection kit from a science education website. We've been contributing to his personal library of books on related subjects since he began to use words.  He has swam with dolphins, manta rays, and 2 years ago we had the unforgettable opportunity to swim in the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico with Whale Sharks bigger than a large school bus! 
This year has been an exciting time for the Pyrate.  He's managed to complete a full year of 8th grade in a semester, and was advanced midyear to 9th grade.  By the fall he will be starting 10th grade, with almost all AP classes, and taking 2 courses at the local community college.  He's really excited and has the best kind of confidence building.... the kind you get when you work hard for something and finish it well and with acclaim.
Soon he will begin training to be a camp counselor at the Long Beach Marine Institute where he'll assist in teaching younger kids about the ocean, ecology, and marine life.  He has also applied for a position as a docent at the Cabrillo Aquarium in the Aquatic Nursery, and the youth volunteer program in the fall at the L.A. Zoo.  We've also begun the overwhelmingly complex business of college exploration.  So far there's a couple of Ivy League institutions, and one UC institution on his favorites list....oh yeah, (selective amnesia) and Alaska University of the Pacific.  And somewhere in the midst of all of that, he'll be taking his first ever scuba certification course and training.  A very exciting time indeed.  Which brings me to the purpose of this post...
The Pyrate has just launched SALUMAXIMUS: The Great Sea, a blog where he will share things he's doing, articles about marine life and ocean ecology, and anything else he feels like sharing related to the topic.  If you have a teen child, please share his blog with them.  But it's not just for teens.  The information he will be posting is interesting for people of all ages.  So check it out soon, and join us on this amazing ocean voyage!

's Been A Long Time, I Shouldn't-a Left You....

Well, well, well, look who's decided it's time to get these squeaky gears turning again over here!!!!  It's been at least 8 months since I last wrote you.  There's been much under foot.  I decided in the late spring of last year that I was completely over trying to make traditional schooling work for the Pyrate.  Between bullies, peers out of control, over populated classrooms, not up to par gifted student programs, and a complete lack of concern about any of these issues by school officials and staff, I'd had enough.  But what was most hurtful was the fact that I am raising a exceptionally gifted child who has the potential to be a prodigy and nobody seemed to care about what that means.  The Pyrate, bless his heart, has textbook characteristics for what is known about children who are highly gifted.  School work was easy and therefore frustrating, socializing was precarious because his mind works faster than most kids his age, and he needed special attention in the area of keeping organized.  He needed academic attention and consideration that he didn't get in public school OR previously the private schools he was in. He needed to be able to work at his own pace, doing curriculum that was both entertaining and challenging, he needed peers on his level so that he didn't feel the need to diminish himself to fit in, he needed more intensive guidance with organizational and study habits.  He was never going to discover his potential in a normal school.  So I signed him up to attend the California Virtual Academy.  It's an online California charter school based on the K12 virtual educational system.  K12 is a program built by the top scholars and researchers in the fields of cognitive learning and child development.   We started in September when the Pyrate started 8th grade.  I am happy to say that this was the best decision I have ever made as this child's mother.  It has changed his life tremendously.  At the end of the first semester, not only did he have straight A's, he'd finished an entire year of school... his entire 8th grade curriculum in one semester.  The school approved his early advancement to 9th grade, so he's now taking 9th grade classes and one 10th grade honors english because he took the 9th grade one in his 8th grade curriculum.  I have never seen him happier, and part of that is because he has been allowed a set of circumstances that give him the opportunity to truly see what he is capable of.  Instead of diminishing himself to fit in, he and his new friends challenge each other and goad each other to keep up with whoever is ahead.  I am able to work more intensively with him on issues regarding organization, and just as importantly he gets more direct guidance from me in regards to values I believe are necessary in becoming a young man.  It's a profound difference from what he got out of his former life where my only influence was in the evening hours and weekends.  Some are of the mind that he's missing something be not having the influence of a normal school.  Well, we tried that and he was miserable, bored, frustrated, exposed to things no child should be exposed to, and worse of all, had no idea how smart he was.  Now he knows and just that one thing has been enough to make him a happier teenager.  He'll be applying to join Mensa at some point this year, and the Johns Hopkins Center for Talented Youth, both whose members are children of phenomenal talent and academic ability.
That's what I've been up to.  It's been like a boot camp of sorts for both of us, getting used to how homeschooling works, learning to be his learning coach,  him learning to be more active in the planning and execution of his education.  It's been challenging and exciting and nowhere near as difficult as most people think it would be.  If you find that your child is having trouble in any way in normal school and you have the ability to school them at home, this program is available free of charge, as a charter in most larger cities in the US and the program is also available as a teach-on-your-own curriculum for purchase wherever you are.  They also have an international school as well .  Some US cities even have coops or flex facilities so your kid actually goes to a live facility to do their schooling through this same program.  If you think your child is too unruly for you to want to deal with them at home, I think you'll find that they behave much better at home than they do when you're not there... the one person who really cares, to keep them in check for real, like no teacher will ever do.  Check it out!
Other than homeschool, there's not much else to tell.  LOL  I've been deep in it for a good while.  My next blog is going to be about this doggone soup the Pyrate made for dinner last night.  Then the first part in a series on how to plan a special event party.  I will share step by step planning for my sister's wedding shower that takes place in May.  If you like to host guests in your home, you will like that a lot.
Music is on hold in the moment, perhaps some new stuff on the horizon soon... I'll keep that close to the vest til there's something substantial to tell.... xoxo

Domo Arigato Mister Obento

Well, I know I've been MIA lately, but you know how it is... The end of the school year, plus a bunch of other stuff going on in my home life and next thing you know the time flies by and I haven't written a thing!!

At least not here!
One of the things I'm working on is bit by bit piecing together my very first cookbook.  It will be a tribute to my family heritage, which mixes the cuisines and traditions of several cultures, and includes organically grown, (often homegrown) foods.
I'm having fun with the introductory outline which tells about my childhood memories of road trips to grandma's house fully equipped with picnic basket in tow and  my other grandmother's home garden which provided the vegetables for the entire family for most of each year. I know that the stories and recipes from this project will resonate with many of you.   Stay tunes for further updates on that project!
In the spring, I made the careful decision to terminate the Pyrate's public school attendance and homeschool him as of the fall this year.  I spent several weeks contemplating this decision, researching our options and the possible consequences.  Several disturbing events over the last two years brought enough alarm to my mind that in some ways I almost felt there is no other choice.  I worried about the social implications for the Pyrate, however, the social implications if he stays in the environment he has been in will no question be catastrophic.  Then two things happened.  We have found a fantastic virtual academy that will suit his needs as an individual, with teachers, personalized lessons, access to college courses in high school, and so much more that a kid like mine will shine thorugh like a super nova!  I can't wait.  I believe every child deserves to have this kind of opportunity.  I showed this program to my son, and he loves it, and can't wait to get started.  I started the enrollment process, had several conversations with families already doing this, and started collecting the proper documents... That was the second thing.  I had to retrieve documentation of the Pyrate's status for California's Gifted and Talented student program.   It's one thing to know you have a brilliant child.  It is quite another to hold in your hand documentation that measures said brilliance.  He's documented to have scored within the top 3 percentile FOR THE NATION all of the last three years in a row on standardized and specialized testing for skills and mastery in math, language arts, and science.  When we got this documentation the other day, we sat together staring at it as I explained it to him.  We sat staring at it silently.  I watched his eyes, wide and almost in disbelief.  I asked him what he was thinking.   "I'm thinking I can't wait to be out of regular public school, mom.  It's killing my reputation!"
So that was it.  I completed his enrollment and we're waiting for the curriculum to get here like kids wait for Christmas morning.  Meanwhile I'm getting myself accustomed to being the learning coach.  He'll have teachers online, but I still have to supervise and coach on the home front, plan his schedule, come up with creative ways to experience the world as it pertains to his studies.  This will be fun, so long as I properly prepare.  I'm taking the time to attend lectures and recorded speaker series on how to do all of this.
If you too are discouraged with trusting your child's education to a public system that is more damaging than it is productive, check out homeschooling.  It's not what it used to be.  You can still get certified to teach your own children if you like. But now there are virtual schools with experienced teachers who are excited, inspiring, creative, and give their students one on one attention.  There are virtual schools where most work is done online and the curriculum is more effective than what is available in public schools.  Virtual schools offer personalized instruction based on mastery.  That means if the Pyrate can pass a lesson's assessment, he can skip all of the lesson activities in that lesson and move to the next lesson.  He can accelerate in this way, to the next grade level mid year if applicable, and in high school can take classes that are worth college credit.  We can set his study schedule to fit his personal rhythm, and include outside experiences that enrich his learning in ways he would never get in regular public schools.  And here's the killer!  Most of these virtual academies are set up like charter schools, publicly funded, and free to those who are within the district that funds them.  Not only is it tuition free, they provide all curriculum materials, and loaner computers as well for free.  All you have to provide is an adult to supervise 5-6 hours a day, and regular school supplies such and notebooks and paper, etc.
A great example is the K12 program with academies nationwide.  Check it out for yourself.

The third thing I'm up to is fun, fun, fun!!  I'm learning about the art of Bento!  This is a traditional Japanese practice that involves artfully arranged meals packed in compact boxes that are usually transportable.  We are going to use the art of Obento (the respectful way to refer to the art) as a fun and entertaining way to institute healthy eating habits into our everyday life.  I've been educating myself and preparing to make it a part of our family's nutritional life.  You'll be finding recipes and photo records of this little gastro-artistic adventure posted here in my blog in the very near future.  Should you want to join me, I recommend these two blogs as reference material and  inspiration:  www.justbento.com  and  www.lunchinabox.net 

See you here again very soon when I've got my bento boxes, chopsticks and a couple of recipes under my belt... this stuff is no joke!!

Vanilla Birthday Cake

All dressed up for the Pyrate's 13th birthday party!!! This full sheet version requires 6 times the recipe below.

This buttery delish cake will not disappoint.  I made it for the first time a few weeks ago for the Pyrate's birthday dinner and everyone loved it!  I filled it with sun-sweet fresh organic strawberries and bavarian cream using vegetable gelatin instead of traditional gelatin, and a butter cream frosting on the outside with a few drops of organic vegetable food colors to represent the concrete color of the "skate park".  The sprinkles are from a local cake decorating supply store... they are simply gold, silver, and dark green sugar crystals.   You can frost or glaze this cake however you like, or not at all!  It's wonderful on its own, or even with a few berries macerated in a tablespoon or so of demerara sugar to release their juice and make a light syrup.  As I was decorating this cake we snacked on the uneven edges I'd trimmed off before frosting. De-lish!

The best cake recipes I've had usually call for cake flour which basically is bleached all purpose flour that has been sifted 7 times, so to stay on point, I took my unbleached flour through a sifter 7 times.  It only took a couple minutes to do this and the light fluffy texture of the cake is worth the effort.  

This recipe is for two 9 inch round cake layers.  For the double decker full sheet cake I made above we multiplied this recipe by three for each layer so a total of 6 times the recipe.    Unless you have a restaurant style kitchen setup I don't recommend trying to do more than a triple batch of batter at once.  You can easily end up over mixing and your cake will be like a brick!  DON'T DO IT!!  You'll be sorry if you go to all the trouble to make those huge layers and discover it's dry and tough and not like you want it.  Stick with 3 or less multiplied batches at a time.  

Here we go! 

VANILLA BIRTHDAY CAKE 

The players:

1 3/4 cups Unbleached Organic White Flour sifted 7 times. 2 tsp Baking Powder. 1/4 tsp Sea Salt. 1/2 cups Unsalted Organic Butter.  1 cup Turbinado, Demerara, or Evaporated Cane Juice.   2 Organic free range brown Eggs, whites and yolks separated.  1 tsp pure Vanilla extract. 1/2 cup Organic 2 % Milk. 1/8 tsp Cream of Tartar.

The plan:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and generously butter two 9 inch round cake pans.  Line the bottom of pans with parchment paper then butter paper as well.

1. Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. 

2. In an electric mixer bowl, beat butter til soft. 

3. Add 3/4 of sugar to butter and beat again til fluffy

4. Add yolks 1 at a time. 

5. Add vanilla and beat til combined. 

6. Add flour and milk alternately in 3 additions beginning and ending with flour. 

7. In another bowl, whisk egg whites til foamy. 

8. Add cream of tartar & beat whites til soft peaks form. 

9. Gradually add the rest of the sugar to egg whites and beat til stiff peaks form.

10. Fold about a third of the whites into the batter to lighten up the batter. 

11. Fold in another third til just mixed in. 

12. Fold in the rest of the whites into the batter being careful not to over mix. 

13. Fill pans and smooth the surfaces with an offset spatula. 

14. Bake on the center rack in your preheated oven for about 15 minutes then check with a toothpick in the center.  If it comes out clean it's done.

15.  Cool in pan at least half an hour before inverting onto rack to cool completely.

The Pyrate Turns 13

So, on this past Friday, the Pyrate turned 13... I am officially the mother of a teenager.  Wow.  There have been moments over this last year when he spoke to me and that newly acquired deep toned voice shocked me... made me feel pangs of longing for the squeak I was so accustomed to.  But as life would have it, things do indeed change... My son, sweet, kind, funny, patient, and super-smart... is becoming a young man, facial hair and all.  Yikes.  

We spent the entire weekend celebrating with family and friends, starting with Friday evening.  I made his cake during the day... an organic creation: vanilla cake with bavarian cream and fresh strawberry filling, with buttercream frosting and a skater dude theme, made from scratch and decorated by hand, like I do every year!  (recipe will come in a later posting this week) 

The cake was a big hit when presented at the end of dinner!   I know there'll come a day in the near future when I won't be able to do this for him because he'll be off somewhere on an ocean somewhere saving a shark or something... so I'm enjoying these times while I still have them...

The evening's dinner celebration included 35 family members and close friends, and both the Pyrate and I were so moved by how many showed up.  The chain of tables the restaurant put together was so long you had to either call via phone or actually get up and walk to the other end to talk to someone there.  We had good food, lots of laughs and fun all around. 

The night was highlighted by the Pyrate reading a speech he wrote about coming of age, and his views of his life past, present, and future.   I've included it below because it was too loud in the restaurant for the people at the other end of the table to actually hear what he was saying, and also there are others who couldn't be there who the Pyrate would love to share this speech with.  So at the end of this post is that speech.  My son, he amazes me... to no end, how thoughtful and conscious he is.   

That night, three of his closest friends slept over and we got up early the next morning and went to a really cool skate park where we met up with the Pyrates cousins.  We spent the whole day there!  I made sandwiches:  turkey/avocado/spinach, curry chicken salad, and salami/sopressato with cherry preserves vinaigrette, (all recipes coming later this week) on artisan breads bought at a local bakery the day before... organic kettle chips, kashi chocolate chip cookies, and a fruit punch I made from cranberry juice, cherry juice, and fresh squeezed lemons. (recipes later this week). 

The boys had a ball, skating their butts off.  It was interesting to watch them overcome their fears and try tricks they hadn't tried before, and how they supported each other, cheering each other on, making sure no one got left behind.  Very impressive.  I am blessed that my son has such cool friends as these young men. 

All in all, it was a fantastic day!  The sun was shining, there was a gentle breeze, the spring flowers were blooming... The grown ups played frisbee and entertained each other with silly jokes.  I think I might be doing a few more picnics during the warm seasons this year... I had a lot of fun!  That is, until the gangsta squirrels decided to eat our precious leftover birthday cake!!!!!  ARRRRGH!

So, that's how it was.  I survived this better than I thought I would.  I only cried once, and that was out of the pride swelling up inside me as the Pyrate read his speech at dinner.   Another birthday past.  The weekend was over... his friends gone home...  back to life... open house at school tonight.... 

Meanwhile, the Pyrate's coming of age speech :

Maxim Abraham-Klaus Feltus Adamec Recke

    March 19, 1997. Appx. time: 13:00 Pacific Time. I was born. I am the child of Brigette Ruenette Feltus and Andre Recke. This was the beginning of my life. My mother’s cultural history, African American and Native American in heritage, dates back several generations here in America… the last two here in Los Angees.  My father’s story is new to this country, since he moved here just before I was born, and he grew up in a small town in the country side of Bavaria, Germany.    I think that I represent the American part of my heritage more than my German side, one of the largest reasons being that I live in the U.S., so I do not speak much German. I haven’t spent much time there, so I don’t know much about the rest of the German culture.
    I was born into a family filled with creative people. I have relatives that have a myriad of professions, from muralists to singers in bands. My mother was the latter of the two, was also once a makeup artist and hairstylist, then a singer/songwriter, and soon an author of her own cookbook!  My father is a manager in the music industry, where he has helped many artists to go after their dreams, and he is also a very good bass guitarist.  My grandparents are also artistic.  My granny plays piano, writes music, and teaches young people to play.  My paw paw is an amazing cartoonist, sculptor, and landscape architect.  Both of my great grandmothers were creative, one played piano, and was a sought after seamstress, the other a poet and writer.  Even my Opa in Germany is pretty crafty with his hands, having made many of the toys my dad played with as a boy… My family’s creativity encourages me to express my talent like the rest of my relatives. It was inevitable that I would be a very creative person. I love music, art, and science. I wish to create and advance the worlds of all three someday.  I am on my way now in my everyday life while I draw, practice guitar and saxophone, and study the field of marine biology.
    I think that I have some good qualities as a human being. I can see from many different points of view, yet I have a mind of my own and can think for myself. I also think that I am very intelligent and a fast learner. I think that I am fun to be around. I want to be honest, too, but sometimes I worry about what people will think of me if I tell the truth.
    I wish to be the one that doesn’t blend in, the one that doesn’t bend to the seeming force of peer pressure. I want be original, authentically me.  I want to do the best that I can, even though sometimes I don’t show it. But now that I look back on my mistakes, most of them could have been avoided. And I don’t want to be the one who had a lot of potential, but never gets anywhere. I believe that that would be a sin.

I love many things. I love my mother, my father, my stepfather and my stepmom Andreas and Shauney, my family, my best friends. I love the ocean, and everything in it. I have no idea why I love the ocean so much. I guess it’s one of those things that is just branded into your brain. I guess it might be because the ocean is the closest thing to pure life and harmony that we can get here on this planet.  I think it’s interesting that we know more about outerspace than we do about something on our own planet, the ocean.  Most of the earth’s organisms live in the ocean, including a lot of the oxygen producing plants on earth.  I plan to explore these things for the rest of my life.
I love my parents. They have stuck with me through hard times, especially my mother. I think its because she knows what its like to grow up mostly without a father in her home. She has always taken care of me, making sure to raise me right. She is always there when I’m feeling down. I love my mom.  I love my dad too.  He’s a really good person, fun to be around, and he works hard  so that I can have a good life.  I love my dad.
     I believe in many things. I believe in peace on earth, and an end to world hunger. I also believe that some religions do not truly grasp the entire concept of the universe, and teach everyone that if it isn’t mentioned in whatever holy book that religion might follow, its not possible. What about the flight of man? A few hundred years ago, Christians thought that the flight of man was blasphemy and anyone who tried to achieve this feat was a devil-worshipper. But now that we have planes, we all know that the church isn’t right about everything. I do believe in God, but I do not believe anything about  the corrupt aspects of any organized religion.
  
Today is just the beginning of another chapter in my life. It will be hard sometimes, but I want to make it through with a smile on my face. I want to be that kid who stood out, the one who refused to give in to negativity. I believe that I will succeed in changing the world, in some substantial way.
When I get older, I want to change the world. I want to try and open peoples’ eyes to pollution and the fact that the human race will cease to exist if we continue on this path of destruction, along with the rest of our fellow organisms. There are many living things suffering in the world. I also want to help to save the ones who need help. I want to be a part of the revolution that changes how people think about the earth in general forever.
    I owe the fact that I have such a good life to a lot of people. For example, my teachers and my whole gigantic family. They are the reason that I am who I am today, even though I might think they are just giving me a hard time. I know I’ll look back and thank them all. So I’m just gonna get it over with now while I have the chance.  Thanks to all of you and those who are not here for all the ways you have made my life a good one so far.  I am blessed and I thank God for you all.
My mom always reminds me that today, already while I’m still very young, I can already make a difference by setting an example with my friends, by being kind, helpful, productive, and thoughtful.  Sometimes it’s not easy to be all those things, especially when you come int contact with so many people not trying to be those things.  But I try anyway.  It’s challenging because there’s a price for all of this.  I often stand out like a sore thumb and kids sometimes make fun of me.  But I just try to remember what everyone who really matters tells me… No one can define who I am, but me.  There is a poem by William Ernest Henley called Invictus.  My mom shared it with me recently.  Apparently Nelson Mandela would recite this poem daily to himself when he was all those years in prison work camps.  Maybe this will help me like it helped him to remember that I am the captain of my own destiny. 

Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Things Change Part Two: The Miscarriage

Please read part one before reading this blog.







This part of the story gets a little graphic, so be warned.  I don't want to leave stuff out because I want you to understand what we actually lived through.
I showed the Austrian the test stick when he got home.  I was a ball of confusion inside.  We are still building.  I had my concerns about having a baby.  We had some more really long talks over the next 24 hours about how we would make this work, IF we would make this work.  I didn't allow myself to be immediately celebratory, because, let's face it, this wasn't planned, (At least WE weren't planning it...) and there were concerns... things that needed negotiating... things to consider.
I wanted assurances, if not insurances, and I needed to feel this out with the Austrian, AND with the Pyrate for that matter.   I know, a little late... But sometimes life hits you like that.  We don't have control 100% of the time.  Sometimes there's a design that we can't see clearly.  Sometimes we're distracted by other things... our own designs... or Christmas crafts and recipes... or rock concerts... You know what I mean? Of course you do.
So we talked it out.  The Pyrate approved.  The Austrian swore up and down we could do this and that he had faith that all would be provided, including the strength and wisdom necessary to adjust where adjustments were needed.  I let myself warm up and get happy that, after 12 years believing I would only have one child, I was about to begin the process of having a second.  The three of us kept it to ourselves just then.  Spent some time just feeling it out together, fantasizing out loud about what kind of big brother the Pyrate would be, playing out scenes of the Austrian's first few times changing a diaper and how his mouth was gonna be the reason the baby's first words would very likely be profane... imagining out loud what it would be like to have the sounds and smells of a baby in the house.  We looked at baby product websites and playfully critiqued all the available models of stroller.  We decided that the next week we'd start a registry on a really cool organic baby products website.  We talked about making a webflyer to announce the news to the world.  We did all of this in the first 48 hours after the positive test result.

I made an appointment with my general doctor because I wanted a referral for a new Ob-Gyn.  24 hours passed.  I started to feel worse physically.  Light cramps if I stood too fast or bent to deep.  Dizziness when I turned too fast or if something smelled to strongly.  I was getting over a cold and was coughing still from that, and suddenly during a fit of coughs felt that I was bleeding.
We rushed to the hospital.  By the time we got there, the bleeding had stopped and they couldn't find anything specifically wrong.  They ran the official blood test to confirm the pregnancy, did an ultrasound, and basically sent me home with the instruction to see my regular doctor as soon as possible, and to avoid all stress or strenuous activity.  That was Thursday night, the 7th of January.  Friday I felt a bit better.  I was scheduled to see my doctor that afternoon.  Then the Pyrate had a lil' accident and we had to rush him to the same emergency room to have his lip stitched up.  Stress.  I was supposed to be avoiding stress.  Yeah.  While the doctor stitched up my son's lip, I was sitting in a chair in the same room.  The smells of antiseptic, anesthetic, and blood creeped up my nose and I broke into a sweat.  The room began to spin.   The doctor was leaning over my son, sewing up his lip, and I heard him ask, "You alright?"   The Pyrate mumbled "Yeah" through his numb lips.  The doctor said, "I was talking to your mom. I gave her the option to wait out in the waiting room... we don't really like to have two patients at once to treat..."   I was so lightheaded I thought if I don't do something I would surely pass out.  So I got up, and walked across the room and got a cup of water, then sat back down in the chair.  The swooning stopped.   I was baffled.  I have never gotten the vapors in my entire life.  I have seen many disgustingly grotesque things in my life, growing up on a farm, you can't have a weak constitution.  So to be on the verge of fainting at the sight of my son's lip being sewn up was perplexing.  The doctor said it might just be because I'm pregnant and that I should get some rest when we got home.
That's what I did.  We called our parents that night to tell them the good news, that we were going to have a baby.  We called our siblings too.  That's it.  The visit to the emergency room told us there might be complications to consider so we didn't go completely public with it just yet. 
The next day was quiet. That was Saturday.  I was told by my doctor to be on complete bed rest, only getting out of bed to go to the bathroom.  My guys waited on me hand and foot... for the most part the entire day.
That evening, the Austrian and I were having an argument about something that happened that day.  It was one of those things... you know, the kind that happens repeatedly and gets under your skin because of the repetition.  Well, because of the fact that I was supposed to be calm, stress-free and still, the fact that this particular thing was happening in that moment was, to me, a double infraction.  So I was PISSED.  We argued.  I should not have gone there.  I should have just let it go.  It was just one of those stupid things and I should have just let it go for the sake of the baby, and my health.  I'll own that much responsibility.  I've never professed to be good at letting things go when I feel I am being wronged.  Chalk it up to that little girl spirit in me who forgets she's not a victim anymore.  Anyway, I was pissed, and let him know every which way I could.  When there was silence again, I lay there next to him in bed, and within minutes felt the warmth of blood welling up between my thighs.  A sharp, hot pain shot through my lower belly like someone had stabbed me with a hot butcher knife.  Then another.  And another.  The blood was flowing stronger.  Whatever I was pissed off about suddenly disappeared.  I was doubled, curled up in a tight ball, screaming in pain, bleeding profusely.  The Austrian jumped up and ran for a towel to put between my legs, then in a panic made this motion almost like he was running in place, not knowing what to do, go this way or that... waiting for me to tell him.  I told him to get my sweats from the chair behind him and that we had to go back to the hospital immediately.  I couldn't even stand up on my own, I was in so much pain.  He had to find my sanitary napkins and figure out how to put it in my underwear.  (that would have been funny under different circumstances).  He managed to get me dressed and half-carried me down the stairs to the front door.

Thankfully, the hospital is only 5 minutes drive from our house and a straight shot once you get down the hill.  He drove carefully, but ran every light.   When we got there, I told him I didn't think I could walk.  He had to remove me from the car to a wheel chair this time.  My knees were buckling under me as he got me from the car to the wheel chair.  By then I was moaning, sobbing, tears running down my neck, in so much pain, I thought my head was going to explode. I couldn't see straight. I felt like I was going to have to come out of my body to get away from that pain. And the Austrian needed me.  He was distraught.  I was talking to myself, telling myself everything was going to be alright, just breath Brig, (why can't he do this without my help?) calm down Brig, just breath Brig, calm down Brig.  Every now and then interrupting this chant to give the poor panicked Austrian instructions such as, "(omg...)You're going to rip my feet off if you don't put down the foot rest on the wheelchair for my feet.  You're dragging my feet under the chair babe!! Just breath Brig, calm down Brig.  That's good babe, thank you. Just breath Brig... (why is he leaving me sitting here and running around the car in a circle like he's lost?) Leave the car and just lock it and take me in.  Just breath, calm down Brig... tell them I lost a lot of blood, babe. Just breath Brig, just breath Brig... "  The poor guy, I don't think he'd ever been in such a situation before.  It was rather harsh.  I can chuckle about it now because I know he was just completely in shock and couldn't think straight.  They took me in and started a morphine drip.  I was upset, in pain, and very much afraid.  I had the Austrian call my mother.  You better know I must have been really concerned if I called my mother to drive for an hour to come all the way up to the north valley to hold my hand.  She came.  What a relief.  Mom's a retired nurse, so she knows how to comfort.  She's a pro at it.  I was so happy to see her.  Within minutes she had me laughing and much more calm and breathing deeply.

Eventually the pain subsided.  The same tests were run, and nothing was found.  They did an intra-vaginal ultrasound probe and a doppler procedure to listen to my fallopian tubes and ovaries to make sure that traffic was flowing freely through there.  After several hours of poking and prodding, and stabilizing my condition, the doctor came in and told me that my hormone levels seemed to be increasing in comparison to my last visit which means the pregnancy was indeed progressing.  he said, however, that it seems as though my body is rejecting the pregnancy and that it was very possible that I might miscarry.   I was to see my Ob-Gyn on Monday... two days later.   Meanwhile, again, complete bed rest, and... NO STRESS or strenuous activity.
The Austrian waited on me hand and foot, like I was too fragile to even lift a finger for anything after that night.  We were upset, worried, but reassuring each other that it was important to have faith and believe that everything would be okay.  I shared my situation with a circle of female friends, and to my surprise learned from their responses, that more than half of them had gone through this during pregnancy and some even got through it and had healthy babies. So we still held hope and faith that everything would be alright.  The Austrian turned into this prince of a man, with his shape-shifting self, reminding me to have faith, anytime he saw a look in my eye that resembled fear.
The next day we would just try to get through until Monday when we could see the new Ob-Gyn doctor to find out what exactly was going on.
The Austrian was my hero that Sunday.  My husband, sweet as he is, made me roasted chicken with herbs and orange zest, and mac n' cheese to die for.  We ate dinner and just waited. He lay next to me in bed, with his warm palm on my belly, and talked to the baby for 3 hours straight.  Telling it the story of his life, describing the town center in the little mountain village where he was born, promising to take him or her there for a visit next year, describing the fresh mountain air, the lake, the river that runs through town, listing the names of his family and describing each one's personality, telling about the little cousin Daniel who was waiting to play with him or her... I drifted in and out of sleep during this talk he had with our baby.  A peace came over me, a calm, like I was being hypnotized.  For a little while, I believed that everything was going to be alright.  That was just what I needed. 
Monday morning, first thing, we went to see this new doctor.  He looked over the records of our 2 visits to the ER and sat down to talk to us about the results of the tests the hospital had done.  He explained that although the numbers were indeed increased between the first hospital visit and the second, they should have doubled... from 6000 to 12000 in the two days that passed between, and that by now they should be somewhere in the 30,000 range.  He said that the tests from my second hospital visit showed 7000 when it should have already shown 12000, which tells him that the baby was not developing in a normal way, well beyond just risk for birth defect, and that he didn't believe that it would continue to develop at all, but that he would run another blood test to see what the present numbers were.  He said that the bleeding was due to my body's natural defense that would not allow the embryo to continue to stay inside me if my life was in danger.  That at anytime he expected that I would miscarry and that if it didn't happen in the next few days, he recommended surgically removing it to prevent further danger to my health.  He said I would know I was miscarrying because there would be large blood clots, and some bleeding.  Blood was drawn and sent off for testing.  We went home, held each other, and cried.  Then prayed, then decided not to give up hope until we had no other option.  I updated my circle of female support online and via text, and read their words of encouragement.  This helped a lot.  We called our family members and let them know the updated status of things, and then just waited out the night.

So we waited to hear from the Ob-Gyn the next day.  Andreas went in to work and waited to hear from me when the doctor called, and he should have called me in the morning on Tuesday, but he didn't.   Noon rolled around, and I got out of bed to go to the bathroom.  I sat on the toilet to pee, and felt a bit of cramping then two blood clots fall into the water.  I called the doctor's office and told the head nurse what happened.  She said that the miscarriage was probably starting, but that I could stay home and rest.  That I only needed to go in to the ER if I was bleeding heavier than my normal period.  Basically what's normal is one pad soaked in an hour.  She said the doctor was still in a meeting and that he would call me with the results of the test in a little while.  She said that if I pass another clot, if possible save it in a container so that they could run pathology on it.  This pregnancy was ending... just as abruptly as it began... just as I'd gotten attached to the idea.  My heart was breaking but no time for hysterics.

I went back to bed and called Andreas and asked him to come home just in case we had to rush to the hospital.   It took him about a half an hour to get home.  By the time he got here I'd gone through 3 pads (that's 6 times what is normal according the the nurse) and was in a great amount of very familiar pain again.  I could feel another clot inside me but I didn't want to pass it alone and I knew I could not catch it by myself.  So I just lay there and waited for him to get there. When the Austrian got home, I calmly instructed him to get a plastic container from the kitchen, and explained to him what we were about to do.  He got me to the bathroom, and onto the toilet and held the container beneath me.  Then out came this enormous clot the size of a large slice of liver or a steak.  My head was spinning.  I was crying, in pain, devastated, and watching him to make sure he wasn't losing it at the same time, because one of us needed to keep a level head through this horribly grotesque trauma.  He saw the look on my face.  He was reassuring me that he was fine, that he prepared himself mentally on the way home to face whatever was to come and that I should not worry about him, that this time he wouldn't panic.  He cleaned me up and got me back to the bed.  He called the doctor's office again and told the nurse what happened, put the container in the refrigerator. But wait, it was Tuesday, and the Pyrate gets out of school at 1:30 on Tuesdays and it was 1:45!!!  He rushed out the door to drive the 1 1/2 miles to pick up the Pyrate.  I reassured him that I would be fine. The Nicks (Nikki and Nick... friends of ours) were here cleaning the house and Nikki made me a cup of peppermint tea.
When he returned with the Pyrate, Andreas got me dressed and we went immediately to the emergency room after reassuring my son that everything would be fine.   He'd stay home with the Nicks and do his homework and have something to eat.  I didn't know I wouldn't be coming back home that evening.

When we got to the hospital, they knew me immediately.  This was visit number four including the one for the Pyrate's lip.  So I was taken back to a room immediately.  They kept me there again, for hours running tests, giving me morphine through an IV, and liquids.  I was partially miscarrying.  8 hours passed and they hadn't been able to get in touch with my doctor (he will not be my doctor for much longer... but that's another story... not really important here...), who finally called them back and said that I could choose to either stay there in the hospital overnight for observation, or go home, then come in to his office in the morning and either way he would perform the procedure that would completely remove all gestational tissue development from my womb because I was losing a dangerous amount of blood and that could not continue without harm to my vital organs.
I stayed there.  No way did I want to be at home bleeding out slowly with no health professional watching, and the poor Austrian being responsible for making the decisions.  I was still very weak, still in enormous pain, and couldn't imagine how I'd manage to survive the night without supervision and pain relief.  So I stayed.  They admitted me officially and got me a room.   The procedure (similar to what happens when you have an elective pregancy termination) would take place the next day at some point in the afternoon, depending on where they could fit it into the OR schedule.  The Austrian went out and got me a bean and cheese burrito because I was to have nothing to eat or drink until after the surgery and I hadn't had anything to eat that day except a small bowl of oatmeal at 7am and the cup of peppermint tea.   I ate half the burrito, and he ate the rest.  We sat together, and a bit of tv... the history channel.  Then I sent him home to make sure the Pyrate was okay, and make sure he got to bed.

The next day, 2 hours before the procedure, my Ob-Gyn doctor arrived and sat for a few minutes to speak with me about what would happen next.  When he left, many things ran through my head.  My mom was on the way.  My dad was called.  My sisters were called.  Then I thought of the Pyrate's dad, my ex-husband... who was in Germany and didn't even know yet that I was pregnant.  "What if something goes wrong???" I thought in my head silently... it would be pretty screwed up if he was not informed then all of a sudden got a phone call after the fact when something goes wrong.  So he was called too... all the way in Germany.  The gravity of making that phonecall was the last straw for me.  I was sad, yes, I was disappointed, yes, even devastated, but I was holding it together for the last 24 hours, pretty darn well, mostly out of pure exhaustion.  Processing pain is a tedious, and arduous task.  There really was literally no reserve energy for hysterics.  But the gravity of having to make that 'just in case' phone call to the father of the Pyrate, really hit home.  What would happen to my son if something happens to me?  What if they get in there and find something more serious going on and have to remove all my plumbing?  Had I even considered any of this?  No.  I'd been so busy trying to stay calm, trying to keep the faith, trying to not worry the kid, that I'd made no preparations and there was nothing I could do about it.  I would just have to believe that all would be fine.  I would just have to spend those last moments putting as much positive energy into my path into that OR as I could muster up.  I spoke with the man sent to transport me to OR, joked with him about being a better driver than my husband. The enormous male nurse who transferred me from my bed to the one I would be on during surgery had me put my arms around his neck as he moved me, and I told him how great a dancer he was and that we have to stop meeting like this.   I touched the anesthesiologist and smiled at him affectionately while I silently blessed him and prayed for his astute professionalism as he held my consciousness in his hands.  I touched the secondary doctor when he introduced himself to me and asked a few questions just outside the OR door sending faith infused energy through my fingertips and into his body.  I think he felt it because he gave me a funny look.   The anesthesiologist came back and asked me if I was still in a lot of pain.  I told him yes, and he told me not to worry and that would be over soon.  He put something in my IV and told me to start breathing deeply and count backwards from 100....99... 98....

I woke up in a noisy recovery room with a radio blasting "ARE YOU GOOOING TO SAN. FRAN. CISCOOOOO..."  and people moaning and groaning and crying and nurses rushing around.  I was crying.  I couldn't stop.  So I just lay there and let it come over me.  I cried for all the past week and a half when I couldn't let it out.   I cried for my husband's broken heart.  I cried for my own.  I cried for the Pyrate's.  He was looking forward to being a big brother.... I just let it go and lay there weeping openly and it felt good to just let it out.  A curtain was pulled and I was greeted by a friendly nurse who took my hand and asked me if there was any pain.  I told her there wasn't.  I felt absolutely no physical discomfort for the first time since the middle of  December when the nausea started.  I cried some more for the relief.  She said that in a few minutes she'd go get my husband and sneak him back here because she thought under the circumstances (miscarriage) that I might want the company.  When he got there, he and the nurse were talking back and forth in German, because on the way, she'd figured out he was Austrian and she comes from a German family.  The radio in the recovery unit was blasting "PLAY THAT FUNKY MUUUSIC WHITE BWWWWOOOYYYY..."    The hilarity was surreal...   I heard the curtain pull, and there he was, those green eyes sparkling, a careful smile on his lips.  He kissed me and told me he was so glad that I was safely on the other side.  He climbed onto the bed and told me he'd had lunch with my mom and the Pyrate at the local mexican restaurant near our house.  I quickly thanked him for that information seeing as all I'd eaten in the last 24 hours was a half a burrito the night before.  He hugged me and said it sounded like I was feeling better already.  We stared into each others eyes for a minute, and I started to cry again.  "I was thinking, maybe that wasn't Lou-Lou. Maybe we just needed to be reminded that we'd put that aside. Maybe we're supposed to use this to create an awareness of that part of us that we were at best ignoring."  He kissed me again.  We didn't talk much more about it that day.   I got back to the room, settled into bed, my mom and my sister were there.  We watched monsters of the deep until the Austrian realized how completely drained he was.  The Pyrate was at home and needed to look somebody in the eye and see that everything's fine.   So he went home.  My mom and my sister eventually went home, and I was left there alone with my thoughts.  I stayed awake all night long... until about 5am.  I got a text from the Pyrate's father in Germany.   He wanted to see if I was okay.  We chatted back and forth for a while.  He was very kind... shared more words with me than he probably had in the last two years.   I didn't expect him to express that kind of concern at all.  I'll take it without questioning it.  No energy to read into it, and it was nice.  I got a text message from my friend HT who said something so moving that it made me cry.  In the background on the tv was the news, a report about the earthquake victims in Haiti.  HT was saying something about me being sheltering by more love from more people than anyone else he knows.   People were screaming on tv, scenes of devastation everywhere in sight, reports of loved ones missing, some lost every family member.   I, on the other hand, am sheltered by more love from more people than anyone HT knows.  What a gift.
I thanked God for that moment and ever since that moment, I've been thanking God for every little thing.  I thanked God when I got out of bed on my own, with absolutely no pain,  to go the bathroom.  I thanked God for the graham crackers and ice cream the nurse brought me in the middle of the night because all they'd let me eat earlier was a bowl of broth and some nasty jello.   I thanked God for my husband when he arrived in the morning, sparkling green eyes and big grin on his face.  I thanked God for the view as we drove up the street I live on, and for the rose bushes as we walked up to my front door.  I thanked God for his strong arms that wanted to help me up the stairs even though I could do it again for myself.  I thanked God for that.
I thanked God for the smell of old pine needles in my house because our tree is still up due to all the "excitement" over the last 2 weeks.  I thanked God for my bed.  When the Pyrate got home from school, I thanked God for him too, while I held him extra tight and thought about the miracle that he is in my life.
That was yesterday.  Today I'm still thankful for all that I am, all that I have, all that I've experienced.
We will recover from this, and  now we know, that we want a baby.  That's something right?
We'll see what happens.  For now, I'm resting and looking forward to getting back to life!
I don't think I'll cry anymore about what happened to me this past week.  I thank God for that too.  I know folks who lost babies much further along in a pregnancy... several months even.  A week is nothing.    We can get through this.
Things change.   They do.  All the time.  All we have is now.  This moment.  I'm learning that there's no use in being afraid of what will be different in the next one.  What I do with this one is all that matters.  I learned from a friend who recently went through childbirth with her plans spoiled and some heartbreak involved.  When she wrote about those disappointments, she said, "I choose joy."   I remembered that this week.  It's not a hypocritical statement.  It's not either or.  Pain is inevitable sooner or later.  But what will you do when you face it?  Will you crumble under the pressure?  Or will you try to be still, breath through it, go to that other place in your consciousness?  When your hopes are dashed will you pick yourself up and keep moving or will you just give up and cower in a corner defeated?  When sorrow comes will you set up camp and decide to live there forever? Will you pretend like it's not happening and let it fester inside you?  Or will you use the moment, that particular "now" to show yourself what you are capable of?
I learned so much about myself in this last week.  I am full of God-power, a gift that lives in all of us.  I saw it in my man in ways I would have never imagined he could display.  I saw it in the Pyrate whose God-power never ceases to amaze me.  I saw it flowing in and around me between myself and the professionals in charge of my care, the people who were praying for me, the friends who shared their stories with me, the friends who simply spoke words of love and encouragement and sympathy, each one a gift.
So now, it's Friday again.  All that stuff is over.  Past.  I spent the last 24 hours together with the Austrian and the Pyrate... not answering the phone... not calling anyone... We haven't been alone through any of this.  It was good to be with them, take inventory of where we are... where I am.  A new day has come.  I am well.  I am recovering.  I am healing.  I am strong.
And things changing doesn't scare me any more.

Things Change Part One: The Possibility of Lou-Lou

Please scroll to the bottom of this web page and turn off the player before you read this blog entry.  (or just mute your speakers if you like)

Thank you.

We were on our second or third date... I don't remember which it was.  We were driving through the foggy night towards Palos Verdes.  He wanted to sit at the cliffs and admire the ocean and spend some time together.  I remember it was really foggy and I wondered to myself how we would see anything with all this fog.  The roads were windy and he was driving like a maniac.  I held on to my door handle all the way there.
I wasn't talking much.  But it didn't matter.  The Austrian, I was learning, could talk enough for both of us.  He could run his mouth until his mouth ran out, it seemed... but I didn't mind, because I'd had a dream the night before, vivid as if it were real.  One of those dreams that come to me occasionally... The kind where I usually don't know the people or places, then years later, they appear in my "awake" life like a deja vu.

I had this dream.  It was pretty simple.  I saw a little girl run past me, squealing, giggling, shreiking, her honey colored skin, dripping water everywhere, her curly shoulder length hair loose and flying everywhere.  She zipped past me and I heard him shout out, "Lou-Lou! Come back here! I'm trying to comb your hair!"  I heard a door slam down the hall and muffled giggles, as the Austrian came bumbling past me, wide-toothed comb in one hand, towel in the other, face red with frustration, "BABE! Why didn't you stop her!"   I felt myself shrug, "I'm having too much fun!" I said.   He stomped past, grumbling and huffing and puffing down the hallway toward the shut door.  "I'm counting to 3 Lou-Lou! Come Ooooonnnnn! 1....2..."

That's all I remembered when I woke up the next morning.  I thought to myself, that it was just a dream.  But I couldn't get it out of my mind all day.  When he called me in the afternoon to confirm when he'd pick me up for the date, I was unusually quiet because I didn't want to tell him about this dream and it was freaking me out a little.  I managed to keep it to myself til we parked the car at the cliffs that night.  We were sitting there and it was ridiculous because not only was it foggy outside... after we managed to kiss our way through the first five minutes of sitting there, it was also foggy INSIDE the car.  There was no view, there was nothing but fog.  We couldn't see a thing.  So there was nothing to do but look at each other.

He would stare at me with his big green eyes.  I was fascinated, because they sparkled a little too much.  Like cartoon eyes... like in a 50's television commercial for a dishwashing liquid where they show how clean the dishes are by inserting an artficial sparkle into the film and a "DING!" sound effect.  That was his eyes.  He just stared at me.  Not talking for a very long time once we stopped kissing, then decided to drive further down the road to find a clearer spot.  As soon as the car left that spot, it spilled out of me and I told him about that dream.

We talked about it with amusement for a bit.  But for the most part, we put that away for the last 5 years, only remembering in random moments where we'd be telling someone the story of how we started to be "US".  We didn't really talk about it because things changed.  Life happened and we got to know each other and got about the business of building a relationship.  No time for silly dreams.  We had a lot of building to do.  So much so, that there was not even a consideration of any part of that dream happening... no plan for it, not even a conversation.

Things change. 

Even though we'd like them to remain. 

Things change.

That's the only thing that stays the same. 

Just when you get comfortable and sit back in your chair there's someone rearranging the room. 

The chair's no longer there.  

Things change.

Things change.

Life is full of twists and many turns. 

Things change.

Every day there's something new to learn. 

Just after one door is shut, another opens wide, revealing opportunity just on the other side. 

Things change.

Things change.

The night eventually turns into day. 

Things change.

No situation's here to stay. 

Just as you decide you might not ever love again, someone comes and knocks you off your feet and then 

There goes that pain. 

Things change. 

Things change. 

Things change. 

Things change. 

I remember writing those lyrics many years ago.  Sort of a nursery rhyme to the child in me who feared change most desperately because before the age of 10 my parents divorce, schools changed, homes changed (more than once), people changed, economics changes, everything changed, and none of it at all felt pleasant or positive or good to my young heart.   My fear of change stuck with me into adulthood and attached an annex which housed an obsession with time passing.  So there I was paralyzed by a fear of change, watching time pass me by (from a linear perspective), and being perpetually devastated by this.   It was a complex harmony of misery.

At this stage in my life, I've found plenty of ways to get around those voices in my head that made me live like that and managed to actually DO something with myself.  I've had a successful career as a makeup artist.   I was a good wife in my first marriage.  I AM  a good mother to my son, the Pyrate.  I am a good writer, song-writer, and some say, I'm a good singer too.   I am a good wife to the Austrian, the man I married six months ago in July.  I am a friend to many.   I'm proud of these things... especially with the knowledge that it was never easy for me.  Nothing was ever easy because of those voices.  But I learned how to work around them.  This was a necessity with the Austrian in my life.  The Austrian is a shapeshifter... He has become 3 or 4 different people over the years we've been together, upgrading each time.  Yes, child, I said UPGRADING.   So I had to get used to change and learn how to enjoy it!

I know it seems like I'm rambling.  This is one of those blogs that I don't know how to edit down to the important stuff because it all feels really urgently important to me in the moment.  If this inconveniences you, please forgive my self indulgence, but patronize me long enough to read the whole thing because I think it's important to share it with you.

There's no real way to start this story.  That's why I'm this far into it, and haven't said what it's about.   It just is what it is.  In the last ten days, the Austrian, the Pyrate, and I found out we were pregnant, then lost the baby.  That's how my new year started.  Yeah.

Back around the third week of December I'd been sick... nauseous off and on for about a week.  If you follow me on twitter, facebook, or myspace,  you may remember that, and you might even be one of the smarties who quickly assumed I was pregnant and publicly stated your suspicions in response to my tweets.  In my house, we were not even thinking about such things.  Holiday preparations were in full production.  We were trying really hard to get everything done, and all I could think was, "Why do I have to get sick NOOOOWWW?????"   Well, after about 10 people mentioned pregnancy it was getting harder to ignore, and I told the Austrian that people thought I was pregnant and wasn't that funny?  We had a laugh and kept going.  The next day, there were more messages to that effect, and I showed them to him.   He smiled and mumbled something sideways that I couldn't quite make out.  But I saw something in his face... a softness... a shy smile... a hesitant truth.   I called him on it... "You want a baby?"  He blushed, "Welllll.... I don't know... I mean... I'm changing again, and I have to believe..."  I interrupted him and stood up, put my hands on my hips, head tilted to one side in bewilderment.  "You want a baby?  Seriously?"   He smiled some more, and said, "I believe if that's what God has planned for us, then, yes, I would like that very much. Besides, what about Lou-Lou?"  I was stunned.  No.  I was floored.  We had several long, revealing talks about the subject about my concerns.  He was sure.  He made a list of promises, vows to put my concerns to rest, and begged me to not worry.

The next day, when he came home from work, he brought a pregnancy test, so that we could first put to rest the possibility that I was already pregnant.  The test was negative.  But there were two sticks in the package and we decided to check it again right before Christmas because not enough time had passed since my last period apparently.
Then the nausea went away.... and we assumed all the fuss was for nothing, and put it away, long enough to get through the holidays.
I started to feel sick again right after Christmas.  Belly aches, dizzy spells, long bouts of fatigue, unplanned 4 hour naps in the middle of the day... and by then, I realized, I'd missed a period.  I remembered that we still had that extra tester, and hadn't used it.  So on January 5th, while the Austrian was at work, I took the second test. 
You're supposed to pee on this little stick and wait something like 10 minutes for some blue lines in a little window.  If there's one line, it's negative and either it's too early or you're not pregnant.  If it's two crossed blue lines, you are pregnant.   So I peed on the darn stick.  I sat there and stared  at it.  Before even a minute passed, the blue cross in the little diamond shaped window was staring back at me plain as day.  Plain as day.  I sat there anyway, waiting for it to change back maybe.  Wondering if it was defective.  It was the most bizarre thing.  I felt like I was in a movie scene. 
When the Austrian got home, I handed him the test stick and waited to see his response.

The rest of this story will be in a second blog later today.  (click "second blog" to go to part two)

Where's My Compton Sweatshirt? (the mother diaries)

sorry to those of you who won't understand the intra-ethnic nuances of this post... and to those who don't know me, i promise you that i will only go gangsta to protect my child.  i promise.   wouldn't you?


SO, the pyrate had a run-in with some fellow african-american boys at his very suburban middle-class neighborhood school last week before break started.   they approached him aggressively and got in his face and wanted to fight him.  for no reason, and despite the fact that they are all about a foot shorter than him, and none quite as fit.

well... a few weeks earlier they were taunting him and saying he "wasn't black".   yeah.   the pyrate is of african, native american, and german decent, and has a private school education the first 6 years of his school career.  he listens the most to bands like deathcab for cutie, rage against the machine, nirvana, and nine inch nails and lately he's stuck on playing leadbelly songs on his guitar... repeatedly.  he's also a science buff, a skater, and a bit of an afro-punk.  this gets him a lot of grief in public school.

 so, anyway, these kids walked up on him.  he had a few choice words (of the intelligent sort... rattled off the names of some very impactful people of african decent that they could not identify and then asked them who wasn't black...) then kept walking.  so last week, they took it further and walked up on him and got in his face. the pyrate says they were close enough that he could feel their breath.   he told them he was not going to fight them and walked away.   they yelled after him a bunch of epithets varying from white boy, b*tch, p***y, and other things.  he kept walking.  these boys are all smaller than him and he could have easily taken out a couple quickly and then scared the others enough to leave him alone, but he walked away... like a shaolin monk.  lol...

later that day, in the gym locker room, they watched and waited as he was changing clothes for gym class, and as he was pulling his gym shirt over his head one of them hit him very hard open handed in the center of his back... hard enough to leave a mark.  the others broke into laughter as he winced then shouted at them to never touch him again.  then he finished changing and walked away... like Dr. King, Jesus or Gandhi would.   he is not traumatized this time because he thinks their motivation is ignorant.  (he's been raised with a strong education about who he is ethnically... so that's much easier for him to deflect emotionally than say... being called gay.)

anyway,  the incidents have been reported, but the proper school authorities were already gone for the day when i was able to report it.  i'm proud of my son.  he's a much more confident and courageous kid than i was at his age... or than he was a few months ago.   we had actually had a good laugh about whether or not he thinks of himself as black.  he raised his 12 year old fist and grinned at me with the biggest nerdy grin.   i said, "say it loud!"  the pyrate said, "i am black and i am proud."  just like that... no conjugations like james brown did it.  like the black nerd scientist, afro-german, punk-pyrate, skater boy that he is.   so all is well.  i plan to be very proactive day one back to school after the break with the proper school authorities.  perhaps a conference with the kids parents, and i will press for middle school version of justice.  so all is well.  no trauma.

excuse me a moment. (but if a muthaf*cka EVER lays a hand on my son again... little wanna-be gangsta suburban fools might get to meet his momma who is straight outta COMPTON.  the pyrate's people roll DEEP! )  BWaaaaahaaaaaaa!!!    
*Not really, ....but I'm just sayin'....


i am the type to love a good rant when it's appropriate.  i could rant thoroughly about this issue and the surrounding issues of race relations within a culture.  you see this world wide, and not just with african americans.  but there is a very deep seeded culture of tension between different so-call groups of african americans... based on the color of skin, texture of hair, economic status, etc... that dates back to the times of slavery when the slaves were divided depending on whether they worked in the house or in the field.  they were pitted against each other in many very subversive ways.  

it infuriates me when the prejudice goes on in either direction, from either side.  it is all hate and has nothing to do with solving whatever is really bothering those who are hating.    but you would think in this day and age this would be all but just an memory of attitudes of the past.  obvioiusly not, when 12 year olds are taunting each other with such ethnically slanted crap.   then there's the association between so-called affluence and sexual orientation which is completely unrational and makes no sense at all.   we should be teaching our children wisdom and not hatred.  but where are our wise men and women???  when i discover them, i keep them near, use them as role models with my child. 

i have a lot of connection to what the pyrate experienced with these boys.   something similar happened to me as a kid and i didn't shake it until my mid to late twenties.   the trauma can run deep.  children... most children have self images that are still forming in their middle school years.  the behavior of these boys says a lot about the climate of the schools nowadays and of the homes that children come from.  it is dangerous behavior that can scar for life.

so, knowing what i know, i added that last bit in parentheses because parents who teach their kids to hate, to judge, to label, to bully, to insult, to be violent, to be angry, to be anti-social, need to know how the parents of your children's victims feel when they find out your child is committing crimes agains their child.


woe to you and your children.  woe to you, because your child might slip up and behave this way with a kid whose parents are NOT as civilized as i am....  who are not as much of anti-violence hippie as i am...  they might slip up and attack a kid who, unbeknownst to them has also been brought up in hateful violent environments who was taught that to kick some idiot ass if anybody messes with them.  they might slip up and attack a child who is already fragile and injure them in any of a myriad of ways, unfolding an onslaught of charges against your child and you, that will force you to reconsider the error of your ways.

these boys will face any of a series of possible punishments when they return to school in january... the school has a no tolerance policy and have expelled kids for being in a group observing one from the group attacking a victim... and on their record (the kids in the group... spectators who were with the attacker) goes a charge of gang violence because of the group intimidation element.  

so, woe to those parents... and if you're not sure if your children are happy, well adjusted, self-respecting and respectful of others, then maybe you need to get to know your children better, or woe to you as well....